“Did you get in a fight with a hedge and lose?”
He was joking, probably to lift the mood, but my cheeks instantly flushed with anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? I got chased by a giant snake monster thatyoufailed to tell me was in the maze. I could have died.”
He was silent for a moment, running his gloved thumb over one of my scratches so the blood smeared across my pale skin. He looked amused, like he’d enjoy using my blood as watercolor paint and creating a masterpiece all over my body.
“But did you?” he asked, his voice kicking up an octave.
I stared daggers through his face.
The fucking psychopath.I hated how happy I was to see him.
“I’m sorry,” the demon added after registering the irritation on my face. “But you should have called me. I could have helped. Though according to the souls in the hedges, you managed on your own. Apparently you’re quite the badass.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “Next time you could at least warn me, asshole.”
He chuckled. “To be fair, I didn’t know it had awakened. It’s been asleep for so long. It was wise to lure him into the water though. He’ll be ushered to the next layer of hell, unless the Lord of Bones decides to keep it.”
“Would he actually save it?” My eyes widened at the thought of the beast returning.
He paused, the trace of a frown showing through the mouth of his mask. “I doubt it. The Lord doesn’t save many.”
A beat of silence fell between us, and I became hyper-aware of his hands on me. He was taking his time assessing my wounds, drawing his fingers through my blood as though it intrigued him. Then again, it probably did. Most of the company he kept were probably dead people—souls.
There was no telling how long it had been since he’d seen something bleed.
His touch didn’t take the pain away, but it was enough of a drug that I temporarily forgot about it. I shoved everything weighing on me to the back of my mind and focused on Belial.
“Why did you call me?” the demon asked, the softness in his words making my eyes flick up to lock with his. “Because you’ve proven that you don’t reallyneedmy help.”
My chest tightened under his scrutiny. “You’re right, I don’t need your help. Ever since my dad passed away, and my mom kicked me out of the house at eighteen, I haven’t needed anyone. I’m not used to people helping me. But I want your help. If man-eating trees and snake monsters can’t kill me, neither will asking for help.”
He cocked his head to the side, the jewelry on his horns jingling musically, another thing to soothe my nerves. His lips pursed beneath the mask, and another moment of silence passed.
“And what is it you’re wanting from me?”
I chewed at the corner of my mouth, losing myself in the depth of his gaze. My mind was a muddled mess, conflicted with fear and longing. I wasn’t sure of anything aside from the stinging at the corners of my eyes as tears threatened to fall, but I didn’t want to cry in front of Belial.
The Lord of Bones might have been able to force tears from my eyes, to break me down into a pathetic mess, but Belial was different.
“I’m not really sure…”
He stood and offered me his hand, dragging me to my feet. I wobbled, my legs weak from all the running I’d done, but I froze as his eyes roved over me.
“You look like Hell,” he said, sweeping a rogue lock of my hair behind my ear. “A Hell far more beautiful than this one.”
My cheeks flamed. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”
His eyes gleamed behind the mask. “A feat that you’d think would be way easier, considering you’re not wearing any.”
“You know, you’re kind of charming.”
“And you’re kind of stubborn. I’ll tell you what you need.” His voice hardened, as did the look in his eyes. “You need rest. You need a bath. Your wounds aren’t deep, but they still need tending.”
I cocked a singular brow up at him. Why was he baiting me? Was he just trying to give me ideas so he could have my body at his disposal again?
Or did he genuinely care that I was hurt? The tenderness in his voice said yes, but… I didn’t want to let myself believe that. It tugged at too many heartstrings to think this demon actually cared what happened to me.
“Yeah,” I admitted, my pride crumbling at the mention of a bath. “And food. A massage, a medium rare steak with mashed potatoes. And a bed.”
