“I’m not a Hunter. You can't punish me.” I replied. My hands gripped the armrests of the chair. I had twisted and moved closer to Davenport without realizing.
To an outside audience, Davenport sat casually against his desk, I was positioned in front of him, on the chair. Somehow, it felt a lot more intimate than that.
“I’m certain I could punish you. If I were so inclined.” Davenport murmured, his knuckles gripped the edge of the desk, firmly in place.
“Hmm.” I hummed. “Really, Daddy?”
Davenport licked his bottom lip. His eyes sparkled. The height difference began to bother me. That, or the intense stare-off. I stood up, but that brought my body closer to his.
Transfixed, we focused on each other. Davenport reached out. His fingers brushed against my arm, and then my waist, leaving a trail of heat racing through my body.
“Are you certain that you don’t like to be punished?” Davenport asked quietly. “Sometimes, people require discipline.”
“Do you punish all of your Hunters like this?” My brows rose as I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face.
His eyes darkened. “No.” He said. “Put both of your hands on the desk. Palms flat.”
I swallowed deeply. Unable to think of a single reason why I shouldn’t do what he had said. I wanted to. There was something dark, sexual, and twisted about being his to command. Something about his darkness, his strong confidence, that told me that he would take good care of me. I could be his possession. His to position and play with as he saw fit.
I took two steps past the chair and placed my hands flat on the desk. Swiping his files away and onto the floor in the act of childish rebellion. Davenport pushed his tongue between his teeth. Surveying the scene. His baring had changed slightly. He stood, moving with a swagger that he had not had before, as if he had slipped on a persona that fit him like a glove. I had heard the term before. Domme. I wiggled, unable to control my apprehension.
Davenport placed his hand against my rump. Following the curve of my bottom with an appraising stroke.
“Mara.” He said my name like the crack of a whip. “Do you want this?”
The words themselves were innocent enough, but they felt like a cliff's edge.
“Do your worst, commander.” I teased. “Give me your punishment.”
Davenport gripped my waist and pulled my bottom into the curve of his hips. He leaned over, his larger hands rested on the outside of my own. “As you wish.” He purred. His hardness pressed against the crack of my ass for just a second, before the air charged and I waited with bated breath for the swing.
“There’s someone here to see you, Commander Davenport.” A tinny voice broke through the tension. “Andrew Jarman, from the armory.”
The commander cleared his throat. “Thank you, Betty.” He replied, pressing the button on the intercom.
I flushed from head to toe as I straightened. Embarrassed and angry with myself. I had almost done what I had sworn I would not do. Get involved with a Hunter. With someone that would never see or accept my true self.
Losing my virginity didn’t seem important anymore. When I had added sex to my 'to do' list, I hadn’t thought about what that meant. Using a human host and having a meaningless orgy had seemed like a good idea at the time. A way to sate my curiosity and lust for connection. Frankie Gardiner's soul had left the building. If I evacuated her body for any reason, she would be dead. I was a pilot to an empty vessel. Finders keepers, right?
But I didn’t want to sleep with someone that could never accept me.
I was a Demon. A fact I told myself often to comfort myself. Demons were strong. Demons were powerful. Even if I was the weakest type of Demon, the pitiful Drude, being the lowest of a strong race was better than being the strongest of a weak one.
I ducked under Davenport's arm and escaped the room, with my cheeks flushed and my eyes forward.
The Mess Hall was bustling with the morning breakfast rush, as I weaved through the crowd and joined the end of the line for food. My mind drifted as I thought about what I had almost done. I was walking a path that was already razor-thin.
The line moved, and I shuffled forward, only to trip on someone’s heels and end up with a mouthful of hair. I spat it out, tasting the plastic residue of whatever product had been in the strategically shaggy blonde mop.
“Frankie.” Riley glanced over at Chloe, who's hair I had almost eaten. She said my host’s name as a greeting. An acknowledgment. Aloof and cool. Something I could never hope to achieve.
I wiggled my fingers. “Hey, Riley—still planning my death?”
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
“God, she’s such a freak.” Chloe slapped Riley's arm as if I couldn’t hear her. Shooting a glance my way, she bestowed her benevolent wisdom unto me. “Look where you're going.” She hissed.
I cocked my head to the side. “Why would I do that?” I asked innocently. I covered my mouth and leaned in as if I was letting her in on a secret. “Your hair smells like coconuts.”
Chloe shivered and turned away, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She uttered one last 'idiot' remark, but no more.
I gave Riley a toothy grin. “Thanks for the save the other day.”
She surveyed her nails. Bored. “Uh-huh.”
Maybe we weren’t going to be besties. Which sucked. She had anger and nice hair. I wanted to be Riley Fisher when I grew up. But, you know, without the dead boyfriend.
The line shifted again, and Chloe moved with it. I stepped forward, but a hand clasped my bicep.
“What did you mean when you said they think the attack came from one of the Hunters?” Riley whispered, so low that I had to strain to catch the words.
I surveyed our surroundings to see if we would be overheard. It looked clear.
“It's a Wish Demon,” I replied simply.
Riley swore. “And?”
“And someone has to actually make the wish for it to be granted.” I licked my bottom lip.
Riley looked around as if seeing her fellow Hunters in a new light.
“Did Hambone have any enemies?” I whispered.
Riley shook her head but paused during the motion to think about it. “One of the guys had an abusive ex. She was a civilian though. She wouldn’t know how to summon a Demon.” Riley murmured thoughtfully.
“You’d be surprised.” I quirked a brow.
“Greyson Marsh.” Riley ignored me and continued. “There was a Fae on the team. Conrad Neilly. I always thought that you two had a thing...” She allowed her words to trail off.
“I’m asexual.” I lied.
Riley snorted. “Babe—I've seen you with men. You're as asexual as a dolphin pumped full of Viagra.”
“Dolphins are oddly sexual creatures.” I tilted my head to the side. “Would Viagra even work on a dolphin?”
The line shifted, luckily Riley and I remained on the end of it. Alone.
“Conrad was Fae. Fae don't typically work with Demons.” I said.
Riley shrugged. “Gary from the canteen? You were pretty harsh when you rejected him a few months ago.”
I narrowed my eyes at the hairnet wearing mouth breather behind the hot food trays on the other side of the canteen. He continued to spoon out green beans, unaware he was the subject of our conversation.
“Gary.” I spat his name like a curse.
Riley laughed, before slapping her hand over her mouth, shocked by her reaction.
“Or Callum?” Riley suggested. “You and he had this weird hatred, unspoken enemies going on for a while. Honestly? You were kind of a bitch.”