Page 43 of Burn for Her

“You look like you’ve just seen the fucking Devil.”

“If the Devil actually looked like you, I’d have crawled my way into Hell years ago.”

Her retort caught him off guard and his response lit her insides up. Reaper ducked his head and flashed a smile that made Lena tug at her restraints because she wanted to lift his chin back up and see his eyes again.

He pulled on the cuffs of his sleeves and bit his lip again. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I didn’t expect you,” she shot back. Lena untwirled her wrists and unbound herself. “You’re supposed to be in charge of me tonight,” she said with a little ire. “But you aren’t being very aggressive.” She rubbed her wrists and took a step down, to come closer to him. “I wanted someone to take control of me.”

He didn’t move away. But he hardened. His eyes darkened a few shades and his shoulders tensed. “You might want to be a little more careful about what you wish for, Lena. Control is a dangerous gift to give me.”

Reaper said it like a warning, not a tease.

“Then should I call for another host?”

What he did next had her regretting that threat immediately.

Dorian snapped. It was too late to take back his actions once he drove Lena backwards and slammed her against the wall, pinning her with one hand on her throat, the other on her hip. “You will not be requesting another host.” He didn’t compel her, but he wished he was asshole enough to do so. “I’m all you need.”

Lena’s pulse fluttered wildly under his thumb. He wasn’t choking her, but his grip remained firm enough to assert dominance.

And she fucking loved it. Her lust filled the room. She liked this, he realized. Liked that she could make him snap. He studied her perfect rosy cheeks, smeared lipstick, bright brown eyes. She made him ten kinds of twisted up. And that fucking dress fit her like a second skin, leaving too little for his imagination.

“I could break you,” he warned.

“I hope you do.”

He almost laughed, except she was being serious. That was dangerous for a creature like Dorian. Too dangerous for a human like her.

The bruises all over her face were still fresh. The vision from her first reflection was still very vivid in his mind. She’d gone somewhere and gotten hurt.

On purpose? With intent?

Was she a fighter or a pain junky? A masochist?

That was going to take time to find out. Time he might now have… Dorian slammed his aggression down a few notches and pulled out his sensuality. “You like it rough,” he purred against the shell of her ear, his thumb caressing the throbbing vein in her neck. “But I wonder how far you’d push me to get what you want and aren’t willing to say.”

“I…” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I… don’t even know.” Her confession came with reluctance.

Dorian grazed her hip with his fingers and slid his hand up her ribcage towards her face, carefully watching her reaction. She both winced and sighed.

“Who put these marks on you?” Because Dorian was going to return the favor ten-fold.

“That’s… none of your business.”

He positioned himself so he could see her full gaze before saying, “You are my only business, Lena. Everything about you is my responsibility.”

She pressed her hands on his chest and pushed him a little. He eased off and gave her a tiny bit of space. “I understand that The Wicked Garden strives to make sure the safety of their guests is top priority, but I didn’t get these marks here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Then where?” He was painfully aware of the fact that his voice became razor sharp. Her safety, and the marks on her sweet body and face, were his top priority. To not have a direct answer from her about who did this was utterly unacceptable. As her mate, he needed to know. As her mate, he demanded retribution. As her mate, he—

Fuck, what was he doing? He wasn’t her mate. Never would be. This was just a one-night miracle and would go no further. He needed to back the fuck off before he ruined his only night in heaven before he spent eternity in Hell.

“I don’t like to see bruises on you.” He backed off a little more. “My instincts are to punish—” He needed to shut the fuck up. Right. Now.

“Then punish me,” she purred as if this whole thing was some kind of fantasy role play. “These bruises mean nothing. I earned and asked for them.”

Dorian stiffened. What the fuck did that mean?