His eyes linger on Simone's belly, and I bristle at his interest in our baby but hold my tongue. Now is not the time to challenge him.
“We'll take our leave, then.” Without waiting for further conversation, I step closer to Simone. She shouldn’t feel the effects of traveling through the ether anymore—not as powerful as she is now. “I need to touch you to transport us both.”
She gives a curt nod, allowing me to place my hand on the small of her back. I focus on our manor by the Lethe, picturing the grand foyer with its spiral staircase and stained-glass windows.
A blink of an eye later, we materialize in our home. Simone steps away from my touch immediately, putting distance between us.
“Don't follow me,” she says, her voice flat. “Sleep somewhere else tonight. I need... I can't even look at you right now.”
She turns and walks toward the staircase, her footsteps echoing painfully in the silent manor. I watch her go, though I want to explain—or maybe abduct her somewhere again—but I know that pushing her now would only drive her further away.
I run a hand through my hair, looking at the empty foyer. Everything feels so wrong right now. I wish I could turn back time andtake Simone away from here before Sataniel showed up to ruin everything. Then again, he'd probably find us no matter where we went.
With a sigh, I make my decision. She needs space, and I have a territory to salvage. As far as the rest of Hell is concerned, I was away for many months. Even before Sataniel took us, I’d already been neglectful and delegated duties to my generals. With one more thought, I'm in my desert ziggurat—the place that houses most of my less civilized subjects.
The chaos hits me before I fully materialize. Screams and snarls fill the air as lesser demons battle each other across the grand hall. Blood—black, red, and the greenish-yellow of ichor—spatters the black floors and columns. Imps dart between the legs of larger demons, stealing scraps of flesh where they can. Hellhounds chase starving sex demons who haven't fed properly in months, desperate for the sustenance they usually gain through lust and pleasure.
No one notices my arrival at first, so consumed in their disputes.
“ENOUGH!” My voice booms through the ziggurat, the force of it cracking one of the obsidian pillars.
The fighting stops abruptly, the eyes of hundreds of uncivilized demons turning to me in surprise.
I survey the destruction, the fractured alliances, the power struggles that have erupted in my absence. This will take time to fix—time that I would rather spend mending things with Simone. But she doesn't want me near her, and I can't force my presence on her. Not right now.
So I'll fix what I can. My territory. My subjects. My reputation as an archdemon not to be trifled with.
And maybe, if I give her time, Simone might someday look at me again without hatred in those beautiful gray eyes.
Maybe.
26
SIMONE
Three days. Three days since my world shattered. Three days since I learned the man I loved—the father of my child—is actually Asmodeus, Archdemon of Lust. Three days of hiding in our bedroom, alternating between sobbing and staring blankly at the ceiling.
I haven't seen him since we returned from the Burning Pits. He’s stayed away, giving me the space I demanded. And while a part of me is relieved, another part feels hollow, like something important is missing.
I've barely left this bed, barely eaten, only moving when I need to use the bathroom. And when I do, each time I catch my reflection, I hardly recognize myself. I look healthier, stronger. And my stomach... I run my hand over the swell. My baby. Our baby.
An archdemon's baby.
“What are you going to be?” I whisper, the first words I've spoken aloud in days.
I force myself to sit up, wincing as my head spins. I need to eat something, for the baby if nothing else. Pushing aside the silk sheets,I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and rise unsteadily to my feet.
As I reach for the robe draped over a nearby chair, the silken garment suddenly flies into my outstretched hand.
“Putain de merde!” I stumble backward, dropping the robe like it's hot.
Did I just...? Did I use the ether without even thinking?
Cautiously, I step toward the vanity across the room. My hairbrush lies there, and I extend my hand toward it, focusing intently.
Nothing happens—bien sûr que non. I'm being ridiculous.
Sighing, I pick up the robe and slip it on. As I turn toward the door, I spot a glass of water on the nightstand. I don't remember getting that.
