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Authors: Kresley Cole
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who dragged you away that day on campus?” “You remember that?”
On the one occasion he’d had to speak to her, for the first time in his life, he’d been off his game. Unfortunately, Rydstrom had been there to see it. “That’s him. He’s the good brother of the Woede. I’m the bad one. You’ll see it as soon as we’re together.”
“What’s the Woede?” “That’s what they call the two of us because we rarely separate.” No matter how much they might want to.
“What was wrong with you that day?” she asked. “Why couldn’t you talk?” “Couldn’t talk? It wasn’t like that.” “You were babbling incoherently.” Funny, Rydstrom had described it as blathering . “I never babble.” “Why were you on campus anyway? Were you already watching me about this?” “No, it was a coincidence.” He exhaled. A fated one…
At the mention of Cade’s brother, she noted the instantaneous change in him.
Clearly, he had issues with this Rydstrom.
She remembered the brother from that day of the awards. He’d seemed more reasonable. Maybe he’d be more inclined to answer her questions with direct, comprehensive answers. Every time Cadeon explained something, she got the sense that he was just treading the surface of the subject.
And yet again, Cadeon’s gaze strayed to her bare legs. She hated this vulnerable feeling, going with no underwear, no hose, no bra.
Everything she’d ever learned about concealing her emotions she used now. She reached for her pearls to calm herself, but they weren’t there. Nothing was as it should be, and she wanted to hit something in frustration.
This night was all wrong. A nightmare for someone like her. She didn’t need a male like Cadeon casting her lustful glances—not now and certainly not when she’d been naked earlier. Most times she endeavored to forget she had a body at all, much less one that could be sexy. Or could feel sexy.
No man had ever seen her completely naked before tonight. Now thirteen demons had. But only one had lived to tell about it.
Oh, God, this is too much, too much to take in.
“All right, poppet, you’ve got to stop that leg-crossing thing, stat.”
“I’m uncomfortable!” She’d never gone so long without undergarments. “I don’t have my clothes, my jewelry. My laptop. Not even my shoes!” “And now you’ve got me uncomfortable, too.” She could have sworn he’d adjusted himself. “You…you just touched yourself.” “I’m a demon. I’m not exactly shy about things like this.” She was appalled. “But you shouldn’t…you can’t just…” “What should I do?
You’re an attractive female in my car who’s not wearing panties. So to make you more comfortable, I should cut off circulation in my c—” “Don’t say it! I get the picture.” Her nails dug into her palms. Not nails—claws. And for some reason
they were now curling, her mind locked on that memory of his hard, tanned torso leading down to those unbuttoned jeans. “I’m going to react,” he said. “Even if you’re not my usual type.” “Usual type? Oh, let me guess. Swimbos with more breasts than brains?” He hiked his broad shoulders. “My kind prefer tarts with a little more meat on their bones so they can
take a demon’s lusts.” “Tarts?” Her jaw slackened. “My God, you’re the most misogynistic man I’ve ever met. I bet you also
like your tarts barefoot and pregnant.” “Nah, I like them barefoot, on birth control, and always available in my bed.” She sputtered. And then the truth of her situation hit her. My fate is in the hands of a chauvinist demon, who seems to be trying to exacerbate my condition. She’d never needed the medication more than now—when getting it seemed impossible. Her mind was wracked with ideas and images that shouldn’t be in there. She was unable to stop seeing
that golden hair leading down from his navel. The more she endeavored not to think about it, the more the picture flashed in
On the one occasion he’d had to speak to her, for the first time in his life, he’d been off his game. Unfortunately, Rydstrom had been there to see it. “That’s him. He’s the good brother of the Woede. I’m the bad one. You’ll see it as soon as we’re together.”
“What’s the Woede?” “That’s what they call the two of us because we rarely separate.” No matter how much they might want to.
“What was wrong with you that day?” she asked. “Why couldn’t you talk?” “Couldn’t talk? It wasn’t like that.” “You were babbling incoherently.” Funny, Rydstrom had described it as blathering . “I never babble.” “Why were you on campus anyway? Were you already watching me about this?” “No, it was a coincidence.” He exhaled. A fated one…
At the mention of Cade’s brother, she noted the instantaneous change in him.
Clearly, he had issues with this Rydstrom.
She remembered the brother from that day of the awards. He’d seemed more reasonable. Maybe he’d be more inclined to answer her questions with direct, comprehensive answers. Every time Cadeon explained something, she got the sense that he was just treading the surface of the subject.
And yet again, Cadeon’s gaze strayed to her bare legs. She hated this vulnerable feeling, going with no underwear, no hose, no bra.
Everything she’d ever learned about concealing her emotions she used now. She reached for her pearls to calm herself, but they weren’t there. Nothing was as it should be, and she wanted to hit something in frustration.
This night was all wrong. A nightmare for someone like her. She didn’t need a male like Cadeon casting her lustful glances—not now and certainly not when she’d been naked earlier. Most times she endeavored to forget she had a body at all, much less one that could be sexy. Or could feel sexy.
No man had ever seen her completely naked before tonight. Now thirteen demons had. But only one had lived to tell about it.
Oh, God, this is too much, too much to take in.
“All right, poppet, you’ve got to stop that leg-crossing thing, stat.”
“I’m uncomfortable!” She’d never gone so long without undergarments. “I don’t have my clothes, my jewelry. My laptop. Not even my shoes!” “And now you’ve got me uncomfortable, too.” She could have sworn he’d adjusted himself. “You…you just touched yourself.” “I’m a demon. I’m not exactly shy about things like this.” She was appalled. “But you shouldn’t…you can’t just…” “What should I do?
You’re an attractive female in my car who’s not wearing panties. So to make you more comfortable, I should cut off circulation in my c—” “Don’t say it! I get the picture.” Her nails dug into her palms. Not nails—claws. And for some reason
they were now curling, her mind locked on that memory of his hard, tanned torso leading down to those unbuttoned jeans. “I’m going to react,” he said. “Even if you’re not my usual type.” “Usual type? Oh, let me guess. Swimbos with more breasts than brains?” He hiked his broad shoulders. “My kind prefer tarts with a little more meat on their bones so they can
take a demon’s lusts.” “Tarts?” Her jaw slackened. “My God, you’re the most misogynistic man I’ve ever met. I bet you also
like your tarts barefoot and pregnant.” “Nah, I like them barefoot, on birth control, and always available in my bed.” She sputtered. And then the truth of her situation hit her. My fate is in the hands of a chauvinist demon, who seems to be trying to exacerbate my condition. She’d never needed the medication more than now—when getting it seemed impossible. Her mind was wracked with ideas and images that shouldn’t be in there. She was unable to stop seeing
that golden hair leading down from his navel. The more she endeavored not to think about it, the more the picture flashed in
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