Page 33 of Demon’s Temptation

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Handing your body over to a demon, a powerful one, a male who doesn’t know you, who could have hurt you…” He ground his teeth before more of his control slipped. “How do you know that male? Did Grace point you in his direction?”

“No. As a matter of fact, he comes into Toxic.” Chaya explained how she’d gone to Grace, and how Victor being a target was a “happy” coincidence.

“Tell me this is the first time you’ve seen him.”

Chaya didn’t look pleased by his question, but she answered anyway. “Three times.”

He struggled to control the fear burning him up inside. “You’ve done this before?” He couldn’t stop his next words even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. “Did you…have you let him fuck you?”

She stared at him, lips thinned, then finally shook her head. “No, we never had sex.”

He had to fight not to fold, to rest his head in her lap and beg her to stroke his hair, to help him control the rage and fear, the relief.

“This was the first time we did a scene,” she said. “The other times I just watched. I was safe, Brent. He didn’t suspect me. There were people everywhere, and I gave him a list of my limits.”

Thank fuck for that. He started the car and headed out. The drive back to the club only took fifteen minutes, but by the time they got there he was jumping out of his skin. Chaya had stayed quiet at his side, and he wished he could climb inside her head and know what she was thinking. What the hell was going through that beautiful head of hers?

He pulled up to the lot behind the club, climbed out, and jogged around to open Chaya’s door before she could. Taking her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers and led her inside. He noted she didn’t resist.

The place was still fairly busy, but he ignored everyone, barely acknowledging the staff that greeted them, and motioned her toward his office.

She walked in and he closed the door behind them.

Chaya turned to him then, looking exquisite in her tight skirt and corset, those spiked heels. “Now what?” she said. “Are you going to call Chaos? Zenon?”

He shook his head. “May I see it?”

She frowned at him. “See what?”

“Your list.” He’d seen her jam it down the front of her corset when she was getting dressed, trying to hide it from him.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Please, Chaya.” There was no demand in his voice. He’d dropped the Dom act completely, and yeah, right there, she’d seen it, felt it.

Her eyes widened, nostrils flaring, lips parting slightly.

She yanked a piece of paper from the front of her corset, not letting up on the attitude—not yet—still too afraid to believe what he was telling her without words. He didn’t expect anything less.

She placed it in his hand, and he read it carefully, noting the changes. She was going to allow that male to put his hands, his mouth on her. She was going to allow another male those privileges.

He focused on the piece of paper in his hands when he spoke. “No fucking?” he rasped, then looked up.

She held his stare, back rigid.

“That’s a hard limit?”

“Yes,” she said. “I told you I was there for the cause, for Grace. I wasn’t going to let him fuck me.”

He stared down at the list again for several more painfully long seconds, trying to find the words. Trying to push past the fear that he’d been wrong, that he’d somehow read her wrong. That if he said the next words, she’d reject him, maybe even be disgusted in him.

He cleared his throat, then lifted his eyes to hers. “My limits, they’re pretty much the same,” he said, voice husky with need. “Only I don’t like to be watched, and you…you could fuck me any way you wanted.”

Heat flashed in her eyes. “What?”

He didn’t know how to convey what he was feeling, what he wanted, so he showed her. He closed the distance between them until he was only a few feet away, and dropped to his knees, bowing his head. Offering the Domme in front of him his submission.

And held his breath.