Ruined (The Eternal Balance #1)(36)

His right eyebrow rose slightly above the left and he set the folder back into the drawer where he’d gotten it. “Were you hoping for a Lucifer? Maybe a Damien?”

“Smart-ass.” I rolled my eyes. “Does the name sound familiar?”

“Why would it?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Don’t you guys, like, all know each other or something?”

“There’s no club, Sammy. We don’t meet once a year at a convention for the demonic.” He stuffed the paper into his back pocket and hitched his thumb toward the door. “Let’s go see what we can dig up on this thing.”

I nodded and reached for the handle, giving it a quick turn. Nothing happened. “Um… It’s stuck.”

“Stuck?” He moved to nudge me aside, but stopped when I turned at the same moment, putting our faces inches from each other.

“Go ahead. Do your thing,” I said.

“My thing?”

We didn’t have all day, but the way he said it woke the butterflies in my belly. The manager would be back soon, but reality be damned, I wanted him to kiss me again. “Yes. Your thing. Your demon thing. I want you to open the door.”

Actually, I wanted him to throw me over his shoulder and head for the desk on the other side of the room, but since that was less likely than a two-headed panda wearing a top hat and singing show tunes, I’d settle for getting the hell out of here.

He stepped closer. “Using my demon thing. Is that right?”

I swallowed and tapped the door, forcing myself to breathe. “We don’t have all day, Jax. Get to it.”

Jax took a deep breath and let his eyes flutter closed for a second. When he opened them, there was a wicked smile on his lips. With one hand braced against the door, he leaned in and whispered, “I could open the door, but you’d much rather I kiss you, right?”

I nodded. It was all I could manage.

“Even though I’m a demon?”

His voice was like melted chocolate. Rich and soothing. It didn’t matter to me in that moment that he was a demon. It wouldn’t matter, I realized, in any moment, because he was Jax. And he was what I’d always wanted.

“I would wreck you, Sammy. Make you scream for hours and hours until your voice is gone and you don’t remember your own name. Is that what you want?”

My mouth was dry. Legs mushy. Heart on overload. Again, all I could do was nod.

He pulled away, smile gone. At first he looked confused. Brows furrowed and lips pursed. Then he just looked indifferent. A rush of cold replaced the spot he’d been and I shivered. “Tell me,” he said, voice icy and low. “How does it feel to want?”

The chill turned into a glacial freeze. My heart, seconds ago banging like a woodpecker gone postal, was now dead. Words. They were just meaningless words meant to push me away. Still, it hurt. “Fuck you,” I said, backing away.

He laughed, but there was something off about it. It was forced. “No—” Jax turned away from her to stare at the door. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” I snapped. “The odor of *? As a matter of fact, I—”

He clamped his hand across my mouth and leaned closer to the door. The urge to bite his hand came—and went. Pissing off a demon, no matter how big a dick he was, probably wasn’t the path to a long life.

“Gasoline,” he said, voice hushed. “I smell gasoline.”

I pried his hand away from my face. “You’re crazy.” But no sooner did I get the words out than the smell filled my nose, followed by a rush of clear liquid from under the door. It crept across the tile floor, filling the spaces between and rolling over the grout like a mini tidal wave.

Jax reached for the handle again, but halted midway. Without a word, he pivoted, hand shooting out in a blur, and knocked me back as a rush of flame spilled in from under the door.

“Shit.” I gasped, backing toward the window. Fumbling with the lock, I threw it open and looked down. We were on the fourth floor. The office was in the back of the building and faced nothing more than an empty lot. There was no help in sight.

With the help of the gasoline, the fire spread quickly, catching the numerous stacks of papers strewn around the room. The temperature rose as thick gray smoke billowed into the air. A series of body-racking coughs doubled me over and I gasped for air.

“Do you still have an issue with heights?” Jax asked, taking my arm and dragging me closer to the window.

I glanced over my shoulder. “If I say yes, will that change anything?”

“Nope,” he said, maneuvering a leg over the sill.

“Then fair warning,” I said, letting him tug me closer. “I may puke on you.”

“Noted.”

I stepped out onto the thin ledge as Jax inched closer to the fire escape ladder a few feet away. I made the mistake of peeking down. It was quick—nothing more than a flicker—but it was enough. Vertigo hit with a vengeance. The fire wouldn’t get me. The fall from the ledge wouldn’t, either. But that sudden stop at the bottom? Yeah. That’d do it right.

Jax wrapped his right hand around the far side of the ladder and stepped onto the rung. He climbed down a few bars, and with his left hand, waved me over. “Okay. Come here.” He patted the second rung from the top and said, “Step right on this one. Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”