I could see how he’d ordered his life to the minutest detail, and how some part of his wanting to cut out the middleman had been an innate need to control every aspect of his life. I had gained some control. And I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I am the one who arrives, lies on the bed and serves as a conduit. I do as I’m told. I leave. I’ve never been in a position, especially during sex, where I could expect more—such as kindness and intimacy and a man who wanted to give as much as he wished to take. I liked it when Thoroughly took from me. Because he always gave back. I glided along the length of his naked body. We lay in his big, comfy bed cluttered with pillows and soft, kneadable blankets. T.J. had a notebook open on his lap and was writing down things he’d explained he knew about Daemonia and his brother’s last-known words and actions. “Certainly is the historian for the Council,” he explained. “He told me he had accessed some sacred demonic scripts and wanted to learn more, even after the Council warned him not to do so.”
