Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Luka felt his mouth tighten. “The men in your past were weak pricks who made you pay for their own insecurities and jealousies. That isn’t something I’d ever do, Naomi. If other men tried trespassing, I’d definitely have a problem with it. But it would be them who earned my anger, not you. And I’d never accuse you of cheating—you’re far too loyal to betray someone that way.”
She blinked hard. “You sound very sure of that.”
“I am. I know you. You might have held back certain facts about yourself until now, but I still know you. And I know that we both want the same thing here—not merely for us to try a relationship on for size, but for us to make it permanent. You would have said otherwise by now if you didn’t.”
She clamped her lips shut. It settled something in him that she didn’t deny it.
He slid his hands into her hair. “I’ve never before felt an urge to irrevocably claim someone as mine. But you I refuse to part with. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to anyway. So accept that you’re all-the-way mine now. You have to, Naomi. Neither myself nor my entities will give you any other choice.”
“Your demons are on board?” she asked, surprised.
“When it comes to you, all four of us are completely in sync. We have been from the beginning.”
He went to kiss her, but then Abraxas lunged for the surface and said, “I decided weeks ago that I would keep you.”
She double-blinked. “You never said anything. And I can’t say I appreciate that you didn’t think to ask if I was good with that.”
The entity shrugged. “It was a given that you would say yes to being mine.”
She slid up an imperious brow. “Such arrogance.”
Dagon pushed Abraxas aside, stealing supremacy. “Not arrogance. Fact.” It gripped her shoulders tight. “We own you. We will always own you. There is no escape.”
Belial took over then, saying, “It is best not to argue with this. To do so would make no difference. What’s done is done.” It then retreated, as if to stick around for a response was to suggest that she had a choice.
Naomi snorted at Luka. “Your entities are bold bastards.”
“They are,” he conceded. “And they meant every word of what they said. As did I.”
“Even though I share Lou’s DNA?”
“Even though.”
“Even though I need to drink blood?”
“Even though.” He framed her face with his hands. “Baby, I don’t give a fuck that you need to consume blood to survive, so long as you survive.”
Naomi swallowed again, her chest throbbing with emotion. Fuck, the guy knew how to hit her right in the feels. Her insides had melted more and more with each reassuring word he’d given her. She was close to getting all choked up. “You’re sure?”
“Surer than sure.” He softly dragged his fingertip down one side of her face. “Would you judge or reject me for having a dietary quirk like that?”
She snickered, her lips hitching up. “It’s a little more than a dietary quirk, but no.”
“Then there you go.” He whispered his lips over hers. Gentle. So gentle. But his eyes were steely as they drilled into hers. “We’re locking this down now. You’re mine. I’m yours. Permanently.”
Like she was going to argue. Not one part of her had any interest in doing so. And now, rather than wanting to make him bleed, her entity only wanted to keep him. Because he’d given it exactly what it needed—acceptance.
“No more secrets,” he pressed. “If something happens in future, you tell me.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “There’s one more thing I’ve kept from you.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s better that I just show you.” She pyroported them both straight into her workroom.
He frowned as the red-violet flames died down. “You don’t conjure simple hellfire?”
“I can, but I’m only able to shape it into orbs. I can’t use it to pyroport—that gift comes from the part of me that came from Lou. His fire is ultraviolet. But being both demon and fallen angel, it seems that my own fire is slightly different. Anyway” —she gestured at the room—“you wanted to know what was behind the locked door.”
He swept his gaze around, taking in everything. “This is an art studio.” His attention darted back to her. “You’re one of the ghost artists Tobe’s clientele uses.” It was more of a statement than conjecture.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “You don’t look surprised.”
He shrugged. “I’d already guessed.”
“You’d guessed?”
“You sometimes smell of paint. Faintly, but still. And it was obvious by how few hours you work at the pizzeria that you had a second mode of income. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”
Well, shit.
“Does your entire lair know?”
“No. I prefer it that way. I don’t like—”
“The limelight.”
“Right.”
He cocked his head. “Are you the ghost artist the PI was looking for?”