I whip the curtain outside and stalk out. I see him immediately, leaning against a post about a dozen steps away, with a drink in his hand. A slim young man and a plump woman are cooing over him, touching his chest.
Part of me wants to shrink back behind the curtain. I fear the unknown. I fear him and myself, and I’m half-inclined to yield to all that terrifying uncertainty. But the fire in my heart matches the heat in my body. It’s too intense to allow me to back down.
I stride up to Beresford, waving aside his companions with an imperious certainty I’ve never felt before in my life.
“Go,” I snap at them, and by some miracle, they obey. I poke Beresford in the chest. “You. How dare you invite me here and then abandon me? Were you tired of me? Or were you upset that I touched someone else? Because I’ll have you know, I didn’t come here for any of these people. I don’t want to fuck them. I want to fuckyou. Just you.”
He lifts his glass casually to his lips. “You made up your mind then. I thought a few moments of solitude might help you figure out what you need. Seems I was right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Fury or fear can cloud the mind, but they are excellent weapons against each other. Fury tends to cancel out fear and provide a unique kind of clarity.”
“You made me angry on purpose.”
“It was a gamble. You might have remained hidden like a shy flower. But my money was on you blossoming like a fiery rose.”
My cheeks are burning. I gather a fistful of his shirt. “Come with me. Right now.”
“As my lady desires.”
He lets me tow him behind the curtain. I nearly panic, unsure what move to make next, but I decide to lean into the anger and let it be my guide. Instinct drives me to shove him down on the sofa—though in truth, I wouldn’t be able to budge him at all without his cooperation. I seat myself on his lap, astride his thighs.
“What now?” he asks.
I bite my lip, uncertain, yet unwilling to admit my inexperience.
“You want this, but you haven’t been with a man before,” he says. “You’re a virgin.”
I avoid his gaze, embarrassment twining with my anger.
“Ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of.” Beresford’s voice is deeper than ever. “It is merely an opportunity for instruction. All of us were once innocent to the pleasures of the flesh. There is no disgrace in naivete. I am a devourer of knowledge, but I also happen to love teaching. Would you like a lesson?”
Unable to speak, I nod.
He sweeps his fingers through my hair, then cups the side of my neck. A starved delight glows in his blue eyes. “Look at you,” he whispers. “I’ve never had a more beautiful girl on my lap… or a more dangerous one.”
My gaze flicks up to his, my body tightening with caution. “Dangerous?”
He hesitates, as if he’s waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, something shutters in his expression, but he only says, “A gorgeous woman is the most dangerous thing in the world.”
Why do I feel as if that isn’t what he really meant, that he’s only saying it to cover his true meaning?
I don’t have time to ponder it, because both his huge hands have traveled to my waist, and he’s kissing me.
His beard is softer than I expected, framing broad, smooth lips that meet mine with a warm, intimate pressure. It’s a brief kiss, a test, but the moment it ends, he kisses me again, and this time lightning ignites between our mouths, a bolt snaking down the artery of my throat straight to my heart, bringing it to life in a blinding flash.
I hear the demon appear above us—scrabbling claws and a confused squeak. I don’t look up. I hold Beresford’s head between my hands and keep his lips locked with mine, because at this moment, nothing matters except kissing him.
My skin erupts into crackles of white-hot energy. I press my body against his massive torso, overcome by the size difference between us and loving it. He is powerful, and I have power over him. I sense the control I wield in the desperate clutch of his fingers on my waist, the way his hands start to rove up my back and down to my rear as we keep kissing.
My body wants to melt into him, merge with him, feel his strength in every pore. When he tears his mouth away from mine, I vent a faint, frustrated little scream and try to close the gap again.
“Hungry little beauty,” he rasps, brushing my hair back from my face. “I want you to tell me how you feel right now.”
I hesitate, swallowing. “I’m supposed to restrain myself. I shouldn’t ever let myself get like this—feellike this.”
“Fucking nonsense.” He looks angry for a moment. “Who told you that?”
