Handsome Devil Read Online Free

spaces, lips thin. “What, no forcefields? Isn't this a bit low tech?”
    She appears to be insulted. That might simply be a reaction to her circumstances in general, however.
    I lounge against the wall, expecting to feel the rush of victory. I do not, and this intrigues my predatory half. This does not feel like true triumph. If I were to put a name to it, I would call this slight calming of my blood...anticipation.
    This skirmish is a draw, I realize with amazement. The cage is merely prolongation.
    That holds a small satisfaction in and of itself. Very rarely am I surprised by my opponent. That would be problematic in the long term, but I find that in this instance I do not mind.
    Our encounter has left her disheveled. Her clothes are highly impractical for combat, so that is to be expected. The flimsy white shimmery top does have a set of gold spikes on each shoulder, but those are mostly blunt and largely useless. The top is dirty, stained by grit and the blood that has dripped down from the wounds on her cheek, and buttons have been pulled off. The material gaps open to reveal a gray shirt beneath with no sleeves. Her trousers are blue and molded to her legs, her feet encased in shoes that are barely there. They seem to sparkle in the artificial lighting.
    I push away from the wall and prowl closer, tilting my head to better see. She shifts. Yes, there is glinting. Why would she decorate her footwear so? It strikes me as a poor diversionary tactic.
    I drag my gaze back up her legs. They appear firm and are certainly shapely. I can attest to their strength. Her hips are full. Every part of her seems soft. This is not a female built for fighting, I decide as I come to stand before the cage. Yet my leg still trickles blood, my balls twinge with every movement, and my stomach, shoulder, and chin have felt her wrath.
    She does her dam credit.
    Her gaze narrows at my naked appraisal. There is very little space between us, despite the bars, and I can see she does not trust me in such close proximity. Good. The feeling is mutual. I however will not be the one that backs away. I stare her down, locking gazes and sending a silent challenge.
    Her mouth firms mutinously and her oval chin juts out. “Listen, guy, how about you tell me what the hell this is all about? I think I have the right to know why I've been kidnapped, thrown around, and nearly choked out. Care to share?”
     “ You are in no danger, Agmoiria.”
    “ Oh yeah?” the female snorts. Then her face darken, my term of address sinking in. “Agmoiria,” she repeats in a flat voice. She deflates, leaning against the back wall as if all the vigor has left her. I am not fooled. She is merely biding her time.
    Her eyes are shrewd as they scrutinize my body, lingering on my shoulders. Her lips, which are flush but not pouty, curl up. “So you do know who I am.”
    I tilt my head. “Why else would I take you?”
    “ There are a lot of crazies in the universe.”
    “ There may be 'crazies', but I have brought you here for a specific purpose.”
    “ If it involves anal probing, the answer is no.”
    I angle my chin, considering her. The subject of anal sex is abrupt and unexpected, but I do not find it unwelcome. I drop my gaze to her body. Hmm. There are possibilities there.
    She darts a frown between me and her chest, then slowly crosses her arms. No matter. I have already seen it.
    The Agmoiria bears a distinct resemblance to her mother, and yet—
    She shoves a curl out of her face, back towards the knot that she's tied high on the back of her head.
    I stare at it. “Moiria Jenner has straight green hair.”
    The female stills. “Yes?”
    “ Her human has straight dark hair, though age has discolored it .”
    “ My dad has gray hair, and it makes him look distinguished.”  
    “ Why, then, do you have blond curls?”
    She frowns. “This is what you want to talk about right now?”
    Clearly.
    She blows out a breath. “Look—and I don't know why I'm