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“Oh God,” I whispered in a trembling broken voice.
His lips contorted into a lopsided grin, exposing a full row of sharp teeth, two extending longer than the rest.
“No, baby. Guess again.”
10
Icouldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. I was in the arms of the high demon who wanted me as his own.
“So lovely,” he said, trailing a finger down my cheek. I flinched, feeling as if I’d been cut with an icy blade. “So soft.”
My Vessel senses protested, registering every sensation on an agonizingly painful scale. A freezing fever began to spread from every point of contact—his thighs against my hips, his chest against mine, one hand at the nape of my neck, the other petting me where he pleased. The bite on my throat throbbed with chilling pain. A paramour of ice had me in his clutches, and I was helpless to do anything about it.
He looked like Jude, a distorted, monstrous version of him. An abomination of beauty and beast. Nausea swelled in my stomach. His touch produced a flash of memory.
I was seven years old and sitting next to a bubbling cauldron, wearing my witch costume for Halloween. Dad dropped blocks of dry ice into a pot with gloved hands. I dared to touch a piece with my bare finger, yanking it back in pain.
“Don’t touch, sweetheart. It’s so cold, it burns.”
My eyes fixed on the not-Jude, demon eyes grazing over me with a hungry expression that made me sick. I trembled. So cold, it burned.
“Stop,” I choked out, panting.
Desperately trying to regain control, I called on my Vessel Sense, not knowing how or what to do. I closed my eyes, seeking that place that opened when I needed it, yearning for some form of protection. My VS responded. Like a beacon in the night, an inner light pulsed outward. I felt an expansion of warmth from my core.
The beast pressed his finger to my lips. I winced, jerking my eyes open, blue flames burning wherever he touched. The pulse died away as swiftly as it had come.
“Shh, pretty little thing. No need for all that. I’m not going to climb inside just yet,” he said in a silky voice, threading both hands through my hair along the sides of my head. I feared he would crush my skull. Perhaps he just wanted to show me he could. “Too pure in there at the moment. But we’ll take care of that, won’t we?”
Red eyes narrowed; a beastly grin widened. He licked a drop of blood from one pointed canine. I trembled and couldn’t stop.
“Perhaps you’d prefer a more pleasing form.”
Dark hair lightened to gold, fiery eyes iced to sky blue, sharpened teeth smoothed to a fine row of pearly whites. A perfect face—angular lines, chiseled, not sharp.
“There, now. Better? I don’t much care for wearing the hunter’s shell anyway.”
Fear prickled like needles through my veins. My body was stone. I’d seen this face before—beautiful, grinning, glacial, menacing. He was the one locked in combat with Jude in my vision of an ancient time.
Lightning struck nearby, brightening the face of my captor for a fleeting second.
“Who are you?” I managed to whisper in a quivering breath.
“You may call me Danté. You are far more lovely than I thought. I couldn’t wait any longer to meet my bride. The temptation was too much. I never have been one for patience.”
Bride! My body cringed, wanting to fold inward upon itself. I stared in shock at the beautiful demon entrancing me with storm-cloud eyes. He trailed a finger along the bite mark at my neck.
“And now you’re mine.”
He angled his head as if he were listening for something. His gaze slid toward the alcove entrance for a split second.
“One more taste before I go.”
“No—”
He crushed his lips to mine before I could form a thought—tasting, demanding, thrusting his tongue along mine. I struggled, tearing my mouth away to the side. Teeth sliced through my bottom lip. I cried out as he backed away, releasing me. I slipped sideways, staring at the beautiful specimen. He smiled, canines at full length again. Blood smeared his wicked grin. My blood.
“Be sure to give the Master of Demons my name. Till next time, my sweet.”
