A soft cry of pleasure drew Haven’s focus to the female in Stolas’s arms again. Pure white light swirled inside her heavy-lidded eyes as Stolas’s euphoria filled her.
Sweat cropped Haven’s skin. Sweltering—the room was suddenly sweltering, as if a fire blazed to life somewhere nearby. She sucked in gulps of the metallic too-sweet air as the tent slowly started to spin.
Wiping her sweat-stained palms on her dress, she looked from the female’s face to Stolas—to see his gaze locked on her as he drank.
He was silent, and the only reason she knew he was actively draining any blood was by the way his throat rhythmically bobbed.
Every dip was followed by a surge of dark golden light inside his eyes.
A shock of fire speared her middle, filling her the way the golden light swelled inside his irises. Even with his lips pressed against the Solis female’s throat, Haven caught the way the corners of his mouth lifted in a wicked, inviting smile.
Her body responded in kind. Coils of heat tightening in her belly. Her pulse lashed against her neck, throbbing almost painfully as her flesh began to ache.
If she didn’t leave she would do something regrettable. Darting toward the door, she lurched beneath the flap. The cool winds washed over her in an icy wave and she nearly stumbled before finding purchase against a sturdy wooden pole. She leaned back as she willed her heart to slow and her breathing to calm.
Raw emotions knotted behind her breast, but no matter how hard she tried to disentangle what she felt, the only thing she could pinpoint was frustration.
She wasn’t even sure why she fled. Was it the savagery of the act itself? Or the fact that it didn’t disgust her like it should?
That she had stared right into his eyes as he fed from another being and she’d felt . . .
Nope. Thumping her head back, she exhaled, watching her milky breath spill into the courtyard.
You’re in love with a monster.
She dipped her chin to stare at her bare feet, and when she looked back up, the demonai female from earlier was watching her across the fire, her primordial eyes glinting above a sharp grin.
The glow of several pairs of eyes watching Haven around the courtyard soon became too many to count, and her hand went to the sword hilt at her waist, fingers curling and uncurling against the cool steel.
The Demon Realm was a land of unfathomable mysteries, but one thing was becoming alarmingly clear.
Here there were only two categories one fell in: predator or prey.
And her light magick cast her squarely in the latter.
44
Despite the frigid temperature, the greedy eyes all around her, and the knowledge of what was happening inside the tent at her back, Haven struggled to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours for days, possibly weeks. She would just sit until Stolas came out.
The sand was soft against her legs. With half-frozen fingers, she settled the fur-lined cloak over her body, tucked in her icy toes, and closed her eyes.
Just for a moment.
She immediately fell into a half-sleep, disrupted by nightmares where she would awaken to find herself surrounded by demonai with demented eyes and fangs and tails.
It could have been minutes or hours later when she flicked her eyes open to Stolas leaning over her. It came to her that he could have been one of the demonai with his horns and wings.
At the same time, caught in the murky grip of dreams and waking, it came to her that she didn’t care.
“Are you better now?” she murmured.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you don’t have a tail. Horns I can handle, but . . . I don’t think I could deal with that.”
Amusement played over his lips as he stared at her quietly for a few breaths. His fangs had yet to retract, moonlight glinting the curved points. He slipped an arm beneath her knees and another around her waist. Cool air assailed her back as he lifted her up, resting her against his chest. Her legs ached, her feet throbbing and numb, and she couldn’t feel her butt.
He, on the other hand, was warm, unusually so, especially given the cold outside. He must have just left the tent.
A surge of bitterness welled inside her at the memory. “I can walk.”
“You’re freezing,” he murmured. “I apologize, I should have made sure you had shelter before I . . . fed.”