He rolls his eyes. My jaw hits the floor. This man—demon—justrolledhis eyes at me. “That’s what every horror story begins with.”
“It has gingerbread lattes and elderly couples doing crossword puzzles.”
“Exactly.”
I blink. “Are you…scaredof crossword puzzles?”
“No,” he growls, narrowing his eyes at me. “I’m scared of you being out of my sight when you’re unraveling a five-hundred-year curse connected to my bloodline.”
My stomach flips—but I stand firm. “Slade. I need this. I need space. And I need your word you’ll stay with Newt.”
Slade glances toward Newt—who is sitting on the counter, tail neatly tucked, staring at him like he’s evaluating his worthiness to exist.
Slade scowls, Newt blinks. “I’m not staying with a house cat,” Slade mutters.
Newt meows back, fully aware he’s won.
I fold my arms. “Slade. Promise.”
He watches me—hungry, frustrated, possessive—but not refusing. And that’s how I know his walls are crumbling too. “What will you give me in return?” he asks, stepping forward. “You never take without offering something back.”
My body warms unpleasantly. “What do you want?”
Slade lowers his voice until it slides over my skin. “A deal.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking for.”
“It’s a deal with a demon.”
“It’s a deal withyourdemon,” he corrects.
I almost choke on my own tongue. “Slade—”
“One condition,” he says. “If Rhea can’t give you the answers you’re looking for, you agree to follow me to the Ninth Realm.”
My stomach drops. “Ninth—no. Absolutely not. Hell is off the table.”
“It’s not hell,” Slade says. “It’s the Ninth Realm.”
“That isliterallyhell.”
His lips twitch. “Not the way you imagine it.”
“I don’t care what brand of hell it is, I’m not going.”
“It’s not torture,” he says calmly. “It’s a holiday ball.”
I blink, utterly confused. “I’m sorry?”
“Yes,” he says. “Lucifer celebrates.”
I stare at him. Slade stares back. “Lucifer. As in the Lucifer,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
“Has a holiday ball?” I ask.
