Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

CASS

T he shadows swirl around me as I'm whisked away. As soon as I'm behind the gazebo and out of sight, I materialize while simultaneously extending my leg out until my foot hits the ground.

Just like that, I march off like the hellhounds themselves are after me.

The clicking of my boots echoes on the cobblestones as I walk away. My tail whips behind me furiously. Probably angry that I'm running away—like a coward.

It's him. Fuck. It's really him.

My mate. Blaze has me so rattled that I can't even shadow myself to my apartment. Instead, I'm a quivering, horny, emotional wreck, trying to hide my body's reaction from the public. Whoever said finding your mate is like finding the other half of yourself is wrong. It's like downing three shots of liquid Viagra .

He's so fucking handsome. Better than I even remembered, with his shoulder-length auburn hair and broad shoulders. Better than any photo. And a million times better than the hundreds of dreams I've had ever since seeing him for the first time.

Meeting him six months ago, at what I assumed was his worst, didn't stop me from being attracted to him. But damn, add a little meat and muscle to his tall-as-fuck frame, and Blaze is one tasty snack.

My body shakes, and it takes everything in me to not turn around and jump his bones like a wolf in rut. What's wrong with me? How is the bond forming between us already this strong? He just got back to town. He doesn't need some desperate demon drooling all over him.

I had a plan. Introduce myself. Get to know him. Make myself as charmingly irresistible as possible. Tell him we're mates. Then let him know I was the scary creature who saved him from his prison all those months ago.

My plan was solid. Kind of. I'd do anything to make sure my mate never fears me again. Never runs from me.

Solid plan. Until my body ruined everything. The pull of a fated mate is strong for a demon. Throw in half a year of separation and then you get… me. A hot mess of a demon practically confessing his undying love through the language of flowers. Talk about how to make your fated mate run.

Up ahead, a group of teenage pixies flitter their newly sprouted wings as they show off their colors. Two witches sit at a table in front of the coffee shop, chatting and smiling, probably on a date. A fox shifter leaves Rook's Apothecary with a gift bag in hand. I storm past all of them, desperate to get inside of my apartment above Rook's shop.

I take three stairs at a time, jam the key into the lock, and crash through my front door. Kicking the door closed, I shove my pants down to my thighs and whip out my rock-hard dick. I barely have time to think before I'm leaning against my door and wrapping my tail around my cock.

Stroking furiously, I think about all the dreams… no, the memories I have of my mate. When demons meet their other half, they tend to share memories, a sign of being fated. Both demons know they're asleep and sharing experiences together, but every time I dreamt of Blaze, he never seemed to remember.

They were all one-sided, But Blaze isn't a demon. He probably doesn't experience the fated mate's pull like I do.

Despite all that, I know Blaze. I know his favorite color, how he takes his coffee, and how he graduated at the top of his class in college. I know he likes to read by the fire and gaze at the stars. I know he could see the stars from the only damn window in his cell, and it was the only thing that kept him sane. I know how guilty he feels about his kidnapping.

Like a dragon hoarding information, I gathered every little piece of shared knowledge he sent to me through his dreams. But he doesn't remember. He doesn't know me like I know him.

The only memory he probably has of me is the scary creature he summoned when he was dying.

Shutting my eyes, I will my negative thoughts away as I continue to touch myself. Blaze's fiery cinnamon scent still surrounds me, making my mission to get off an easy feat. I picture my fingers grasping his chiseled jaw. I imagine the strain in his muscles as his black shirt clings to his chest. And I fantasize about the fact that he likes it rough and out of control.

I picture him kneeling at my feet with those pretty hazel eyes blinking up at me while I feed him my cock. The ridges on my tail create a delicious friction while I stroke my hard length. My legs begin shaking and I'm panting.

One last image slams into my mind's eye. My mate, so turned on from sucking me, that he pulls out his own hard cock as he jerks off to the taste of me in his mouth. I spread my legs wider, imagining him there.

Two more strokes and I'm spilling all over the floor.

My vision goes red as I feel myself shift and my head floats as I ride the high of my orgasm. I pant for a few moments before finally catching my breath.

Fuck. I'm in so much trouble with Blaze Sinclair.