Dameon smiled—this girl really was something. Stubborn, loud, a bit too proud. It was almost a shame he might have to kill her.
He stepped closer, standing just in front of her as she dangled from the tendrils.
"What's so funny, you lunatic?!" she spat, struggling harder.
"You should be more careful with your words," he said coolly. "I might take them the wrong way... and act on them."
Nyxtriel crossed her arms, expression flat. "Want me to skin her? Or maybe light her up. People talk when they're on fire."
"No need," Dameon said, eyes still on Lilac. "She's close to breaking."
He reached forward slowly, fingers brushing near the edge of her fabric. "Or maybe... this is what you meant when you said I could do anything. Is this what it'll take for you to talk?"
Her cheeks flushed. "You perverted bastard! Don't touch me!"
He tilted his head. "But you said I could do anything, didn't you? I'm just helping you understand what that means."
