his filthy hand through his hair. “I don’t have the grimoire — and I’m not giving you my soul.” His eyes flashed as he glared at me. “So why did you bother to come?”
“...wasting time,” he muttered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at me as if he wanted to say more, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line.
I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. He didn’t smell sweaty, like I would expect from a man who’d been running through the forest all night. Instead, he still smelled faintly of wood smoke and lemon, the kind of comforting smells that made me want to get close and close my eyes.
I reached for the neckline of his shirt, and he didn’t move a muscle. I pulled it down, carefully, revealing the rest of the red, angry mark I could see on his throat. But it was so much worse than merely a mark. A jagged, open wound ran down his chest. The skin was torn open, the wound deep, ripped through his tattoos. It was darkened with dirt, reddened, and puffy. My eyes widened as I stared.
“Leon…”
“It will heal,” he said firmly. “The beasts cut deep. I was trying to be careful...” His voice lowered, almost imperceptible as he said, “Didn’t...didn’t want to hurt the cat.”
“And you’re limping.” I frowned. “You’re hurt, Leon.”
He cleared his throat and took a step back, tugging my hand from his shirt. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”
But it wasn’t nothing. It was a wound he’d sustained while trying to protect me, while trying to protect Cheesecake. He’d let himself get hurt rather than risk injuring the animal I loved. He could have let Cheesecake die, and abandoned me to the same fate.
But he hadn’t.
Why the hell did this demon care if I died?
“It’s filthy,” I said. “It’ll get infected…”
“Demons heal far better than humans do. It’s fine.”
“Come inside.” I motioned toward the house. “Let me clean it.”
He blinked rapidly. It was subtle, but as he looked between me and the cabin, he actually looked confused. “Inside?”
“Yes. Come inside. Get a shower. Let me clean it at least.” I motioned to him, trying to urge him to follow me like a lost dog. “Just...come. Please. Let me help you.”
The soap smelled exactly like her: peppermint and sage, tinged with the natural smell of her from all the times it had been rubbed over her skin. Her scent was everywhere in the house — obviously, she lived here, but being surrounded by it for a prolonged length of time was making my cock strain.
It had hardly been two days since I’d fucked her, but it felt like ages. Leaving her needy and desperate on campus yesterday hadn’t been as easy as I’d thought it would be. I’d worked myself up too much teasing her, and had gotten so restless that I’d gone back to the cemetery and found her panties in the grass.
They were still in my pocket, my personal trophy.
I’d left my marks on her neck, but scrubbing myself down with her soap was going to mark me too. How the hell was I supposed to handle that without craving her? She’d infested my mind. She had me desperate to possess her.
That was what we demons wanted, in the end. To possess, to own. We liked to leave our marks: some temporary, some more permanent. The silver hoop with the green jewel in my left ear had been pierced and threaded through by Zane, and I’d put a needle through his tongue in return. A mark was a bond, a claim. Even demons that hadn’t been lovers in years kept each other’s marks.
But bonds were weaknesses, they were vulnerabilities. As I could already painfully feel, they only led to one getting hurt, particularly when it came to humans. The very nature of human delicacy made them appealing: it wasn’t easy to keep them. They died, they broke, they faded away. Trying to keep a human alive could drive one mad.
I shook my head, growling in the water. Rae refused to listen to my warnings, the petulant brat. She’d thought she’d fight off the Eld with a kitchen knife and baseball bat — it was shocking she hadn’t brought her camera along too, to record the evidence of her encounter. She was going to get herself killed, running into trouble like that.
I’d left the bathroom door open as I showered. I couldn’t see her through the fogged glass of the sliding door, but I