July 2044 - A motel room on the edge of the Neutral Zone
They staredat one another from across the room.
Dom pressed a wadded up ball of toilet paper against his nose and breathed through his mouth, his eyes locked on his mate. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the flimsy motel door, and glared back at him. A slim band of darkness clung to her right ankle — a tether of shadow that stretched across the cheap carpet straight to his heart.
His little fey had calmed down some since she damn near shattered his nose, but she still refused to speak to him. Trying to give her space and seem as non-threatening as a demon could, Dom leaned against the doorway to the pint-sized bathroom and attempted to get his nose to stop bleeding.
“You’ve got a hell of a kick,” he noted, his low voice nasally.
His mate’s glare intensified. There was a very faint glow to her skin, a pulsing light that made the animal in him want to curl around her and soak up the warmth of it, the vitality of it. Not that he would, of course. Not when she looked like she was ready to spit nails at him if he so much as stepped out of the doorway. But he wanted to.
Dom pulled the bloody toilet paper away from his nose. Testing the aching bridge with his fingers, he grimaced. The bleeding was done, thank Blight, but he’d have a nasty bruise in the morning. He supposed he was lucky she didn’t shatter the bone, though.
Turning to throw the bloody paper into the trash, he scrubbed his fingers through the hair between his antlers and said, for the fourth time, “I’m not going to hurt you, fey. If you would just tell me your name, maybe we could tal—”
“Why would I want to talk to someone who’s keeping me captive?” Her voice was scratchy from disuse and pitched to convey all the fury she kept in that pint-sized body. To illustrate her point, his mate jerked her leg. He could feel the ripples in his shadow, the living pool of darkness inside him, and its absolute unwillingness to let her go.
“I told you, it’s not intentional.” Dom stepped back into the bathroom to fill a tiny glass with water from the tap. He didn’t like the raspiness of her voice. Concern beat at him. What were the physical side effects of staying in stasis? Was she starving? Dehydrated? Just how long had she been trapped in that fucking globe, anyway?
He hated not having the answers to those questions almost as much as he hated the fact that she stubbornly refused to tell him her name. She’d rather snarl and spit at him like a wounded animal.
His mate was a fierce little thing. While the demon in him admired that, the man found her stubbornness deeply frustrating. He wasn’t used to being gentle with people on a good day, let alone now.
Taking in a deep breath, he slowly walked across the room, arm outstretched so she knew he was only entering her space to deliver her water. When she stiffened anyway, those big dark eyes narrowing suspiciously, he scowled.
“Drink some water,” Dom muttered, crouching down in front of her.
“Tell me what you want with me and then maybe I’ll drink it.”
And this was why he mostly preferred being alone. Dom had no patience for her ridiculous refusal of something as simple as a glass of water. Yes, he was a demon. Yes, she’d been in captivity for the gods knew how long. And yes, he could allow that things didn’t start out on the right foot, but it was a glass of fucking water, not a damn grenade.
Growling, he set the glass down by her bare foot before dropping back onto his ass. “I told you,” he rumbled, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your mate. That—” he gestured toward the shadow curled lovingly around her ankle “—is an instinctive response I can’t control. If you were a demon, I’d have your shadow on me right now, too.”
For protection. For the identification of family. For bonding. The sharing of shadows was a mark of ownership and community. Dom would wear her shadow proudly, if only she had one to give him.
“Uh-huh.” His mate eyed him up and down critically as she pulled her legs in toward her chest, away from him. He fought the urge to squirm under her obvious appraisal. The animal in him wanted to preen, to impress, but the man would sooner eat his own boots than puff himself up for inspection.
“I don’t want a mate who buys m-siphons— Sorry! Steals m-siphons — and then does whatever the hell this is.” She jiggled her foot at him again. “So I hope you’re lying.”
He nudged the glass of water an inch closer. “Drink, woman. I can hear your damn throat scratching from here.” Dom watched her eye the glass warily, her throat moving with a hard swallow. A strike of sympathy cut through some of his annoyance. With her dirt streaked cheeks, rumpled hair, and curled up limbs, she looked like she expected the worst at any moment. He didn’t want to be the worst anything. He wanted to be hers.
Gentling his voice as much as he was able, Dom coaxed, “You drink and I’ll tell you why I was in that shop. Why I took you. And then maybe I can order us some food and we can talk about the rest.”
Her head snapped up. Dark eyes framed by long, sooty lashes fixed on his face. “Food?”
Dom’s whole body tightened when she leaned forward, her lips parting just enough for him to glimpse the tiniest fangs and the tip of a rosy tongue. “Yes, food,” he answered, gruffer than he meant to. “Are you hungry?”
He watched her dirty little fingers curl against the threadbare carpet. When that pink tongue swept out to lick her lips, he tried to remember what it was like to breathe.
“I’m starving.”
He didn’t like that. He wasn’t much of a dater and he definitely wasn’t known for his charm, but Dom could feed a woman. He wanted to feed her.
Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. “Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.” When he got no direction, Dom glanced up from the screen to find his mate staring at his phone, her eyes wet and her fangs pressed hard into her full lower lip. A heavy stone of dread dropped in his stomach. “What? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need—”
“Can I call my parents?” Her voice was thick, strangely lacking in venom.
Dom closed his eyes, cursing himself to the underworld and back. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think that you might have someone you would need to…” He didn’t hesitate to hand her the phone.