"Tch." What did she know, really? Had the book not been printed, he could have read it just fine. It was the intention he understood, the same as in spoken words. But Satanachia figured that Syra also assumed like every other human that he was speaking in a language she knew. Which he wasn't, not by a long shot. Demonic wasn't a language that relied on sounds. Not one bit, no matter that he spoke.<br/><br/>He hadn't actually noticed that his hand had been burned. Didn't matter too much anyway. It would have healed itself. If not, it wasn't something that would affect him beyond the scope of the human world. The light that had done it set alarms off in his head that he couldn't ignore either. And when she kissed him again, this time not with any excuse, he didn't let her go anywhere. A hand at the curve of her back and the other on her chest, making sure she could neither come closer to him or leave.<br/><br/>"Are you one that just wants a taste of demon venom?" He thought he might kill her if that were the case. He was tired of people who just wanted something from him, because they all did. The two thin fangs in his mouth were nearly identical to a snake's, like two hypodermic needles. Just like a snake, they injected venom. The poison that filled his mouth constantly with the bitter acid taste.