Hades, no. That sickening thought turned my stomach. His presence was neutralizing my curse.
My lips parted. Could a marked mate do that? Could he hide the bond that should have been obvious? My purple essence didn’t pulse in him, and yet—somehow—I felt it. And the boar mark on the back of my left calf. Did he share it? Did it matter? The ache in my chest, the pressure in my core. Not hunger. Not fear. Something else entirely.
I faded, teleporting to the far side of the room, needing distance to breathe.
The Devil’s jaw clenched. His voice came out low and calm. “All you had to do was walk into the cell. That’s it.”
He vanished. A blink later, I was yanked forward, his hand pressing against my stomach as he shoved me backward onto the desk behind him. My back hit the hard surface. Papers fluttered into the air. A pen jabbed my spine, but I gritted my teeth and didn’t flinch.
The Devil wedged my legs open. That was a feat itself. I was no weak woman. Tension mounted on my shoulders, especially when he moved between my thighs. I had a realization that I might be wrong about his dick not working. Panic engulfed me, chilling my chest. I fought in earnest, trying to kick him away.
“From here on out, every time you fade I’ll touch you somewhere new with my tail.”
I had been a split second from disappearing. I froze, and he used my stillness to press my hands above my head. Looming over me, he lifted his tail, flicking it lazily behind him so I could see it.
My heart hammered nervously, and every breath came out like a pant. Exertion and fear had warped my body. He had me. Maybe if I didn’t make such a juicy victim, he’d leave me alone. I clenched my teeth and glared. His appendage floated over his shoulder like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. Every part of me wanted to scream and flinch, but I stayed perfectly still as he edged the tip toward the bottom of my shirt. His gaze was on my every reaction. I knew it and refused to give him anything. He lowered it, smoothing it over my pants. When he moved it toward the middle of my legs, my stomach dipped slightly despite trying to remain calm.
“Your heartbeat’s giving you away.” His brows furrowed. “You’re truly loathsome to look at.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond.
“Remember, Kitten, you’re the one who pushed me.” He scoffed and stepped back, grabbing my wrist.
When he yanked, I didn’t budge. “You kidnapped me.”
He pulled again. I resisted, wrist aching, until he jerked me hard enough that I nearly stumbled forward. I caught myself just in time, scowling. Why did I feel so weak compared to him?
He chuckled, the sound crawling over my skin like smoke. “I’ve had plenty of time to counter your strength.”
It chilled me how casually he said it, like he’d planned every moment of this. “It seems like you’ve been preparing for me,” I said, the realization landing hard. “This isn’t about us being marked mates. You want to hurt me because it hurts my family. Because it hurts Grim.”
He cocked his head, a dark brow rising. “Your father’s gone. Did you forget so soon?”
The words hit like an icicle driven through my chest. Cold and cruel.
“I didn’t forget,” I said quietly. “But that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”
“Imagine it,” he said. “Grim faded, likely filled with dread, not knowing what would happen to his youngest. He feared I’d come for you—and that worry was warranted.”
Lifting my bound wrist, he dug one of his claws into my skin. I winced as the sharp sting hit, and blood trickled down my arm.
“You and Harvest are a lot alike.”
He withdrew the claw, his bulky frame suddenly seeming weary. “I gave each of the entities some of my traits—physical and mental. It seems I gave too many of my worst to Harvest.”
I blinked, stunned. My mouth fell open. Was that regret in his voice? He was the Devil. Still, the strange, solemn timbre in his tone was nothing I expected.
“Harvest is a nuisance that will soon cease to be,” he added, coldly again. “But he did me a favor by starting the apocalypse. It accelerated my plans.”
And there it was. Any hint of remorse I’d imagined vanished.
“It must be a miserable existence,” I muttered, “spending every waking moment planning the demise of everything good.”
He held my gaze, his red eyes gleaming with something sharp. “There will still be good times,” he said. “Not everything will be death. There will be pleasure.”
Heat crept up my neck. The weight of his stare pressed into me.
“It’s a shame,” he continued, “You’ve been so coddled by the family. Your curse has always been about overconsumption, so you never learned other—”
