A Deal in Darkness (Dark and Devilish #2)

32

QUITE DONE NOW

ADRIANA

B yron stares at me and I don’t like it.

His gaze is just as intense as Enzo’s, but it has none of the allure of the darkness in Enzo’s eyes. There’s only debauchery. Only lust. Only lechery.

“Should we get to know each other?” he asks.

I’d really rather not.

He isn’t attempting to hide his thoughts, and they’re filthy. Byron’s eyes explore my lines and curves without shame or hesitation, and his hips keep rolling suggestively. He keeps licking his lips and it’s unpleasant, in the way that turns my stomach.

“Would you stop doing that?”

Byron grins and leans forward. “Doing what, princess?”

“That.” I wave my hands, gesticulating at his entire person. “You. Just stop staring at me like that and we’ll get through this until Enzo comes back. Hopefully, it won’t be too long now.”

The man shakes his head from side to side and laughs. It’s deep and dangerous, and my chest spasms, suddenly aware he knows what Enzo’s doing and it isn’t good.

Obviously, it isn’t good. I harbor no illusions that demons punish sinners and have some knock-on effect that makes the world a better place. But the expression on Byron’s face suggests Enzo isn’t the one causing trouble. He’s in it. In deep, if the lines that cut across Byron’s face reflect the extent of the danger Enzo’s facing.

“How bad is it?”

“He’s faced worse.”

I fiddle with my cardigan, unnecessarily adjusting it to Byron’s amusement.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I value my life far too much to risk it by crossing Lorenzo. He doesn’t want me to tell you, and you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

I huff and get up, making myself a cup of tea. Byron’s stare doesn’t deviate and he watches every move I make, getting up when I duck behind the kitchen island.

“For God’s sake,” I hiss. “Where did you think I’d disappeared to?”

He leans against the counter, and this is becoming oppressive. I slide him a cup and he eyes it with suspicion. Like it isn’t a perfectly acceptable mug of tea. Like it’s poisonous.

“Who knows, princess?” he grins. “There are more things in all of Heaven and Hell than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

I roll my eyes and slurp my tea. Viciously. He winces and I double down, slurping my tea as I weaponize the only thing at my disposal: manners.

“He’s in Hell then?”

Byron stiffens as he lifts his cup. I guessed right.

“You do not want to play this game, princess.” He edges closer. “Not with me. I’ve known Enzo a very long time and he may have given me strict instructions about how to handle you, but I know how to bend the rules. I haven’t survived by being obedient.”

“Can you at least tell me how long he’s going to be?”

The china clinks as my cup hits the marble countertop needlessly hard. I’m running out of patience and it’s only been a day. I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the evening with this asshole guarding me, and the thought of him watching me while I sleep makes my stomach churn.

“A day—maybe two—for you. For him, it’s different. Time works differently in Hell, Adriana. It bends and warps. It isn’t linear. Sometimes higher demons can control it, but it has a way of eking out the torture that’s going on around it.”

“Is he a higher demon?”

Byron tilts his head and remains silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes. How does the hierarchy work?”

“Princess,” he slides toward me and flicks my hair over my shoulder, exposing my collar. “Stop playing with fire. Before it gets us both burned.” He downs his tea and walks away. “The collar looks good on you, Adriana. Do you enjoy being owned?”

I roll my eyes and wash up, despite the dishwasher I could use. My back’s turned, but I can feel the heat of his stare as it scalds my back. I try ignoring the fuck out of it, but it’s too intense to pretend it isn’t affecting me, and the attention is unwelcome. Especially when it focuses on my ass.

“You’re very intriguing,” Byron says, leering at me from across the loft.

“You’re very not.”

“You’re being frosty,” he says, sauntering back into the kitchen. “It doesn’t suit you, Adriana. We should be friends. Good friends.” He leans against the island as I lean against the other cabinets. “After all, I’ve seen you fuck. You’re spectacular—and I mean that as a compliment. My dick was in agony watching you that night and I’ve fucked my fist hundreds of times thinking about you since.”

I turn scarlet and he grins, delighted I’m flustered. I cross my arms, hoping they’ll buffer or protect me from him, and all it does is make my breasts seem larger, drawing his attention. It’s unwanted, but he doesn’t care.

“See, we’re getting to know each other.” Byron steps closer, into my space. “We’re going to be very good friends, princess.”

Not if he keeps this up. We won’t be.

My mouth opens to tell him what I think about the idea of us becoming good friends when it’s silenced by the thunder erupting in the loft. It’s louder than anything I’ve ever heard and my ears ring out in pain. My vision blurs as my balance goes, and I fall, tucking my head against my chest as I try to protect it from whatever the fuck is going on.

“Stay down,” Byron roars.

There’s not a chance I’m doing anything other than taking cover. The loft is no longer the safe, secure home it has gradually changed into and I won’t be able to fight back against whatever’s threatening us. Not effectively. Not when it’s using magic.

I can feel the atmosphere change, and the charges pulsing through the air are ferocious. They’re warping the world and bending it to their will, sweeping fear and dread across the room as they bear down on us. The air is tinged with darkness, and the haze that moves closer isn’t welcoming. It’s not here to be nice. It’s here to inflict pain and hurt, and it’s aimed at us.

At me.

It isn’t here for Byron.

My hands cover my head as I cower, curling up underneath him, using his body to protect mine. His arms box me in and the light fades as something covers me and I plunge into darkness.

I shriek and he laughs low. My head snaps up and two crimson eyes stare down at me, illuminating the darkness in a faint, red glow. It’s the color of blood, but there’s little life in the gaze I’m facing, only rage and the destruction that inevitably follows that kind of anger.

My soul shudders as he smiles at me, and I glimpse his teeth. Fangs. Whatever the fuck, the glow from his eyes is illuminating. They’re hideous and designed to main, harm, and kill. Ruthlessly efficient by the look of it.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got this.”

I wish I had his confidence. His strength, if not his features. He’s powerful and I’m safer with him than against him, as much as I dislike that thought.

“We’re getting to know each other rather well indeed.”

“Will you stop gloating and deal with whatever the hell just showed up uninvited?”

His grin widens and it’s terrifying. It’s the smile of those who eagerly anticipate violence and its aftermath. Byron is relishing this and all its horror, and not just because I'm curled up against his chest.

“Are you asking me to save you?”

I grind my teeth. “Would you? Please?” My tone is as tense as the rest of me. “I'm so fucking desperate for you to be my knight in shining armor.”

“Are you saying you'll let me whisk you away and lock you up in my tower?”

I groan.

“It's truly magnificent.”

Another crash sounds out, vibrating through the floor and shattering the steadiness of the ground beneath me.

“I promise to show you my...”

“Could you focus on the task at hand?” I hiss.

I hear Byron's eyebrow arch. “My hand.” He glances down. “Did I mention I fucked it thinking of you and your pretty pink pussy?”

The temperature drops and I press into him, instinctively. He's warmer than he ought to be by human standards, but I've got no idea what the normal temperature is for a demon like him.

“Careful, princess. It won't take me long to dispatch the Yiddin, and who knows what fun we might have if you excite me too much?”

Byron is far too fucking confident, and his ego is running away with him. He's so damn sure of himself that anyone would think whatever is attacking us isn’t a threat. But the way it's broken through whatever protection Enzo put in place around his loft and that means the Yiddin is dangerous. Very dangerous.

“It's an ice demon, Adriana.” Byron's eyes light his hand as he lifts his palm. “I deal in fire.”

Flames burst from his hand, brilliant oranges and red, combining with searing white heat. They dance and flicker, moving freely as they captivate my imagination and almost steal a piece of my soul. They're more beautiful than any fire I've ever seen and they hold me in a thrall I almost can't escape. I almost don't escape.

The burn across my neck as Byron's flames heat my gold collar snaps me out of my trance.

“Stay here. Don't move.” Byron snarls. “And take this just in case.” He thrusts a small dagger into my hand. “Don't do anything stupid with it. Hearts are never a bad shot.”

He pulls away as I stare at the weapon in my hand. Its handle is set with a large stone the color of the sea and its blade is curved, its edges like the ocean waves. There's nothing gentle about the dagger: its point is as sharp as Enzo's claws and it's designed to kill.

Presumably demonic things.

Demonic things like the swirl of dark grey that Byron's disappeared into. Storm clouds have gathered in the loft, filling all the space in the sitting area and heading toward the kitchen. At alarming speed. Whatever Byron's doing isn't working and the temperature drops again as ice crystals form on the kitchen surfaces, hurtling toward me as their startling patterns turn sinister.

Byron had better hurry if he wants to save me.

Or I'll be forced to save myself.

Fuck. I'm going to have to save myself.

The cloud smothers me in its fog and I lose all sense of time and place. I'm disorientated, lost, and spiraling through nothing. I'm falling, spinning as I descend towards oblivion, and there's nothing to break my fall.

My stomach lurches as I'm tossed about on the wind and my heart leaps into my mouth, trying to escape the cage confining it. My head tells me I'm fucked, but my body won't accept it, and somehow, despite everything, I keep going. I keep breathing. I keep hold of the goddamn knife like my life depends on it.

It may well do.

Something wraps around me, and I stare as a pale blue shadow curls around me. It tightens as I claw against it, wrapping more and more loops around me. The tendrils of whatever the fuck this is keep coming and they tighten their grip, holding me so damn securely that I'm struggling to breathe.

My chest can't expand and my lungs burn. I pound and thrash, screaming for Byron and anyone who'll save me.

It makes no difference and I'm losing this fight.

I can't work my way free and there's little I can do to save myself.

The edges of my vision fade to darkness and I decide to do the thing that Byron warned me not to. It's the only thing left and it's better than nothing. Anything's better than this, and I refuse to go down without a fight.

I stab the dagger into my stomach.

There's no pain, no sensation. Not a fucking thing.

I pull it out and stab again, and nothing happens. Nothing changes. Nothing moves.

I stab again and again and again, screaming as my rage consumes me and I let it overwhelm me.

Liquid trickles down my legs and I don't give a shit. I keep going, keep fighting, oblivious to my exhaustion, oblivious to any pain. Almost oblivious to the clearing air and the solid ground beneath my feet.

My legs collapse and my knees hit the ground, and I keep thrusting the dagger into my stomach. It won't do any damage and I'm running out of energy. I'm tiring and the fucking useless blade that Byron handed me is doing absolutely fuck all.

I stab in a frenzy and keep going, losing all sense of time and reason.

“I think that's enough, princess,” Byron says, resting a hand on my shoulder. “It's dead. You've made damn sure of it.”

“Not fucking dead enough,” I scream, still plunging the knife into something fleshy. Something that isn't my stomach. Something that when my eyes look down at it appears to be a mass of ice blue tentacles lying lifeless beneath me.

“It's quite dead now,” Byron says, half amused, half in awe.

“I'm not done killing it.”

I lift the blade over my head and bring it down, stabbing the dead creature repeatedly. I keep going, keep screaming as I vent my fury at the now lifeless demon that had the nerve to try to hurt me.

Pale blue liquid seeps onto the floor and I keep going, only stopping when Byron pulls the blade from my exhausted hand and hauls me away. I'm depleted of everything and my weight sinks onto his shoulder as he carries me to my room and puts me into bed, watching over me as I sleep.