"Is this for...?" She didn't finish, her fingers tightening around mine as understanding bloomed across her face.
"Hunting," I said, and let the word hang between us like smoke. Annie's hand tightened in mine, her pulse quickening against my thumb. I watched her pupils dilate as her gaze traced the uneven track, lingered on the cover points, the places where someone my size could drop from nowhere and pin her to the earth.
"You made a fucking obstacle course for hunting people?" Her voice caught, breathy and low, as she pressed her thighs together.
"Only if they want to be caught." I pulled her against me, one hand sliding to the small of her back. Annie's heat radiated through her thin clothes. "For when you want me to chase you again. For when you want to feel what happens after I catch you."
She stared at the track, teeth dragging across her bottom lip. A flush crept up her neck as she trembled against me, her body remembering. "And when you catch me?"
"When I catch you," I murmured against her ear, "I take what's mine." My fingers splayed possessively across her hip, and I felt her breath hitch. "Not every day. But sometimes—" I inhaled against her hair, helpless against the primal hunger that surged through me at her scent, at the memory of her surrender.
She looked at me, her pupils dilating as her gaze traveled down my body and back up again. Her teeth caught her bottomlip, releasing it slowly as she considered the hunting ground I'd built for her.
"I might let you chase me," she said, voice dropping to a husky whisper that made my wings twitch beneath my skin. "But only if I get a head start. And only if you promise not to tear my clothes... every time."
I leaned closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, but not touching. "That's a promise I'll try very hard to keep." The lie tasted sweet between us.
She stepped off the patio, bare feet crunching on the rock. The curve of her calf flexed as she turned a slow circle, arms spread wide.
"The house, the cat, the monster who built me a playground." When she faced me again, the wind plastered her hair across her flushed cheek. "I never thought I'd crave staying somewhere this badly."
I followed her down the slope, hands in my pockets, letting her set the pace. Fluoxetine bolted ahead, tail high, prowling the path like it was her own personal speedway. We walked in companionable silence. At the far end, Annie stopped and looked back at the house—a black raft at the edge of the world, every window now reflecting not just the sky, but the two of us, small and improbable, on the wrong side of forever.
I trailed Annie back up the yard, watching the way her hair snagged in the sudden gust, the curve of her bare legs dusted with fine black gravel. My hands twitched at the sight of her, a primitive urge to pick her up and drag her back into the house, where she’d be shielded from every single thing that might want even a taste. I wanted to keep her, to lock her down inside my domain, but I also wanted to show her off—maybe even more. The monster in me wanted both—for her to be seen, and for everyone who saw her to know she was already taken.
She was halfway to the porch when I coughed, awkward, and said, “I should probably take you out on a real date. If only to prove I’m not just here to keep you locked in the closet.”
She stopped, turned, and eyed me up and down. “A real date? With dinner and drinks and small talk about the weather?”
I shrugged. “If that’s what you want. I can do dinner, drinks, and also provide a running commentary about the weather.” I caught up to her, the cat winding between our ankles, and added,“There’s a place in the old town, just past the amphitheater. They serve actual food. You’d be the best thing in the room, but that’s not new.”
She considered, then, “You know I’ll have to wear something that doesn’t immediately say ‘I spent the afternoon getting railed in the dirt,’ right?”
I grinned at her. “Not for my sake.”
“Not for the mayor’s, either,” she said, arching a brow. “Who’s the audience, Samiel?”
I wanted to tell her the truth: the audience was anyone who might dare look at her twice, anyone who’d think she was up for grabs, who didn’t know she was already hooked deep and permanent. I wanted her to know how good she looked with my marks, but also how much I wanted her to walk into the bar and have every eye—demon and human—turn and smolder, only to have her come home with me.
She must have read the thought on my face, because she laughed and said, “God, you’re going to snap if someone puts a hand on me, aren’t you?”
“No,” I said, a lie so thin it barely held. “Unless you want me to.”
She smirked, then nudged my hip with hers. “What if they just look? Are you going to kill a guy for looking?”
I considered, then: “They shouldn’t, not after this morning.” I looked down at her collar, tracing the edge of the bruise, then leaned in, voice low in her ear: “But yes. I might.”
"Are you going to get in trouble for that?" she said, looking at me sideways. Her tone was almost casual, but I could see the tension in her jaw. "Choking out another demon on your porch. What’s the demon equivalent of excommunicated?"
I laughed, then shrugged. "Not unless I kill him. Then it's paperwork." I wanted to laugh again, but she didn't, so I reached for her hand to anchor the conversation in something solid. "It's different here than where you grew up. Clem knows the rules. He crossed a line."
She made a little sound, not quite agreement. "The rules," she echoed, and I could hear the skepticism. "So you can just grab people by the throat if you feel like it?"
"If they touch what’s mine," I said, and the words came out more jagged than I meant them. I saw her eyes narrow, searching my face for what kind of claim that really was.
She didn’t let it slide. “I’m not your property, Samiel. I’m not a car or a cat.” She glanced down at Fluoxetine, who was busy licking the empty bowl of cream I’d set down. “Well, actually, you treat your cat with more respect, so let’s start there.”
I took the hit, my jaw tightening as I swallowed back the growl rising in my throat. "I know," I said, voice dropping to that register that always made her pupils dilate. "But it's not the same as when I was on my own." I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. "I don't want to own you. I want to... keep you." My fingers brushed her wrist, tracing the delicate blue veins there. "Safe. Close." The word in demon tongue burned on my tongue, unspoken—a sound like thunder breaking over mountains.
