“Yes,” he growled, nuzzling me. “I am half daemon, after all.”
In his voice, I heard we were okay, that he understood I was better with showing emotion through violence than with sweet words. Better than that, I heard that he was okay with it. I might be emotionally stunted, but I could read the room. He not only acceptedthe darkness in me. He liked it.
He liked me.
The real me.
I held nothing back from him. I couldn’t. Fascination had infected me, turned me into a person with feelings. And worse? I expressed them. Frequently. Just with chokeholds and throat punches.
“Time’s up,” I croaked, pulling from his embrace. “We better go see what trouble Clay’s got us into.”
“All right.” He fell in step beside me. “This ought to be interesting.”