Sins of the Demon

I flushed, even though it certainly hadn’t been the first, or last, time he’d “pleasured” me. “You could have just asked me if you could use the computer,” I said, far more sullenly than I’d meant. Fucking hell, was I PMS-ing or something?

 

He lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug, amusement lighting his eyes, which did not make it easier for me to get my mood under control. “I was unaware that there were portions of your house that were off-limits to me,” he replied.

 

My scowl darkened. He was enjoying this, the jerk, and I was only making it more amusing for him by continuing to nag him about this stupid detail. I folded my arms across my chest. “I just…I have personal shit on there, y’know. It would be like you reading my diary or something. And you could have just asked. And how the hell do you know how to use a computer anyway?”

 

He was on his feet and in front of me holding my shoulders in the time it took me to blink. “I had need of information,” he stated, no longer looking amused. “And if I chose not to share my need for this information with you, then that is my prerogative.” His grip on my shoulders was firm, though not to the point of hurting me. Yet. I knew he was powerful enough to shatter me before I could twitch.

 

“You stated none of this need for privacy when we set the terms,” he continued. Then his eyes narrowed. “Think you that I could not strip all of your secrets from you in the time it takes your heart to beat thrice?”

 

My mouth had gone dry, but I made myself look up at him, forced myself to meet the ancient potency that simmered behind his gaze. “You don’t own me,” I stated as boldly as I could, though the tremor in my voice kind of ruined my show of strength. “I don’t serve you. The deal was that I’d summon you once a month, and you’d answer two questions for me. I’m not going to bow or grovel or…or…”

 

He released me and spun away, hissing what sounded like an expletive under his breath. “Have I ever demanded thus from you?” His hands tightened into fists, and he looked back at me. He was angry, but it was a different anger than I’d ever seen in him before. I’d seen him filled with the kind of fury that made me mewl in terror, and I’d seen him with a dark anger that could only precede a slaughter. But this anger was…strangely personal.

 

His jaw tightened. “Have I ever required obeisance from you?”

 

I shook my head in a jerky move. “No,” I muttered.

 

He lifted his hand, and I didn’t have to shift into othersight to see the power coiling into his control. Fear spasmed through me, along with the desire to flee, but before the thought could translate into action the potency wound around me, stilling me. In the next heartbeat I was on my knees before him, forced there by his will.

 

“I could wring such servitude from you if I wished,” he continued, voice resonating in the stone of the basement as my pulse slammed.

 

“Stop this,” I managed to gasp. Then my gaze was torn from him as my head bowed. “Stop it!” I said, voice shaking more with anger than fear. “I’m not going to fucking beg you to stop, if that’s what you’re waiting for. You’re being a fucking asshole!”

 

A second later I nearly sprawled face first as he released me. I barely caught myself on my hands in time, then I jerked my head up to see him standing with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes and met mine.

 

“And I will not force this from you,” he stated quietly. “I swear to you I will never do this to you again, unless there is some other pressing and dire need for this manner of display other than my own vanity.”

 

I didn’t say anything to that. I was so angry I was shaking, and I could tell that I was about to cry. I hated that. I cried when I got angry or frustrated, and that had been happening way too much lately.

 

He stepped to me and crouched, then pulled me to my feet and enveloped me in his arms before I could think to protest. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “That was a churlish display, and you did not deserve it. I was…an asshole.”

 

I almost laughed at the admission but managed to hold it back. But I did surreptitiously wipe my sniffly nose on his jacket.

 

“Apology accepted,” I said. “It didn’t help that I was being a bitch.” My anger was gone now, thankfully. It bugged me that I’d lost control like that. He’s not human. He could have slapped me down a lot harder.

 

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