When I stepped out onto the cobblestone leading to the stairs, my gaze caught on pale gray flecks drifting from the crimson sky overhead. They looked like fat, fluffy snowflakes dancing lazily toward the ground. The acrid scent of smoke clung to the air, like the extensive bramble hedge maze surrounding the castle had suddenly caught fire, but everything seemed perfectly intact.
My heart jumped into my throat.
Was Hell literally freezing over?
Snow in Limbo? Was it even possible?
As I dragged my eyes away from the sky, they caught on Belial. He was waiting for me near the elaborate marble fountain depicting a goblin pissing blood, wearing black pants and a flowing black shirt with a deep V that showed off most of his chest. A crescent pendant was nestled between his pectorals on a silver chain.
The handsome devil wielded his sex like a weapon.
His gaze settled on me, and as I slowly descended the steps to meet him, a smile curled my lips.
“Surprise,” he rumbled softly as he pulled me into his arms. “It’s the best I could do.”
My gaze tracked upward again, past his smiling face. “You made it snowash…?”
I dropped my eyes back to him, my vision blurring as my eyes swam with emotion.
When I said I missed the snow, he’d listened, and he’d made it happen to the best of his ability. It might not be ice crystals, but the way the flecks of ash swirled in the air as they fell toward the ground was close enough. It was such a thoughtful gesture. My heart ached with so much love for this demon.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, watching in awe as the ash flakes danced.
"I’m glad you like it.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I meant it when I said I’d give you anything your heart desires.Anything.”
A shiver worked through me at the intense devotion lacing his words.
“I love it. Belial, this is…” A lump formed in my throat, making it harder to force out words. “Perfect. It’s perfect. You’ve done so much to make this Christmas special, and I can’t thank you enough?—”
“You’ve no reason to thank me,” he cut me off. “It is an honor to give you the holiday your heart desires. Besides, we’re not done yet. I promised you an undead Yule tree.”
My ears perked up, and I bounced on the balls of my feet. “Yes! Ingredients for the ritual! What do we need?”
He slipped his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. “You’ll see.”
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” My impatience was already getting the better of me. I fell into step beside him as he led the way toward the hedge maze. The thick bramble bushes were already dusted with white; the ash clinging to the vicious-looking plants gave them a softer, whimsical look.
“To my garden.”
We stepped into the hedges and whispers erupted around us, the souls trapped within the brambles instantly aware of our presence. I guessed it was a good thing I’d opted for something practical to wear. Skinny jeans, a simple burgundy top with a heart-cut out to expose my cleavage, and my signature combat boots. I felt a little underdressed compared to Belial’s princely wardrobe, but with the way he looked at me, you’d think I was dressed to the nines.
"So what do we need to gather for this spell? Slime or snails? Puppy dog tails?”
He laughed, his chest shaking with the noise. “No, my treasure, what we need is something a little more perilous to gather.”
My heart hammered hard against my ribs. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer for several minutes, leading me through the maze effortlessly. I still hadn’t managed to figure out the constantly shifting pathways; I spent much less time out here than in the castle. Belial knew the hedges like the back of his hand.
“There are three things in all, but sap is the first item.” We hung a left, and I made eye contact with one of the severed heads lodged in the brambles. It muttered something unintelligible as we passed.
“Sap?” My eyes shot in his direction. “How is that perilous?—”
I hadn’t even finished forming the sentence when it dawned on me. My stomach flipped. “No. Don’t tell me…”
Belial’s face took on a half grimace, half smile. “From the blood oak, yes. I figured you wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of facing it again.”
Not thrilledwas the understatement of the century.
