His red lips flicked up in a smirk. "No. I'm keeping you."
"I'm not a fucking pet," I growled, my heart beating so hard. I must have been completely insane to talk to the devil like this. The fuckingdevil!
"No," he agreed, his eyelids lowering as he gazed at me.
I dragged myself into a sitting position in his hand. The muscles of his palm flexed under me, his thumb stroking down my leg, and I ignored the skip in my breath.
"You're not a pet. You're my beautiful, broken girl."
I bared my teeth, blood rushing in my ears. Maybe at the height. "Not broken."
"No? Then why do you flinch from your memories of that night in London?"
I did just that. Swallowing hard, recoiling, shutting down the images of blood and guts, screams and pleas.
Nope. Not thinking about it. It was done, I moved on—
"You were glorious," the devil breathed, watching me with glowing, fiery eyes full of … obsession.
Ah, shit.
I startled, nervousness uncoiling in my belly when I met his stare andsomethingsnapped into place in my chest, like an elastic band plucked.
My eyes widened; my mouth fell open.
That … that absolute fuckingasshole. He’d justbondedus.
The devil bonded me ashis soul mate.And now he watched me with manic interest not dissimilar to how my other mates watched me.
Oh, no. I couldn't have the devil being obsessed with me, too. I already had X and Joseph, my incubus stalker and cuddly reaper, breaking into my house—and my bed—on a nightly basis. And cold wraith Arkan stalking me to vineyards, killing people who touched me. And Taj, Prince of Hell, showing up to fuck my brains out. I had enough monster cock in my life; I didn'tneedany more.
"I was fucked up, not glorious," I disagreed. "Put me down."
"Where should I put you, babygirl?" the devil asked, his expression flickering with something I couldn't place but which made my stomach tighten. "Your feet will get wet, and you'll be drenched in even more blood."
I frowned, and then scooted to the edge of his massive hand and peered down.
Oh, holy fuckballs, the room below was enormous, a throne room that went on forever. And it was covered—every single inch—in broken, oozing bodies. Entrails, scattered limbs, blood, eyeballs, you name it, it littered the floor in an endless, gory sea.
No wonder I woke and tasted blood—it was everywhere.
"Nice decor," I remarked, blinking at the massacre.
I couldn't contain the tiny tremor that moved through my body, power flooding into me as I stared at the carnage and butchery. I licked my bottom lip, realised what I was doing, and stopped immediately. I felt as full and thrumming with magic as I had when I saw the massacre at the hub, and I swallowed as yetmorepowerhummed within my body.
But then I remembered the torture barn, and Jacko and Dad, and the fact my own fucking father had been stealing magic from me. Getting more powerful with every one of my kills. IfIfelt a rush of power looking at the bloodbath below, what didhefeel?
"I'm glad you like it," the devil replied in his deep, thunderous voice.
I shuddered. "Hey… Since you like me because I killed a bunch of people, I don't suppose you can undo something that was done to me? If, hypothetically speaking, someone was stealing my magic, could you stop them?"
I jumped when the devil’s hand shook—when his wholebodyshook, a growl lifting his red upper lip from his giant teeth. "You mean that traitorous custodian of yours."
"Yep, that's the guy," I agreed, unable to keep my eyes off the blood and guts covering the floor. If he set me down and I felt the squelch of it under my feet, I knew I'd get a deluge of magic. But so would Dad. Ugh, fucker.
"It can only be undone by death," the devil replied, crimson eyes heavy, the flames within them dimming. With sadness? Apology?
I shrugged. "Worth a shot. Anyway, just put me down and I'll be on my way. Nice to meet you and all, but I've got a life to go back to."
