Somehow—by magic or luck or unknown skill—the blade pierced his shoulder. He roared, momentarily stunned. I lunged forward and punched him hard in the face, grateful for my magical Fae clothing.

Just like before, the man’s head jerked sideways, and two teeth flew out.

He teetered in front of me. I yanked my dagger out of his shoulder and sprinted for the door, leaping over a fallen chair and swerving around a table.

Out of the corner of my vision, I caught sight of the Devil. He punched the last guard standing and sprinted for me. I increased my speed. Thanks to the shoes, I was fast, if a bit awkward. I reached the door just as the host stepped out of an alcove.

The polite man who had welcomed us to the club was gone. He now bore the fiery eyes and furrowed brow of someone out for blood. He raised a massive spiked club, and I skidded to a stop just out of range.

The Devil hurtled past me, fast and powerful as a freight train. The other man swung the club, but the Devil caught it in one hand. He took a spike to the palm without flinching and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him toppling backward.

Blood dripping, he pulled his hand free of the club and stepped around the body. “Come on.” He yanked open the door, and I sprinted through it, racing down the stairs.

He hurtled after me, and I looked back to see if any guards were following. There were none.

For now.

“They’ll recoup and follow.” The Devil held out his hand for mine.

I grabbed it, and he pulled a stone from his pocket, smearing blood on his trousers. He threw the thing to the ground, and the familiar silver smoke poofed upward. When he dragged me into the vapor, my stomach pitched as the ether spun me through space.

My feet met solid ground, and I stumbled. Gasping, I pulled my hand away from the Devil’s and looked around. “This isn’t Guild City.”

In fact, it looked like the same town. There were the same beautiful four-story buildings and cobbled main street, along with the scent of the mountains and the cool breeze.

“It’s not. We’re staying here.” He pointed to the gorgeous building in front of me. The Crescent Hotel was written in gold over the white exterior. “Come. We should get off the street before someone sees us.”

I followed him up the stairs and into the fabulous lobby. It was gorgeous, with a marble floor gleaming under the sparkling light of two crystal chandeliers.

The huge wooden desk was manned by a beautiful woman with sleek red hair and a bright expression. Her eyebrows rose when she spotted us, and she inclined her head. “Welcome, Devil.”

“Thank you. The rooms are ready, I presume?” The Devil’s words were so smooth and cultured that I couldn't believe it was the same man who’d just torn through a room full of guards like a lion going after a steak buffet. His hand was dripping blood on the floor, but the hotel clerk studiously ignored it.

She hurried out from behind the desk and waved for us to follow. “I will show you straight to your rooms.”

We followed her through the lobby and up a lift done in mahogany and gold accents. Within a minute, we were ensconced in a beautiful suite with a view overlooking the city and mountains beyond. Moonlight gleamed brightly over the scene.

“Please ring if you need anything.” The woman disappeared.

I turned to the Devil. “You were prepared.”

“I thought we might need to stay to learn more information.”

“Hmm.” Again, I got the feeling that he knew more about this than he was letting on.

His gaze flicked over me, and concern flashed on his face. “Your arm.”

Fresh pain blazed. I looked down at the gash made by the guard’s dagger. Adrenaline had driven it from my thoughts, but the Devil’s words reminded me.

“Ouch.” I resisted clapping a hand over it like I might with a smaller cut. This was ghastly. “I might need treatment for this.”

“I can take care of it.”

I looked at him, surprised. “What? Really?”

He nodded.

“You’re not a nurse. Or a doctor.”

“No. But I have healing powers.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Like what?”

“Come here.” He gestured for me to step closer.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.” I looked at his bleeding hand. “Strike that. Fix yourself first, and then I’ll know what’s coming.”

“Mine will close on its own. Vampire blood has healing properties.”

He was right. As I watched, the wound appeared to be growing smaller.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.

I could hear the truth in his voice, and my wound stung like hell.

“Are there any side effects?”

“No.”

I drew in an unsteady breath and approached him.

His gaze dropped to the dripping wound, and his nostrils flared. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed. There was something hot and dark and unreadable in his stare.

My heartbeat picked up the pace. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His voice was tense, and I swore I could see the slightest bit of his fangs, which were normally retracted. He looked away, his jaw working as he got himself under control.

Was he turned on?

Was I crazy for thinking that?

But his eyes…

I shivered. “Is it my blood?”

He nodded sharply. “This hasn’t happened in…ever.”

I swallowed hard. “But there’s something between us.”

His gaze moved back to mine. Heat crackled between us like lightning. “There is.”

Cursed Mates.

I didn’t say it. I couldn’t. Tension had stolen my voice.

“I won’t bite you without your permission,” he said, his voice rough.

“I know.” Did I, though? Fear shot through me, followed by desire. “Just heal me, okay?”

Excitement had me thrumming. I couldn’t help it.

He nodded sharply and raised his wrist to his lips. His fangs were out. At the sight of them, something inside me warmed.

He sunk them into his wrist. I winced, but he didn’t so much as flinch. He raised his head. Two pearls of blood had formed on his wrist.

He held his arm to my lips. “Don’t drink, just lick.”

Shock raced through me. “What?”

“You won’t turn into a vampire, but my magic needs to get into your system. Born vampires would anoint the wound with their blood, but I am turned.” His gaze flicked to my lips. “This works better with our kind.”

“Um…” My gaze dropped to his wrist, and heat flashed through me.

I felt like an inferno, a blazing desert storm.

My human side rebelled. This was crazy.

The magic side of me leaned closer, drawn by the intoxicating scent of his magic and the crimson liquid that beckoned.

I swiped my tongue over his wrist. The flavor made my head spin.

A low, rough groan was torn from his throat, a sound so faint I almost didn’t hear it. I lifted my gaze. His head was tipped back, and his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were in pain.

Or pleasure.

He acted as though he hadn’t been touched in centuries, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“No.” The roughness in his voice was like a caress.

I shivered and stepped closer to him.

He straightened and opened his eyes. The pupils were dark and blown out. “Careful.”

“Of what?”

“Me.”

We were so close that I could feel the heat of him. I could smell his fireside scent and see the pulse at his neck. His touch earlier tonight had shown me how good he was. Deep down, at least.

He wouldn’t hurt me.

“Don’t think that,” he said.

“What?”

“That I won’t hurt you.”

“How did you know?”

“I can see it in you. Your trust. You can’t trust me not to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” And he wouldn’t—not on purpose. I could almost feel his restraint, like a physical thing on the air.

For the first time, I wondered if he was torn about his species. If he didn’t like it. He was so complex, the Devil.

I had to touch him. I couldn't help it. Maybe it was his magic racing through my system. Maybe it was just him.

But I had to.

There was something dangerous between us. Something I didn’t understand.

And I didn’t care.

I rested my hands on the wide planes of his chest, the warmth of his skin burning my palms and shivering up my arms. My gaze moved up to his lips in time to see them part on a groan.

His big hands came up and gripped my waist, pulling me to him. His touch was forceful, commanding.

I loved it.

The low groan reverberated in his throat as his lips pressed warm and hard against mine. Sparks exploded behind my eyelids as I parted my lips and welcomed the slick glide of his tongue. His fangs had retracted, and his kiss was nothing but pleasure.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he crushed me to him, pressing the full length of my body against his. Every inch of him was against me, hard and unforgiving.

His hands moved down my sides, strong and firm, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. Broad palms cupped my hips and pulled me closer. His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, as if he wanted to taste all of me.

When I felt the slight scrape of his fangs against my skin, I jerked, startled.

He was faster, pulling away from me, horror in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do—”

“I didn’t control myself. I couldn’t.” I could hear the loathing in his voice.

“So the biting and sex are…”

“Not linked. Not normally.” His gaze moved over me, something unreadable in its depths. “But with you… I said you shouldn’t trust me.”

I rubbed my arms, still hot from his touch yet chilled with worry. Maybe he was right—maybe he was dangerous.