by Nadine Mutas
She rose from the sofa and walked over to him. Unfazed by his one-second-away-from-murder expression, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. I’d once seen a grumpy pit bull being loved on by a fearless kitten, and the effect was quite similar.
“Imagine my surprise,” Azmodea tweeted, “when I found out I had a sister-in-law.” She slapped him on the shoulder. “How dare you not tell me? To think, I allow you to use the gate in my territory, and you turn around and smuggle a human in without letting me know? And not just any human, but your wife? Why was I not invited to the wedding?”
“What,” he growled, “are you doing here?”
“Getting to know your lovely wife, of course.” She put her hands on her hips. “When were you going to introduce us?”
His expression clearly said never, and Azmodea narrowed her eyes.
“Now, I know you don’t like to share,” she said, “but this is ridiculous. You can’t keep her for yourself. She’s family now.”
If possible, that word infuriated him even more. “Leave,” he snarled.
He was awfully good at snarling and growling.
Azmodea clucked her tongue. “Are we in a mood today, oy.” Turning to me, she stage-whispered, “I’ll be back, darling.”
“No, you won’t.” Azazel glared at her.
“Sure, sure.” She waved him off, but winked at me and mouthed, “Yes.” Walking past him, she patted him on the shoulder. “I expect you at dinner tonight.”
Sauntering out of the room, she left me alone with a hunk of rage in demon form. I’d gotten up from the sofa and now stood there, skin tight, my heart racing.
Dark power murmuring about him, he went to the door with deliberate calm, placed his palm on it and pushed it shut from inside. The metallic clang of it closing reverberated in my core. His hand still on the door, he looked at me over his shoulder. Lightning fire flashed in his eyes, the brutally beautiful lines of his face hinting at leashed anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“What part,” he muttered, his voice silken violence, “of ‘you are not to leave these rooms’ did you not understand?”
I trembled. My hindbrain screamed at me to run and hide. To appease. To do something, anything, to defuse the threat in front of me. He’d been less scary when he was growling and snapping.
That gecko part of my brain, however, didn’t seem to be in control.
“I will not be caged here.” The words tumbled out past the knot in my throat. “These rooms cannot be my whole world. I need more than this.” I gestured around me.
Gaze fixed on me, he prowled over, all lethal grace and banked power. He advanced with such predatory intent, I forgot to breathe until he was right in front of me. Involuntarily, I backed up—or tried to. My legs bumped into the sofa right behind me, and I went down, grabbing the cushions as my butt hit the seat.
Following me, he leaned in, put one hand on the backrest next to my head, the other on the cushion beside my hips, trapping me with the calm of a hunter fully in control of its prey.
“What you need—” his tone caressed my senses with velveteen menace “—is a lesson in humility.”
God help me, but the shiver coursing through me at his words was all thrill and no fear. Breath coming fast, I stared at his mouth just inches from my face. His power crackled between us, an invisible touch that was too much and not enough.
“I have to warn you,” I whispered. “I think I suffer from a selective learning disability.”
The tiniest twitch of his mouth, not quite a smile, but something shifted in his energy. “I have been kind with you. You’re provided with more than the contract specifies. By rights, I could have you hanging upside down from manacles in my dungeon. You think this is a cage?”
His power whispered over my skin, and I squirmed. Not in terror, mind you.
“I could lock you in with the hellhounds if you require a demonstration of what a real cage looks and feels like.”
“I’m more of a cat person,” I breathed.
This time, the smile was real, if fleeting. A second of amusement flashing through his countenance, followed by simmering focus.
“You have everything a human needs in here. These lodgings are larger than any place you’ve occupied in the last ten years, you have entertainment, exercise equipment, and comfort. I even brought you your belongings from Earth.” Molten heat in his gaze. “Including your tiny masturbation device.”
I closed my eyes, waves of mortification rolling through me. It had been him, not one of his underlings. Unfairly, the sofa didn’t open up and swallow me.
Deflect. I had to change the subject before I was too embarrassed to say anything at all.
“I don’t know where you get your info on humans,” I ventured, my voice just a bit wobbly, “but we need more than all this to really live. We’re social by nature. We need human contact.” I met his eyes briefly, couldn’t hold his intense gaze for longer than a second, and settled on his nose instead. “Or, demon contact, as it were.”
The air between us hummed with power. His nostrils flared.
“Azmodea,” he said into the charged silence, “will suffice.”
I bristled even as I cheered for that bit of concession from him. It was telling that he’d rather send his sister to talk to me than deal with me himself. I was a burden he wanted nothing to do with, an obligation he’d as soon acknowledge as chew off his own arm. An old hurt inside me broke open, leaking bitterness like acid into my veins.
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “She will not.”
His eye twitched. “What more do you want? Considering your position, you should be content with my generous offer.”
Generous offer my ass. He just wanted to shove me off on someone else. And as much as I liked Azmodea and would indeed enjoy her company, the thought that he could simply keep ignoring me pricked me the wrong way. What I wanted—as irrational as it was, given I’d sworn never to depend on a guy—was to have him check on me. Not because I needed him, but because it was his goddamn duty as my husband, and fuck him if he wanted to run from that.
“You’re not generous,” I said, “you’re a coward.”
A sheen of bright silver rolled over his eyes, luminous like a cat’s tapetum lucidum when hit by light in the dark. The faint smell of something burning drifted through the air.
“Am I now?” His voice was deceptively calm, belied only by the intensity with which he regarded me.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Too late to backpedal now. “You’re afraid to deal with me yourself,” I pressed on, ignoring the knot of unease building in my chest. “You’d rather hide and avoid me than face me and truly fulfill the contract. I think it’s because you’re afraid you can’t do it. You don’t know the first thing about really taking care of someone, do you? You’re scared you won’t measure up, so you won’t even try. Instead you run like a chicken.”
My heart skipped a beat. A tiny voice of reason inside me wailed in dismay. I did not just accuse my powerful and temperamental demon husband of being a chicken.
I dared meet his eyes and cringed inwardly. Oh, yes. Yes, I did.
The scent of something smoldering grew stronger. His power drenched the air, pressed against my skin and made it hard to breathe.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this time I’d pushed him too far, and he’d roast me over the fire now. I must have a hidden masochistic streak, some sort of near-death wish.
“Goading me?” he asked after a tense moment. “How cute.”
I chanced a glance at his expression. The hint of a smirk played about his mouth, his eyes glinting with the wrong kind of amusement.
“You should know it won’t work,” he said. “If I let myself be provoked into impulsive action by any artlessly delivered insult, I wouldn’t have survived a day at Lucifer’s court.”
He brushed his thumb over my cheek, down to my mouth, prickles of heat trailing behind.
“But if you crave my company
so badly,” he murmured, his voice pleasure dipped in sin, “you could always try begging. I might just relent and come play with you.”
That. Pompous. Ass.
Fire roared through me, my vision turning red. I would never beg for even a scrap of his attention. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped and pushed his hand away from my face. “Given the choice between you and a talking toilet, I’d happily chat up that porcelain throne.”
“That can be arranged.” One side of his mouth curved up. “If I’d known your special preferences regarding to water closets, I’d have installed a Japanese toilet already.”
I bared my teeth in a snarl, giving in to the feral creature inside me.
His gaze dipped to my lips and his hooded eyes flared with heat. He leaned in until only an inch remained between us, filled with rage and the sensual dare of a challenge I felt deep inside me like an echo of my thundering heartbeat.
Just a tiny movement forward, and my mouth would brush his. Our noses were so close, his breath caressed my lips as if teasing with his touch. Molten desire curled in my core, my body straining to close the distance, feel his heat.
“Ask me,” he whispered, his words sweet poison for my mind, his nearness a magnetic lure for my senses.
I blinked, breath heavy, struggling to disentangle my brain from the vortex of lust threatening to draw me under. “All right,” I breathed.
Triumph in those eyes of quicksilver lightning.
“Will you,” I murmured, my voice thick with longing, “get me that toilet?”
His face fell, and it was the juiciest, most pleasurable thing to witness, almost as satisfying as an orgasm from my trusted electric friend.
It only lasted a few seconds, but I could learn to live for those moments when I made him lose his composure.
He let go of the sofa, straightened, and stared down at me. Back was the calm, controlled expression, the slightly cruel glint in his eyes. His game face, as I thought of it.
I schooled my own features to show none of the irrational disappointment at his retreat.
“Far be it from me,” he said, his voice light and mocking, “to deny you the sanitary equipment of your dreams. I’ll have the toilet installed promptly. Anything else, honey?”
I recognized his deliberate use of the endearment for the taunt it was...still it smarted. It only drove home the fact I’d never again have a romantic partner in my life who’d say it with the right intent.
Sure, I had commitment issues and a spade of bad luck in dating—thanks to Tall, Dark, and Chokable here—and I’d never seen myself in a long-term relationship. But that didn’t mean I didn’t crave a little bit of affection every now and then. I was only human, after all.
With my life as it was now, though, there’d be none of that coming my way in the near or distant future. Not if my cantankerous husband had his way. He sure as fuck wouldn’t show me a sliver of authentic affection, and with me locked in these rooms, I’d likely never meet anyone else with whom I’d share romantic feelings.
I was staring down a future of real, frightening loneliness, and it took all I had not to reveal how much that scared me. I’d rather claw myself bloody than let him see me brittle and afraid. He wasn’t the only one with a game face for this farce.
“Actually,” I said, tilting my head to look up at him, “there is something, yes.”
I hated sitting down while he was standing over me. Body language could be used for subtle wars, and right now, ours said I was a bug he would have squashed...if I weren’t so insignificant in the first place.
But he still stood so close that I couldn’t just get up—I’d have to scramble around him or stand on the sofa, and both of these moves would be so obvious in their intention that it would render them a moot point.
I refused to cross my arms or legs either, knowing full well it would signal my discomfort even more.
So I simply fixed him with a stare I hoped appeared forged from steel, forcing my body into a deliberately relaxed position. “I want to visit Earth.”
He chuckled. Chuckled, the ass. “Of course you do.”
I barely controlled the twitch of my facial muscles. “You said I could see my friends and family. Well, I want to visit Taylor and my mom.”
His smile was all kindness, his tone gentle...his answer a slice across my heart. “No.”
“You promised,” I hissed.
“I didn’t, actually.” The smug expression he sported made my hands curl to fists. “I said you could see them, not that you would. Semantics are important, dear. If you’d included visits to Earth in your negotiation before we got married, I’d be beholden to fulfill that condition. As it is—” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves “—I have no obligation to take you to Earth.”
I inhaled sharply, my composure slipping in the face of his casual cruelty. My oath to never let him see me crumble was all good and well, an admirable effort to keep the scales from tipping too far in his favor. There was only one problem—I was an angry crier.
Rile me up enough, and tears would stream down my cheeks while I shook with fury. A lot of people—most often men—would mistake that reaction for a display of weakness, an overly emotional response revealing the supposed fragility of my feminine nature. Which would only make me cry harder with frustration.
Now, despite my best intentions, tears filled my eyes as I stared at the demon prick who refused to grant me the simple kindness of seeing my loved ones, the lone sliver of light in the gloom of solitary confinement he intended for me.
“You can’t do this,” I rasped, my throat tight. “You can’t be this unfair.”
“Unfair?” His eye twitched. Or at least I thought it did. Kind of hard to see through the blur of tears. “You dare speak of unfairness when you’re the one who tricked me into this contract?”
“I didn’t fucking trick you into anything!” I yelled, shooting up from my seated position, all consideration of body language thrown out the non-existent window, along with my equilibrium.
My move had apparently caught him off-guard—he drew back just enough that I had room to stand right in front of him. For a split second, I wondered how I must appear to him...a spitting mad kitten hissing at a tiger poised for a pounce?
“And yes, you’re being unfair,” I continued, my voice breaking. Damn that angry crying! My breath caught in my chest, too much like a sob for my liking. “You act like you’re so inconvenienced by this covenant, yet nothing actually changed for you, did it? You get to live your life just like before, especially since you’re going to just dump me here and never look back.” More tears spilled over, hot and infuriating on my cheeks. My voice sounded awfully like a wail. “I’m the one whose life is uprooted. I lost my home, my world, my family, my friends. Everything and everyone I’ve ever known. And now you won’t even allow me a simple visit.”
His jaw tightened, as far as I could tell with my compromised vision. “Quit that.” His voice was a low snarl.
I cringed when he reached out, his hand going for my face. On instinct, I wanted to jerk back, but he caught my chin with his fingers, held me there. With his other hand, he wiped the tears from my cheeks, his gentle touch at odds with his harsh expression.
“Quit that,” he repeated more quietly.
“I can’t.” I sob-gasped for air. “You make me so angry.”
“Angry.” He stilled, his gaze disconcertingly thoughtful.
“Yes,” I hissed.
His hands still lingered on my face, and the slight pressure of his fingers on my chin, the heat of his palm on my cheek messed with my focus.
“I’m an angry crier. It may look like I’m a miserable pile of sobbing sadness, but I’m actually contemplating how best to eviscerate you.”
His smile startled the fuck out of me. Brilliant, blinding, it lit up his face all the way up to and including his eyes, transforming the brutal beauty of his features into something ethereal, enthralling, a vision of grace tempered with sin.
<
br /> “A fillet knife would do.” Sparks of lightning in his eyes, his expression distinctly delighted. “But make sure it’s forged in Hell.”
“Noted.” I swallowed, trying to think past the feel of his fingers on my skin.
“As for your visits,” he said, brushing his thumb over my lower lip, distracting me more than I liked to admit, “they’re not simple. Those trips would cost me, and I am not spending valuable resources on your sentimental whims.”
I clenched my jaw tight and stepped away from him, away from his touch. Ignoring the latest sting of his words, I focused on the new information I could glean. “What do you mean?”
“Both your mother and your friend live in areas too far from Azmodea’s gate. To get there and back in a reasonable time, I’d have to use gates in other territories.” His features darkened. “And nothing in Hell is free except the illusion of kindness.”
“You’d have to pay to use the gates? With what?”
“Souls.”
I reared back. “They’re your currency?”
“That, or favors. The latter of which—” he raised a brow “—are the riskier to give.”
How barbaric. How disgusting. How— I shook my head, covering my mouth with my hand. Nausea swirled in my stomach.
“So you see,” he said, a dark undertone in his velvety voice. “A simple visit would cost me precious assets, more than setting you up here did. You think my life hasn’t changed, that your presence here is of no consequence? You could cost me—”
He broke off, his lips firming into a thin line, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “I could cost you what?”
“My last nerve,” he muttered after a moment, sinister amusement curving his mouth.
Cop-out. I was about to needle him further when the tapestry behind me caught fire in a wave of sparks.
I shrieked, wanted to jump away—and froze when a huge splash of slimy, clear liquid hit the burning tapestry...and me along with it.
Gasping, I looked up at the ceiling, at the source of the unexpected slime projectile. There, retreating into the shadows between the rafters, hung an animal that looked like a cross between a bat and a cat. It yawned, showing a row of sharp teeth, and licked the spare drops of spittle from its maw.
