“Oh yeah?” Stanley says, and I can hear the fear in his voice now, even if he’s trying to sound like the big, brave man. “What are you going to do, Eros? Kill me?”
“No,” I say.
Then I’m sending my shadows racing across the space between us. They hook around his right wrist like handcuffs, yanking his hand to the table and holding it in place. His eyes widen in alarm, and he tugs against the constraints, standing up and pulling with all his weight. But it’s no use. His hand is flattened against the table as if it’s glued there, and it won’t move.
I lumber to my feet, brush imaginary dirt from my pant legs, stride forward, and slam my fist down hard on his outstretched hand. He yelps in agony as the bones in his fingers crack and break beneath my fist.
But I’m not done yet.
I want to make sure – really sure. I want to ensure this monster never hurts anyone again.
And so I slam my fist a second time, a third time, a fourth, and a fifth, until his hand is a mangled, distorted mess on the tabletop and he’s fallen to his knees, clutching his wrist, tears streaming down his face, begging me to stop. His two friends have backed up against the wall, and they don’t even try to help him.
When I’m satisfied with the job I’ve done, I call the shadows back to my hand.
“Don’t ever talk to her again,” I say. “Don’t even look at her. Or next time, that will be your head, Stanley.”
Beaufort and Thorne are talking quietly together in his study when I return – probably discussing how Beaufort is going to persuade the Empress to let us enter the demon wastelands, probably spending their time planning.
I yawn as I enter and lean against the doorway. Both their eyes flick up and down my form, obviously looking for blood or any damage.
“It’s dealt with,” I say. “He won’t be bothering our girl again.”
Beaufort nods and Thorne mutters something I don’t quite catch.
“Where’s Little Kitten?” I ask.
“Upstairs, in her room, resting. Don’t bother her, Dray. She needs–”
But I don’t hear the rest of his words, because I’ve already turned and I’m halfway up the staircase.
When I creak open her door, I find her room in darkness, and I can hear the little puffs of air as she breathes in and out, clearly asleep.
I close the door behind me, strip off my clothes, and slip under the covers, wriggling up close until I’ve wrapped my body around hers. She’s warm and sleepy and smells fucking amazing.
I nuzzle my nose under her soft hair, into the crook of her neck, just beneath her ear.
“Dray,” she mutters sleepily. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, Kitten,” I say. “Shush now. Go back to sleep.”
She murmurs something else, and then I feel her body slacken. She’s asleep again.
I kiss the soft skin beneath the little shell of her ear.
I think about how precious she is. How damn precious. How I’d do anything for this girl and that includes trekking out into the demon wastelands to try and find some dude I don’t even really like that much.
I wrap my arm around her waist, tickle my fingers against her soft belly, cup her full breasts in my hand, and skim my thumb against her hardening nipple.
“Hmm,” she murmurs, half awake again, rubbing her ass against my hardening cock.
I tweak her nipple and stroke my fingertips down her body to the curls between her legs, then press a finger against her hard little nub.
“Dray,” she moans, a sleepy little kitten halfway between dreaming and waking.
“Are you awake, Kitten?” I say, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Hmm,” she says, as I circle my fingers around her clit.
