The yellow was in there, slumped in the corner of the empty space.
He cracked open an eyelid. “You got it bad. The craving.”
I leaned forward on my knees, sweat dripping to the ground.
Mother be, craving all right. I wanted to do thousands of things to Carmine, and thousands of things to myselffor him.I was far enough away to also feel revolted by the thoughts. “Guess it’s a mate thing.”
The yellow opened his other eye. “Mate thing? No. Not the craving. We get that each week from playing the game.”
A sinking feeling filled me as I slid down the wall opposite him. “Everyone gets this?”
“Can’t you hear them?”
I fought back my own panting, and my eyes widened at the slapping and grunting higher in the Pinnacle. “Shit.”
“Slim pickings for them this week,” he mused, yellow gaze on the ceiling. “Still, while they’re occupied with that for the rest of the day and night, I get time to recover from the game.”
Whoa.My mind was whirling with this. “Why does this happen?”
The yellow cocked a brow. “We fight in the Crave Arena. Ironic, isn’t it? There must be some type of magic in there. Is it meant to make us more unhinged so we put on a better show, or does the craving protect contestants while they’re recovering after the game? Either way, it works. Most of the demons here fuck each other for the entire day after the game. No one noticed the first week, but the second week was a big leap.” He cast me a knowing look. “This week is even worse, judging by their… volume.”
A scream trailed into a whimper high above. I wanted to be doing that. So badly.
I gasped. “Sure is.”
I’d assumed the surge of lust had to do with my depleted power.
You fucking asshole.Carmine had known. He’d fucking known that playing in the arena would make me want him more and more.
Rage boiled in my veins. Because that crossed a massive fucking line. A line where I might have done anything if he hadn’t walked away.
Thiswas why Carmine had agreed to me reentering the game. Not to give himself time to convince me to finish our mating. He’d known that returning me to the arena could do the job for him.
Then he’d played the victimandthe good guy when I’d dry humped him after the last round.
“That motherfucker,” I snarled. I was going to kill him slowly.
The yellow sighed. “Demon king been making the most of it?”
To say the least. I eyed the exhausted demon. “Why aren’t you up there having fun? You could still lie there.”
The yellow cracked a grin, eyes still closed. “I don’t feel any craving. Not for that.”
“I don’t follow.”
“My mate is gone. I only feel craving for her to live again. So I fear the day after the game because I feel that I can barely survive.”
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
My heart squeezed. “How did she die?”
“A random and ruthless act from a demon. I imagine that he can barely recall the act. Her death meant so little in the grander scheme of his life.”
I rested my head back, glad to feel more lust dissipating by the minute. “So you seek revenge in Tiers.”
“Revenge or death. I would rather live, but the pursuit of revenge provides an excuse for death that I have found hard to otherwise justify.” He opened his eyes briefly to look at me. “She would not approve of me seeking death. I do wish to live for her.”
But he would die. Because I could not let him live.
