Page 45 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

“Yes. They’ll move on to other…games. It just takes time.” He dropped his hands back to his sides.

Hazel exhaled slowly, almost certainly not meaning to call attention to the rise and fall of her breasts, which her thin pink shirt did almost nothing to hide. Ligat didn’t mean to stare, for that matter. It still took him a moment to look away.

For that matter, she was still standing close to him. Maybe it was out of fear, or because they were the only two beings that resembled people or even life in this place, but Ligat saw her bite the corner of her lip and thought otherwise.

“What is this place?” Hazel asked. Her gesture took in the room, but Ligat suspected it extended to the city as a whole.

“A memory, perhaps. Or a dream. I’m not sure.”

“Not your demon’s lair, then?” Hazel gave him a tiny, mocking smile. “Did your master send you out for cigarettes, or are you playing hooky? Going to get in trouble if you stay out too late?”

Ligat felt himself rise to the challenge—in more ways than one, despite or perhaps because of the momentary spark of irritation. “Your concern does you credit.”

“I’m more or less a saint.”

The room was dim and warm around them, full of furniture that perhaps no human had ever used. Danger ran through the city beyond the walls. “I’m here on my own business,” said Ligat, raising one hand to cup the side of Hazel’s face. “My master knows what it needs to. And I’m no schoolboy.”

As he drew his thumb slowly across her cheekbone, her lips curved further and her eyes darkened. “What are you, then?” she asked, voice low again but not from fear this time.

“Unwise,” he said, and pulled her to him.

* * *

Ligat wasn’t gentle.

He wasn’t rough or clumsy—not by a mile—but when his mouth settled over hers and his tongue slid between her lips, it was with all the swift, controlled force of a hunter claiming its prey. With one hand on her shoulder and the other at her waist, he held her tight against him while he kissed her, though Hazel never thought for a second of moving away.

She wanted all of it—the heat of his mouth, the strength in his hands, the lean, hard lines of his frame—and more. Sheshouldn’thave wanted it, but she’d told herself that for days and it had apparently not sunk in at all.

I give myself very good advicefloated through her mind, Carroll by way of Disney,but I very seldom follow it.

Hazel had spent most of her life being sensible. That life might be—probably was—approaching a grisly end. She’d reconsider her choices later.

Grasping Ligat’s shoulders to steady herself against both the angle and the surge of lust that left her legs weak, she leaned up into his embrace. He caught his breath. She didn’t hear it, but she felt the sudden stillness of his chest as her breasts pressed against it, and the knowledge sent another spike of arousal through her.

It was also brieflyfamiliar, which made no sense at all, since she didn’t believe in soulmates or Disney lyrics. Besides, she hadn’t kissed him in the dream. Hazel brushed off the feeling of déjà vu—brains were odd and she had no time for analysis—and let herself sink into the kiss again.

All at once, with the same swiftness he’d used to grab her arm or throw her over his shoulder, Ligat spun them around, pinning her against the wall with his weight. His hands found her breasts, cupped them firmly, dragged his thumb over her stiff nipples until Hazel couldn’t keep herself from whimpering.

He raised his head just enough to murmur into her ear: “Do that again.”

“Make me,” Hazel gasped, but she was rocking her hips even as she spoke, seeking contact with the hard and truly impressive length nudging at her stomach. When Ligat’s fingers closed on her nipples, she didn’t whimper—she moaned.

All of the second thoughts floated through her mind in a moment, but, with Ligat teasing her breasts and his mouth smooth and deft against hers, she found herself producing a quick answer to every objection.

He’s a demon’s minion.But she knew that, and she also knew he couldn’t kill her.

It could be a trap.Not unless the demon had known exactly where she’d be and when, and if it did, she was even more doomed than she’d thought.

We’re in some abandoned store, for God’s sake, it’s not exactly clean or comfortable.Whatever. Some people had sex on camping trips. At least the floor in the building was dry.

The conduit— She gotherselfoff regularly, and that had never caused trouble.

At that point, Ligat slid one hand down to the waistband of Hazel’s jeans, and his touch silenced even that feeble debate. He paused for barely a second before plunging farther in one cool, suremotion that ended with the base of his fingers pressed just above her clit and his fingertips slipping into her.

He must have felt how wet she was—well, there was no way he couldnot, she was basically dripping onto him—because he made a low noise in his throat. “Needy little creature, aren’t you?” he growled.

“Takes one—” Hazel reached out and wrapped her fingers around the erection tenting his robe. “To know one.”