Ismacked my lips together, groaning softly, as the scent of burned marshmallows hit my nose.
It took my sleep-rattled brain a few seconds to catch up. Burned marshmallows meant him.
My eyes shot open. I almost tried to lurch off the bed—until I remembered I was still tightly wrapped in a giant, infernal tail.
I paused, blinking up at the ceiling before cautiously lifting my arms. Huh. Free. He’d released my arms while I slept. I raised my head just enough to peek at myself.
Yup. The tail still sneaked around my waist and legs like a flesh-and-bone python. Heavy. Warm. Uncomfortably present.
…but also strangely tolerable.
Okay, that was weird.
He never told me how long this punishment was supposed to last. But after a solid nap? It didn’t feel like punishment at all. At least not if I didn’t look at the tail—or think too hard about how it moved, or how alive it was.
Energy hummed in my limbs. My mind was clearer. Sharper. I could use that. I could start figuring out how to make keeping me here more trouble than it was worth.
Juvenile? Absolutely.
But if being a pain in the ass got me closer to freedom, then I’d be the most annoying creature in Hell.
Still, this new clarity made me squirm. Not because of the Devil. Not even because of the tail.
Because I remembered how low I’d felt in that green room.
My stomach clenched at the memory. The pain. The fear. The illusion of my father.
I never wanted to feel that powerless again.
For most of my life, I went with the flow. I didn’t fight the current—I adapted. Dad said it was a strength, being optimistic no matter what came.
But lying here, tangled in a demon’s tail, I wasn’t so sure.
Maybe my ability to adjust was why I was in danger of getting comfortable. When I shouldn’t be.
How could I sleep so peacefully while a prisoner?
My stomach grumbled, low and irritated. Just a normal pang, thank Hades—no violent clamping of bones, no curse-induced agony. I didn’t feel like my abdomen was chewing through my spine, so…progress?
The Devil sat exactly where I last saw him: back facing me, horns sharp in the low light, head slightly bent forwardlike he’d been carved from obsidian. That position couldn’t be comfortable—but then, maybe I hadn’t slept as long as I thought. Maybe I wasn’t as rested as I felt.
The silence between us hung thick until I cracked it with the only thing I seemed to have left. Attitude.
“Don’t you have people to torture?”
His voice came flat and unhurried. “Hell doesn’t need me to tell it what to do.”
He still didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Like the question hadn’t bothered him at all. Or maybe it had, and he just liked letting me hear my voice echoing off the stone walls.
“Eternal damnation isn’t actually everlasting,” he continued. “The angels like to say it is, to convince humans to behave. But punishments here only last as long as the soul does. And not many of them last a year.”
I sat up slightly, frowning. “So…you don’t torture anyone?”
A long beat passed. Then he tilted his head—not enough for me to see his face, just enough to suggest he was amused. Or annoyed. Hard to tell with him.
“Why bother?” he said. “The realm tortures them for me.”
I didn’t get to interject. He added, “Besides… aren’t I tormenting someone right now?”
