Chapter 8

8

Once more, I woke in Thorn’s bed, though alone.

Disoriented and confused, I hung on the edge of a fever haze as an infuriating itch on my back frantically begged to be sated. Even with a one-story crash dive into a cement floor, hurt didn’t sear through me while stretching my arm behind my shoulder.

Had I already healed from that epic fall?

I remembered my broken neck and shattered jaw, but now, there was no pain. I flexed opened my mouth and closed it, expecting a delayed sting to finally hit me, but it never did.

Everything I went through should have ended me. But it didn’t.

Fucking Marvin.

I hoped that asshole rolled snake eyes and choked on his after-healing meal.

Speaking of which, my body wasn’t whining for food like it normally would have following such a brutal assault.

After a fight, I usually craved Taco Shack, a steak from a high-end restaurant or the best burger in Baton Rouge. But now? Nothing.

Sitting slowly, I expected lightheadedness. Instead, I’m ready to go another round in the ring with Marvin the asshat. My vision seems sharper in the darkness, revealing the room’s corners despite the drawn curtains and no lighting.

“Well, that’s new,” I said aloud.

“What’s new?”

I strangled the shriek rising in my throat and shot a glance at the man sitting in a chair beside the bed.

“Thorn.”

“Elena.”

“Fuck. How do you sit so quietly I didn’t notice?”

Thorn shrugged. “It’s one talent of my kind that allows us to encourage self-destructive acts by humans.”

“Is that your evil plan for me?”

Thorn shook his head. “I have other uses for your talents.”

Uses.Nice to know I’m valued and loved.

I scoffed.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

Thorn stood and smoothed his suit. “The entire time you were out.”

“How long?” I pull the covers up to my chin. Surprisingly, my shirt lacks blood, mud, or shit to clean.

“About twenty minutes, but half was just a nap.” Thorn flashed me a smug grin. “Get sorted, then meet me in the office. We’ve got more to talk about.”

“I healed this fast by virtue of the mark?”

He nodded. “You may have already noticed some other minor changes, too. I can now visit your dreams and communicate with you more easily without words.”

“You mean like telepathy?”

“Not exactly.” The look on his face didn’t change, but suddenly dread filled me as if the wolves yapped behind at my heels. Then the feeling faded.

“Oh, fuck.”

Thorn chuckled, supremely pleased with these transformations.

“Often, our communication is just a shared perception or feeling. Soon, you’ll find it more efficient than forming words. And,” he paused, “It will work both ways.”

My mouth twitched involuntarily. “How long will that take?”

Thorn snorted. “Why worry about what you can’t change?”

I shot an incredulous stare at the man with my stomach sick at realizing the full import of working with the devil. But he powered on, unconcerned with my discomfort.

“Clean up, then meet me in my office. Unless you desire I join you, first?”

He’s not—

“In bed?” Embarrassingly, I squeaked these words.

Thorn grinned with eyes gleaming in a predatory fashion, communicating he would enjoy our association more if I invited him between the sheets. I mean, what does a demon do in bed? My imagination ran rampant with all sorts of kinks making the Fifty Shades guy seem like a choir boy. Things that would make me shiver with desire when the demon wasn’t touching me. Was making love with hell spawn addictive?

Oh, shit. Thorn grinned even wider. Was the bastard reading my mind?

“I don’t see that as a perk of our—”

Thorn raised his eyebrows.

“Business relationship?” I offered.

Infuriatingly, he shrugged.

“Do you often offer to fuck your business associates?”

He smiled and headed for the door.

Yeah, demon.

“You read my mind!”

He turned and scoffed.

“Not yet, and it’ll never be something I can always do. But things will slip through from time to time, as we grow closer.”

“So never, then. Good to know.”

He held my gaze much too long for comfort. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from those orbs of red, gold, and brown whose swirling sped up as he stared. I’m caught in a mesmerizing supernatural draw coalescing into a thick cord between us. Thorn stood as if he were caught in it, too, and he licked his lips hungrily or perhaps something darker.

I didn’t know Thorn’s demon classification or what evil damage he could execute. I should ask. Thorn would probably take great delight in telling me, but I’m too caught up in those eyes to open my mouth.

Demons have a terrible reputation among shifters who whisper about the creatures as if speaking their names aloud would summon them. And here I am, drooling over this hell’s citizen considering opening my legs for a fun-filled romp. Oh hell, no.

Thorn shook his head. Did I hear him sigh?

“I’ve saved your life twice, Elena, once at significant cost and risk to myself. You stole my magic and brought wolves to my door. Trust? You’re the one who can’t be trusted.”

He turned on his heels with great precision and left the room as if offended.

I fought the urge to chuck a pillow at his head as he exited the room. Everything he said was true, so why does it feel so manipulative and disingenuous?

I dragged myself out of the luxurious bed and checked my face and body for bruises in the full-length mirror in the bath.

Not a scratch. Nothing to denote a snapped neck. Well, nothing I’d classify as an injury, anyway. I pulled off my shirt and bra and looked more closely at the itchy place where I supposedly harbored the demon rune. There, faintly etched, I see the mark of a hand between my breasts. It looks something like a tattoo done in white ink.

I turned and scanned my back in the mirror to find another mark between my shoulder blades. This one is red, shaped like a crown in flames.

Yep. Demon mark, all right.

I now host two demonic marks that meet in the center of my body, with my heart between them. I threw out my hands in the perpetual “what the hell” gesture.

What could possibly go wrong? I shuddered. How the fuck did I get myself into this mess?

I splashed water on my face, put my shirt back on, and trudged to Thorn’s office. Below me, gunmen and the bored assistant take up their usual positions. The lobby displayed no sign that a fight had ever happened, aside from one broken window.

In Thorn’s office, someone cleaned the glass from the weapons case. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses sat on the desk. Thorn rested in a massive leather chair but didn’t look at me. Instead, the demon kept his eyes on the papers on the desk but waved his hand to indicate I should sit. I took the same chair as before, sinking into the leather, and finally, Thorn raised his head to glare at me.

“I don’t appreciate my guests destroying my possessions. That is an antique case, and the glass was over two hundred years old.”

I sat under his disapproving stare and felt like a five-year-old reprimanded for spilling milk on the table.

“Um, sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cover it, Elena. Humans don’t make glass like that anymore. The lead content in it—well, it lent a measure of magical protection to the items within.”

“Look, take the repairs out of my pay.”

“Did you not just hear me?”

My eyes narrowed. I’d had enough of Thorn’s bullshit.

“You instructed me to get weapons.”

“I didn’t expect you to destroy the armoire.”

“How else would I open it?”

His eyes flared with heat, but this time it wasn’t the sexual kind. He was pissed, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t scare the hell out of me.

“I mistakenly thought a thief would know how open a valuable antique armoire without bashing it all to hell,” he snapped.

I rose from my seat and he from his standing eye-to-eye over that desk. He growled an honest-to-goodness snarl, and for a second, in those eyes, I saw the ravenous beast within that held a hunger that could never be satisfied. It should have frightened me, except I realized that at this moment, Thorn was chained to that hunger like I was chained to him by that damned mark on my back.

I backed away and held out my hands in supplication.

“We can’t work like this, at each other’s throats.”

He closed his eyes, and his elegant shoulders sagged.

“For once, you are right about something.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with sarcasm.

He shot me another glare, and I realized the prudence of backing off. Otherwise, there would be a murder in this office tonight, either his or mine. I felt either would not work out well for the survivor.

“Hey, I have new body art.”

Thorn’s eyes glinted as he lowered his body in one graceful move onto the massive leather chair. He clasped his hands while leaning his elbows on the desktop.

“Oh? Care to show me?”

“Sure, I whip off my shirt for near-strangers all the time.”

He gave me a long stare and didn’t answer.

“Fine.”

I stood and yanked the tank top over my head, turning to show him the flaming crown on my back.

“Is this like your sigil or something?”

When he didn’t respond, I turn back to him. “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “That’s not my sigil, no. But I’m impressed you know at least as much as you do. The sigil is like a spell. So, if I were to mark you as a slave, for example—”

“Oh, good, there is a slave version?”

“I’m using the example because you were worried about it. If you were my slave, the crown would be in chains, to signify entrapment. You gave me permission, so the mark holds you as my servant, but not my slave.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to serve you.”

“You agreed to let me save your life. The fact is, you didn’t ask specifics—”

“As the life drained from my body.”

He scoffed. “That is not my concern.”

“I’m not your servant.”

But for a split second, I think he wanted to laugh at me. This connection might not be worth survival. I grimaced and chewed my bottom lip. The law of unintended consequences struck again.

“Fine,” he agreed. “You’re not my servant. At least, not in the demon-sense, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t give out my marks like candy, either. I had to give you some of my power, my life-force to heal you so quickly. It makes me vulnerable. If you die, I might die, too. Remember that when you’re picking fights with shifters who are bigger than you.”

“Fine.” I open my mouth to add a retort but shut it with a snap. He had just offered me a concession, which would piss him off if I threw it in his face.

His eyes widened. “What did you want to ask?”

I cocked my head.

“Can I get some of that whiskey?”

He sighed and nodded his head.

“But only if you do something for me, Miss Not-My-Servant.”

I glanced at the whiskey bottle, and from the label, the liquor was fifty years old and had to be as smooth as fuck.

“What do I get to do for you?”

He grinned, and his eyes transformed from honey-flecked brown to nearly red.

“You will steal for me.”