Page 32 of Demon’s Temptation

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, needing to touch her. He felt desperate, scared out of his mind. “What the hell were you thinking?” he said, voice low, harsh.

“I was fine. I didn’t need you to step in. I had everything under control,” she said even as her body trembled in his arms.

“Bullshit.” He searched her dark eyes. “What the hell are you playing at?”

Her chin lifted. “You wouldn’t give me what I wanted, so I found someone else who would.”

He tried to control his breathing. She was lying. This wasn’t what she wanted, not one bit. He’d felt it, like a living, breathing thing. She was here for Grace, for the cause.

Chaya was one of the strongest females he knew. She had self-confidence in spades and knew her worth. She met him head on, refused to bow down to him, to anyone.

How had he missed it?

Jesus, she’d been as confused and conflicted as he had been. He’d continually pushed her away, then the next minute demanded she stay close. Because of his own issues, he’d messed with her head and her heart repeatedly.

And. He’d. Missed. It.

There was no mistaking it now. It radiated from her.

He stared down at her. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes steadily held his. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Fuck. So beautiful.

Her body was bared to him. Her soft, large breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples firm and dark, begging to be sucked and licked. To be worshipped. He wanted to smooth his hands over her gently rounded belly, the curve of her hips, up to her waist then follow the path with his mouth, tasting every inch of her golden skin.

That bastard had seen her like this, had put his fucking hands on her. Touched her.

“I know Grace,” he said, breaking the silence. “I got a call to provide backup for one of her demi.”

Chaya’s mouth opened then closed. Her back straightened. “Yes, and now you’ve messed everything up. You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You’re a bad liar,” he said. It was hard, but he kept the Dom veneer in place. It was essential with so many eyes on them. “You get this little crease right here”—he rubbed his thumb between her brows—“when you lie.” He stayed close, silently begging her to touch him, to put him out of his misery. “You weren’t just here for Grace, were you? You were seeking something else here, something you didn’t think you could get from me.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his, but she kept her mouth clamped shut.

Fuck.

“Maybe you should get dressed.” He said it calmly, but there was no missing the quaver in his voice from the need thrumming through him.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Please, Chaya.” Mistress.

Her nostrils flared, but she moved, went to where her clothes sat stacked on a chair, and with assertive hands, quickly dressed. When she moved back to him, he took her hand without a word, and led her from the club. Seeing her like that with another male had torn something inside him, shattered his resolve.

A dominant forced to submit was as damaging as a sub like him being forced to do the same without trust or affection.

Because of it, he hadn’t recovered from his time with Garrett, but he wouldn’t let what happened here tonight with Chaya fester and grow inside her, let that damage become a permanent scar.

If he wasn’t the one to sate her desires for dominance, someone else would, someone who didn’t know her like he did. Someone who might not take care of her the way she deserved.

They took the elevator down to the parking garage. He opened the passenger side door when they reached his car and she climbed in without comment. Good thing, too, because words were an impossibility just then.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to her. “You took a serious risk tonight.”

Her eyes flashed. “I knew what I was doing. Demi need people like me in this war and I want to help.”