“Maybe …” I muttered. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Losing the infernus had left me feeling vulnerable because I’d relied on the feeling of control it gave me. Without it, I couldn’t feel completely safe—or so I’d thought.

“Maybe I was wrong that you’ll always scare me.” Determination ignited in me and I scooted back from the coffee table. “Zylas … hold me down.”

He blinked. “Ih?”

“I want to see if it scares me.”

“I do not want to scare you.”

“I know, but I want to see.” I pressed my palms to the blanket I’d spread across the hard floor. “If I get scared, you can stop.”

He squinted at me. “I do not know what you are thinking.”

“Just try it.”

Huffing, he rose on his knees, his lashing tail betraying his uncertainty, and reached out. A nervous prickle ran down my spine as he put his hand against my shoulder, and doubts whirled in my head.

But if I got scared, he would stop. I knew he would. It’d been so long since he’d deliberately frightened me that I scarcely recognized my memories of the two of us. His aggression and my timidity … had we really been like that?

Well, to be fair, I hadn’t fully overcome my skittish tendencies.

He pushed on my shoulder and I tipped over backward. As my back thumped gently into the blanket, his hands landed on either side of me—then he was straddling me, knees pressing against my hips. His hands closed around my wrists, and he pinned my arms to the floor above my head.

I stared up at him, eyes wide.

He assessed me, nostrils flaring as he checked my scent for that telltale tinge of fear. A rumble started deep in his chest, rasping across his throat.

My heart beat a little faster. I couldn’t look away from his eyes, his hunter’s stare.

He lowered his body, covering mine, pressing me into the floor. Hard, unyielding muscle. He caught both my wrists in one hand, and with the other, he pulled my hair, forcing my head back to expose my neck.

His warm breath washed over my throat.

My heart hammered, my fingers and toes tingling with adrenaline. My body was definitely reacting, but it wasn’t the panic I was used to when he restrained me.

“Zylas,” I whispered. “Do I smell like fear?”

He pressed his nose against my throat and inhaled. “No.”

I shivered at the way he growled the word. “I think I’m a little afraid … maybe?”

He inhaled again. “No fear. That is not what I smell.”

“Are you su—”

His mouth closed over the pulse in my throat.

I gasped, my body electrified with sudden tension. He slicked his tongue across my racing pulse, hot and wet—then his canines grazed the spot.

A shudder ran over me from head to toe, a tiny sound escaping my parted lips.

He raised his head. The predatory hunger in his stare stole my breath. His weight pressed me down. My arms pinned. His fist in my hair.

He dropped his head and captured my mouth with his. No gentle, tentative test. He kissed me hard, and then his tongue was past my lips, and a breathless moan escaped me.

Pinning me to the floor, he devoured my mouth, ravenous, demanding. I couldn’t even squirm, completely at his mercy—and even the thought of stopping him seemed preposterous.

He pulled my head back again, his mouth finding my throat. Grazing teeth. Flicks of his tongue. He moved downward, his lips brushing my collarbones.

Releasing my wrists and hair, he braced his elbows on the floor and slid lower. His nose ran across the soft fabric of my sweater, then he nuzzled his face into my breasts. I forgot to breathe.

He moved farther down, hands dragging at my sides, until his upper body was pinning my legs and his chin was at the waist of my jeans. There he stopped, eyes meeting mine.

He placed his hand on my lower belly, fingers closing around the bottom of my sweater. He waited.

Pulse thudding in my ears, I put my hand on top of his, hesitating … then guided his hand upward. My sweater slid with the movement, baring my midriff.

His mouth was on my stomach in an instant, lips sliding over my skin, his tongue tasting me. He moved sideways and found my hipbone peeking above the waist of my jeans.

He fixated there, canines grazing the curve of bone, nose nuzzling the soft hollow. I quivered, lower lip caught in my teeth.

He shifted to my other hip, ravishing it with the same attention, then slid his nose up my waist. I pulled my sweater higher, the fabric bunching under my breasts, and he moved across my ribs, his hands joining his exploration. Hot palms running up my sides. Fingers caressing my skin.

As his nose met my sweater again, my fingers tightened around the fabric. I pulled it up to my chin.

Another rumble vibrated in his chest. His hands and mouth found my breasts, his lips gliding across the exposed skin above my sports bra. He nosed the stretchy black material—then his teeth dragged over the fabric, seeking my most sensitive skin through the barrier.

Air rushed through my lungs, and I arched up into his mouth. He hooked his fingers through the strap above my other breast, growling deep in his throat.

“Zylas,” I gasped.

He raised his head. His eyes glowed faintly, his pupils fully dilated.

“Zylas, if …” My voice came out in a breathless whisper. “If I were a payashē who’d invited you to her bed … what would you do?”

His stare burned into me. The muscles in his arm bunched, pulling on my bra strap, and I heard a seam tear.

“You are not a payashē.”

“What if I was?”

“I would take you now.”

My chest rose and fell with deep, fast breaths as I gazed up at him arched over me—crimson eyes, tangled hair, hard muscles beneath smooth toffee-red skin, his long tail sweeping across the floor.

A demon. And I wanted him.

“Then take me like a payashē,” I whispered. “Now.”

He hesitated, nostrils flaring to check my scent one more time—then he lunged forward, the blanket beneath me sliding across the hardwood floor with the violent movement.

His mouth covered mine. A hard pull on my torso, the sound of tearing fabric. Cool air hit my chest. His hand ran up my side, then he shoved my sweater over my head, forcing my arms up with it.

Leaving the fabric tangled around my arms, he slid down and closed his mouth over my bare breast. I arched up again, my arms twisting as I tried to free them from my sweater. He licked and nuzzled, and I squirmed beneath him, gasping and whimpering. His hands roved over my skin, then down to my waist.

He pulled my hips up into his, and I felt the hard press of his arousal between my thighs. My heart lurched into my throat, pounding faster, liquid heat building in my core.

Backing up, he dragged my pants down, my underwear sliding off with them. As he yanked them off my feet, I wrenched my arms free from my sweater and bra. I lifted my arms—

He grabbed my wrists, and in an instant, my arms were pinned above my head again. My eyes popped wide, mouth opening in a gasp—and then he was kissing me. He trapped my wrists with one hand.

And his other hand slid between my legs.

I gasped again as his fingers moved over me, stroking and exploring—then his hand disappeared as he reached between our bodies, pulling at his shorts.