City of Thorns by C.N. Crawford

Chapter 8

My breath caught in my throat. “Do you still think I’m Mortana?”

He studied me so intensely that I felt he was seeing right into my very soul. “I listened to everything you said last night.”

I stared at him. God, what had I said to him? “That was you in the next cell?”

“You’ve managed to plant a seed of doubt in my mind. Mortana had far too much dignity to engage in a charade like that. The prom situation. Crying alone in your basement apartment at night. The fear of ladybugs. Having a lucky pen that you hold to feel a sense of security.”

“I’d like my pen back, please,” I whispered.

“Practicing karaoke songs alone in your room even though no one has ever invited you out. I don’t think I ever understood the desire some mortals have to end their lives until I listened to the details of yours last night.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Look, I might be a bit of a weirdo, but I’ve never wanted to end my life.”

“Not you. I mean me. I have seen darkness that you couldn’t imagine, horrors that would twist your soul. And yet, never before in my several hundred years of existence have I been so ready to shuffle off this mortal coil as I was listening to your sad monologue.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “I think it was the bit about the yogurt pouches you keep in your purse because you have no one to eat lunch with. Even though they’re meant to be consumed by infants.”

This was just insulting. “At least I don’t kidnap people like some kind of Buffalo Bill psychopath. Call me crazy, but I’d say that’s a worse flaw than purse yogurt. And by the way, they have probiotics, so my microbiome is fucking pristine.”

He stared at me, shadows thickening around him.

“My point is, you’re not perfect, either,” I added. “And you’re weirdly obsessed with Mortana.”

A ruthless look slid through his eyes. “I never said I was perfect. Frankly, I’m an absolute arsehole with an unhealthy revenge obsession. I’m not depressing,though, and I have never made my shirt into a bowl for dry cereal to eat alone on a Saturday night.”

Revenge.I’d managed to keep him talking, and he’d brought me back again to what he wanted. This was what I could use. And as it would happen, an unhealthy obsession with revenge was something I understood very well. It seemed this demon arsehole and I had something in common.

Dr. Omer’s teaching played in my mind. Build rapport by reflecting back your client’s words to him.

“Okay, so you have a seed of doubt,” I started. What would Dr. Omer say? “Let’s explore that.”

He shook his head slowly. “I admit you might not be a demon. You do look exactly like her, though, which is perplexing.”

“Maybe she’s a distant ancestor.”

He shook his head. “Demons rarely procreate. And when we do, we only sire other demons. You can’t be a mortal and a descendant of Mortana.”

I bit my lip. “Coincidence?”

He considered the notion. “Every now and then, a demon has a mortal doppelgänger. It’s rare but possible.”

I sighed, relief unclenching my chest. “Good. Yes. That must be it.”

“But to prove it, I require two pieces of evidence.”

A little spark of hope. “Whatever you need.”

His gaze swept down my body. “To start, Mortana had a small scar on her upper thigh. I will need to see your legs.”

“You want me to lift up my dress?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

But at that point, I remembered exactly what I’d told him last night—about how he was the only man I’d ever seen who’d make me want to wear lace underwear. How he was the only one I thought could ever give me an orgasm. Mortified, I felt heat creeping over my cheeks.

“Go on,” he said softly.

My nostrils flared, and I glared at him as I lifted up the hem of my dress to a point just below my underwear.

The Lord of Chaos cocked his head, staring at my thighs as the cold dungeon air raised goosebumps on my skin. He looked riveted, his eyes growing brighter. Then he moved closer, and he reached down to lift my right leg from under the knee, pulling it up outside his thigh like we were engaged in some kind of dungeon tango. He was just inches from my hips now, examining my skin. With his free hand, he traced his fingertip over the very top of my thigh, and shivers of heat rippled through me.

Holy hell,that was distracting. The magical pulse coming off him was seductive, intoxicating. Warmth radiated over my skin from the point of contact. I’d never seen anyone so fascinated with a little bit of skin, nor had I ever realized that a single touch could be so powerful.

“See?” My voice came out in a whisper. “No scar.”

He dropped my thigh. When he stepped back, I felt cold again.

He frowned. “Interesting.”

I exhaled. “And what’s the other thing?”

He curled his lips and bared two sharp, white fangs, then licked one.

I shivered. “What?”

“Mortal blood tastes different than demon blood.”

Primal fear slid through my bones. “You want to drink my blood? Like the old days?”

“All I need is a little taste.”

My heart pounded hard. “You realize this seems terrifying. Is there not a more clinical way to do this? A syringe, maybe?”

“I don’t have a syringe. But you might find it’s not as terrible as you imagine. Mortal women once flocked to offer their necks to demon males,” he murmured. “They loved it.”

“Sure, they did.”

He gave a slow, infuriating shrug. “I have told you that I’m an arsehole, right? So I don’t really care if I imprison an innocent person, and frankly, I don’t think your life here would be much worse than your life in the Osborne basement. I’ll feel no guilt about leaving you locked up here. So you can let me bite your neck, or you can stay here in the dungeon forever. Those are your options.”

Maybe it was time to start bargaining. “Okay. I’ll let you taste my blood. But when you’re done, I’m not going back to Osborne. I want to stay in the City of Thorns.”

He frowned. “You can’t. If you are mortal, then you don’t belong here. The only mortals who can stay are students and servants who inherited the role.”

I folded my arms. “I’m sure someone called the Lord of Chaos can find a way to bend the rules.”

He flashed me a crooked smile. “What is it, exactly, that makes you think you have leverage to make any sort of demands?”

I knew his weakness now—a lust for revenge. Something I understood implicitly. And the thing about a sense of vengeance as burning as his was that it could spread like wildfire. You didn’t just want to end the life of one person—you wanted to kill anyone who helped them, anyone who let it happen. You wanted scorched earth.

“You want revenge, yes?” I asked. “You said Mortana haunts your nightmares. That’s a pretty intense loathing. So is she the only one, or is there someone else you want dead?”

His eyes were glowing brighter, and I had the sense he understood where I was going with this. “She didn’t work alone.”

I took a step closer, tilting my head back to look up at him. “So I could pretend to be her. Get information from these other people you hate. I could be your spy.”

His body had gone as still as the stones around us, sending a chill dancing up my nape. At last, he said, “Assuming this isn’t all an act, I don’t think you’d make a convincing succubus. You’re not seductive.”

I winced. Ouch. “Anything can be learned. Even how to be seductive like a succubus.” Whatever that was.

He looked transfixed with me. “I will consider it once I’ve tasted your blood. I need to know for sure that you’re mortal before we continue any further.”

I opened up my arms. “Okay. Go ahead. Bite me.”

Instantly, his warm magic slid around me like a forbidden caress, heating my blood. He had me completely pinned with his piercing gaze, and I felt my nipples going hard under my dress. To my shock, I found that he was right. I wanted him to bite me. I wanted him to grab me, shove me against the wall, and clamp his teeth into my throat. In fact—bizarrely—I wanted him to do all kinds of filthy things to me.

He stared into my eyes, and dominance emanated from him. His seductive scent wrapped around me, earthy like burning cedar. There was something more powerful than fear snaking around my ribs: the instinct to submit. This instinct, forged by thousands of years of evolution, was telling me to give in to him if I wanted to live.

He reached for my waist and pulled me closer. The next thing I knew, I was pressed against his body, his muscles as unyielding as the stone walls around us. Then awe slid over me as I watched his pale eyes go dark. He moved so smoothly that I’d nearly missed that he was pressing me against the wall. I felt the cold stone against my spine, chilling my skin through my dress. His knee slid between my legs.

It was hard to ignore how dangerous he was, how otherworldly. How he could end my life in a single heartbeat and move on to his next victim.

“Arch your neck,” he said in velvety voice.

I couldn't resist the urge to submit to his command. My eyes closed, and I tilted my head to give him access, making myself vulnerable to him. I felt his breath warming my throat, and a pounding heat swept through my body. My breath sped up, and my nipples felt exquisitely sensitive under my dress. I didn’t want to feel turned on by my supremely arrogant demonic abductor, and yet, here we were. The heart wants what it wants.

When I felt the brush of his canines over my throat, my breath hitched. Liquid desire slid between my thighs. I didn’t tell my arms to wrap around his neck, but they did anyway, welcoming him to my body. He felt as solid as the wall behind me. My pulse pounded, and I waited for the sharp sting of his teeth puncturing my skin. Instead, what I felt was a warm kiss.

Oh, God,that felt good.

A pulsing, sensual heat was spreading from the place where his mouth met my throat, and his tongue swirled over my neck. Then a sharp stab of pain curled my toes, made my heart slam against my ribs. His fingers tightened on my waist as his fangs sank into me, claiming me. Pleasure washed over the pain until all I could feel was the sexual ache building in me.

This was supremely fucked up.

I only tilted my head back more, giving him more access. I was tightly coiled with desire now, and I fought the urge to pull up the hem of my dress again. But I needed release, and he was the only one who could give it to me.

After a moment, he pulled his canines from my throat, and I started to fall against his chest, arms still wrapped around his neck. I’d never wanted someone so badly in my life. Clearly, my body had terrible taste in men. Really, just the worst possible taste. He was arrogant, insulting, a self-professed asshole who’d locked me in a literal dungeon. Oh, and he was a centuries-old blood-drinking demon.

“There,” he whispered, brushing a hand down the back of my hair. “Mortal.”

I leaned against the hard, muscled wall of his chest, and when I looked up at him, I saw that he looked nearly as dazed as I felt.

“That was horrible,” I lied. “I hated it.”

He leaned down and whispered, “I don’t believe you. But I suppose I am sorry about the abduction.”

I glanced down at the powerful arm wrapped around my waist, at the eerie snake tattoo. Then I pushed him away. “Okay. Let’s discuss how I’ll stay in the City of Thorns as your spy.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Because I detest mortals nearly as much as I hate Mortana.” He tilted his head. “But you do taste fucking delicious, so that softens the hatred a bit.”

I touched my neck, surprised to find that the two puncture wounds were already healing. There was hardly any blood at all.

“But you’re tempted by my plan, aren’t you?” I smiled at him. “Because you’re the Lord of Chaos, and you know that a mortal twin of a succubus can turn this city upside down.”

“And why do you want to stay here so desperately?”

I shrugged. “You summarized it yourself. My life is desperately sad. The yogurt pouches, the T-shirt cereal bowl. It fucking sucks, even for a mortal, and I can’t go back.”

“Here’s what you have to understand. There is, in fact, one circumstance in which demons are allowed to kill mortals. In which we can drain your blood with impunity or throw you into a fire pit. And that is if you enter the City of Thorns without permission, or under false pretenses. If the king or his soldiers determine that you’re actually mortal, then you will die, and probably in an excruciating way. So are you actually sure about this?”

Not at all. “Yes.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And once I fill you in on the secrets of the City of Thorns, once I tell you what I want, there will be no going back. I’m not letting you leave this city freely with my secrets, to wander around telling people what you heard. I’d have to kill you first.”

I bit my lip. “Are you saying I can never leave?”

“You can’t leave until you’ve helped me achieve my mission.”

“Which is?”

He shook his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that yet, can I? You’re either in or out. And you need to make your choice now. If I take you up to my apartment to divulge my plans, you will have crossed a threshold that you cannot return from until the mission is complete.”

Fear skittered up the back of my neck. But I already knew it was too late, that there was no going back. Because I was so close to having answers now. I needed to know what happened to Mom, and I wasn’t going to get another chance after this.

Now or never.

And the truth was, it wasn’t just that I wanted vengeance. I also wanted to get rid of the cloud of suspicion that hung over me at all times, that maybe I’d been involved.

With a tight chest, I nodded. “I’m willing to take risks. But since what I’ll be doing for you is dangerous, I’m going to need you to pay off my undergrad student loans. And I’d like to transfer to Belial University.”

He shrugged. “I can easily pay your loans. I can buy you a mortal degree if you want. But you cannot be at the university because Mortana would not be at the university.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You can’t just buy a degree.”

He looked at me like I was mad. “Of course you can. You can buy anything.”

I nodded, realizing he was probably right. My stomach twisted in knots as I realized I was about to undertake something extremely dangerous. “Okay. Whatever the dangers are, I’m in. Let’s do this.” I clapped my hands together. “And now I’m going to need you to show me where the bathroom is before your opinion of my dignity falls even further.”