Not punishment.
“Wash, then eat,” he said, voice low, throaty—yet still laced with that ethereal timbre I’d grown used to.
The chair screeched as he dragged it closer, sliding it across the stone until he could rest his elbows on the edge of the porcelain. Close enough that his hands could dip into the water if he wanted.
I materialized a loofah and a bottle of body wash. Popping the lid, I shoved it toward his face. “Coconut scent. Do you like it?”
Then I remembered.
“Oh. Right. You can’t smell.”
The Devil took the bottle from me anyway, squeezed a generous amount of soap out onto my loofah. As I lathered, building up suds, he murmured:
“What do you smell like?”
I froze. My gaze lifted to the towering monster across from me.
Even sitting, he loomed. His presence demanded attention. His gaze wasn’t locked on any place in particular. It jumped around as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on.
Maybe he was …lonely?
Was that why I was here?
Maybe it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that he hadn’t had warmth—or touch—in so long, he was unraveling. Maybe I was a placeholder. Maybe he needed someone to see him, touch him, fuck him.
I didn’t pity him for losing his senses over time, but it had to suck. Existing without the very things that made existence worthwhile.
Still…nothing about this was aboutme. Not Kara. Not the girl.
It was my last name… my bloodline… revenge.
The Devil didn’t steal me because he wantedme. He did it to get back at my father—for being the good guy.
The truth settled in my chest like a stone.
Tight. Uncomfortable. Heavy.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, rubbing the spot between my breasts, like it would make the discomfort ease. “I can’t smell myself. Oh, Hades. Now I’m curious. What if I’m stinking up Hell during my stay? You should probably let me go.”
His brows straightened into a line. “It wouldn’t matter. I can’t smell you, regardless.”
Once the water was deep enough, I dunked my head. Through the water, I thought I saw him looming over the tub, only to resurface and find him in the same spot. Slowly, I scrubbed my skin clean and let the next thought leave my lips on a whim. “You smell like burned marshmallows.”
He stiffened, then dragged his claws across the edge of the tub. “Do you like burned marshmallows?”
A tunnel of heat channeled through me, especially between my legs. Such a simple question, but my body reacted as if there was a carnal edge in his tone. “No,” I lied.
“I think you’re lying, Kitten.” He took the loofah from me. “Lean forward.”
I sat up, my nipples pebbled and skin red from the hot water. With one hand, he bent my arm out, curling his hands over mine almost tenderly. He used his other to brush the loofah down my elbow and forearm, slowly creating suds everywhere he cleaned. The tension turned into a single throb within my clit. My lips parted. The monster tended to me so softly. I wanted to mess with him, but it seemed I was being toyed with instead. No matter, because I felt every tremble in his hands, even if he couldn’t. I saw the enrapt focus he had on me and how hard his chest heaved.
Then those bright eyes dimmed as he bent my arm and held up my fingers for inspection. “You’re a little glutton. Of course,you like food. There was nothing else I meant by the question, so don’t lie to me.”
The throb became more, an insistent thrum slipping into my pussy. I pressed my legs together as he lowered my arm into the water and reached for the other. He repeated the process. When he cleaned between my fingers, I threaded our digits together, squeezing the loofah between our palms. Suds erupted from the gaps. The contrast of his claws and broken otherworldly skin against mine was alluring. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes suddenly hooded.
“I think my hands are clean,” I whispered, and my voice sounded throaty to me.
The Devil jerked his arm away and dipped it into the water. The loofah brushed against the top of my thigh, and it was like an electric zap hit me in the core. I jolted, barely stopping myself from spreading my legs apart. He dragged the sponge up my hip, holding my gaze. My stomach fluttered, something ginormous building there as he moved until he reached my right breast. The scrubber had gotten so bunched in his large palm; all I felt was his scalding touch. It felt intentional as he palmed my boob, like the monster tested the weight in his palm. Then he rolled my nipples between his fingers, and my essence burst out around me. A gasp tumbled from my lips. My desire was all-consuming; an avalanche of sparks that I lit with a match, uncaring of the aftermath. I just wanted to be crushed by the maddening pulse.
