8. Chapter

“My answer…” I whispered. “…is still the same. Never.”

The angel of Hell’s eyes filled with fury. His hand clenched near his waist as he lifted his head from my lap and met my gaze.

“I aroused you… and you aroused me. Why don’t you desire my touch without enchantment?” he demanded, his eyes burning like fire.

“Does it even matter to you whether you get what you want with or without enchantment?” I answered weakly.

I could barely tear my eyes away from his face. I wanted him—wanted to feel him move inside me, to touch every inch of his body. My instincts betrayed me, and I brushed my hand against him through the fabric of his pants. Then, using the last of my willpower, I pulled away and collapsed onto the rug, gasping. The demon leapt off the bed and stepped away from me.

I kept my eyes closed, trying to quiet the storm inside me—until a loud crash made me jump to my feet. One of my mother’s cabinets lay shattered across the floor, and beside it stood a very angry angel of Hell.

Only now could I truly take him in. His wings—those dark feathers—had been torn and frayed by the concrete when I carried him. The black edges were ragged, uneven. His thick hair was tangled, his shirt wrinkled and torn. Towering nearly two meters tall, he loomed over me, his pitch-black eyes fixed on the sky outside the window. His face was sharply defined, every line carved with strength and masculinity. He was terrifying—and yet, unbearably beautiful.

His hands were clenched into fists, his expression darkened by rage. In his eyes burned a mix of desire and helplessness. His stance tensed, and he glanced around at the splintered remains of the cabinet. Then, slowly, he stepped out from among the debris and began walking toward me.

“I can’t enchant you into conceiving a child,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “You can only become pregnant if you lie with me of your own free will—without coercion, without enchantment, without force.” He explained this as he drew closer.

“So that’s why you played with me!” I shot back. “You tried to make me so desperate with desire that I’d give in willingly.”

“Yes. Though I should have known your stubbornness would ruin that plan,” he said smugly.

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about the fact that even in my most primal, instinct-driven moment—I still didn’t want you,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

He froze mid-step.

I had never felt so humiliated before—but slowly, my perspective shifted. He would protect me only until I bore him a child. His enchantment held no real power over me, because he couldn’t force me—not that way.

“I have no other choice,” he said finally. “I have to take you home. You’ll get used to this life soon enough.” His expression was deadly serious as he started toward me again.

I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t help myself—I laughed. Right in his face.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, turning my back to him and walking toward the door. I wanted to prove I wasn’t afraid of him anymore. “If you want my cooperation, you’ll have to adapt to me, not the other way around. Your legacy depends on me. To me, you’re just another burden. The bond between us means nothing—nothing that—”

“You’re wrong,” he cut in sharply. “Until you kiss me of your own free will, the bond prevents you from going more than twenty meters away from me. There’s a reason it’s called a binding—”

What a fool, I thought. He’d just told me how to break free.

Before he could finish, I spun around and pressed my lips to his. I didn’t let him finish his sentence. For a fleeting moment, all I could think was—what will he do? Push me away? Get angry? Enchant me again?

Instead, his lips returned the kiss—boldly, teasingly.

I pulled back, flustered, staring at his smug expression, utterly confused.

“There’s no such thing, is there? You—you—” I began, ready to hurl an insult.

“I,” he interrupted smoothly, “who must thank you for running right into my arms. You’ve made my job easier once again. Ready?”

Before I could answer, he swept me off my feet and stepped out through the window.

My hands clutched tightly around his neck, my legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. I tried to ignore the strength of his arms holding me. Ironically, he stood on the very same ledge where I had once tried to escape from him. Without even looking at me, he smiled—a wicked, boyish smile—and leapt into the air, his dark wings catching the wind beneath us.