The horned devil braced his elbows on his knees. His jaw was tight, and his red eyes glowed..
“Is this a game to you?” he asked, voice low and unreadable.
I straightened, turning to face him. He looked as still as a statue, but something crackled beneath his skin.
It was a shame I couldn’t see that tail. I had a feeling it would have told me everything. But the way he leaned toward me, practically hanging off the edge of his seat, gave him away. Hewasinterested.
I smiled, amusement blooming inside me. “I’m dirty. Look at all this grime.” I gestured lazily down my body. “Just excited to clean off.”
Those impressive eyes locked onto mine, glowing like coals ready to catch fire. “Do you think I’m the kind of monster you should play with, Kitten?”
Yes, actually, I did.
I turned to face the tub, hiding the twist of amusement pulling at my mouth.
“Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom,” he continued. “You don’t seem to fear me enough.”
Oh, I feared him. Just not in the way he wanted.
The Devil kept me safe. That truth alone should have scared me more than anything. He protected me from Harvest, fed me, cradled me—touched me like I was something precious. But the real danger wasn’t physical. It was emotional. It was the way I responded to him in his domain, the way my body leaned into his presence, the way I forgot who he was every time he looked at me like that.
No wonder my family tried to shield me. I was out heretrying to tame themonster in the dark.
Well, maybe not tame. Not anymore.
Using his interest against him might not be friendly, but it wasn’t exactly Stockholm syndrome either. I still planned to escape. I still knew who he was. I still hated his obsession with watching the world burn—and his resentment for my family.
He waited for them to fade away.
And I planned to stop anyone from crossing over when the portal opened—him, Harvest, all of them.
We were enemies, and that truth stayed rooted in me.
Still…standing naked in front of him?
That part wasnohardship.
I twisted the faucet, testing the water temperature. Since the tub didn’t exist before, the Devil must have conjured it. Honestly? He appeared to run Hell, along with his entire domain, off raw power. That was impressive.
Steadily channeling power like that would exhaust me—or any of my siblings. It took longer with my brothers (they wouldnever admit it), but fatigue always came. Would the Devil feel that? Would he get tired?
A cool touch brushed my hip. I jerked, then noticed a small table had appeared beside the tub—piled high with fruit…and Slim Jims. So, he was feeding me again.
These were the kinds of punishments I didn’t mind.
I wasn’t about to tell him I liked it—not until after my soak. If he got pissed about my enjoying his so-called torment, he might take it away.
His knowledge of my thing for Slim Jims should’ve worried me more than it did. How did he even know that? Did he have eyes in Grim’s woods?
“Your curse,” he said.
I stepped into the tub.
“You’re not acting like the glutton you are.”
“That’s bold of you—assuming I’m a gluttonbecauseI’m cursed,” I muttered, knowing full well I was, in fact, a total glutton.
I popped a strawberry into my mouth as I sank into the hot water. A sigh escaped me, half pleasure, half relief. Then I tore into a Slim Jim and let out another breathy sound as I chewed.
