Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy #1)(36)

“Now,” he said, drawing in a heavy breath. “Where were we?”

“What the fuck,” I clutched my head in my hands, inching around the toppled pews. Blood and gore were spattered across the floor, and the creature’s body was melting. It had become a goopy, blackened consistency that squirmed with living worms. I clapped a hand over my mouth. I was going to be sick — “More will come for you, Rae,” Leon said, discarding the shredded remnants of his jacket. He walked over to the bénitier near the front of the chapel and dipped his hands in the holy water, scrubbing off the blood and tinting the water pink. “I told you what you started isn’t easy to undo. This beast is the least of what may come hunting you.” He splashed water on his face, droplets streaking down onto his chest.

As he stood there, stained with the blood of a monster — fanged, clawed, a monster in his own right — I thought he was simultaneously the sexiest and most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

Dazed, in utter disbelief, I turned and wandered out the church’s open doors. The cemetery seemed peaceful now that the shrieks and cries had been silenced, and only the chirping of the crickets remained. The night air was cool, crisp and clean; the smell of death was fading as the monster’s body dissolved.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream or...or a nightmare. I rubbed my hands over my face. Here I’d thought I only had a demon to deal with, but this was so much worse.

“We were in the middle of something, Raelynn.”

I whirled back around. Leon stood in the light at the bottom of the chapel steps, hair damp, dark bloody stains on his jeans. I remembered suddenly — just before that monster burst in, I had been about to allow myself to do the unthinkable.

I had been about to give in. I had been about to beg him to shove that unholy split tongue down my throat. After what I’d just seen, I should have been entirely turned off, horrified, disgusted. I should have been running.

But instead, I wanted him to wrap those blood-stained hands around my throat. I wanted him to manhandle me with even a fraction of the strength he’d just used to rip that thing limb from limb. I was staring down what was very likely the most dangerous man in Abelaum, and I wanted him to rip my clothes off right there in that graveyard.

“Thank you,” I said tightly. “I...I might’ve...if you weren’t here…”

“You would be dismembered, but alive, being dragged deep into the forest where they could consume your body slowly.” He smiled. “And I prefer thanks in actions, rather than words. Give me the grimoire.”

I backed away until my thighs bumped against a headstone behind me. Leon advanced, impatience in every step until he stood right before me. The rise and fall of his chest, his breathing heavy, was hypnotizing. His body was slim but his muscles had swelled. I wanted to caress my hands over the tattoos — saints and angels and snarling wolves — and over the scars beneath them.

“Why do you want the grimoire so badly?” I said, stalling.

“It contains my mark, my sigil,” he said. “It’s the last physical record of it remaining on earth, and having my mark means being able to summon me. Once I have it, I’m destroying it.” His eyes lit up. “And I’ll never return to this god-forsaken town.”

“If I give it to you,” I said slowly, “will those things go away? Will they stop coming after me?”

He winced, and gave a little shrug. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? What the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“Try offering me your soul.” His tone was cocky, but clipped, as if he’d allowed the words out only begrudgingly. “Offer me your soul in exchange for protection.”

I stared at him, stunned, until I began to slowly shake my head. “No. No way. I’m not offering you my soul.”

He shrugged again. “Good luck then. Now…” He leaned over me, those damned tempting full lips curled into a saucy smirk. “How long are you going to ignore that little problem of yours?”

I frowned, self-consciously squeezing my legs together. “What problem?”

His smirk widened. “You are dripping at the sight of me.”

Blood flooded my cheeks, and heat flooded between my legs. I sputtered, looking away — but I couldn’t deny him. I couldn’t lie.

“Fuck you,” I muttered.

“You’re welcome to.”

“Why don’t you just do it?” I blurted out, throwing up my hands. “You keep threatening and teasing and…and…looming over me.” I glared up at him, my fists clenching when I found him laughing.

“Just do it?” He chuckled. “Just bend you over and ravage you here and now? Just do it, so you don’t have to give in? No, no, no.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “That would be too easy. I want to see you squirm, I want to see you beg. If you’re going to be damned, you need to go willingly.”

The tension inside me was going to explode. My clit felt swollen, my panties were damp. The sight of him shirtless and bloodied, having just unleashed his true hellish self to save my life, was unreasonably arousing.

“Please, just —”

“Aw, please.” He pouted, mocking me again. “Please? Please, what? Use that pretty mouth of yours, come on. Speak.”