Chapter 13 Dex
DEX
Dex groaned as he woke, not bothering to open his eyes. A dull ache pounded behind his temple, and he pulled the blanket over him, blocking out the light.
Why had he drunk so much? He had to get his shit together. No more solo pity parties.
Letting out one more miserable sigh, Dex promised to take better care of himself.
An unfamiliar scent filled his nose. Something faintly smoky. Dex froze. He wasn’t in his bed.
The rest of the night came rushing back. Texting Luc. Seeing him. Clinging to him. Oh god. Going home with him.
Slowly, Dex peeked out from beneath the covers. The other side of the bed was empty. No surprise there, since Luc had refused to play along with his advances.
While Dex was relieved Luc wasn’t the type to take advantage, his own behavior was humiliating to remember. Had he rubbed himself against Luc’s chest like a cat? Multiple times. Why?
Sitting up, he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Sun streamed in from a row of high windows, illuminating the bed and otherwise empty mezzanine floor. Beyond the metal railing lay nothing but shadow and empty space.
Luc was nowhere to be seen.
Dex couldn’t remember going to sleep. Apparently, he’d decided to wear nothing but his boxer briefs and Luc’s gray sweater. He’d even taken off his T-shirt and put the sweater back on.
Had he said something about being wrapped in Luc’s scent? Ugh.
Where was Luc? Had he spent the night next to Dex and snuck off before he woke? Did Luc wear anything to sleep, maybe a pair of underwear and nothing else?
Dex groaned even more pitifully than before, hating himself for going there almost as much as he hated that he might have missed seeing Luc undressed.
Ollie’s encouragement wasn’t some sort of free pass. Drunk Dex had an excuse for forgetting Luc was a bad person; sober Dex didn’t. He shouldn’t be attracted to a violent man, no matter how much Luc offered to help with his moving-related trauma.
If Dex were smart, he’d see Luc’s caring side as the other half of a red flag. The Devil had two completely different personalities, and there was nothing to say he wouldn’t flip his switch and become the man who’d had Ollie trembling.
A door banged open and shut, echoing through the cavernous space. Dex stiffened, his heart jolting as his pulse picked up.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, even and unhurried. Dex’s heart leapt. For a second, he had the urge to run.
Maybe Luc’s sweetness was an act to lure him here—a lie, like Ollie had first said—and a far more sinister man was stalking up the stairs, coming to do whatever he wanted to Dex. And he wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Heat flooded Dex from head to toe. Would Luc chase him if he ran? What would he do when he caught him? What did Dex want him to do?
Dex had fantasies of being overpowered. The desire had blossomed along with his awareness of sex.
When he was young, watching wrestling or physical fight scenes in movies excited him, and as he’d gotten older, he couldn’t deny that the idea of being dominated aroused him more than simple thoughts of kissing or touching another man.
Dex wanted to let go completely and be at someone else’s mercy.
Part of Dex was desperate for Luc’s sweetness to be obscuring something darker. Not as dark as what happened to Ollie, but something more in line with his needs.
Would Luc give Dex what he’d longed for? Could he even admit his desires outside of his private thoughts? Doubt weighed Dex down, as strong as ever.
He shouldn’t want to be overpowered, held down, and taken roughly by Luc. Not given everything else the Devil had done. Wondering if Luc would play along because he’d proven himself violent was all kinds of fucked up. Dex knew that, but it didn’t dampen his desire.
If Luc took control, Dex wouldn’t have to worry if what he wanted was right or wrong, and that was the most tempting thing of all.
Dex just wanted to let go. Get out of his head.
“I’ve got coffee,” Luc announced as he appeared at the top of the creaking metal stairs, looking completely harmless, carrying a coffee tray and a pastry box. “I need a dining table. Eating in bed is awkward.”
He set the pastry box on an upturned crate and held out the coffees for Dex. “The one on the right is black, the other is a latte. I’ve got sugar in my pocket.”
Dex reached for the latte reflexively, his pulse pattering as if saying run, run, run. He was dying to see if Luc would chase him. Catch him. Make him tremble. But he couldn’t move. “Uh, thanks.”
Luc sat on the edge of the mattress next to Dex and discarded the tray on the floor, keeping the other coffee for himself. He wore a soft-looking red sweater. It was so normal. Dex could almost convince himself he’d woken with a human boyfriend and not the Devil, but he didn’t want to.
There was a complexity to Luc. He wasn’t simply an attempted killer or simply a kind man. Could he really be both? Luc’s concern for Dex’s grief couldn’t all be an act, and Dex didn’t want it to be. Luc’s care was part of the reason Dex was tempted to bring his fantasies to reality with him.
Dex had a strong urge to trust him.
Maybe the truth of Luc sat in between sweet and going too far, and that middle ground where care mixed with control and force was what Dex craved more than anything.
“How are you feeling?” Luc asked, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the feelings warring inside Dex.
“I’m fine.” But he wasn’t, and he didn’t want to play pretend. Luc could be sweet if it were real, but they had to address everything else. Not ignore it.
Dex discarded his coffee on the crate. He either had to confront Luc or leave. Fuck.
Luc eyed Dex’s discarded coffee as if it had said something rude. “Would you like a muffin instead?”
“I’m not hungry,” Dex lied, his stomach twisting with more than one kind of hollowness. “I didn’t ask you to bring me anything to eat. Speaking of, you don’t need food, right? Just blood. How often do you drink from people?”
Luc set his coffee on the floor with the air of discarding a pretense, unless that was Dex’s imagination. “It depends. Once a week is more than enough.”
Oh shit. He answered. Dex forced himself to act casual, as if his heart wasn’t in his throat.
It wasn’t enough. He could ask polite questions and get equally polite responses all day, but he’d always wonder how a sweet man could be the Devil. His mind stuck on how the two came together, who the real Luc was, and if he was who Dex needed him to be.
Dex cleared his throat. “Who have you been feeding on? Are they still alive?”
Luc went as still as a statue, his sharp attention giving Dex chills.
Was he going to say nothing? Explode with rage? He clearly didn’t want to talk about this, and Dex was glad he’d asked.
At last, Luc spoke, calm and detached. “I’ve been feeding on random men, and yes, they’re all alive. Before I met you, I’d give them a little pleasure for their sacrifice, if they were interested.”
Something ugly congealed in Dex’s stomach. Was he fucking jealous right now? Why? Luc had said before he’d met Dex. But why would meeting him affect whether Luc got off with others or not? It was too much to take in.
Dex was stiff with growing tension. “Pleasure? Drinking from them doesn’t hurt?”
Luc remained unnaturally still, reminding Dex of a predator poised to pounce. “My bite can hurt if I want it to, or I can hypnotize my meals so they don’t know what’s happening.”
His meals. What a way to phrase it. As if the men didn’t matter any more than a muffin. Men that Luc got off with, even if they didn’t know what was happening.
Confusion throbbed in time with Dex’s headache. He couldn’t take another contradiction. “Why were you so against taking advantage of me last night if you do it all the time?”
Luc’s jaw seemed to tense, the muscles around his mouth twitching. “I don’t do it all the time. Only when I have to. And it’s not the same. They always agreed to sex of their own free will. It’s the biting I did without consent. Without them even knowing.”
So, Luc’s refusal to take advantage of Dex wasn’t a contradiction. There were lines he wouldn’t cross. He fed because he had to, in the least traumatic way he knew how.
Possibility unfurled within Dex. He was all too aware of his own blood pulsing through his neck. “You didn’t have to feed last night? I offered myself to you. You could have done whatever you wanted.” Fuck, Dex’s core tightened at the prospect.
Something like a growl erupted from Luc. “What I want from you isn’t something I can take. I don’t want to hurt you.”
No, he didn’t. Dex believed him.
His breaths turned shallow, and he gripped the blanket, suddenly lightheaded. “You said biting wouldn’t hurt.”
Luc’s eyes flashed red. “Dex, what are you doing?”
He clutched the blanket tighter, his back rigid against the headboard. “W-what do you mean?”
Luc’s nostrils flared, and he shifted closer, an unmistakable growl vibrating from his chest. “What did the others tell you about feeding on blood? You weren’t talking about blood last night, and you know I won’t take advantage of you. Why are you pushing me like this?”
It was Dex’s turn to freeze, caught like prey in Luc’s overwhelming presence. “No one told me anything other than demons drink blood.”
Luc shifted even closer. “Then why are you acting like you’re about to offer yours?”
Goddamn, that would be the ultimate surrender. Dex shivered, unable to suppress it, and Luc noticed, his gaze narrowing.
“I want to know who you really are,” Dex said desperately. “I want to know what’s real. You act so sweet, but I know you’ve done bad things. Which is it? How is it all connected? Are you pretending to be what you think I want?”
He needed to figure out if the real Luc matched the real Dex, but couldn’t get a more direct question past his lips, or admit that what everyone seemed to think he wanted didn’t fill his true desires.