The demigod’s gaze flicked between us, then seemed to linger over my body—all bare thighs, thin straps, and nipples that were painfully hard. All the things I’d been painfully aware of from the moment the demon arrived. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“What exactly were you about to do to her?” His voice cut sharper now. “And why, in the name of the old gods, is she dressed like that?”
The demon rolled his eyes and began to pace, boots tapping lightly against the cold stone as he gestured lazily between the circles.
“Spare me the righteous act, demigod,” he drawled. “If you’d take half a moment to look around, you’d notice that I didn’t summon myself here. And neither did you.”
I sat frozen between them—a demon whose every glance promised to unmake me, to strip me down to nothing but raw want, and a demigod whose first instinct had been to place himself between me and that ruin. I balanced on the knife’s edge between being utterly undone and fiercely protected, left wondering how my hunger for more had carried me here.
I was still on my knees, still in the same place—but the space itself had changed. The demon stood a few steps ahead of me, all threat and temptation, while the newcomer remained close at my side, solid and steady, like a shield drawn without a word.
“The girl was dressed this way before I arrived,” he drawled. “And you, our very unwelcome guest, have just interrupted what was sure to be…” His gaze dragged over me, slow and unapologetic, lingering on my bare thighs, the cling of silk, the rise of my chest. “…quite an interesting evening.”
His mouth curved, all teeth and promise, as the demigod squared his shoulders opposite him.
The urge to yank the hem of my slip down nearly overpowered the urge to keep breathing—as if three more inches of fabric could undo the fact that I was kneeling half-dressed in between a demon and a demigod.
Before either of them could say anything else, the demigod stepped into my space and lowered himself smoothly to one knee in front of me, bringing us eye to eye.
His hand came up, slow enough that I could have pulled away if I wanted to. Warm fingers settled against the side of my neck, calloused touch gentle where it had no reason to be. He didn’t grip; he just held, his thumb brushing the hollow of my throat before tilting my chin up, coaxing my gaze to his.
The world narrowed to the rough heat of his palm, the steady weight of his touch, the way his eyes searched my face. Up close, I could see the gold strung through the dark of his irises,tiny shards that caught the candlelight and made it hard to remember what air was.
“D’ye understand what ye’ve done, angel?” he asked, voice low, the word angel wrapping around my frayed nerves like a promise and a warning all at once.
“All this,” he said, voice dipping into something deeper, older, “for a moment of attention?”
I let the words sit there—let them sting, let them sink in. Then I lifted my hand, laid it over his, and slowly guided his palm down from my throat until it rested at the top of my chest, right where the neckline of my slip began.
“I know exactly what I’ve done… and what I want.” I murmured.
My fingers curled lightly around his wrist, holding him there, pressing his palm over the quick, insistent beat of my heart. I felt the subtle flex of muscle under my touch, the stutter of his breath and the way his thumb pressed just a little harder, his eyes darkening as my pulse thudded against his skin—no longer wild with fear, but humming with want.
“I could’ve stopped at one circle,” I went on, my voice dropping, the truth dragging slow over my tongue. “One night of letting the darkest parts of me off the leash until I forgot my own name. And I wanted that—the ruin, the sharp edges, every forbidden thing he’d pull out of me.”
My gaze slid past the demigod’s shoulder to where the demon watched us, eyes bright and hungry, then came back to the demigod kneeling in front of me. “He’s every wicked thought I’ve ever tried to swallow,” I breathed. “He’d take those desires and drag me down into them.”
I guided his hand lower until his palm rested over the rounded tops of my breasts, right where my heart hammered against his skin beneath the thin silk.
“But you,” I whispered, “you’re different.”
His pupils widened, molten color darkening as his fingers spread a little, thumb catching under the edge of my slip. I felt the breath he drew—rougher this time—as if he’d just realized how much of me I was offering him. I could feel how much strength he was holding back.
“I knew, when I drew that second circle, that I didn’t want only the dark. I didn’t truly want to disappear into it.” My voice dropped, the words dragging slow over my tongue. “I wanted something…someone…who could step into the worst of what I craved and stay. Who could look at all of it and still choose me.”
Under my hands, he shifted.
“Please,” the demon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Listen to her talk like she’s got any idea what she’s called down on herself. She probably botched a sigil and tripped over a demigod by sheer dumb luck. Our reckless little mortal doesn’t have the faintest clue what she’s really asked for.”
Anger flared hot enough to cut through my embarrassment. I drew breath to snap back, but the demigod spoke first.
“Careful, demon,” he said, his voice low and edged with threat. “You will not speak of her that way. Show her the respect she’s owed, or I’ll drag you back to the nether from whence you crawled.”
The demon went still. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the wind clawing at the shattered windows and the distant crackle of the failing fire.
Then the demon laughed—soft at first, then growing, dark amusement rolling off the stone.
“With what feckin’ power?” he asked, voice dropping, echo shivering faintly along the walls.