Page 55 of Infernal Bindings

I clutch my stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea while Daemon rolls his eyes at me like I’m some kind of drama queen. When my insides no longer feel like they’re going to be my outsides, I peer around me to find we’re back in his bedroom, the sheer red canopy surrounding us. I let loose a sigh of relief, and then frown.

Daemon’s bedroom is in literal Hell.

This should not feel like a safe space to me, and yet it does.

I wonder when that changed?

Lying on my back, I smooth my fingers over the soft velvet comforter. “How long until Dad storms down here, do you think?”

Daemon mirrors me, though his fingers find mine rather than the sheets. Butterflies twist my stomach as we twine them together. I’ve had his cock down my throat, and somehow this still feels more intimate. I should pull away, but I don’t.

“No one can come down here except for you and me,” Daemon says. “Not even my mom. We’re safe as long as we don’t go back upstairs.”

I have no interest in that.

As Daemon strokes the inside of my palm with his thumb, I stare up at the canopy. The choker his mom gave me sits heavy on my throat, and suddenly I’m hyperaware that we’re in his bed. Alone.

Daemon’s touch is featherlight, completely innocent, and yet my thoughts are anything but. Goosebumps spread along my biceps, and I clear my throat as if that’ll help me ignore the sensation—ignore him.

“Are we going back to the club tonight?” I ask, focusing on the more pressing issue at hand. “We only have until tomorrow night to solve the murder. I’m not sure we can afford to stay home.”

“We can’t go,” Daemon says, and it’s matter-of-fact. For some reason my heart sinks, and I try very hard to pretend it’s not because I wanted to go. “You can’t wear that necklace in there,” he explains. “They’d be able to sense the magic. And I can’t feed on you again until you’ve had time to heal. It’s not safe.”

I know he’s right, but Christopher still hasn’t called, and as far as I know, we’re no closer to finding Martha’s murderer. “What if we can’t prove you’re innocent?” I ask, for the first time accepting the very real possibility that might happen.

“Then I’ll go to Hell, and your mate will spend the next eternity trying to get you out of your contract with Salios. He’s clever. He’ll figure something out.”

Daemon sounds confident. More importantly, he sounds like he doesn’t care that he’s about to be tortured in God knows how many ways. That’s unacceptable.

“I don’t accept that,” I tell him. “I’m not going to let Salios hurt you—”

“Salios can already hurt me,” Daemon says. “I’m under his jurisdiction. Any time I’m in Hell, he can do whatever he wants to me. Hell, he can make me do whatever he wants to other people. Salios can control demons like puppets. Trust me, Annie, with or without this bargain in place, there’s nothing you can do to help me.”

“Has he hurt you before?” I ask.

Daemon doesn’t answer.

And then I remember what Dad said. My connection with Daemon is what guarantees him time on Earth away from that monster. “If we solve the murder, I’ll go through with my baptism,” I promise him. “I’ll keep you summoned to me all the time. I won’t let him—”

Daemon rolls to his side and places a finger over my still-sensitive lips. “If you think that’s what I want, then you haven’t been paying attention. Your baptism needs to be your choice, Annie, because it’s something you want. It’s not something you should do for me. Fuck, it’s not even something that I want you to do because…” he trails off, and I can see the regret on his face. Clearly, Daemon has said more than he intended to.

I speak past his finger, the words only slightly mumbled. “Because why?”

“The angels would never let you be with me,” he whispers. “And eternity without you, if that’s something we both wanted, would be worse than anything Salios might do.”

My throat gums up, and it stays that way even when I swallow. I’m not good with words—not good with being vulnerable. So I reach for him instead. Daemon’s mouth is so close to mine that I can smell the coffee on it.

God, I’ve spent years imagining what it would be like to kiss him, then years convincing myself that because he was an incubus, this attraction between us wasn’t real.

But it is real. It’s always been real.

“Not unless you mean it,” Daemon warns a second before our lips connect. “I don’t want to share you with Christopher.”

He doesn’t get it, but that’s okay. I didn’t either until now.

“I don’t want Christopher,” I admit both to him and to myself. He’s nice. Hell, I’m sure in a different world we would make a perfect match, but he isn’t Daemon. “I love you,” I tell him.

“You love me?” He says the words slowly like he doesn’t believe them.