His kind turned on the weak.
When he stopped before her, the scent of lavender flooded his nostrils.
She looked up at him. The human was small, to him anyway, barely reaching his shoulders so that he towered over her.
She was the weak one. All of her kind were.
Humans. So easy to wound. To kill.
He lifted his hand. Stroked her cheek. Damn but she was soft. Leaning close, Niol told her, “Sweetheart, I warned you before about coming to my Paradise.”
There was no doubt others overheard his words. With so many shifters skulking around the joint, a whisper would have been overheard. Shifters and their annoyingly superior senses.
“Wh-what do you mean?” The question came, husky and soft. Ah, but he liked her voice. And he could all too easily imagine that voice, whispering to him as they lay amid a tangle of sheets.
Or maybe screaming in his ear as she came.
He cupped her chin in his hand. A nice chin. Softly rounded. And those lips…the bottom was fuller than the top. Just a bit. So red. Her mouth was slightly parted, open.
Waiting.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Niol—”
He stared down at her. “Yes, you do.” He caught her arms, wrapping his fingers around her and jerking Holly against him. “I told you, the last time you came into my bar…”
Her eyes widened. “Niol…”
Oh, yeah, he liked the way she said his name. She breathed it, tasted it.
His lips lowered toward hers. “If you want to walk in Paradise, baby, then you’re gonna have to play with the devil.”
“No, I—”
He kissed her. Hard. Deep. Niol drove his tongue right past those plump lips and took her mouth the way the beast inside of him demanded.