Bathwater runs down my spine and drips from my wings as I give them a hard shake. I’m toweling off when her scent crashes into me.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my eyes slamming shut. Not now.

It’s everywhere, clouding my thoughts—jasmine and lilac, the sweet floral fragrance of my guestroom soap. I tug on my pants and shove a few of Zephyr’s treats into my pocket, heading up the stairs.

And there she is, the bane of my existence, wandering my halls.

My shirt. That’s all she’s got on. The hem skims her thighs, one sleeve slipping down to bare the curve of her shoulder. So much skin begging to be touched, to be bitten. Her silver hair is a messy tumble down her back, and I want to grab it. To twist the strands around my fist and yank until her throat is bared to my teeth.

Get it together.

I fade out of sight, wrapping myself in invisibility. Some dark, depraved part of me gets off on the idea of stalking her through these halls and waiting until the right moment to snatch her up, pin her down, and—

And then what? the last vestige of sanity mocks. Fuck her or kill her?

The Devaliant goes rigid. As if she can feel my stare and sense all the violent, filthy things I long to do to her.

She whirls to face my direction. “Wolf. I know you’re there.”

I stay silent as I circle her, letting my power brush down the elegant line of her spine, then the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip. She shivers.

I lean in close, still unseen, my breath teasing her ear. “You like me watching?”

She scowls. “Have the courtesy to do it to my face or leave me alone.”

With a chuckle, I let the invisibility bleed away. Her gaze rakes over me, taking in my bare torso, the black trousers riding low on my hips. I flex my wings a little for show.

Her eyes snap up to mine accusingly.

I just flash a grin. “You’re far from the guest room. Lost your way?”

“Can’t sleep.”

I wait for more, for all those messy human feelings to come spilling out. But she keeps her expression smooth and unruffled. The Devaliant mask firmly in place.

“You never told me which parts of the tower were off limits,” she adds. “I’d hate to stumble somewhere I’m not wanted.”

I’m not fooled by the innocent act; this girl is always looking for lines to scuff out. Any excuse to disobey. It’s in her blood.

“There aren’t any locked doors here,” I say. “No forbidden wings or chains rattling in the attic. I’m not your jailer.”

“Really.” Before I can stop her, she’s reaching for the handle to her left. “Then why don’t I start with—”

No.

I slap my palm against the door to keep it shut. She blinks up at me, startled.

“Correction,” I say, shoving down all the memories threatening to bubble to the surface. Stay the fuck down. “See this obsidian seal right here?” I tap the carved symbol on the wood for emphasis. “Memorize it. Burn it into your brain. Consider it the one hard line in this whole fucked up arrangement. If I ever catch you opening this door, that’s it, Devaliant. Your stay of execution ends, and I’ll make you wish you’d died on that mountain.”

She snorts. “That reminds me of an old story in Vartena about a naïve bride who gets the keys to her new husband’s castle. He tells her she can explore anywhere she likes except that one special room. No explanation, just a command. Want to guess what she found when she finally looked?”

“Let me think.” I back her up against the door. “Rotting corpses? The bones of all the other stupid girls who couldn’t follow simple instructions?”

“Close enough. So what’s in this room? The remains of dead princesses who bored you?”

The memories begin shoving at the box, screams echoing from hundreds of years ago.

Stay. The fuck. Down.

“Everyone has rooms they keep shut tight,” I say, dragging my focus to her. “Where we put the ugliest parts of ourselves. I’d bet even a perfect princess has hallways she keeps locked down, doors she doesn’t want anyone going through.” I press my palms to the wall on either side of her head, leaning in. “Could be real fun picking those locks and digging up all those things you think you’re hiding. That appeal at all? Or you want to tell me to fuck off?”

Anger sparks in her eyes. But beneath that…

Fear.

Good, I think. You should be afraid of me.

“Thing is, Devaliant,” I continue, “I don’t need to hide what I am behind closed doors. You know exactly what kind of sick bastard you’re dealing with. I get off on violence. I get hard when I hurt people. I’ve killed more humans than you’ve had hot dinners, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And yet here you are, strolling around wearing only my shirt like you want me to bend you over and show you how monsters fuck.”

Her mouth parts slightly, and a breath gusts past her lips. But she doesn’t back down or retreat. “The alternative was strolling around naked,” she snaps, as if I’m being particularly dense.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem from where I’m standing. Toys can be clothed or unclothed, depending on my mood.”

Her scowl deepens. “If you wanted a naked toy, you should have bargained for one.”

“I suppose I should have,” I say with a smirk, reaching into my pocket. “Maybe one day, we’ll renegotiate your wardrobe. Let’s try something else tonight.” I pull one of Zephyr’s sugar clusters from my pocket and hold it between us.

“What’s that?”

“Me being generous.”

She looks at the treat like it might grow fangs. “Prove it’s safe.”

“Doubting my good intentions?”

“Why in the realms would I trust your intentions?”

Fair enough.

I bring the sweet to my mouth and sink my teeth in. Decadence explodes on my tongue—ambrosial honey and succulent fruits, toasted nuts, and the decadent crunch of edible gold leaf. Exquisite.

Holding her gaze, I slowly lick the honey off my finger. “That do it for you?”

She’s staring at my mouth. “I guess so.”

I peel the wrapping off another cluster, and she tries to take it from me, but I push her hand away. “No. Toys get hand-fed when I want.” I press the sweet to the seam of her lips. “Open up. Think twice before biting.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll bite back.”

Her eyes flash. Do it, they seem to say. Push me until I push back and make you bleed.

“Behave,” I murmur.

Her lip curls like she’s holding back a snarl, but she leans and takes the candy delicately between her teeth. I swear the world stops. The noise she makes shoots straight to my cock—a low, throaty moan that has no business existing outside a bedroom.

I am going to devour this woman whole.

I’ll lay kingdoms at Zephyr’s feet. Shower her in the corpses of her enemies—any gruesome offering her spiteful heart desires—because Bryony Devaliant is licking honey from my fingers, and I’m about to lose my damned mind.

“Thought you might like that,” I say roughly.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t sound so smug. Why did you bring these?”

“Maybe I wanted to see what you’d do with something that exists purely for pleasure. No purpose, no greater meaning. Just…” I trail off as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Indulgence.”

“And what’s the catch?” She bites down gently on my thumb. “Are you hoping to earn my trust with sugar?”

“Your trust is worthless to me. I want to watch you come undone and know I’m the reason.”

“Such lofty ambitions.” Another scrape of teeth. “You’re not even subtle.”

“I’ve been guilty of far worse crimes than ambition, and subtlety is for courtiers and grifters. For little boys who don’t know how to take what they want. I prefer the direct approach.”

“So do I.”

Quick as a snake strike, she buries her hand in my hair and wrenches my head back with a strength that surprises me. Pain lights up my scalp, sharp and immediate, and a strange, giddy amusement stirs in my chest.