Page 44 of Ravaged By a Devil

"This is amazing," I admit, looking up in genuine surprise. "What is it?"

"It's my favorite," he says smoothly, taking a slow drink from his own cup. "A customized black tea blend."

We stand in comfortable, quiet reflection for a few minutes, sipping our tea as the heavy exhaustion of the day slowly melts away.

Cain sets his mug down, resting his broad hands on the edge of the island. "You can head into the living room, turn on the TV, and relax for the night. I'm going to step outside for a bit."

"Why?" I ask, my brows drawing together.

"I like to sit outside at night," he says, his dark eyes searching mine. "Helps clear my head."

"I'll come with you," I say, stepping away from the counter before I even have time to second-guess the impulse.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then gives a single, quiet nod. "Okay."

He leads the way down the back hallway toward the glass patio doors. We step out into the cool night air, walking toward the private, secluded back deck. A deep, cushioned outdoor sofa sits near the edge, overlooking the quiet darkness of the estate grounds.

Cain sits down, settling back into the cushions, and I sit right next to him, the warmth radiating off his body cutting through the crisp night chill.

We sip our tea in silence, watching the moonlight pool across the quiet, expansive grounds. The night sky above is clear, dusted with a blanket of stars that feels entirely removed from the chaos of the city.

I don't know what comes over me. Maybe it's the sudden, peaceful quiet, or the hypnotic view stretching out before us, or simply the heat radiating from his side against mine. But my mind drifts back to something he said the last time I was here, and the question slips past my lips before I can stop it.

"When you talked about enjoying the hunt..." I begin softly, clutching the warm mug between my hands. "Do you really get pleasure from hunting women?"

Cain turns his head slowly, his dark eyes fixing on me in the dim light. He takes a slow sip of his tea, settling back deeper into the cushions.

“Yes.”

“How?” I press. “Tell me.”

"I like the pursuit," he rumbles, his deep voice thick with absolute honesty. "I like resistance. The chase, the moment of catching someone, the feeling of overpowering them. I like things a little rough... but only when the woman knows exactly what game we're playing and wants to play it just as badly."

A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the night air. I know I should stop. I know this conversation has crossed a line, veering straight into dangerous territory. But the pull between us is too magnetic, and I find myself leaning into the spark rather than pulling away.

A small, brave smirk touches my lips. "You sound very confident, Cain. But you probably couldn't catch me as easily as you think."

Cain's eyes darken, a slow, predatory spark igniting in his gaze. He sets his mug down on the low table beside us, turning his broad frame toward me.

"You're welcome to test that theory," he says softly, his tone low and laced with a quiet challenge. "I can prove it right now."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ALEXIS

I can prove it right now.

My heart skips a beat, hammering against my ribs. "How?"

He nods at the expansive, moonlit grounds stretching out before us, his dark eyes locked onto mine as if quietly asking me to run—to actually put my money where my mouth is and prove it.

I let out a breathless laugh, waiting for him to break character, but Cain doesn't laugh. He just slowly slants his head at me, his gaze fixed, dark, and unwavering. A dangerous, intoxicating dare glints in his eyes, silently throwing down the gauntlet. He’s completely serious.

My pulse races, a wild thrill spiking through my veins. I take a huge, reckless gulp of my warm tea, pretending for a second that it’s liquid courage, and set the mug down on the table.

Rising to my feet, I don't run right away. Instead, I step closer, leaning down until my lips are inches from his ear. As I brush past him, I catch the subtle, sudden catch in his breath—the micro-tremor running through his broad shoulders.

A surge of triumph hits me. He isn't nearly as immune to this pull as he pretends to be.