Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,46

wore, even though it was a dream.

“Why does it bother you?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Because it’s not my name.”

“Liar,” Ronan said. “You’ve never cared what people called you. Kenneth du Lac used the wrong name for two months before the summoning. You never corrected him once.”

“Maybe I was scared.”

“You? Scared?” He chuckled and leaned forward. “You were never scared. There’s a reason the demon you called forth from the nether was one of rage. You called one that was well-met. She would have sensed your likeness and come to you willingly, except instead of crossing into the plane, you both collided. Aeshma was thousands of years old. One of the oldest, and she met her match in a sixteen-year-old child. Yet you want me to believe you were scared?” He laughed, but it wasn’t kind nor joyful. “You don’t get scared. You get angry.”

“Maybe it makes me angry, then,” I said, heart beating faster. He was goading me, and I knew it, but didn’t know how to stop.

“Why?” he said, taking another step forward. I mirrored him and took one back. His hand tightened around my throat, but not to crush it. The hold was possessive. Feral. “Is it because of your own prejudice?”

“Yes,” I hissed.

He stared at me with black fire in his eyes. I wondered if my own did the same.

“No,” he said. “You’re still lying.” Ronan leaned forward, and my breath slowed as my heart continued to speed up. I wondered if it would happen here. In my dreams. Would it bleed into the real world? Would I burn the cabin down?

“How would you know?”

“Because,” he breathed, our faces only inches apart. “I can feel it.”

His lips brushed against mine, and all rational thought came to a complete standstill.

It was soft, but not hesitant. The hold on my throat made me acutely aware of his every movement. Heat suffused me. Fire writhed. Conflicting emotions pulled taut within me, but there was one that won out above all.

Ronan pulled away, though it clearly took restraint for him to do so. He pressed his lips to the hollow of my ear and whispered. “Guilt. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you hate being called my atma. That’s why you’d see us both destroy each other.” I tore myself away, working hard to control my breathing. Ronan took a step back and gave me a knowing look. “You picked this place as a reminder to yourself,” he said, motioning to it. “And only you can tell yourself why.”

His gaze looked through me, past my turtleneck and tight jeans. Past skin and muscle and bone. That thing he spoke of? It was there, and he stared it right in the face with unmasked longing and desire.

Then he gave me a cruel smirk and disappeared.

The dream faded into nothingness right before my eyes popped open.

The first stray rays of dawn peaked through the drapes. Gray, muted light replaced the heaviness of the cathedral.

I sat up, letting the sheet pool at my waist, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The dream sat on my chest like a brick weighing me down.

Because he was right.

Ronan was right.

Some people were driven by power and some by ambition and some by glory.

I was driven by guilt. Unending, all-consuming guilt.

Acknowledging it didn’t change it. Talking about it didn’t change it.

I made choices, and now I had to live with them.

Even if it destroyed me.

17

“Wouldn’t it be more believable if I drove?” Nathalie mused from the passenger seat beside me. She had the window rolled down halfway, her long nails tapping on the roof softly.

“You’re what? Twenty-two? Do you even know how to drive?” I asked skeptically.

Nathalie shrugged. “Can’t be that hard. What’s that phrase you’re so fond of? I’ll just ‘figure it out’,” she said with air quotes.

I snorted once. “Even if you managed to ‘figure it out’ well enough that we didn’t crash—no one would buy that you apprehended me and then drove me to the casino. I’m human, not a dumbass. I’d just jump out.”

It was her turn to snort. “And if someone sees us with you driving me around? You think that’s more believable?”

“No one is going to be looking for me in a car. I think it’s safe to say you’re fine,” I said tepidly, as I turned onto a back road on the far side of town. It was still early morning, and few people were out on the streets. Mostly hookers and homeless. I really hoped my car wasn’t