Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,64
sweater.
I was just putting on a pair of socks when Zylas walked out of the bathroom. Droplets glistened over his skin and his hair was plastered to his head, his small horns more prominent than usual. He was tugging on the buckle of the strap that ran over his right shoulder. The leather gave way and he pulled off the armor plate that protected his heart, as well as the fabric piece under it, and dropped both on the floor.
Nervously, I watched him unbuckle the bracer on his left arm and peel off his fabric sleeves. They joined the pile on the floor.
Naked from the waist up, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the carpet. Slashes and punctures scored his torso in dark lines. Unbelievably, the bleeding had stopped. Eyes half closed, he seemed lost in thought. Then he pressed a hand to the floor.
Crimson veins snaked up his arm. Magic ignited beneath his palm and spiraled out into a rune-filled circle, and the air went cold. The faint light leaking through the windows dimmed until all I could see was the glowing spell. He studied it as though checking its accuracy, then laid back.
His lips moved in a soft rumble—an incantation in his mother tongue. Power rose from the markings in a red haze, coiled over him, and gathered in his wounds. With a final whispered word, the spell flared. The magic sucked into his body and he arched off the floor, jaw clenched and muscles straining. When all the power had sunk inside him and the spell had faded, he slumped, panting.
Staring unabashedly, I crept toward him. His wounds were gone like he’d never been injured. Not even a scar remained. Breathing hoarsely, he sat up and kneaded his right bicep where it’d been sliced open just moments before.
I minced closer. “Does it still hurt?”
He ignored me. Climbing to his feet, he rolled his shoulders, then leaned down and pressed his palms to the floor. My eyebrows rose at his flexibility. He held the stretch for a moment before straightening—then he leaned over backward. My eyebrows climbed even higher, and when he pressed his hands to the floor again, body folded in a tight backward arch, I swallowed hard.
He pushed off the floor and casually resumed a standing position, as though bending his spine in half were completely normal. Frowning, he rolled his right shoulder again, water dripping off his skin.
I skirted around him and into the bathroom, shut off the shower, then gathered a pair of towels. Back in the main room, I shook one out and draped it over his shoulders.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You should dry off,” I mumbled. “So you don’t get cold.”
Shoving the towel off, Zylas stepped away as though my nearness offended him. My shoulders sagged. Clearly, I was not yet forgiven for almost getting him killed. Not that I deserved forgiveness that easily.
“You can lie down if you want.” I waved at the bed. “If … if that would be more comfortable than the infernus?”
Leaning down, he unbuckled the greaves that protected his shins. He pulled one off and examined the damage from scraping across asphalt.
I mopped up the carpet as best I could, then carried the damp towels back into the bathroom. When I came out, Zylas was reclined on my bed. His toffee-toned skin contrasted boldly with the pale blue duvet, the lines of his upper body unbroken by clothing or armor.
In all objectivity, I had to admit his body was … beautiful. The difference in his skin’s tone and texture was subtle, but it gave him an airbrushed look. Combined with his sculpted muscles, he was as perfect as a magazine photo—except for his dimly glowing eyes, small horns, and tail hanging off the mattress’s edge, its barbed end twitching like a cat’s.
He made an angry sound, startling me out of my slack-jawed reverie, and rolled onto his stomach. Head turned sideways, he glared at me with one eye.
Face heating, I hastily busied myself by tidying up. I hung my wet clothes in the bathroom, straightened up my suitcase, and collected Zylas’s discarded gear, stacking it in the bathtub to dry. Lying on his stomach, he watched my every move, radiating hostility.
I picked up his armguard. A round, spiky sigil was engraved on it, and recognition sparked through me. I lifted my infernus to peer at the symbol in its center. They were identical.
“What’s this?” I asked, pointing at the sigil on his armguard.