Chapter 25

After obsessing all day about what Selene had thought about his time in the blood wagons, the last way Sam wanted to spend his evening was at a boisterous party to celebrate the founding of Snowmelt. Though as Eldridge nudged him toward the waiting carriage, it seemed he didn't have a choice. Selene and Brunie were already seated in the back, their laps stacked with the pies they had spent the day baking.

Without even bothering to brush the sawdust from his tunic, Sam stole a glance at Selene before climbing up into the front seat. He had kept his distance from her all day and was surprised to see that she wore a formal dress. It was pink with delicate straps skimming over her Nereid-creamed shoulders, with a skirt made of voluminous netting. The brief glimpse had made his pulse pound, yet he declined to comment as Rainsilver set off for the town hall.

While they rode, Brunie jabbered away, pointing out local landmarks. Sam could tell from Eldridge's posture he wanted to talk, but Sam didn't initiate conversation. They had conversed enough for the day.

Eldridge had found him in the barn about an hour after he had stormed out at breakfast. Not only did the Goblyn chastise him for leaving the table so rudely, he quietly explained that they had told Selene everything about their past together. Sam had felt sick, but he should have known that a Harpy can't resist answering a question posed to her. He had wanted Selene to see him as a self-commanded male who valued justice and reason—steadfast, controlled, and merciful. Not a sadistic killer who had taken the lives of innocents. Or someone who was easily manipulated and unable to escape his own confinement for many years.

Yet Eldridge had assured him Selene wasn't upset by the news. She was sympathetic, he had said. She was horrified by what Julian had done, but not by Sam"s violence. Sam refused to believe him. It was too much, too confusing for him to take in, especially after how he had lost control in the kitchen the night before.

So he had spent the day avoiding everyone, fixing any little thing he could find around the farm, and telling himself he wasn't affected at all by what a human thought of him. He reminded himself that he was using her to get to Zaybris, nothing more. It had worked, almost—until he saw Selene in that dress.

After they arrived at the community hall, Sam lingered outside as the others went in. Using the excuse of tying up the horse, he performed a thorough inspection of every spring, strap, axle, and spoke of the carriage. When he was certain everything was in working order, and he had no more excuses to stay outside, he entered the hall.

A wall of sound hit him when he passed through doors—music, singing, and laughter. The hall's design was humble but appropriate for the needs of Snowmelt. It was in the shape of a rectangle, with hardwood floors gleaming under lamps hung from the ceiling. Homespun quilts decorated the brick walls, while two massive porthole windows were set high up near the ceiling on either side of the building. The twin surfaces were foggy with the heat of so many bodies, but stars could be seen glinting through the glass.

Brunie caught his eye from her post behind a table serving pie. She pointed to the stage. Eldridge stood singing in front of a handful of musicians while a small crowd of Harpies cheered for him from the floor. The tune was fast and upbeat, and Sam's mouth tugged up at the sight of Eldridge's enthusiasm.

The sound of Eldridge's voice and the scent of Brunie's pies made Sam feel gratified. It was good to see them both so happy. If he did nothing else honorable, at least he would know that the two he loved best in this realm had found peace.

Sam made his way toward the drink table. Snowmelt was mostly a town of farmers, and it was obvious that the presence of a demon flustered them. After receiving a generous pour of ale, he found a quiet corner to disappear into.

He hadn't called the shadows, but they seemed to know when he was in turmoil and came swirling. Slumping onto a tiny stool, he stared down into the ale's foamy surface. A familiar laugh jerked his attention up.

It was Selene. Far across the room, giggling and stepping from one male's embrace to the next in a line dance. It seemed to be a well-practiced routine from the movements of the other participants, but Selene did not appear embarrassed about her inability to keep up. On the contrary, she seemed to find it delightful. Other males took advantage of her ignorance with hands-on corrections, extra touches, twirls, and dips.

Sam watched them with narrowed eyes. Did she relish being pawed at by so many strange hands? Where was her sense of prudence? He began to fantasize about elaborate ways to torture each male she touched. He wondered what the Underworld's Master of Pain would recommend. Skin flaying? Acid? Impalement? The possibilities were as endless as they were intriguing.

The musicians ended their up-tempo song and started a slower-paced tune. More couples strolled out to the dance floor, and Selene became surrounded by males trying to press a drink into her hand. Most of them held mugs of ale, which made Sam snort. She loathes ale, you fools. It was the Nereid with the wineglass who gained her favor. When Selene took a sip, a tremor ran through him. It was her desire for a glass of water that had brought on the events of last night.

He still wasn't convinced he hadn't imagined the whole thing. The feel of her in his arms, so pliant and lush, was like a dream. He couldn't get enough—her touch, her taste, her scent. To have her warm skin under his tongue and her hands on his body had made him crazed. Desperate and greedy for more.

Why had she kissed him? The movement had been so unexpected he froze—he was sure she hadn't meant to kiss him fully on the mouth. But she didn't pull away. She had parted her thighs as if in welcome and arched her back towards him. She had made him feel as if she wanted his mouth, his hands on her. Suddenly Eldridge's idea that she was a little bit fond of him didn't seem so outlandish.

It was her hair that smelled of honey, he had realized. Her skin was like red berries, but the honey scent came from her hair. Exquisite. Addicting. And the sounds she made? He could have come just from hearing her little gasps and moans.

But then his control… faltered. He had become mindless. Selfishly dragging his mouth all over her tender flesh, ready to tear her clothes off and slake his desire any way he could. A slave to sensation, no better than a filthy vampire.

He watched the Nereid male across the room whisper in Selene's ear and her head tip back with laughter. Familiar urges to punish rose. Dark possessiveness shot through Sam as his mind fogged with one word—mine.

It flashed across his consciousness for only a second, but the effect was powerful. Mine. That was how he was starting to place her. He rubbed his forehead, startled by the way his mind was now beginning to keep pace with his body's absurd delusions of matehood. The pair spun around, and he stared at the skin of Selene's exposed back. Wingless. Very human shoulder blades and nothing more.

The hall felt too hot, and the air seemed stale. He needed to leave. Now.

After slipping out the front doors, he relished the brisk night air. The hall had been built on a wooded area near the river, and the water's sound was soothing.

Mine.What was wrong with him? One kiss from a beautiful human, and he was certain she was his mate? Absurd. He tried not to relive each moment of their encounter in the kitchen, but he couldn't stop. He wished he had gone slower, taken the time to savor every second, every moment until he had started to lose control.

The sound of footsteps crunching along the ground made Sam turn, then mutter a curse. Of all the people who could have come out at that moment, it had to be Selene. She sank onto a wooden bench overlooking the water. Her breathing was still choppy from dancing as she slumped back and sighed.

"Grown tired of cavorting with simpletons, have you?" Sam asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Selene jerked upright. "Where are you?"

Sam moved from behind the tree to stand in front of her.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Selene said. Her relieved expression changed to one of indignation. "Did you just say ‘cavorting?'"

"That's one word to describe your wanton display."

"Really? Cavorting? What am I, a nymph?"

"I imagine nymphs would have more discretion," he said coldly. "Where did you get that dress?"

She gaped at him. "Hollen packed it for me. But hold on, are you slut-shaming me right now? Seriously?"

"I don't know what that means, but it's obvious that you enjoyed having many, many dance partners tonight."

She pressed her lips together. "I like dancing, okay? And men who don't go out of their way to avoid me."

"Enjoy talk of crop diseases and hay mowing, do you?"

Selene scowled up at him. "If you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask."

"I do not dance!" he thundered.

He instantly regretted his tone when she shrank back on the bench. After they regarded each other in silence, she said, "Why are you so angry with me?"

He shrugged.

"This is about more than me dancing," she said.

He shrugged again.

"Is this about what Brunie and Eldridge told me? Whatever happened in your past, I don't care," she said. "To be honest, I'm in awe of how you came through it."

He touched a cluster of green berries sprouting from a bush. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity."

"Now that you know what happened I don't want to ever talk about it again. Do you understand?" he said.

"I understand. But I want to say that I think you"re very brave. And resilient. That"s all."

He frowned. Her words were gratifying, but he was unsure of how to respond. He was also tired of thinking, talking, obsessing about his past. If she were agreeable to letting it go, he would be as well. To change the subject, he asked the question that had been plaguing him all day.

"Last night, in the kitchen… why did you do it?"

"What?"

He scowled, reluctant to actually say the word kiss. It seemed too subdued, too chaste for what they had shared. "What do you think?"

She returned the same ambiguous shrug he had given her a moment before.

His shoulders tightened. Why was she being so difficult? He took a step closer and dropped his voice, hoping to intimidate her into being truthful. "If you are playing a game, take care. Do not mistake me for one of your human men or even an Aurelian. You don't understand the drives you invoke when tempting a demon. Now tell me why you did it."

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "I did it because I… I've wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss you. So when the opportunity came—"

"You've thought about kissing me? Before last night?"

"Yes."

Pleasure rushed through him. Wondered for so long, she had said. How long? And how detailed had those wonderings been? But the feeling was short-lived. "Last night was a mistake. My control slipped, and I… " He glanced at the skin of her collarbone and chest, surprised there were no bruises there. "I did things I regret."

A look he couldn"t recognize passed across her face. "I don't have any regrets," she said. "Maybe that it ended too soon." Her cheeks flushed.

Maddening human!Sam scanned her face suspiciously, looking for any signs of jest or duplicity, yet she seemed sincere.

He began to pace in front of her. She made him feel so off-balance, so uncertain of everything he knew to be true. Combat against an enemy he understood. He was gifted at doling out punishment. Masterful at upholding justice. But interpreting females? He had never felt so adrift. All of his conflicted feelings bubbled up into one emotion that he was very familiar with—anger.

"How can you say it ended too soon when you told me to stop?" he seethed, pointing an accusatory finger.

"I never asked you to stop."

"You said ‘no,' and I stopped."

"Yes, but you didn't let me finish!"

"What could come after that? I did as you asked!" His voice continued to rise. "Are all humans this contrary, or is it just you?"

Selene raised her chin. Her face contorted from irritation into a look that could only be described as severe. She stood and walked toward him. He felt himself sway like her body held a pulling force that he was helpless to resist. Standing toe to toe, she looked up into his eyes. She wetted her lips, and he instantly went rock hard. Was she going to kiss him again? Ask him to kiss her? His breath quickened in anticipation. All his anger evaporated, and his hands reached for her waist.

In a voice like sugared venom, she whispered, "I said ‘no' because I thought you were about to tear off my nightgown. If you had let me speak, I would have told you to unbutton it."

Then without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and marched back into the hall. The doors slammed, and the sound echoed throughout the valley, causing birds to bolt out of the trees. Sam stood speechless in the dark for several moments, just staring at the bench where she had sat.

When the full effect of her words hit, the surge of lust nearly sent him to his knees. He resumed his pacing.

She had enjoyed their kiss. Didn't want him to stop. He had not hurt her or gotten too rough. Instead, he had abandoned her and left her wanting. Alone in her need and returning to a cold bed. Unfulfilled. He had been so lost to his own pleasure, he had failed to tend to her properly.

Shame at his ineptitude washed over him, and he let out a howl of rage. If she had felt anything close to the deprived ache he felt that night…

And now she was in the arms of other males. Possibly seeking from them that which he denied her. Reveling in the attention of those more skilled at flattery and seduction than he was. Allowing the invasion of their filthy hands, pressing bodies, and whispers of promised delights.

A red haze clouded his vision, and his body strained. Power, strength, and the rush of determined focus flooded his veins. The shadows flocked to pulsate around him, and his claws extended. Horns flaring, he knew what needed to be done.

Nothing would keep him from her this time.