The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge)
attracted to her, making it difficult for him to control, and that was not good.
    Not for anyone.
    He followed her past the parlor and out the front door, into the yard, where he had set up a few targets for her to practice on. A row of tin cans crested the top of a rough wooden sawhorse he’d found in an outbuilding. She would need to be able to use Bear’s rifle from a reasonable pace in case wolven came prowling around. She would not want to let them get too close. His handgun, conversely, would be more useful to her at a closer range, because she could not shoot a man from any great distance and call it self-defense. It was a small, single-shot pistol with a pearl grip, and she could hide it in her skirt.
    First, he taught her how to load each weapon. Then he showed her how to hold the rifle.
    “Not into your shoulder,” he said. “The kickback’s too much for a woman your size. Prop it on top. Like this.”
    The crown of her head skimmed the underside of his chin as he shifted the butt of the rifle into a better position for her. His nearness made her nervous. He sensed it in the same way he smelled the soap she used and felt the hot sun on his skin. His demon rampaged inside him, tortured to have her so close and yet be forced to maintain a distance.
    She lifted those wide green eyes, casting him a look of anxious suspicion as if she sensed the internal battle he fought. He forced his attention away from her and onto the target.
    She crooked a stray length of white-blond hair behind her ear with a slender finger, bit her lip in concentration, took aim, and fired the rifle. The barrel shot skyward on the recoil, and he grabbed for the butt to keep it from sliding backward off her shoulder. The bullet missed the target entirely.
    It was not long before she had better control of the weapon, and he decided she could manage to practice with it on her own.
    He picked up the small gun. It looked like a toy in his hand.
    “All you really need to know with this weapon is how to pull the trigger,” he said. “Always keep it well hidden, because it’s something you don’t want your opponent to see. The aim is poor and it’s unlikely to kill a man from any real distance. Even up close, it will probably do nothing more than wound him.”
    With his mind more focused on the demonstration now, he took her hand in his and placed the gun in her palm. He pressed her fingers around the grip. Then, as the sun beat with relentless heat against the back of his neck, his gaze brushed against hers.
    She froze, her wariness of him unwavering, but beneath it there existed a thin layer of curiosity. The attraction between them might be unwanted by her, but it was not unnoticed. He could not seem to read her true wishes. They were jumbled and complex, and he would have to untangle them in a more traditional way. He lowered his head, giving her plenty of warning so that she could avoid him if she wished, and while she did not make any move to encourage him, neither did she pull away.
    After another second’s hesitation, he covered her mouth with his.
    The barrage of sensations left him weak at the knees. She tasted delicate and soft, and the feminine scent of her warm skin bombarded his thoughts so that nothing mattered to him but this splintering effect she had on his senses. That switch clicked again in his head, releasing a truth he had not been more fully aware of last night because the timing had not been right.
    He belonged with this woman. He was hers.
    He slid his free hand to the small of her back and drew her against him, deepening the kiss. His demon growled with satisfaction, possession, and a rising, impatient desire.
    Creed must have responded in kind, because with a gasp, she broke off the kiss. Time crawled to a standstill, then shifted to a sprint. Nieve shoved the gun lodged between them into his ribs. His hand still covered hers, and with the well-trained instincts of an assassin, he jerked the gun to the side so that

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