Jennifer Armentrout: White Hot Kiss

“And what do you think you are? Just because you choose to ignore your demon blood doesn’t change its existence.” He leaned in so close his nose brushed mine as his hand cupped my chin, forcing me to maintain eye contact. “Don’t you ever wonder why the Wardens didn’t kill you? You’re part demon. So why did they keep you? Perhaps it’s because your ability to see souls is valuable to them? Or something else?”

My eyes narrowed as anger replaced the fear. “They don’t use me. They’re my family.”

“Family?” It was his turn to scoff. “You obviously can’t shift or you would’ve done so last night.”

Heat burned my face. Jeez, even a demon knew I was defective.

“Whatever Warden blood you have in you isn’t as strong as your demon side. We are your family—your kind.”

Hearing that was putting voice to my own personal version of Hell. I knocked his hand away. “No.”

“Really? I think you’re lying. Seeing souls isn’t the only thing you can do, is it? The last one who could?” he whispered, catching my chin again with the tips of his slender fingers. “She could do much more than that. Let’s just say she’d get a very unique hankering.”

I started to shake. “Who are you talking about?”

Roth smiled like the cat that ate an entire roomful of canaries and had moved on to the parrots. “I know what you wanted before you went into that alley.”

The floor seemed to roll under my feet. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t? I was following you.”

“Oh, so you’re a demon and a stalker?” I swallowed hard. “Because that’s not creepy or anything.”

He laughed softly. “Deflection doesn’t work on demons.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to try biting again.”

Something flared in his golden eyes, brightening them. “You wanna try?” He leaned in again, his lips brushing the curve of my cheek. “Let me suggest more appropriate places. I have this piercing—”

“Stop!” I jerked my head to the side. “Now I can add pervert to stalker and demon. ”

“I have no objection to any of those titles.” One side of his mouth curved up as he pulled back a little. “You wanted that man’s soul—the one you saw on the street? I’d be willing to bet a whole circle in Hell it’s all you ever want—ever think about sometimes.”

I did need it. Sometimes I shook just thinking about how a soul would feel slipping down my throat, and talking about it made it worse. Even now, when there were no souls near me, I could feel the pull—the need to cave to the urge. Like a junkie after a fix. My muscles cramped in warning. I pushed against his chest. “No. I don’t want that.”

“The one before you never denied what she was.” His voice then took on that soft, teasing quality again. “Do you know anything about her—about your heritage, Layla?” he said, and then his arm slipped around my waist, fitting my body against his. “Do you know anything about what you are?”

“Do you know anything about personal space?” I snapped.

“No.” He smirked, and then his eyes seemed to turn luminous. “But I do know that you really don’t mind me in your personal space.”

“Keep trying to convince yourself of that.” I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to meet his stare. “Being this close to you makes me want to shave off layers of my skin.”

Roth laughed softly. His head tipped down and suddenly our lips were inches apart. If he had a soul, he’d be entering dangerous territory. “I don’t need to do any convincing. I’m a demon.”

“Duh,” I murmured, my gaze now fixed on his mouth.

“Then you know that demons can smell human emotions.”

They could. I’d missed out on that ability, though. I could smell burnt food a mile away, as helpful as that was.

The corners of his lips tipped higher. “Fear has a sharp, bitter scent. I can smell that on you. Anger is like a chili pepper—it’s hot and it burns. And I can smell that, too.” Roth paused, and somehow, he was even closer. So close that when he spoke next, his lips brushed the corner of mine. “Ah, yes...and then there’s attraction. Sweet, tangy and heavy—it’s my favorite of them all. And guess what?”

I strained back against the wall. “You do not smell that on me, buddy.”

He reclaimed the distance with little effort. “That’s the funny thing about denial. It makes for a really bad weapon. You can say you’re not attracted to me all you want and maybe you don’t even know it yet, but I know differently.”

My mouth dropped open. “You need to get your demon nose looked at, then, because it’s seriously broken.”

Roth leaned back, tapping a long finger on the tip of my nose. “This has never lied before.” But he did step away. Though the smug grin remained on his face like his lips had been made for it, his next words were laced with seriousness. “You need to stop tagging.”

Grateful for the breathing room, I let out a ragged breath and clutched the edges of the sink. Now it made sense—this Upper Level demon showing interest in me. “What? Have I tagged too many of your friends?”

One dark brow arched. “I frankly don’t care how many demons you tag or how many the Wardens send back to Hell. As you can see, your glow-in-the-dark touch doesn’t work on me.”

I frowned as I eyed him. Crap. He was right. And I hadn’t even noticed it until now. Nice.

“It doesn’t work on any Upper Level demon. We’re just too cool for that.” Roth folded muscular arms across his chest. “But back to the whole tagging thing. You need to stop.”

I barked out a short laugh. “Yeah, and why in the world would I do that?”

A bored look crept across his striking features. “I could give you one good reason. The Seeker last night was looking for you.”

My mouth opened, because I’d been preparing another dismissive laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. Fear was back, and rightfully so. Had I heard the demon correctly?

A keen light reflected in his eyes. “Hell is looking for you, Layla. And they’ve found you. Don’t go out tagging.”

My heart pumped painfully as I stared at him. “You’re lying.”

He laughed under his breath. “Let me ask you a question. Did you just have a birthday? Turn seventeen recently? Say, within the past couple of days?”

I could only stare at him. My birthday had been just three days ago, on Saturday. I’d gone out to dinner with Stacey and Sam. Zayne even joined us. During dessert, Stacey had tried to get Zayne to tie a cherry stem with his tongue.

The smirk was back. “And yesterday was the first day you tagged since then, right? Hmm...and a Seeker finds you. Interesting.”

“I don’t see the connection,” I managed. “You’re probably lying, anyway. You’re a demon! You expect me to believe anything you’re saying?”

“And you’re a demon. No—don’t interrupt me with your denial. You’re a demon, Layla.”

“Half,” I muttered.

His eyes narrowed. “You have no reason to think I’m not telling you the truth. I also have a thousand reasons to lie to you, but the whole tagging thing? I’m not kidding. It’s not safe.”

The bell rang, startling me. I stared at him, wishing Hell would open up and welcome him back with open arms.

Roth glanced at the door, frowning. He turned back to me, lips curving into a strange smile. “I mean it. Don’t tag after school.” He pivoted around. At the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. “By the way, I wouldn’t tell your family about me. I’m afraid you’d find out just how much they really do care for you.”