I didn’t want a romantic relationship. I didn’t want a cordistella. I didn’t want another fucking bond. The fact that I had one—and my shadows acted against me—posed a serious problem.
“Ronen,” Moira begged, kissing down the stubble on my jaw. “Come to bed.”
“I need to see the king.” I shrugged her off and stood.
“Are you sure?” She drew out her words, each sound dripping with sex.
If I turned around, she’d be completely naked.
I rebuckled my cuirass. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
I could hear her disappointment. She didn’t want to join me. She wanted me to stay and sink my cock into her. My shadows revolted at the mere thought.
“No. I’ll be back later. Sleep.”
Then I left, sheathing Tsal-mawet at my side and refusing to lay eyes on her beseeching baby blues or supple naked body.
I yanked my door open and strode into the hall. At the end of the corridor, my shadows jerked beneath my skin and eclipsed my eyes, begging to pool out of me and turn right.
I was sick and tired of this. The king should’ve kept her on his level of the castle. He could protect her just as well. I needed more space from her, not less—but I couldn’t very well tell him that. In fact, I couldn’t tell him anything about our bond. If he knew, it could jeopardize our arrangement. Not that I intended to claim her as my cordistella.
After going down three levels to the ground floor, I approached his hall. At his door, I raised my fist but hesitated, grazing my thumbover the dagger. Did he need to know? Nothing could change without my feather.
The frozen door handle melted. “Enter, General Ronen,” he called out.
I slid my arm in front of the dagger and mentally berated myself for hesitating when he could sense me. Then I walked in.
“Lucifer.” I nodded. That was as much as I’d bow to him. He may have given me a title and a place to stay, but he also knew what I was to him—or what I was supposed to be.
He nodded back. The same old song and dance we played with each other.
Since he asked me to come in, I knew he needed something from me.
“Yes?” I prompted.
He stood from his desk and turned to face the fire at his back. “Lucille needs training. She’s weak and inexperienced.”
I shoved my infuriating wisps deep inside my core, unwilling to deal with their temperamental bullshit. He was right. Yet for some reason, they saw his words as a slight, even when they were facts.
Well, not frail. Small and malnourished. But she still had muscle on her bones.
“And you wantmeto train her?”
No one ever wanted me to train them. My Dreads didn’t even want to go through the drills I put them through, and they were my elite squadron.
“She will be placed in the Infernos.”
“Lucifer,” I protested.
Heturned around and raised a brow. “I want her trained, Ronen.”
I refrained from cracking my thumbs in my fist, squeezing them instead. “The Infernos are third from our elite squadron. She wouldn’t last a day.” He knew that. His eyes twitched and illuminated. He was about to veto me. “They won’t tolerate her. You know how hard they’ve worked to reach the third squadron. You can’t place her there like it’s nothing.”
He considered me, then nodded. “Fine. The Tormentors Squadron.”
“Your daughter doesn’t have the necessary skills to be in any squadron but the Bowels.”
