Vowed in Shadows by Jessa Slade

Not a chance.” But when he gave her a short tug, rather than fall on her face again—or, worse yet, stumble into the carcass—she put her foot down. And after one sharp twinge, nothing happened. “This is crazy.”
    His lips quirked. “Aren’t we all?”

CHAPTER 4
    Jonah knew he’d finally broken through Nim’s resistance when she agreed numbly to return to her apartment to clean up and kicked up hardly any fuss when he didn’t bother asking her address as they got into his car.
    â€œYou followed me home,” was all she said as she settled into the passenger’s seat, and she sounded more resigned than angry, so he neither confirmed nor denied.
    Bewildered as she was, with her new demon scarcely settled and its capabilities still unknown, he didn’t want to risk pushing her. Not if he didn’t have to. The soothing power of a hot shower was allowable, now that she couldn’t convince herself her world was still the same.
    Her teshuva had already sealed over the scrapes on her knee, and the ugly bruise on her hip was fading fast. But the streaks of blood on her tawny skin remained, and the feralis had spattered ichor on her, burning holes in her already indecent shorts.
    He retrieved Mobi’s case from the backseat while Nim unlocked the security screen on the front door of the old brick building. Side by side, silent, they walked past the rows of mailboxes. He paused at the elevator, then had to hurry a few long steps to catch up with her when she opened the door to the stairs.
    She smiled at him crookedly. “What? Are your legs broken?”
    â€œYou live on the seventh floor.”
    â€œApparently, you haven’t been watching me all that closely. I always take the stairs. Did you think taking an elevator gave me these legs?”
    On cue, his gaze dropped to her legs, as if he had to make an assessment. Even streaked with blood, they were gorgeous. Slender ankles, toned calves, and reven -marked thighs that curved into well-rounded buttocks . . . not that he could see those overflowing handfuls, even with her indecent shorts. But he remembered.
    Until the day some feralis took off his head, he’d never forget.
    He snapped his attention to her face. “You like to do that. Make me look at your body.”
    She padded up the stairs, her bare feet slapping her ire on the treads. She’d refused to put on the sandals he’d retrieved from the feralis’s maw. “That’s how I pay the rent.”
    â€œYou do it to distract.” He realized he was watching the sway of her hips, back and forth as she climbed the stairs. Distracting? Worse: mesmerizing. “You didn’t like to think that I’ve been watching you when you weren’t in charge.”
    She stopped so abruptly he almost collided with her. “Watching, but not closely,” she reminded him.
    â€œSo you want me to watch closer. But only those parts you want me to see.”
    â€œThanks for the analysis. Will you charge me for that, along with the orgasm?”
    Though he was coming to understand her tactics, the low blow brought heat to his cheeks. “It was necessary.”
    â€œThe psychoanalysis?” The wicked twinkle in her eyes dared him to disagree.
    So he did. “No, the . . . orgasm.” In all his years, had he ever said that word aloud? He rubbed his thumb against the base of his ring finger, ticking the band with his nail.
    Suddenly, uneasily, he wondered what else he’d be forced to do. He’d wanted only a way to fight harder, to redeem himself. He hadn’t quite anticipated that opening himself to another meant . . . to another person. To Nim.
    She continued up the stairs. “The demon likes to fuck you over? But not be fucked.”
    â€œI’m uncomfortable with your foul language.” He almost winced at how prim he sounded, how outdated.
    â€œOh, so it wasn’t the demon that was uncomfortable