Page 4 of Demon’s Temptation

When he turned to face her, the attitude was back, in her posture, her expression, and it hit him full force. Fuck, his cock filled, hardened instantly. She was a smart girl. He hadn’t taken her to one of the playrooms. She knew what that meant.

She stared at him, unblinking, and shrugged. “What?”

Forcing himself to play Dom, he let his gaze move over her, purposely lingering on the delicate chain taut across her chest. He saw rather than heard her soft indrawn breath. He needed her to stop pushing him like this. Reaching out, he gave it a light tug, and she sucked in another breath.

He arched a brow, doing his best to play the role she expected, that everyone expected. “What?”

She pulled herself together fast, barely missing a beat. “I’m working. Why the hell did you pull me out of the cage?”

That flash of fire, the defiance in her words—Christ, it made him so damned hard. He struggled to say what he needed to, to reprimand her.

“Your job description does not include dancing. Get back on the floor and serve drinks like you’re paid to.” He made sure steel laced his words when he spoke.

Her jaw hardened, lips thinning.

Electricity fired between them. Being this close to her lit him up inside, made him restless, hungry. She crossed her arms, causing her heavy breasts to lift high enough that one of the tiny D-rings attached to her nipple clamps peeked out. “What’s your problem? I was only dancing. What the hell’s the big deal?”

“After that little display, you’re going to play coy?” He shook his head and let his gaze travel back down to that chain glinting between her breasts, tormenting the hell out of him.

She swallowed hard. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“No?” he gritted out.

She bit her lip but shook her head.

Why are you pushing? Let it go. Get the hell away.

“You need to know this isn’t some game. You’re playing in dangerous waters, Chaya. You dip your toes in again and a monster might latch on and not let you go.” He stepped closer, crowding her. “Might drag you under, into the dark waters with him. Are you prepared for that?”

She looked stubbornly up at him, but for once the wild cat was at a loss for words.

He forced his facial features into what he hoped was a bored expression “That’s what I thought. I don’t have time for amateur hour, sweetheart.”

A wave of pain washed over him—and not the kind he liked either, mixed with pleasure. Her emotions were all over the place and he wanted to reach out and touch her, soothe away the damage he’d caused. But he couldn’t.

And all the while, his incubus gorged on that emotion pouring off her. He hated himself for it, for the twisted feeling it gave him. The demon side of his nature wanted more. Anything it could have of Chaya, even her pain, and that messed with his head in more ways than he could count.

Which was why he needed to stay the hell away from her.

Being this close to her had become too much. He was close to coming out of his skin, and if he didn’t get the hell away from her now, he’d do something he couldn’t take back. She was looking up at him, waiting for more, for him to give her something, to acknowledge what was between them. But he fucking couldn’t.

“I’ve got shit to do,” he said, gut in knots, and headed across the club, trying to get far enough away that her emotions wouldn’t reach him. But he didn’t think that was possible, not with her.

The night dragged and his control cracked more and more until his skin was hot and tight and he couldn’t get a handle on the amount of emotion he was taking in.

He was leaning against the wall, and when he tried to straighten he actually fucking staggered like a damn drunk. Which wasn’t far from the truth at that point.

This was his addiction, something he lived with and fought every day. He glanced up, spotting Chaya delivering drinks over in her section. Emotion was his drug, and somehow every day he had to take enough to survive but not enough to fucking OD.

He glanced at Chaya again. And right there was his downfall—if he ever allowed himself to give in to temptation. Everything about her—her beautiful body, her wild spirit, and her sweet, intoxicating emotion—called to him like a love song. Like the best high he’d ever have.

Giving in to that need would be too dangerous, for both of them.

He needed to regain his control. Now.

A young demi stood a short distance away. Brent had seen him at the club the last few nights, his interest in what Brent could give him written all over his face. He was a beautiful male, but Brent’s stomach knotted, fisted, a sense of wrongness washing over him that made his palms sweat.

Before Chaya started working for him, he wouldn’t have thought twice about spending time with the male. Male or female, it didn’t matter to him. But he wasn’t who Brent wanted.