Trying not to think about sex.

Last night’s escapade was not enough. Even with all I divulged to Anna today, I daresay she’s not ready to sleep with me yet. Perhaps I’m going about this all wrong. Perhaps I should pretend to be smitten. Is that what she’d prefer? Maybe if . . .

What is she doing? I go completely still as her hand tentatively touches my knuckles and her fingers slide between mine, soft and warm and small.

She’s holding my hand.

Why is my heart beating so fast? And why does it feel like we’re going entirely too fast and too slow all at once? I search the skies for dark whisperers, stretching my senses in a wide arc, but there’s no sign of spirits.

I let myself feel her hand in mine, even though Kaidan Rowe does not hold hands. The gesture is so simple. So lovely that it rocks something deep inside me. I contemplate pulling away, but decide to let it continue, telling myself it’s all an act, and that two hands touching is not a monumental event.

We lie there a bit longer, holding hands and chatting. She pays close attention as I explain how I visualize the hiding of my aura, and her eagerness draws me in. I find myself wanting her to learn—wanting to assist her. An hour flies by. I’m shocked and relieved by how quickly she catches on. Think of all the other things I can teach her.

That thought sends a shot of lust straight to my groin, and I shift.

Damn it. Focus. We’re not finished working on her aura.

Hiding emotions is much more difficult in real terms. I need to see how she handles disguising her feelings under duress. I need to rattle her. Naturally, lust is the first thing that comes to mind, so I let my instincts take over.

“You know, for the record, Anna, I won’t think any less of you if you change your mind about doing the things my father expects.”

Please change your mind, I silently beg. Let me train you and have your body just once. Then maybe this ridiculous craving for her will go away.

I touch her ankle and let my fingers and palm slide up the back of her smooth calf. She is frozen under my touch, trying not to let it affect her. I can see the concentration on her face when her small throat flexes with a swallow. I watch her chest heave in shallow gasps as my fingers meet the bend at the back of her knee, running across the soft crevice. Words pour out of me, an insatiable need growing like a live thing inside me.

“It’s just you and me right now, Anna. I felt you come alive when we kissed, and I know you’re afraid of that. Afraid to unleash that other side of yourself.” I don’t realize how true the words are until they’re out of me. Her eyes are wide. “But you needn’t worry. I can handle her.”

I can and I want to. I’m not interested in taming her. Together we could be a wildfire, out of control, feeding off each other’s breaths. Wanting, needing, taking, consuming. God, it could be so good.

My hand moves farther up, cupping the muscle of her thigh. I want to keep going, but her hand firmly locks around my wrist to stop me.

I search the aura around her, desperate to see a shock of red. I lean in, ready to devour her mouth the moment her lust shows, but it never does, and the disappointment I feel is palpable. It’s a kick to the sack, physically, but mentally I’m torn between being proud of her acquired skills and yet dying to see her colors again. I need to know what she’s feeling.

“No,” she says. I marvel at how her voice can be soft and firm at the same time. Our eyes lock, and there’s so much stirring in her depths. Her long, blond ponytail hangs lazily over one shoulder, untamed wisps of hair escaping. That hair, the way she always ties it back, it’s like a symbol of her wild beauty kept under wraps. I want to let it loose. I want Anna to come undone in my hands.

It’s only lust, I tell myself. But seducing Anna is proving to be a different sensation—something foreign and distinctly dangerous.

It’s because she’s Neph, I reason.

It’s because she’s your most difficult conquest yet.

It’s because her angel voodoo is fucking with your head.

Yes. All of it.

I break away from her and bend a knee to block my body’s reaction to the lust test. She watches my face closely, always searching.

“Sorry, I had to play dirty,” I tell her, and she sort of nibbles her lip. “Some people work better under pressure. Now, if you don’t mind, I should probably walk it off.”

Yeah, I need to get away from her. I jump down from the rocks and pace, breathing in the night air. When my body is finally under control, I find Anna waiting patiently atop the rock. My stomach stirs with a strange feeling at the sight of her, and I want to stab myself for being so weak.

I reach up to help her down, saying, “Come on.” She takes my hand without hesitation, and we walk silently to the hotel.

I’m relieved she’s learned to hide her emotions. We’re one step closer to having her trained. Now all I have to do is bang the innocence out of her, deliver her to her demon father, and find out what that nun lady wants with her. Then I can deliver her back to the world in good conscience, and never have to see her again.

I’m halfway through my shower when it becomes glaringly obvious that I cannot go an entire day without being sated by another willing person. There is no way around it. I was careful tonight not to lose myself to the beast, but it’s always there, under the surface, starving for another fix no matter how well I tamp it down. I’ve always simply accepted it, and for the first time ever, I’m resenting this urge.

What I really want to do is go into that room and claim my place directly between Anna’s lovely legs. But I know she’s not having any of it. Yet. And I don’t have time for a long seduction. I cannot focus. The painful ache is returning to my abdomen, a dense tugging, and I need sex now.

I come out of the restroom in cargo shorts, and Anna’s eyes flicker over my bare chest. I look for her aura before remembering she can hide it now. But her eyes say enough. She likes what she sees. If only she’d act on it.

I pull a shirt from my bag and finish dressing. It’s time to go. I clear my throat, suddenly nervous, which is shite. I cannot possibly care what she thinks. I’m being an idiot.

“Right, then,” I say. “I’ll just, um, be out for a bit.”

Her entire being slumps with disappointment, and I feel as if she’s kicked my chest.

“Don’t go,” she says. Another kick. Where is this coming from?

This is who I am, and I refuse to let her make me feel guilty. Anger rises instead, and I grasp it, feeling more at home in its prickly embrace. Where I really want to be is here, tangled with her, but I know that’s not going to happen, which pisses me off.

“I have to work, Anna. Either out there or in here.”

Tell me to stay, little Ann. Crook your finger and beckon me over.

“It wouldn’t kill you to take a night off,” she says, jutting out her tiny chin.

It’s kick number three, and anger is giving over to a strong flood of fury.

“Is that so?” I tell myself to relax, but her self-control and judgment and lack of understanding make me want to shake her. Words drip from my mouth like venom. “Says the little doll who’s never had to work a day in her life?” She is not being what she’s supposed to be. I am. She doesn’t know that once you give in to the beast there’s no going back. You must feed it.

But she keeps pushing me—keeps talking about shite she can’t comprehend—keeps trying to make me feel bad for what I am.

“It’s not like demons are monitoring your behavior,” Anna says.

She cannot see the demons, the whisperers. She does not know how they network, how quickly I can be spotted “not working,” how they’d rush to turn me in. She doesn’t know what it means to live in fear of them showing up at any given minute. But I’m too enraged to communicate any of this.