“Perhaps I should have you shaved.” Her usual purr turned into a growl. She twitched the quill in the direction of his groin. “After all, it’s not as if you have any use for it.”

“Hardly good for business, though,” Daemon said calmly. “The Queens won’t pay you for my service if there’s nothing to buy.”

“A worthless piece of meat since you can’t use it anyway!”

“Ah, but they do so enjoy looking at it.”

Dorothea threw the feather down and stamped on it. “Bastard!”

“So you’ve told me time and time again.” Daemon waved one hand in irritation. “Enough theatrics. You won’t shave me, now or ever.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t!”

In one fluid move Daemon was out of the chair, pinning her against the table. His hands tightened on her upper arms, hurting her, while his mouth clamped down on hers, bruising her lips with his teeth. He thrust his tongue into her mouth with such controlled savagery that she couldn’t think of anything but the feel of him and the sudden liquid heat between her legs.

It was always like this with him. Always. It was more than just his body. Not quite the Jewels, not quite a link. She could never touch his thoughts or feelings, never reach him. Yet there was such a sense of savage, controlled power, of maleness, that flowed from him, swirled around him. His hands, his tongue…just channels for that flow. Sensory conductors.

When she thought she couldn’t stand any more, when she thought she had to push him away or drown in the sensation, he thrust his hips forward and swayed against her. Moaning, Dorothea pushed herself against him, wanting to feel him harden, needing him to want her.

Just as she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck, Daemon stepped back, smiling, his golden eyes hot with anger, not desire.

“That’s why you won’t shave me, Dorothea.” His silky voice roughened with disgust. “There’s always a chance, isn’t there, that someday I’ll catch fire, that the hunger will become unbearable and I’ll come crawling to you for whatever release you’ll grant me.”

“I’d never let you go hungry,” Dorothea cried, one hand reaching for him. “By the Jewels, I swear—” Shaking with anger, Dorothea forced herself to stand up straight. Once again she’d humiliated herself by begging him.

Daemon smiled that cold, cruel smile he wore whenever he had twisted the love game to hurt the woman he was serving. It’s so easy, his smile said. You’re all so foolish. You can punish the body all you want, all you dare, but you can never touch me.

“Bastard,” Dorothea whispered.

“You could always kill me,” Daemon said softly. “That would solve both our problems, wouldn’t it?” He took a step toward her. She immediately pushed back against the table, frightened. “Why don’t you want me dead, Dorothea? What will happen on the day when I no longer walk among the living?”

“Get out,” she snapped, trying not to sound as weak as she suddenly felt. Why was he saying this? What did he know? She had to get him away from Hayll, away from that place, and quickly. Furious, she threw herself at him, but he glided away, and she fell heavily to the floor. “Get out!” she screamed, beating the floor with her fists.