That got to him, just like I knew it would. He growled, bringing his face even closer to mine. “Have you not heard a single thing I’ve told you? Kent is not your friend. The Hadleighs will gladly make you disappear the first chance they get.”
“Yeah, yeah, the God in the mine, the cult…” I waved my hand. “If Kent is so evil, and you hate him so much, why didn’t you kill him? The grimoire called you the Killer, after all. Was that meant literally, or just to refer to you being a total buzzkill?”
He scoffed, pushing away from the chair. I settled in a little more comfortably. I was playing with fire here, but it was admittedly thrilling to be pushing a demon’s buttons like this.
“Kent is well-protected,” he said, pacing slowly around my chair. “The magical artifacts he’s collected are powerful, and he carries a trinket to protect him from demon kind. I gladly would have killed him long ago if I could have. I would have killed his grandfather, and ended the whole bloody family line.”
“But you didn’t,” I said, resisting the urge to watch him as he disappeared behind the chair. Not being able to see him made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Some killer you are.”
“Oh, doll.” His voice was a purr, and suddenly his hand came over the back of my chair to wrap around my throat. His claws lay sharp against my skin, a shiver of fear going up my back. “I earned that name. Before the Hadleighs, there was not a single magician who summoned me that I didn’t slaughter. Killing those who would bind me against my will is my single greatest joy. A demon can’t just kill indiscriminately, but if we have the opportunity, killing those who would enslave us is a right, if not a duty.”
His hand tightened, pressing my head back so I was forced to look up at him. He was leaning over the back of the chair, watching me curiously, like a cat that had caught a particularly interesting mouse.
“I couldn’t kill Kent,” he murmured. “And I didn’t kill you.”
“Why?” My voice was squeakier than I’d hoped, but I couldn’t really be blamed when there was a demonic claw pressing into my throat.
He frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps I should reconsider my decision.” Another squeeze, and the breath I tried to take was stifled. I gripped the chair cushion beneath me, watching as his irises swelled with pleasure at my squirming.
“What a funny fear response you have, doll. When I frighten you, I can smell your arousal. I wonder why that is?” He let go, disappearing for a moment only to pop up at the side of my chair. I tried to snatch my hand away, but I wasn’t fast enough. He seized my wrist, and then the other, and held them pinned. “Could it be that you find the stimulation of fear to be pleasurable? I already know you enjoy pain.”
He pulled my wrists toward him, pausing for a moment when a whimper escaped me. Slowly, he brought my hands to his lips, and kissed the back of my fingers one by one. His touch was mesmerizing, his hands so warm around my wrists and his lips so soft. He took my fingertip in his mouth, closed his lips around it, and I felt the two forked sides of his tongue wrap around my skin. My breath caught, and he smiled as he pulled my finger from his mouth.
“You can’t hide it from me.” He leaned over the arm of the chair, pinning me there again. I had no way to escape — and I didn’t want one either. “Increased perspiration, rapid heart rate, that sweet scent of your pussy already slick for me…” He ran his tongue over his teeth, and I almost melted into the chair. “If I told you to bend over right here, in the middle of the library, and stay quiet while I finger that dripping cunt until you come, you’d do it.”
I couldn’t even come up with a retort. He was right. He was right, and God, I wished he would.
“Or maybe, I shouldn’t be rewarding you for being so goddamn argumentative.” His tone darkened. “Maybe I should put you over that table and spank your ass until it’s a nice, bright, cherry red. Maybe I should make you hold your own panties in your mouth while I do, to keep you quiet. Maybe…” He was so close, his lips brushed my ear, his voice a whisper that slithered into my head and wrapped around my brain. “I should make you spread your legs while I spank you, so I can see just how wet you get every time I leave another mark on your skin.”
I could hardly breathe. I was a goddamn waterfall at that point. He’d released my wrists and I’d hardly even noticed. Our eyes met, his gaze an inferno. “Spread your legs, doll. I know you want to.”