“You can’t just fix me!” I splutter, indignation rising again. “I don’t need fixing! I’m fine!”
Hex raises one eyebrow. The gesture is elegant even through the flickering shadows. “Are you?”
No. I’m really not. But I’m not about to admit that to him.
We stare at each other across the barrier. The silence stretches. My heart is still racing. My hands are still shaking slightly. But the fear is fading, replaced by something more complicated.
He thinks I have the potential to be brave. He wants me to stand up for myself. He’s not trying to make me weaker. He’s trying to make me stronger.
That’s very boyfriend goals of him. Damn it.
“Why do you even care?” I ask quietly. “About whether I stand up for myself or not?”
Hex’s expression shifts. Something flashes in his red eyes. Something I can’t quite read.
“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “And what’s mine should know their worth.”
Oh my fucking god. Who says shit like that? Did that really just happen?
Mine. He said it so casually. So certainly. Like it’s an established fact. I should be offended. Should be angry that he’s claiming ownership of me like I’m a possession. But instead, my stomach does that swooping thing again. That rollercoaster drop sensation. I feel my face heating up.
But it’s hardly my fault. No one, I mean absolutely no one, could remain composed while a sexy shadow monster says sexy shit like that.
He said I should know my worth.
Oh no. Oh no, this is bad.
I clear my throat and try to redirect. Change the subject before I do something stupid like swoon.
“What would feeding you even entail?” The question bursts out before I can stop it. My stupid brain floundering to change the subject and grabbing the first thing it can think of.
The effect is immediate and spectacular.
Hex’s entire demeanour shifts. The amusement in his eyes turns predatory. Hungry. His form solidifies further, shadows pulling tight around him until he looks almost completely real. Almost completely there. The barrier between us seems to thin.
“Oh, Adam,” he purrs, his voice dropping even lower. All gravel and honey. “Are you sure you want to know?”
No. Absolutely not. I should stop this right now. Should tell him to leave and never speak of it again.
“Yes,” I hear myself say.
Hex’s grin is wicked. He moves closer to the barrier, as close as he can get. His eyes never leave mine.
“It’s quite simple,” he says conversationally. As if we’re discussing the weather. “I need to feed on desire. On pleasure. On the energy generated when you feel good.”
I swallow hard. My mouth has gone completely dry. “And how exactly would you do that?”
“I would touch you.” He says it so casually. So matter-of-factly. “Kiss you. Make you feel things you’ve been denying yourself for far too long.”
Heat floods through my entire body. I’m pretty sure my face is the colour of a tomato. This is too much. Way too much information.
“I don’t have to do anything invasive,” Hex continues, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I don’t have to hurt you or take anything you don’t want to give. I just have to make you feel pleasure. The more intense, the better. The more drawn out the better. And I’m very, very good at that.”
The confidence in his voice makes my stomach flip. The promise in his words makes my skin tingle.
“So when you say feed,” I manage, my voice coming out embarrassingly breathy, “you mean...”
“I mean I would worship every inch of you,” Hex says, his eyes blazing. “Learn what makes you gasp. What makes you moan. What makes you forget your name. And I would feast on every delicious moment of it.”
