Page 23 of Devour

“Oh, lovely.” Rhory cupped my face while he gazed down at me.

Panicking had rendered me useless to him. Rhory wouldn’t get anything from me—anything from this interaction—and we both knew as much. Still, he stayed there, his thumbs stroking my cheeks while he watched me intently.

“I’m sorry,” Rhory whispered. “I’m so sorry, lovely.”

* * *

RHORY

Days later, I still felt bad about what I did. Yes, contrary to popular belief, having a semblance of a conscience meant I could experience guilt. Even more so when it came to Eli. Never before had I latched onto a human this long, never mind one I also used to fill myself. Over the last year, Eli willingly let me snack—as we called it—on him plenty. I never got tired of it. I never got enough. Mostly because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Eli enjoyed every blissful second, too.

He would never admit as much to himself, never mind to me, but he didn’t need to use words. Every now and then, an explicit message snuck past his mental static. Besides, I could sense the arousal on him, not only when I got close to him, but also whenever I dutifully obeyed him. Actually, now that I thought of it, he might enjoy ordering me around more. The guy was not as strait-laced as he let others believe, and I absolutely loved it.

Eli didn’t let that mask of control slip often, though. The corners of his mouth would twitch, regarding me more like a loveable scamp than someone who could quite literally rip him to shreds if I so desired. That alone could keep me coming back. Despite being the only human who had any idea what I was, Eli didn’t react fearfully with me. The exception being the time I cornered him in the bathroom on his twenty-second birthday and he panicked. And not once, in well over a year, had he produced anything remotely negative around me.

Until the other day, when going back for a second helping only drove me to wanting more than a taste. The desire flowing off him peaked, and his heart thrummed in his chest while he tried fighting what he wanted. When the moment he should’ve stopped me came, he didn’t. And his lack of a response took him off guard.

Without him interrupting me, I continued humping his lap until we both were hard. What should’ve been the bliss of firsthand pleasure never came. The stink of fear flooded me so hard and so fast, I accidentally gave Eli an emotional crash from pulling away too quickly. And I felt terrible. Not only to see him gasping to regulate, but also from the thought that crossed his mind right before his fear took hold.

He wasn’t afraid of me. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of sex (considering I tuned into quite a few impure thoughts starring yours truly as recently as that evening). What scared him was the possibility of having to end our friendship, which he would do without hesitation if I ever pushed him too hard. Still, the thought terrified him and maybe, just the tiniest bit, losing my meal of choice worried me, too.

Afterwards, I kept my distance for a few days. He didn’t bother to text me until today, so I decided to swing by that evening since I knew he’d be home. Eli lived on a dead-end road in a very typical suburban neighborhood, with his house at the very end and cast outside the glow of the last streetlight. I still navigated my way here with ease, knocking on the metal storm door of his rental before the porch light kicked on. The flower beds against the house were empty except for snow, and even though the cold should nip at my skin while I waited, all it did was turn each of my breaths into fog. Eli opened the door with a frown, and while the annoyance swirled in him like a cloud, his heart began to race.

“I suppose you’re hungry?”

I frowned at his accusation. Before I arrived, I made sure I fed so I would be full for this—though I always had room for a small snack. No, there would be no snacking. I wanted to see him. Missed him, even.

“Come on in,” Eli grumbled. He held the door open for me and I couldn’t help but smile when his annoyance flared again.

“What?” he snapped. He retreated to his living room and plopped back onto his thrift-store couch. “Something amusing?”

“I love it when you look at me like that, hubs,” I admitted with a sigh.

“Like what?”

“Like a puppy who pissed on your carpet.”

He snorted in disgust, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “And why is that?”

“Because,” I said, while stalking across the room toward him. “I’m some feral thing that’s roamed the earth longer than you can even comprehend, but you still act as if you can control me.”

“I can and I do.” His legs crossed, with one ankle resting on a knee, before he reclined. Ahh, so hot. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he did it on purpose.

Maybe just a nibble would—no, I had to prove my point. He accused me of having no self-control last time. Maybe my supply seemed pitiful compared to his, but it was there. I got within a few feet of him before I stopped myself.

“Come here.”

“No.” I crossed my arms and turned my head away.

“Why not?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know you’re not,” he stated plainly. “I could tell after you came in.”

With a raised eyebrow, I fixed my attention on him. Sneaky. His emotions told me he wasn’t lying, but he intentionally avoided thinking about how he knew. Recently, Eli learned if he thought of music, or even static, he could keep me from poking around in his head. He laughed at my efforts, which got me heated seeing him be so wicked. Positively evil, he was. He crooked a finger for me to come closer but caught my shoulder at the last second to keep me at an arm’s distance while his eyes locked on mine.

“You have to listen to me, Rhory.” Gentle yet firm. So very, very hot. “Enough means enough.”

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