Page 10 of Devil’s Promise

I look back at him. This is all far more…civil than I expected a few minutes ago.

But the sneer he gives me has me shriveling again. “You’ll put out, because that pleases me. And you’ll go where I tell you, when I tell you. Personally, I think of you as a necessary evil. You should consider me the same.”

A necessary evil…

I press my lips together, turning my gaze forward again. So I’m being passed from an abuser to the devil.

He gives me a little shake. Was I supposed to agree?

Was there ever a choice?

I remain still. Apparently I have upped the ante on my silence. It now includes not even jerking my chin in acceptance.

Why should I agree?

I wasn’t given a choice in any of this, and I have my own agenda, and it does not include being passed off to a…

I have no idea what he is.

But I know that marrying him moves me further from my end game.

His grip on my arm tightens, digging into my flesh. “Are you not capable of nodding?”

I don’t respond in any way.

“Fuck. It turns out that a silent woman might be the only thing more irritating than a talking one.” He lets me go, pushing me away, and for the second time I stumble, landing on my hands and knees.

But I don’t stay there long, spinning so my butt is on the floor, my knees curling up into my chest as I rub my arm where it’s already bruising.

“Behave, and things will go all right for you,” he grits out, leaning down to stare at me with those freaky eyes.

It’s stupid, but I don’t nod. I just stare back. Let him think I’m empty. A complete void without thought or feeling.

I don’t care.

But his eyes assess me with a shrewdness that makes me curl into myself.

With the suddenness of a snake strike, he reaches for me, hauling me into his arms and lifting me off the floor.

I try to twist away, but he’s too quick.

My lips press together as my teeth grind to keep the cry of fear from falling from my lips. I won’t give in. Not even here. Not now.

It’s my only weapon, meager as it is, and I can’t lose it.

But he doesn’t hurt me. Instead, he pulls me to his chest, carrying me out of the room. But we don’t head toward to the door I entered. Rather, he goes the other way, turning right into a narrow staircase.

Up and up we climb, him not seeming bothered by my weight at all.

I don’t fight. It’s useless.

When we reach the top, he opens a door, a small, shabby apartment coming into view.

Walking in, he closes the door behind us and then sets me down.

I look around, noting the cabinet doors falling off the hinges, the cracked finish of the Formica counter tops. Is this where we’ll live?

“Sit.” He points to a set of rickety-looking folding chairs. Just like with my father, I follow his direct command and walk across the room to take one of the seats.