It’s not rough. Not forced, or dominating. It’s a single,sinfullyslow press of lips that stealsthought, breath, and all my resistance. A low sound escapes me—pitiful and hungry.
Slade growls softly against my mouth, the sound vibrating straight through me. His hand tightens at my waist, pulling me into the solid, burning wall of his chest. I fist his shirt. Pulling him closer—needinghim closer.
The curse erupts. The Christmas tree erupts into sparkling light. Ornaments tremble in joy. A wreath spins halfway off its hook. And my sink turns on full blast in the kitchen like it’s cheering us on.
Slade breaks the kiss with a ragged groan, forehead pressed to mine as we both gasp for breath. I wobble, knees quaking like jello. He catches me instantly. “Easy.”
“I—I don’t understand—” I whisper.
“You’re mymate,” he says softly. “Your body knows it. Even if your mind is still catching up.”
My knees threaten treason again. He steadies me with both hands now, fingers digging into the small of my back like he’s holding onto sanity.
“Slade…”
He shuts his eyes like he’s in pain. “If you stay right here, dressed like that, looking at me like this…” He inhales sharply. “I will forget Lucifer’s Ball entirely.”
My throat dries, but I play with fire anyway, letting the question slip between my teeth. “W-What would you do instead?”
His eyes open—green flame, hunger, devotion, all tangled into one devastating look. “I would put you against that wall,” he says quietly, “and kiss you again. I would touch you, rip that dress off you, claim you fully andravishyou until you forgot your own name.”
Heat floods every inch of me. “Slade—”
He steps back quickly, like the distance is the only barrier between sanity and catastrophe. “Youneed to finish getting ready,” he says, voice rough. “We leave in two hours.”
I try to breathe, but my body is humming like I swallowed electricity.
“You should go,” he adds, nodding toward my bedroom. “Now. Before I change my mind and pull you back into my arms.”
I take a shaky step backward. His gaze follows me like he’s memorizing every movement. At the doorway to my room, I pause.
His voice drops, sinful and certain, “Unless…youwantme to forget the Ninth Realmentirely?”
“Oh my god,” I squeak.
He smiles—slow, dark, devastating. “Go, Piper.”
I flee. Barely. It’s more like a disgraced flailing of limbs and fabric.
Behind me, Slade exhales a breath that sounds like he’s holding back a storm. And… truthfully?
I’m honestly not sure I want him to.
Chapter 15
Piper
The air thickens around us before Slade even opens the portal—warm, shimmering, charged like before a storm. He stands beside me in his formal demon attire.
Black coat that clings to his shoulders. High collar embroidered with shifting sigils. A blade sheathedat his hip. His hair darker, his aura sharper, his presence…enormous.
He’s not Slade-from-my-kitchen anymore. He’shim. Lord Slade Athalar of the Ninth.
He lifts one hand. Reality parts. The portal blooms open like a tear in velvet—gold, crimson, black—revealing a realm that shouldn’t exist.
A sky of shimmering aurora, streaked with silver and pale gold. Pathways of obsidian shot through with molten gold veins. Gardens made of crystalline trees that glow with warm light. Fountains of starlit water that float upward instead of down. Towers carved from midnight marble, spiraling elegantly toward the sky. Air that tastes like sweet smoke and winter spice.
It’s…breathtaking. Wait…Thisis Hell? I’m so busy admiring the view that when I turn, I notice Slade’s gaze isn’t on the scenery. It’s onme.
