Kevin smirked. “Let me guess… blonde hair, great legs, can’t keep her eyes off you?”
I shot him a look.
“Not my fault, you’re predictable, counselor.” He caught the coin again and squinted at me. “You’re thinking about her. That demoness, Ivy.”
I hesitated. “How much do you know about imprinting? Can you tell me more?”
That got his attention. The coin hit the floor with a dullclink.
“Imprinting?” he repeated. “That’s serious stuff. Are you sure you want to do something like that? It means never going back to earth—ever.”
“I know,” I said, sitting up. “I just… want to know if it’s real.”
Kevin leaned back, thoughtful. “It’s rare. From what I’ve heard, when a HuBull and a demoness are… fated, the bond shows itself the first time they’re intimate. The guy’s eyes glow gold. Golden bands appear on both their wrists. And then that’s it—no one else for either of them. Ever.”
“Eternal?”
“Eternal,” Kevin confirmed. “Soul to soul. Sounds romantic, but just remember, there’s no divorce in Hell.”
I tried to laugh. It came out thin. “Has it ever happened to anyone you know?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve seen it before but never to anyone I know. I’ve been here long enough to see a lot of things.Some people say Lucy hasn’t even been imprinted. Like I said earlier, sometimes it happens to the contest winners.”
That image. Lucy in love. It was unsettling enough to derail the conversation.
Kevin looked at me sideways. “Why the sudden interest? You just met the girl.”
I shrugged. “She was my handler during the last challenge. I don’t know. I just feel a connection of some kind. Call it morbid curiosity.”
“Curious,” he echoed, grinning. “Right. And I’m the Pope.”
I snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s sacrilegious. If we weren’t already in hell, I would be warning you about lightning strikes.”
Before he could answer, the door slammed open.
Agnus filled the doorway, all bulk and thunder. “Rise and shine, boys. It’s your favorite kind of morning—the humiliating kind. Final trial’s up.”
Groans erupted across the barracks. Someone muttered a curse.
Agnus ignored them. “Today, you’ll prove your endurance the old-fashioned way. Each of you will report to the milking stations. We’re measuring volume, stamina, and recovery time. You perform well, and one of you will make the team. You don’t—well, you can imagine what happens to bulls that underperform.”
The room fell silent.
My stomach turned—milking station.
Agnus smirked, clearly enjoying our collective horror. “You’ll have the option to request your attendant. Choose wisely.”
She clapped her hands once, sharp as a gunshot. “Move out.”
Men shuffled toward the door. I stayed put until Kevin nudged me.
“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,” he said.
“Maybe I am.”
“You’re seriously considering it, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
