don’t feel like eating alone, nor do I think you’ll actually order and eat food unless I stand over you and make sure you do.”
I marched past him and into the stairwell, taking the steps one at a time. The more I climbed, the harder they were.
He stuck my key in the door lock and twisted with a decided jerk. “I’ll order the food, you get a shower. By the time we finish eating, you’ll be ready to fall straight to sleep.”
“You’re not my keeper,” I muttered. “Stupid, bossy demon,” I said as I walked into the bathroom. “I should have skewered him with my letter opener.”
The door opened behind me a crack. “I’m hiding all sharp objects.” Blaise’s chuckle only made my anger sizzle.
I slung my jacket against the wall and unhooked my shoulder holster, laying it across the counter, eyeing the Glock’s dull gray finish.
“Bullets won’t kill us.”
“They’re silver.” My fingers curled around my shirt hem.
“That’s for werewolves.”
I ripped my shirt up over my head and slammed it into the door, knowing my anger was more at myself than Blaise. If I couldn’t learn to control my desire and my temper around him, I’d always be at his mercy.
Think, Danske. Think with your brain, not your female parts.
“Give your female parts a little credit. You know you want me. I just need to hear you say it.”
My fist slammed into the door and pain radiated through my knuckles, bringing my mind and body parts back in line. As I stepped into a cool shower, I gathered my wits and prepared for battle with a demon.
Chapter Six
N ot until I shut off the water and grabbed for a towel did I realize I’d come into the bathroom without clean clothing. I had two choices, either ask a demon to rifle through my underwear drawer or wrap a towel around myself and march into my bedroom to get dressed before Blaise had a chance to cop a peek.
I quickly finger-combed my hair, realizing it was hopeless to try to get it straight without the brush I’d left on my dresser. With the towel wrapped around what was important, I opened the door a crack and peered toward the living room. I didn’t see Blaise. Good. He was probably in the kitchen.
I flung the door open and scooched into my bedroom, heading straight for my dresser with the underwear, trying to ignore the strong scent of soy sauce and bell pepper assaulting my nostrils, making my stomach groan.
“Don’t feel obligated to get dressed for me,” a warm, resonant voice said from the doorway.
I squealed and spun, a pair of thong underwear curled in my fingers.
Blaise lounged against the doorframe, his shirt unbuttoned and chopsticks poised over a box of Chinese noodles.
“What are you doing in here?” I demanded.
“Eating. I couldn’t wait.” He winked and scooped noodles and broccoli into his mouth.
My insides squeezed and my mouth watered. “Not fair. I’m starving.”
He held out his chopsticks, holding a morsel of chicken slathered in sauce. “Here.”
Knees weak, I was drawn to the food, to his body. “I’m only coming because of the food.” My feet carried me within reach.
“Yeah.”
My lips parted to deliver a scathing retort.
He gave that infuriatingly smug smile and poked the chicken into my mouth.
I closed my eyes to his naked chest and moaned as an explosion of flavor filled my mouth. I chewed, savoring the taste, my hand clenching the towel. “Mmmm. Delicious.” When I opened my eyes, Blaise was staring at me.
His smoky, black gaze centered on where my hand held the towel over my breasts.
My breathing grew more sporadic, my pulse hammered against the vein in my neck. I wanted him more than any man I’d ever come in contact with. I reached out, my hand going for the skin exposed between the edges of his open shirt. At the last minute, I grabbed the chopsticks and the box of noodles, digging in to keep my traitorous hands off his body.
As I lifted a scoop of noodles and chicken to my lips, my hands shook and
I marched past him and into the stairwell, taking the steps one at a time. The more I climbed, the harder they were.
He stuck my key in the door lock and twisted with a decided jerk. “I’ll order the food, you get a shower. By the time we finish eating, you’ll be ready to fall straight to sleep.”
“You’re not my keeper,” I muttered. “Stupid, bossy demon,” I said as I walked into the bathroom. “I should have skewered him with my letter opener.”
The door opened behind me a crack. “I’m hiding all sharp objects.” Blaise’s chuckle only made my anger sizzle.
I slung my jacket against the wall and unhooked my shoulder holster, laying it across the counter, eyeing the Glock’s dull gray finish.
“Bullets won’t kill us.”
“They’re silver.” My fingers curled around my shirt hem.
“That’s for werewolves.”
I ripped my shirt up over my head and slammed it into the door, knowing my anger was more at myself than Blaise. If I couldn’t learn to control my desire and my temper around him, I’d always be at his mercy.
Think, Danske. Think with your brain, not your female parts.
“Give your female parts a little credit. You know you want me. I just need to hear you say it.”
My fist slammed into the door and pain radiated through my knuckles, bringing my mind and body parts back in line. As I stepped into a cool shower, I gathered my wits and prepared for battle with a demon.
Chapter Six
N ot until I shut off the water and grabbed for a towel did I realize I’d come into the bathroom without clean clothing. I had two choices, either ask a demon to rifle through my underwear drawer or wrap a towel around myself and march into my bedroom to get dressed before Blaise had a chance to cop a peek.
I quickly finger-combed my hair, realizing it was hopeless to try to get it straight without the brush I’d left on my dresser. With the towel wrapped around what was important, I opened the door a crack and peered toward the living room. I didn’t see Blaise. Good. He was probably in the kitchen.
I flung the door open and scooched into my bedroom, heading straight for my dresser with the underwear, trying to ignore the strong scent of soy sauce and bell pepper assaulting my nostrils, making my stomach groan.
“Don’t feel obligated to get dressed for me,” a warm, resonant voice said from the doorway.
I squealed and spun, a pair of thong underwear curled in my fingers.
Blaise lounged against the doorframe, his shirt unbuttoned and chopsticks poised over a box of Chinese noodles.
“What are you doing in here?” I demanded.
“Eating. I couldn’t wait.” He winked and scooped noodles and broccoli into his mouth.
My insides squeezed and my mouth watered. “Not fair. I’m starving.”
He held out his chopsticks, holding a morsel of chicken slathered in sauce. “Here.”
Knees weak, I was drawn to the food, to his body. “I’m only coming because of the food.” My feet carried me within reach.
“Yeah.”
My lips parted to deliver a scathing retort.
He gave that infuriatingly smug smile and poked the chicken into my mouth.
I closed my eyes to his naked chest and moaned as an explosion of flavor filled my mouth. I chewed, savoring the taste, my hand clenching the towel. “Mmmm. Delicious.” When I opened my eyes, Blaise was staring at me.
His smoky, black gaze centered on where my hand held the towel over my breasts.
My breathing grew more sporadic, my pulse hammered against the vein in my neck. I wanted him more than any man I’d ever come in contact with. I reached out, my hand going for the skin exposed between the edges of his open shirt. At the last minute, I grabbed the chopsticks and the box of noodles, digging in to keep my traitorous hands off his body.
As I lifted a scoop of noodles and chicken to my lips, my hands shook and
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