“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, my voice coming out more strained than I would have liked. He frowned and leaned forward, lifting one of my arms so he could wash under there as well. The soap he was using smelled like him. I was suddenly bathing in the scent of frankincense and sandalwood and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me that I thought it was starting to smell less like a funeral and more like home.
He ran his hand gently down my arm and brushed his thumb gently over the scar on my wrist. “I don’t understand why you did this. For how much you hated me, I don’t get why you would try to summon me.”
“Hateyou,” I corrected.
He glanced up at me, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “My mistake, deathtrap. You’re right. For how much youhateme, I don’t understand why you would try to summon me.”
He brushed his finger over the old wound again, looking pensive.
“I wanted it to stop,” I whispered. “I wanted to rest.”
He glanced up at me, and something that looked suspiciously like remorse crossed his face. “Unfortunately, deathtrap, suicide is a cardinal sin. There would have been no rest for you, even if you weren’t who you are. Yahweh doesn’t reincarnate souls that take their own lives. He considers them a failure and unusable. They come here to stay with me.”
For some reason, this made me incredibly sad. It didn’t seem fair that souls who were too tired for life weren’t even given the chance to rest in death.
He ran his fingers over the scars on my legs again, leaning forward to kiss them softly. “These I understand even less. Watching you cut yourself always felt like watching someone carve up a masterpiece.” He breathed against me, and I felt my eyes well with tears. If he felt that way, why did he seem to enjoy hurting me so much?
He wrapped his hands around my hips, tugging me closer as he looked up at me. His hair was slicked back and wet, and his hazel eyes were swimming with an emotion I didn’t understand.
“Why do you do it? Tell me.” He searched my eyes, and I was struck with the fact that he was genuinely trying to understand me better. For a moment, I wondered if there was some part of him that wasn’t evil and rotten. Then I remembered just who it was that was kneeling before me.
“I do it because of you,” I whispered. I met his eyes and let him see just how much he had hurt me. “My entire life has been so miserable. You’vekilled everyoneI’ve ever known. I haven’t been allowed to touch anyone for years. Before you decided you wanted to fuck me, the only living thing I had touched until I accidentally hugged Sam was Chaos, and it turns out evenhewasn’t my friend. I’ve never been loved. I’ve been so fucking lonely because ofyou.”
He looked for a moment as if I had just broken his heart. Though the look was gone as quickly as it came, and the corner of his mouth kicked up instead.
“Well, I hope I don’t need to remind you that cutting yourself is against the rules.” He tugged the collar that was still locked around my throat. “You wouldn’t want to give me an excuse to clip a leash to this pretty throat.” He stood up and reached behind me into one of the cubbies on the wall, grabbing what looked like a bottle of shampoo. He gestured for me to stand and took my place before tugging me back down to sit between his legs. “Let’s wash this gorgeous hair, then get you something to eat. You must be starving.”
Ramel dressedme in a white wrap dress but didn’t give me any underwear. I plucked at the soft fabric and frowned.
“White seems off-brand,” I murmured, and he slid his hand into mine, tugging me toward the door. He was more or less dressed the same as he was when we were working at Voodoo. Black pants and a crisp black collared shirt. I scowled at how hot he was.
“The white will make it easier to spot you when you inevitably try to run away,” he purred, and I sighed. Of course, it had been a calculated decision.
“Cheer up, Lilith, take in the sights. It’s not every day a mortal gets to dine in the House of the Fallen.”
I supposed he was right about that. The manor was spectacular. Everything was black, but the walls were lined with massive gothic arches and windows, providing an incredible view of the endless night that was Hell. The sky was so lit up with stars that the purples and greens of the nebula that birthed the celestial bodies seemed to burn and writhe as we walked the halls. Even I could admit it was beautiful.
The deeper Ramel led me into the manor, the more alive everything became. We started to pass people as we walked. They nodded at Ramel but eyed me curiously.
“Do all these people live here?” I asked.
“They’re not people; they’re demons. And some of them, yes. Many of them work here, and others are likely visiting from the city. We’re preparing for Samhain, so it’s a little busier than normal.
I frowned. “Samhain?”
“I believe you call it Halloween.” He smirked at me. “Which I happen to know is also your birthday.”
“It is.” I nodded, trying not to think about the fact that he knew that because it was the day he killed my mother.
He led me down a hallway that seemed to be a bridge between two spires in the manor. Both walls were filled with those beautiful gothic arches, and I felt like we were floating through the endless starry night as we walked. At the end of the midnight hallway was a massive set of double doors. An impressive rendition of Botticelli’s Divine Comedy was carved into the doors, and I stared in awe at how intricate each detail of the carving was.
Ramel’s lip quirked up. “Shem’s idea,” he said, gesturing to the carved doors. “He loves when mortals attempt to imagine Hell.”
I nodded, my eyes still wide. Ramel pushed the doors open, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the cheerful sounds of clinking plates, cutlery, and friendly chatter. I felt as if I had just walked into a continental breakfast at the world’s swankiest hotel.
In the center of the room was a massive vertical spit with a giant roast pig skewered down the middle. On a circular table around the spit were massive piles of food, including towering mountains of pancakes spilling into heaping trays of omelets. There were also huge crystal syrup dispensers filled with every liquid form of sweetness you could imagine.
The room was packed full of demons sitting around circular black tables. They ate and laughed and chatted with each other as if they weren’t eating breakfast in literal fucking Hell. Along the far wall stood a long table that overlooked the rest. There was a massive black throne-like chair set in the middle. Shem was seated to the right of the throne, chatting with a handsome demon who was clearly flirting with him. Ramel led me up to the table and took his place at the center, pulling me down to sit on his lap.
