Poison Kissed by Erica Hayes Page A

remind him of home. “What do you want?”
    Delilah eyes him slyly, painted lashes long around thistlegreen eyes. “To make peace.”
    “Were we at war?” He sips his drink through the straw, tart lime pleasuring his tongue, and flicks her a glacial glance of warning.
    Ice crystals crinkle her long wine-red curls. She cracks them off in a white puff with a hellbright smile, but dented confidence flickers violet in her eyes. “Don’t posture. We got off to a bad start, you and I. I wanted to ap—”
    “You’re not sorry, Delilah. Just get out of my place before you get hurt.”
    “I thought we could spend some time. Get to know each other.” She strokes a curl from his cheek with one long purple nail, the caress lingering slyly in a rain of golden sparks. “You know. Make friends?”
    Her touch warms his blood sweetly. She’s lovely. Strong. Not vulnerable or breakable like humans, her immortal demon blood insatiable and irreducible. Inviting. Submissive. Starved, like a puppy dog eager to please.
    Delilah’s fingers creep to Kane’s shoulder, twining in the hair over his collar. His groin heats. She’s also a disobedient worm who should grovel at his feet. Who should know better than to touch him without asking.
    He slurps his green drink to ice, and blasts her finger from his shoulder with a rude electric shock. “I could drag you before the demon court and flay you raw just for showing your face in my city. Imagine how long I can make that agony last.”
    She heals her wounded finger, a hiss of steam and a sweet careless smile, but angry ash gusts like snowflakes from her hair. “And I could tell the court how you won this city in the first place. How d’you think they’ll like that?”
    “They answer to me. I don’t need to justify myself. You do.”
    Delilah smiles tautly. “That so? Your brother Phoebus would say different. . . . Oh, wait. You got rid of him, didn’t you? The rightful prince, out of the way forever. What would the court make of that, if they knew the whole sordid tale?”
    Angry red flame licks Kane’s hair. How does she know that? Phoebus is gone forever. He made sure of it. Sometimes he still dreams of his brother’s accusing eyes, the blinding brassy flash as the shackles gripped tight, hungry gulls squawking, the deafening crunch as the stone ground into place. He clamps his teeth tight. “Phoebus isn’t your concern.”
    Delilah grins, flicking a stray lump of ash from his lapel. “We’ll see, handsome. Remember, you could just be nice to me, and it’d all go away.” She bends closer, and his hair springs alive in her breath, the hot slickness of her tongue a temptation on his ear. “I’m not so bad, once you get to know me.” She nips his earlobe lightly and stalks away, curving hips swaying in translucent silk.
    Kane cracks angry knuckles, sparks showering. He could chase her. Drag her down to hell, like the old days before the court took hold. Strip her naked on burning crimson rocks, pin her down with barbed chains and a bloody dagger through each wrist. Taste her blood, her salty juice, her flesh, thrust himself inside her and teach her a lesson. Make her writhe and scream, hurt her, pleasure her until she begs for death or mercy or more.
    Hunger rips through his body like razors, and he slams the glass down lest he crush it. The court has rules. He’s broken enough of them already to get here. Best leave it lie. She’s no threat, not really, no matter her taunts. She can’t know anything about Phoebus. Phoebus is dead, or as good as.
    Beside him, a clean-faced mortal in an expensive suit shakes his head in sympathy over a glass of goldenbrown spirit. “Women. They’re all the fucking same, mate. They’ll tear your heart out just to watch you bleed.”
    Kane inhales, the raw steak scent of the boy’s unrequited need stirring dark desire in his veins. Soulfood. Timely. He clinks glasses. “She can try.”
    “You’re tougher than I am, then. Good for