I knew he meant well and that he understood a whole helluva lot more about all the supernatural shit we’d found ourselves in. But I was still mad as hell at him.
Against my better judgement, I reached my hand out and placed it in Damien’s. The warmth radiating from his palm against mine was shocking.No, not warm. Hot, like he’s all fire inside. His flesh was impossibly soft, no calluses, no scars, perfectly maintained in the way that came from never doing manual labor, never struggling, never bleeding for anything.
His fingers closed gently around my wrist, turned it over so my hand was palm up. The pad of his thumb traced a line from my palm to my pulse point, the touch impossibly delicate, as if he was savoring the moment. His skin against mine sent heat crawling up my arm and made my pulse spike beneath his fingers.
Then he pressed down.
Heat flared beneath his touch—not quite burning or painful, butintense. Like liquid gold poured directly into my veins, spreading up my arm in waves of sensation that stole my breath and kicked my pulse into a gallop. It was pleasure and pain braided together so tightly theybecame indistinguishable, building to a crescendo that felt obscene in its intimacy.
The heat spread up my arm, across my shoulder, down my spine. My skin flushed hot, then cold, then hot again. Every nerve lit up like Christmas lights, oversensitive and overwhelming.
Oh my god, was the most intelligible thought I could manage.
My knees went weak. Heat pooled low in my belly, slick and urgent and completely wrong given the circumstances. Rowan had died, had come back, had lied to me. Jules was dead. We were in a demon’s study in the basement of a nightclub. I should not be getting aroused—should not be biting back a moan—while thisthingpretending to be human caressed me.
But my body didn’t care about what itshoulddo.
The sensation peaked as a white-hot, nearly overwhelming, and delicious pleasure-pain. My toes curled, and my breathing came in shallow gasps—sounding far too close to the noises I made during sex—before the feeling faded. As Damien lifted his fingers from my skin, I was left with a throbbing heat in my wrist.
I yanked my hand back, cradled it against my chest, and looked down.
On my inner wrist, where Damien had pressed down with his thumb, an intricate and gorgeous golden snake glowed. Coiled and sinuous, its body wrapped around itself into a heart-shaped knot. The lines were delicate, artful, exquisitely rendered. I squinted at it to see that each scale had a level of minute detail that was breathtaking.
He had tattooed me. Without permission. Without warning. Without asking if I wanted to be permanently marked by a demon’s power, branded like property, claimed in a way that went deeper than skin.
Anger bubbled up, and I burst out, “How dare you—”
Rowan reached out to take my arm. “What did he do? Did he hurt you? Let me see.”
“Calm yourself,chico. The pain was pleasurable for her, ofthatI can promise you,” Damien said with a low laugh.
Rowan bristled. “Fuck you, demon—”
“It is a gift freely given from me to you,mi gatita.” Damien’s voice was velvet soft and filled with satisfaction in every syllable. He looked pleased with himself. Smug. “It is for when your pride inevitably crumbles when you realizethat youdoneed my help. . . help that only I can provide.” He paused, smiled wider. “All you need to do is simply whisper my name with intention, with a reallongingfor me, and I will hear you. Regardless of where you are, regardless of how much time may come to pass, regardless of howdesperatelyyou come to regret denying my offer of assistance tonight,” he said as he bowed his head slightly. “Whisper my name to the snake, and I will come.”
The tattoo pulsed once against my skin—warm, possessive, claiming—then settled into stillness. I still felt it there. Not painfully, butpresent.
I stared at the golden snake coiled upon my wrist, at the delicate lines that formed runes within its scales. Itwasbeautiful. Objectively, undeniably beautiful. It was the kind of ink I’d have gladly paidseriousmoney for if I’d seen it in a portfolio at Inkwell or Sacred Skin or any of the other parlors I’d visited since my rebirth. It was the kind of art that made other people stop and ask where you’d gotten it done, who the artist was, and how long it took.
Despite that I didn’t choose this tattoo, despite that I knew Ishouldhave felt violated for Damien essentially branding me without my permission. . . I loved it.
And damn him for knowing that I would.
Damien returned to his desk and settled back into his chair. He picked up his coffee cup, inhaled the aroma with the appreciation of a connoisseur, took a slow sip while watching us over the rim with those too-knowing amber eyes.
We turned towards the door again. Rowan’s hand found mine, his grip steady despite the exhaustion I heard in his breathing—shallow and controlled, the breathing of someone in pain and trying not to show it. The slight tremor in his fingers said his body was running on fumes.
Again, Damien’s voice stopped us from leaving. “It is a long walk from here towhereveryou two are headed. Would you like for me to conjure up a door,mi aves fénix?”
The question stopped me mid-step. I turned, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
Rowan said, “If there is no cost to such an offer.” His voice was cautious, suspicious in the way that came from decades of learning thatnothing was ever free. That generosity from the powerful always came with strings attached, hooks buried in the gift, prices that didn’t reveal themselves until you were already bleeding.
“It seems your dearest boyfriend did not tell you how gods and demons travel,gatita.” He made a small gesture with his hand—barely a flick of his fingers, casual as someone swatting a fly—and reality just. . .shifted.
One moment, there was only a wall next to us. The next moment, there was a door.
Heavy oak that looked centuries old, dark enough to be almost black, with grain visible in the firelight like muscle beneath skin. Iron hinges hand-forged and ancient, the kind of metalwork that belonged in museums or castles or places where history had weight and blood.
