Page 15 of Knight’s Dominion

If she dropped her rock-solid block, and she let him feel their connection. A whacked-out, soul-deep knowledge that she would have cut out of her body the moment she felt it if that were possible.

"Do you enjoy the power you have over weak, spineless males like your friend Oden? Does it turn you on? Or do you feel shame after you’ve let them pant all over you?”

She scowled. She’d die before revealing the truth to him.

The only one who should be ashamed was him. He'd failed her kind time and again.

Had failed her family.

She’d never see her parents, her brother, ever again because of him.

Pain washed through her, and she used it to drive her on, to run faster, harder, jump farther. That pain was her fuel.

Despite Chaos’s power, he was failing in his task, and because of his arrogance, his ignorance, she'd lost everything. Her parents had suffered terribly before they'd been killed by rogue demons, demons that should have been tracked and killed as soon as they'd escaped Hell. Both her parents had held impressive abilities, especially her father, but he’d been no match for the creatures.

Both her parents had been demi, and Grace had assumed when she came of age, her powers would be stronger for it. Instead, she’d gotten the opposite: not a damn thing. She could lift an invisible shield, block herself—who she was, what she was—from other beings, knights…Chaos, but that was the extent of it.

Sometimes she thought she felt something deep inside swirling, restless to be set free, but nothing ever came of it. Phantom powers. She wanted them so badly, she imagined it.

Yeah, she could fight, but it was a demi-demon’s unique powers that would win this war, she was positive of it. Which was why Chaos choosing not to utilize the demi willing to fight, when they were on the cusp of losing everything, infuriated her even more.

She picked up her pace, feeding off the rush of adrenaline as she launched off the ledge and leapt to the next building. Her boots hit the next roof, and she pushed her body to its limits, relishing the burn of her muscles, planting each foot against the rough surface beneath her feet to propel her faster, farther. She dipped her head, preparing to jump—

Something collided with her side, and Grace hit the ground hard, her body's momentum propelling her forward, sliding her across the rough surface.

She desperately groped for purchase, but there was nothing to grab on to as she slid right off the edge of the building.

The fingers of one hand caught the lip of the roof and she cried out. Sucking in a breath, she swung up with her other hand and hung on for dear life. "Shit. Fuck."

Someone moved to the edge and looked down at her. “Hello, demon butcher. Nice to finally meet you in person.”

She'd never seen the guy before, and with all her focus currently on not falling to her death, she was unable to reach out with her senses and feel what he was.

He crouched down and flashed her a grin. “As much as I’d like to pull you up, your crimes are too numerous for leniency. Termination is the only cure for your particular illness."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Her fingers were screaming, but she had a decent hold for now. She could easily swing herself back up if this asshole wasn’t in her way. There was a fire escape behind her, across the alley, though. If she sprang off with enough force, she’d make it.

"You’ve traveled down the wrong path, little demon butcher, and now you're infected. A killer of your own kind, fighting against those who wish to be set free from darkness." He poked out his bottom lip. “He said to spare you if your powers were impressive.” He shrugged and tilted his head. “Such a shame, you really are a hot piece of ass."

She gritted her teeth and lifted her feet, the soles of her boots gripping on to the rough concrete wall, and glanced behind her, preparing to spring back to the fire escape across the alley—

The male above her froze, nostrils flaring, his gaze boring into her. “Well now, what do you know.”

The demon, because it was obvious that’s what he was, grinned wide and reached out, like he was about to help her up.

His hand was midair when his head hit the rooftop and rolled to the side. There was a clatter of steel, then Chaos was suddenly there, gripping her forearm. "I've got you."

Next, she was in motion, lifted like she weighed nothing, pulled to her feet before she had a chance to swing herself up.

Those dark, almost charcoal eyes took her in from head to toe, assessing, searching for injuries. The neon sign across the street shone on his muscled forearms and huge, bulging biceps, highlighting his incredibly ripped bare chest and stomach. It also lit up the tattoo-like markings on his arm and the ink on the side of his shaved head.

She gritted her teeth against the connection between them, because even looking at her with emotionless indifference like he was now, just being in his presence, had her fighting the urge to squirm.

Gunner was crouched behind him, searching what was left of her attacker. “Wallet, phone." He threw a small switchblade down beside the other objects. "Extremely unmanly knife." Then he looked up at her. “All right?"

She scowled at the knight, pissed and humiliated. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chaos snorted. "You're welcome.”