Demon Bound

laugh at this. You hide your wings, as if you should be ashamed of their appearance. I see them much differently. No,” she said, when she felt his weight shift. “Do not yet turn, or kiss me. There is more I have to say before my next salacious thought.”
    He lifted her hand from his chest and kissed her fingertips. “I’ve already had several.”
    “I wonder how you function; I find them quite distracting. Always before, I’d determine when they would come. I would choose erotica to read or allow myself a fantasy. But these are completely unbidden.” She glanced down at her fingertips, which were rubbing themselves along the ridge of muscle above his hip. She would have to delve into his jeans to explore it farther. “Not unwelcome, however.”
    “I just had about ten more, Alice.”
    She laughed and rested her brow on the hard curve of his shoulder. “Very well.” With an effort, she made herself stop rubbing. Anxiety fluttered high in her throat, and she swallowed it down. “Earlier, you said that there was a bonus attached to you.”
    “Yeah, and I was being a dickhead.”
    “Perhaps. But you were correct—except that it is not teleporting.” She met his eyes when he looked over his shoulder. “You make me uncertain,” she admitted.
    “And that’s a bonus?”
    “Yes. Not very long ago, I was utterly certain.”
    Understanding smoothed the crease from his brow. “About Teqon.”
    “Yes. Because of the bargain, I would either be in the frozen field, in a box, or standing with Michael’s heart in my hand. I had hope—very small hope—that I might find a way out. But I didn’t believe I would.” She searched his eyes. “That is something you have given me. Something I know didn’t come out of me by itself. You irritated it out. Now I am uncertain of what the future holds. I believe, truly believe, we can find a real solution—believe it even over predictions and probability.”
    He looked down at her hand on his chest. His throat worked before he said, “I’m all for that kind of thinking. But you know, believing in something despite the odds might be just craziness, not optimism.”
    “Very well.” She linked her arms around his shoulders. “If I am crazy, then at least I shall live up to the novices’ expectations.”
    “Yeah, well—I’m going to be talking to them about some of the stuff we’ve been saying.”
    “Oh. Must you?”
    “Don’t tell me you enjoy it.”
    She cackled against his neck.
    “Witch. You creeped us out on purpose?”
    “Not on purpose. I am how I am. But I am not unaware of how people see me.”
    “So you made sure you were extra creepy when we were around.”
    “Perhaps.”
    He reached back, caught her hips. “Why? Aside from the entertainment, because it wouldn’t be efficient for you to go out of your way to creep us out just so you could get a good laugh. Was it to get rid of us?”
    Of course it was. She glanced over his shoulder, but could only see the hard angle of his jaw. “Is that surprising to you?”
    “No. No. But you know, they’re not that bad. The novices.”
    “I never thought they were.” She pulled back to look at the taut line of his shoulders, wondering at his tension.
    “You never—Okay. Forget it.”
    Oh, how very obtuse she was. These were his friends. “I would not try to make them uncomfortable now. Not deliberately.”
    His hands flexed on her hips, and he bumped lightly back against her. “Unless it’d be entertaining. Then go for it.”
    “Well, yes. Sometimes they are unsettled so easily I cannot help myself.”
    “Hey, that’s good for them. My creeped-out threshold is pretty high now.”
    She bit his shoulder.
    “Yeah, see? But don’t do that to them. Will you bite me if I turn around?”
    “Yes.” She laughed and held on when he did anyway, lifting her feet so that she was still at his back when he stopped. “I would have said no if I’d realized you wanted it.”
    “You haven’t had even one dirty thought yet?”
    “Yes.” But mostly wonderful thoughts of pleasing him, of concentrating wholly on him, of returning even a small amount of what he’d given her. Her hands fell to his abdomen, and she slid her fingers over ripples of muscle, circled his navel, and traced a narrow path of coarse hair toward his waistband. “And that is why you cannot turn around.”
    “Hot damn. But listen, goddess—if you’ve shape-shifted, be gentle.”
    She smothered her cackle against his shoulder,