Free Phoenix Broken by Heather R. Blair Page A

with him more ways than one.
    "Whore is too kind a word for what you are." The words came out of his mouth, but for a second, Scott couldn't believe he'd said them.
    That mouth that’d haunted him all night trembled once. Then her face went mask-like; taut and utterly expressionless. It didn’t steal her beauty, but it took away its heart. The stab of guilt took him by surprise, but Scott ignored that, too.
    “Believe what you will. I didn't push you to anything. I didn't ask you for anything. I only gave, and we both know you enjoyed what I offered. If I had really wanted to fuck with you the way you are meaning, Johnny—to drain you of everything that makes you a man—we’d be locked in a room somewhere still. And you'd be the one on your knees. " She took a step forward, poking one violet-tipped finger into his chest, stealing his breath with a look.
    "I could show you things that would make those sexy green eyes pop right out of your head. In one night, I can make any man my slave for damn near eternity. Any man, Johnny. If I'd used my powers on you the way you think, everyone here would know it. With one snap of my fingers you would crawl to me."
    She snapped her fingers for emphasis, but her smile was sad when he flinched.
    "Oops," she said softly, "guess I forgot to do the evil sex demon thing. My bad."
    Desdemona whirled away from him, only to freeze at the sound of Miles clearing his throat. Her shoulders slumped, the vulnerable gesture sending another pang through Scott's chest. She looked over at the vamp in wordless resignation.
    Miles jerked his head at the door and without another word, Desdemona left the gym. Her shoulders went back again but her head was bowed, as if she might be hiding tears.
    The ache is his chest deepened at the thought of being the cause of those tears. Scott looked after her, his hands clenched at his sides. He was still angry as hell, but feeling uncomfortably like he'd just crumpled a butterfly in his fingers.
    Slowly, he turned, reluctant to face the vampire, knowing he—and everyone else in the fucking gym—had heard every word he and the little half-demon had exchanged.
    "About this, Miles. Me and her, it wasn't—"
    Miles held up a hand, his expression alarmed. "I do not want to know. I'm even afraid to ask why she calls you Johnny. Let’s agree not to discuss the details, Davidson. Ever."
    Scott nodded in relief. He'd rather take a couple of punches straight to the face than be interrogated about what'd happened last night.
    "Just know this," Miles continued, "whatever happened, or might happen, between you and Desdemona, be careful. Demons in general are treacherous, evil creatures. Incubae and succubae can be the worst of a very nasty bunch. I'd like to believe she is more than her father's legacy, but I don't know, Scott. I just don't know. I've never met a demon I didn't want to kill on sight. Watch your step."
    Miles left. Scott stared after him, his jaw working. Alcide's voice broke the awkward silence.
    “At least I know now," he said, trying gamely to lighten the mood. "Not gay. Confirmed. That was one freaking hot chica, old man.”
    No one else said a word. Feet shuffled, throats cleared. Alcide looked around and frowned.
    "I mean, come on, I could hear the sizzle from here. Sizzle sizzle siz—“
    The look Scott shot him was more effective than a throat punch. Alcide choked on his words as Scott spun around and left the room.
    He had a feeling it was going to be another long ass night.
     
    Miles slipped back into the office where Des sat, cross legged on the desk, waiting for him.
    She didn't blink as his gaze flickered over her. Her shoes were on the floor where she'd kicked them off and she'd pulled her hair down. She was done trying to impress the damn vampire, or any of his people.
    It wasn't as if she'd tried very hard anyway. Des had known that was pretty much pointless from the start.
    One look from those electric eyes of his, and the room cleared. With