My jaw tics and I make a conscious effort to relax. “Get any answers?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I believe I have.”
Ishouldn’t have touched him.
Now I’m caught in his gaze and my skin is fused to his. I couldn’t walk away if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I knew I should have slept on the couch or banished him back to Hell. Now I’m in the middle of this and I don’t know how to stop.
Percy wasn’t any help with the curse, and I don’t want to take advantage of Dimitri’s vulnerable state. Then again, he doesn’t look sick anymore. If anything, he looks like he wants to jump my bones. I’m inclined to let him, though I have no idea why.
Just days ago, I thought demons were fairy tales—based on true beings but largely exaggerated. Yet here I am touching him and wondering if his lips are really as pillowy soft as they look.
His nostrils flare and I wonder if he can smell my arousal. That would be embarrassing unless we were together. Then it’d be hot, I suppose.
I lick my lips, then ask, “Are you…”
“Yeah.”
I don’t think he knows what I’m asking. He probably doesn’t care. Part of me wants to tell him I figured out what I want in exchange for breaking his curse. The other part is screaming at me to remember he’s a demon. Why that matters, I can’t quite figure out. Because my aunt said so? Because witches and demons have a fraught history I know nothing about?
I wish my sister were here. She’d know what to do. Whether she’d tell me to go for it or run far away, I don’t know. Which is the problem.
He clears his throat, a bolt of lightning flashing in his dark eyes. “Did your…friend have anything?”
I slowly shake my head, then drop my hand to my side. My skin cools and my fingers tingle at the loss of contact. It takes a minute, but his question finally sinks in fully. The thread between us frays, and I narrow my gaze.
“Why did you hesitate?”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Why did you hesitate when you called her my friend?”
He snorts and chokes at the same time, and I fully expect him to cough up a hairball. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mari. I just wanted to know how to break this curse. If I can figure out what kind it is, I’ll probably be able to find out who put it on me and deal with them accordingly.”
“Kill them?”
Shock floods his face. “What? No. I mean, maybe. Depends on why they cursed me. Or how bad it’s supposed to get. If this is all it is, then I suppose…don’t give me that look. Not everyone is sunshine and rainbows, spitfire. There are bad demons in Hell just like humans in your world.”
“But killing them—” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. It’s not something I ever thought about, but I’ve never been in a situation where I’d have to make that decision.
He holds up a hand. “Killing them in Hell isn’t the same as here. You know that, right?”
“Uh, no. Killing is killing.”
He smiles, his entire demeanor transforming. Gone is the broody demon, replaced with the charming one who doesn’t look like he’d hurt a fly. Which is laughable, considering we’re talking about him doling out irreversible justice.
“If I stab someone here and they die, they’ll go to Hell. Or one of the other dimensions aligning with their soul. They’ll suffer or celebrate in accordance with their fate. For eternity.”
“Aligning with their soul?” The concept sounds painful.
He waves, his hand brushing my arm and sending goosebumps along my flesh. He doesn’t seem to notice. “We don’t have time to get into all of that. It’s…complicated, and I’m not well-versed in that particular study. Different things happen if I killed someone in Hell. A demon could be sent to a sulfur pit or the dragon plains. Depends on what they did, honestly. A deity or some other entity might be banished to another dimension. Humans are a bit tricky. Half the time they don’t feel anything. Like poking a tomato, really. If they fucked up, then they could get a worse assignment or dimension. Now, if I stabbed them for ridiculous reasons or was wrong, then I’d suffer their fate instead.”
“And a witch?”
“I’m not about to stab a witch, Mari. I don’t have a death wish.” He smirks, shooting me a roguish look.
“Because of the implications?”
“Yup. But mostly because if you stab a witch in Hell, you get the Council on your ass. The red tape is fucking terrible. Don’t even get me started on the paperwork. A witch wrongs you in Hell? Let it the fuck go. By the time you fill out all the proper forms to retaliate, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
