Free Dark Desires After Dusk by Kresley Cole Page B

that leg-crossing thing, stat.”
    â€œI’m uncomfortable!” She’d never gone so long without undergarments. “I don’t have my clothes, my jewelry. My laptop. Not even my shoes!”
    â€œAnd now you’ve got me uncomfortable, too.”
    She could have sworn he’d adjusted himself. “You . . . you just touched yourself.”
    â€œI’m a demon. I’m not exactly shy about things like this.”
    She was appalled. “But you shouldn’t . . . you can’t just . . .”
    â€œWhat should I do? You’re an attractive female in my car who’s not wearing panties. So to make you more comfortable, I should cut off circulation in my c—”
    â€œDon’t say it! I get the picture.” Her nails dug into her palms. Not nails—claws. And for some reason they were now curling, her mind locked on that memory of his hard, tanned torso leading down to those unbuttoned jeans.
    â€œI’m going to react,” he said. “Even if you’re not my usual type.”
    â€œUsual type? Oh, let me guess. Swimbos with more breasts than brains?”
    He hiked his broad shoulders. “My kind prefer tarts with a little more meat on their bones so they can take a demon’s lusts.”
    â€œTarts?” Her jaw slackened. “My God, you’re the most misogynistic man I’ve ever met. I bet you also like your tarts barefoot and pregnant.”
    â€œNah, I like them barefoot, on birth control, and always available in my bed.”
    She sputtered. And then the truth of her situation hit her.
    My fate is in the hands of a chauvinist demon, who seems to be trying to exacerbate my condition.
    She’d never needed the medication more than now—when getting it seemed impossible.
    Her mind was wracked with ideas and images that shouldn’t be in there. She was unable to stop seeing that golden hair leading down from his navel. The more she endeavored not to think about it, the more the picture flashed in her head.
    What would it be like to nuzzle that trail? To clutch his hips as she lowered her face to it . . . ?
    Her heart thundered in fear of what she might do if she lost control.
    The last time had been eight years ago. She’d terrified a young man, even . . . hurting him.
    And he hadn’t been the first.

9

    R ydstrom isn’t here. He’s always where he says he’ll be.”
    They’d pulled over to the side of the gas station parking lot twenty minutes ago. Cade called Rydstrom’s cell phone again, but got an out-of-area message.
    â€œMaybe he got caught in traffic,” Holly offered.
    â€œNo way.” Cade rubbed a palm over one of his horns, then got out to pace in front of the headlights. Ten more minutes passed. Something’s definitely wrong.
    His brother had told him just tonight that Omort would be dispatching everything he had to stop them. Had Rydstrom somehow fallen victim to the bastard’s powers?
    Cade couldn’t continue this job without Rydstrom—he didn’t know where the first checkpoint was and hadn’t been in contact with Groot himself. I need Rydstrom for the directions.
    I need him to keep me in line with the asset.
    Half an hour had dragged by when a red Bentley pulled up behind them, hopping the curb in an alignment-wrecking jounce.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t Nucking Futs Nïx,” he muttered to himself as she parked the wheezing car. Never had Cade seen such an abused Bentley.
    There were dings in the body, mud all over the tires, smoke tendrils rising from the hood, and at least two bullet holes. A Garfield doll was stuck to the rear window.
    Surely Rydstrom had sent her to tell Cade about a change of plans. But this was a problem. Cade couldn’t let Nïx near Holly without the chance of getting caught in his lie about reversing her transition.
    He hastened to the car—and found the