The Demon King of Lust

Chapter 36

Kieran steps through the doorway and crosses his arms across his chest. His brows are pinched together and his lips tightly pursed. I can't quite decipher his expression, but his eyes burn with something I've never seen before.

"I... the call... it was Victor." I stumble over my words under the heat of his gaze.

"I got that," he says, his brow furrowed as he searches my face for—I don't know what.

Pumpkin weaves between his legs and passes us both to head downstairs, like he can sense the awkward tension and wants no part in it.

"He said he was going to come clean about everything. I thought I would hear him out."

"And then he warned you to stay away from me. Told you I'm a liar and I'd hurt you." He takes another step forward, his dark eyes locked with mine.

"You heard that part?"

He smirks slightly and taps a finger near his ear.

"Yeah. Supernatural hearing." His gaze falls to the floor, then back up to me. "I also heard the part where you said I was more than just a... what was it? 'Demon fuckboy'?"

The corner of his lip twitches at that, but his overall expression remains serious and intense.

Is he angry? Is he hurt?

So much for my so-called empath abilities. I have no idea what he's thinking.

"Okay, I guess the exact phrasing may be harsh, but I was making a point tha-"

I stop speaking as he rapidly closes the distance between us and leans against the wall, caging me in with his arms. My pulse drums in my chest as he stops with his face inches from mine. His scent floods my senses—a heady mixture of copper and cinnamon.

"Did you mean it?" His voice is low and gravelly.

"I..." I'm not sure which answer he wants to hear, but I opt for honesty. "I did. I mean, you are more than that. You're a good person an-"

He grabs my face in both hands and gives me an earthshaking, bone-melting kiss that sends electricity shooting through my body. I can't finish my sentence. I can barely keep my legs beneath me. My palms land on his chest, and before I know it I've grasped at his t-shirt, tugging him closer until our bodies had completely melded together.

I don't know how long we kiss, but by the time he pulls away, I find myself gasping for air. His hands fall to the sides of my neck and he rests his forehead against mine.

"Nobody ever stands up for me," he says with a breathy rasp. "But you did."

The weight of the moment sinks into me. This means something to him.

I realize the truth underlying his words—Kieran never had anyone there to stand up for him. Not when he was a kid getting smacked around by his shitty father. Not when he was a young queer guy living on the streets. Not when he was a newly initiated demon with no clue how to deal with his powers. That's why his friend Zane means so much to him. Because Zane was the first person in the world who ever stuck out their neck for him. And now I'm the second. I feel the raw emotion simmering behind his eyes—he's stunned and overwhelmed, as though my words ignited something in him.

He kisses me again, his powerful frame pressing me into the wall. His hands glide up and down my curves, like he can't decide where they belong. He finally wraps an arm around my waist and loops the other beneath my thigh. He lifts me and brings me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us.

His touch is frenzied and passionate, like he's showing me his gratitude with his body. Every kiss and hum from his lips is an act of unrivaled devotion.