"Trolls? Really?" I hiss, watching her slump on the couch with her arms crossed.

"Zevrij is my weapon guy."

You would think a girl in her line of work would be able to recognize trouble, but no. Emma is attracted to all the red flags. It is like she is a bad situation magnet.

"Do you even know how dangerous these things are?" I try hard to keep the edge out of my voice, not to lose my cool like I did when I discovered she was missing. I know my brother is responsible and when I am done with her, I am paying Lucifer a visit.

"You're one to talk," she says, "If Trolls are so dangerous and they were scared of you, maybe it's not just them I need to stay away from." She raises an eyebrow at me.

Even through all the madness, I itch to drop the distance between us. When she looks at me like that, all defiant and sassy, all I can think of is to screw her senseless until I bend her will.

I chose to ignore her previous comment. "I asked you to stay here."

"Correction," she stands up and places both of her hands on her hips. Her hair frames her face, falling down to the area just below her breast in waves and I can not stop staring at her. She does not notice this through her agitation. Her eyebrows are knitted together and if it were on anyone else, she would look angry. But not on Emma. No, she just looks cute. Like an angry kitten. "You told me to stay here. Forced me, actually."

"There's a good reason for that. Do I need to remind you that you are being hunted?"

"That's precisely what I was going to take care of until you interrupted my plans!"

"You don't even know where to find them! What were you going to do? Drop at The Red Opium and ask to know where that vampire chick is? Or better yet, let one of them suck on you a little like you almost did last time," I growl. My blood boils just thinking of that night..

Her eyes grow wide for a second and I know I have made a mistake bringing that up.

She looks away. "You know I didn't just let him," she mutters. She walks around the couch and pulls off her scarf, letting it fall on the back. Her bruises have grown worse, marring her beautiful skin in purple and blue angry marks. "Sometimes, you can really be an asshole."

And I know that. I just can not seem to be able to keep my temper in check whenever she is around. Much less when she puts herself in danger. I lash out, say all the wrong words and make her hate me more.

"It's like you were born to torment me," she whispers, her back to me.

"No," I say, a dry laugh escaping my mouth, "You were born to torment me. I have been here forever." Waiting. Waiting to feel something. And when you came around, I felt so much I didn't know what to do with it. I still don't.

She turns to me with a sad smile, "This thing between us," she motions between our bodies with her finger, "It's doomed, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

She takes a step towards me. "There will always be something. I'll disobey you, you'll piss me off, I won't give you enough, you'll give me too much. It doesn't stop, doesn't it?" she says bitterly.

I look into her eyes, a mixture of warm brown and green speckles around the iris. Right now, they harbour so much sorrow, she could fill an ocean with it. This should make me sad, but it ignites hope in me. It fills me with a foreign sense of victory.

Because if Emma is sad at the prospect of us being doomed, it means she wants this. Maybe even as much as I do. She does not know it, but she already looks at me like she belongs to me.

I win.

I close the distance between us and caress her cheek. She leans into my hand subconsciously. "It doesn't need to be like this."

She pushes my hand away, "You mean, I could just become a docile little girl and roll over whenever you ask me to?"

I shrug, "Wouldn't be that bad."

She hits my shoulder and I chuckle, "I'm just kidding." I grab the hand she swatted me with and kiss it.

Her eyes gloss over my lips momentarily before she pulls her hand back. As usual, her misplaced sense of preservation kicks in. She is still trying to fight this, despite herself.

"I want you," I say, "And you want me too. Stop holding back like this," I hold her waist and pull her gently to me, "What are you so afraid of?"

"You mean other than you?" she asks, her lips pressed in a rigid line. She does not push me away though. She stays put, pressed against my chest.

"You're probably the only person who doesn't have to be afraid of me," I say against her hair. I could definitely use a healthy dose of fear to make her more complacent, but something about her being afraid of me does not sit well with my conscience.

"You did try to kill me," she snorts.

"You have no idea how much I want to take that back. If only I knew then what I know now."

She angles her head upwards to look at me, "What do you know now?"

"That what I was feeling towards you wasn't hatred, but something else, very close to it." I lean down and capture her lips.

She responds, moving her mouth against mine in that sweet, tentative way she does. You would think such a headstrong, bad-tempered woman like her would kiss with more drive, but no. Emma's kisses are always surprisingly soft and sweet.

At first, I assumed it was because of her inexperience. I thought maybe she was not giving herself fully. But now I understand it is her way of giving me a glimpse of what is inside her hard shell.

And I love it.

I slip my tongue inside and she lets out a moan. I pull her closer, letting her feel how much I want her right now.

She interrupts the kiss and looks at me through her half-mast eyelids, "I should still be mad at you."

"Let me make it up to you," I smirk, thinking of all the creative ways I will do that. Before she can answer, I teleport us in my bedroom.

That night, Emma slept more peacefully than I have ever seen her. And watching her sleep has been a perverted little past time of mine for the last few months, so that is saying a lot. I learn that she is a cuddler, but only while she sleeps. If I ever tell her this, she will probably never want to sleep in the same bed as me ever again. Her legs are wrapped around me and she holds on to my body like a sloth hugging a branch. She breathes softly against my neck and her lack of movement tells me she is not having one of her nightmares. I watch as her chest rises and falls with each breath, making her breasts sway against my skin.

I have had enough. I start nuzzling her neck gently, being careful not too hurt the bruises too much. Her eyes flutter open and she pulls me into her in a half-asleep state. I slip a finger inside her, noting how wet she already is. I position myself between her legs as she kisses me feverishly, not holding anything back. I enter her carefully at first. She gasps and I invade her mouth with my tongue, making her take me in everywhere. I cup the back of her head and grab a fistful of hair before thrusting deeper into her, over and over again.

I will take everything I can tonight, because after tomorrow, I know she will hate me again.