A groan caught in my throat, yearning ripping through my abdomen at the too-tempting sight. Maybe she did know I was behind her, lurking in the shadows, and this was her way of punishing me.
If that were the case, I accepted the reprimand because, fuck, that was hot.
Whatever game she wanted to play right now, I was up for it.
Except she straightened and continued walking, suggesting the display hadn’t been for show at all, just a nervous little fix of her strap.
My teeth ground together as I resumed my stalking, my eyes narrowing as she crossed the street to head into a bar called Sloppy Joe’s.
Seemed like an adequate description of her current mission because this was all incredibly sloppy.
I stepped in a few minutes after her, half expecting her to be waiting on the other side of the door with a grin, but instead found her sitting at the bar with her legs crossed in a picture of pure temptation.
Every human male had his eyes on her thighs as if waiting for the fabric to inch just a little higher.
I clenched my hands into fists and found a corner table with poor lighting overhead. As a Noxia demon, shadows tended to lurk around me naturally in the human realm, so I pulled them to me now, hiding in plain sight.
Zaya didn’t notice.
She was too busy making eyes at a human a few feet away.
What the hell? I thought, furious at the sight of her flirting. Zaya never flirted with anyone. Except with me sometimes, but I suspected she considered that to be bickering more than flirting.
What are you up to? I wanted to ask her but instead continued to observe as she drew her painted nails across the human’s forearm, seducing him with her subtle movements.
I’d taught her some of those but had meant for them to be a distraction when desiring a different kind of prize.
From what I could tell, she was using them to get laid.
Yet I caught the glint of silver on her thigh, just the tip of a knife, before she tugged the skirt down to cover the edge.
Hmm. Interesting.
Just last night I told her she wasn’t ready for this, yet here she was, flirting in a bar with a knife strapped to her leg.
I’d helped her gather the names of all the remaining demons who had survived Queen Valora’s attack on Caluçon last year. Zaya had combed through them, identifying three who had participated in Necros’s sanctioned attack. Then she’d shared those identities with me last night, saying she wanted to kill them all.
My response had been clear and concise. “You’re not ready.”
Well, it seemed she’d taken that as a challenge to move ahead with this insanity.
Except she’d chosen a human target, not a demon.
I tapped into his thoughts—mortal mental barriers were weak and easy to break—and attempted to learn more about him.
Immediately, I hated him.
Because he was picturing Zaya beneath him with his hands around her delicate throat, squeezing the life out of her while he fucked her to death.
The table rattled beneath my fist, my anger vibrating down my arm so violently that the flimsy wood threatened to shatter.
I swallowed, reining in my ire, and focused on Zaya. What are you doing? I wondered at her, nearly taking down the wall I’d erected between us to demand she respond. But I’d constructed the barrier to protect her. She’d been through enough already without my accessing her mind.
Hell, the dreams were bad enough.
I really needed to stop going to her, but every time she cried out at night, I couldn’t stop myself from answering the call.
Fuck.