8. Immortal
CHAPTER 8
IMMORTAL
BILLIE
I don’t know what happened while I was sleeping. If my demon kidnapper grew a conscience or he finally caught on to the fact that you can’t just steal a woman, proclaim her as your mate because ‘fate said’ blah-blah-blah, and except she’s going to just go along with it… it doesn’t matter. I told him I wanted out of the dungeon and, poof, he found a way to let us out.
Now, do I believe he did this out of the kindness of his heart? Yeah, right. Trevor broke me the other night almost easily as I snapped my stiletto heel. I’ve got the business acumen all right, but I’ve never been suspicious to a fault until I got grabbed by the guard.
In a way, Glaine broke me, too. When he obviously has ulterior motives that only make sense to the demons of this hellish world, I can’t put anything past him. Did he really call in a favor with one of the guards he knows? Or is this all some long con? Who knows? Maybe he had a key or something, just waiting for me to knock out so he can put his plan into motion. Then he could wake me up and, look at that, he can play the hero as he helps me out of the dungeon.
It could’ve happened like that. Then again, he could be telling me the truth. There’s no way to know. I always thought I was an amazing judge of character. I mean, I knew Jared Turner was a dick back when I met him and he was barely seventeen. I’ve saved Sierra from signing more bad deals than I can count because something didn’t sit right with me. I liked to think I can trust my gut?—
—and then Trevor Daniels fooled me for way longer than he should’ve been able to. I didn’t even love the guy. We had fun and he was one hell of an actor since I really thought he cared about me, but I was already set to dump him before he made it clear that, while he might’ve cared, he didn’t love me the way he loved Whiskey Rose.
He blindsided me. Now that the worst of the shock has worn off, I can admit that. The first time he asked me about Sierra possibly receiving certain fan letters last week, it barely pinged my overprotective meter. I left him open to make a move on her, and worse? Now that I’m trapped in this demon world, I can’t even warn her about Trevor.
Not like I think he’s going to go right after her. I made it clear that, as soon as I arrived back in Manhattan, I was letting her know to stay away from him. I told him to stay away from her. I’m kicking myself now—and have been since I’ve been stuck in Sombra—that I didn’t go straight to Sierra’s room last night to tell her instead of wimping out and heading to the kitchen instead.
What kind of bestie am I? What kind of manager ? She was my client, and the closest thing to a sister I have. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her—if Trevor turns out to be another Patrick Ridgefield after all—and I can’t stop it because Glaine decided to take me home with him.
I get it. Kinda. If I was given a fated mate who was meant for me, loved me , and would never cheat… wouldn’t I want to grab onto them and hold tight? But that’s how it works for demons, not humans, and no amount of telling him otherwise is going to change his mind.
That’s okay. He wants to pretend I’m his mate? Go right ahead. If he wants to loops up the excess chain keeping up connected so that it doesn’t drag and I don’t trip? Anything to get us out of the dungeon faster. He takes the lead, warning me back as he vows in that deep voice of his that he won’t let anything get me?
I hang back, because while I might be independent, I’m not an idiot. I’ve traveled all over the word. I know there are customs and unsaid expectations for locals, and if the fact that I’m human won’t mark me as the most obvious tourist ever, the chains that belong to a fugitive make everything worse.
When we first landed in this world… in Sombra… all I saw were smoke and ash and fire. To be fair, I was more consumed with turning around and running right back to New York to care that I was in a literal Hell. Not even being mean, either. The air is scorching, the rotten egg stink is overwhelming, and there are demons everywhere I go. And not just regular Lucifer-type demons, either. Glaine’s red skin and black horns are devilish, but that other guard I met was nothing but shadows .
Duh. They’re shadow demons, right? They can swap from one to another instinctively, going somewhat transparent as they hide in the shadows that make up this world, but lucky me: the gold chains aren’t just an accessory or a way to mark us as prisoners. They’re charmed to contain Glaine’s powers. He’s stuck as a demon.
The chains do nothing to me except annoy me. I’m a human, and my power revolves around scheduling all of the demands on a pop star’s time without double-booking. The chains are just heavy and slow me down while keeping me connected to my unrepentant kidnapper who you’d think would be a lot happier that we broke out of the dungeon without anyone seeing us.
Then again, maybe not. Glaine glances over his shoulders repeatedly as he guides me outside. Me? I enjoy the slight freshness that comes with the blue-tinged sky, knowing that once we leave the oasis surrounding the duke’s palace, we’re heading right back to the black shadows, reddish ash, and the stink.
It’s no better the second time. My poor feet are filthy in mere steps, and once again I wish I’d had the foresight to throw on some slippers before getting captured .
Still, I’m a trooper. I’m a firm believer of ‘the better the devil you know’. Glaine’s proven to me—so far—that he has an invested interest in keeping me from danger. Even without the chain, I’d stick by him since I need the tour guide.
Not like he’s showing off his realm. As soon as we put enough distance between us and the palace, he relaxes a little, but he pushes me to move faster.
Does he think I want to spend the rest of my life in a dungeon in Hell? Please. I can’t work toward going home behind bars. I’m trying, but the ash is difficult to navigate without shoes and I can hardly match his pace without the expectant way he glowers at me when I stumble.
“Maybe the next time you decide to kidnap a human, pick one who’s dressed for escape,” I snap. “Sorry that I left my leggings and sneakers behind when you, oh, yeah, stole me.”
If there’s one thing I’m going to do, it’s hold a grudge. He decided he could take me because I was his? Well, he’s going to see that side of Billie as I never let him forget for a second.
What’s he going to do? Leave me behind in the shadows? We’re chained together, and though he promises that that’s our next step—that he’s bringing me to someone who knows how to remove those chains, and who should do it if Glaine asks.
Only one problem. Glaine admitted that, in his demon form, the demon city we’re going to is three days’ walk away from the capital. Three days. In this skintight red dress that is constantly riding up. Three days in no shoes. Three days where I’m not sure how I’m going to eat, where I’m going to sleep, and if I’m going to make it without dropping to the ash and telling the big demon to just leave me behind.
He won’t. It doesn’t take long to realize that. Glaine is as stubborn as I am because, after the first time I do stumble and trip, he’s there to swoop me up in his arms.
“It will be faster this way,” he rumbles.
“Put me down.” I slap his arm. “You’re not carrying me for the next three days.”
“Why not?” he asks, and I can somehow sense his confusion. “I am a strong male, and you are a wee mortal. Your hair may be big and as pretty as the rest of my mate, but it doesn’t add weight if that is your concern.”
I sputter. “It’s not my curls that make me heavy, demon .” Hey. If I’m back to being a mortal, he can be a demon. “It’s my boobs and ass. Now let me down.”
Glaine does so without me having to smack him again.
Once I’m on my feet, though, he braves a fleeting touch, using the edge of his claw to trace the curve of my ass. “It is most voluptuous,” he marvels. “I like it.”
If he sounded pervy, I’d slap his hand away from me. But since there’s an innocence to his tone that makes me think that he means the compliment, I just step away from him.
“Flattering won’t work on me,” I warn him. “Neither will your ham-handed flirting.”
Glaine frowns,
“My hands are made of meat, yes,” he says, and I’m thinking that the translation from English to Sombra is a little wonky there. He shows me them. “But my claws are sharp and strong. I don’t have my sword, but I can protect you with these.”
Those suckers are at least an inch-and-a-half long. I’m actually impressed enough to smile a little as we start heading forward again. Or maybe it’s because he’s not overruling my autonomy, insisting that he carry me after all. He’s letting me walk, and though I’ll probably be begging for a piggy-back ride by day two of this ‘journey’, it’s not enough strike against him for doing what he wants without thinking about what I want.
We walk in silence for a little longer before Glaine clears his throat.
I look over at him. “Yes?”
“I think I’ve understood what it was you said to me before.”
“What’s that?”
“Flirting.”
Okay. “What about it?”
“You mean like how I remind you that I am attracted to you because you’re my mate. That is flirting.”
My small smile dies. “Something like that.”
Up ahead, there’s a fire pit. Seriously. That’s what Glaine told me it’s called. A literal hole in the ash, it’s full of fire. I try not to think about what that could mean. Is Sombra all flames, or is it constantly burning? I’m not sure, but he mentions that only the fire-eater demons—a rare subset of Sombra demons—can handle the flame and use that to power the part of this world that doesn’t rely on mages and honest-t0-god magic. It doesn’t really make sense to me, but since I wouldn’t run headlong into a fire pit, I just take his warning that we must avoid them and give them a wide berth. Not hard to do when the billowing smoke and renewed rotten egg stink warns you that they’re coming.
I wondered if that’s all there is to this world when we first left the dungeon and Glaine said it was okay to speak again. That’s when he told me that we’re heading toward a village made up of Sombra demons, but that while we’re leaving the dungeon without Duke Haures’s permission—you know, escaping —that we’re keeping to the edge of the shadows where we shouldn’t run into anyone else if we stay to the edge.
I have to rely on him. It sucks, but I have to trust him. Do I? If I can believe that he honestly wants to prove that he is my mate, then sure.
But since I just can’t accept that Billie Bickles from Manhattan is supposed to be the fated partner to an immortal demon…
Looping the chain around one thick wrist, Glaine moves into me. He’s careful not to prick me with his claws as he grabs me by the waist, lifting me up and marching around the next fire pit.
This time, I let him maneuver me without fighting back. It’s not the first time he’s done this as we fled, and I’ve learned it’s not worth it to argue. He didn’t go through all this trouble and piss off his ruler just to lose me now, and I get that.
So I wait until he’s decided we’re far enough away from the fire pit and sets me down to murmur a ‘thanks’ before trudging forward in the ash.
He bows his head, drawing attention to his arcing horns. “Of course, Billie.”
Damn it. The way he murmurs my name, one part reverential, one part possessive… despite how hot it is out here, I shiver.
Glaine is smart enough to mention it.
Though he does decide that he’s going to attempt to explain his insane rationale to me again. “I think you misunderstand me. I am not attracted to you solely because the gods gave you to me?—”
Not this again. At least, with the excuse that we’re ‘fated mate’s, it can explain why a seven-foot-tall demon with huge muscles, gleaming horns, pointed ears, and fangs might look at me and think ‘sex’ and not ‘dinner’. Because, oh, yeah… I have no idea how he thinks we could even fit, but there’s no doubt in my mind that, when Glaine says ‘mate’, it’s because he’s already imagining us fucking.
I’m definitely adventurous, but even I have my limits. I just have to hope that this nice guy act he puts on when he’s not glowering down at me in silence is a clue that I really can trust him with that when I’m at my most vulnerable. Like sleep. I’m gonna need it sooner or later and?—
Pushing those concerns out of my head, I snort.
“You can’t tell me that I’m any demon’s idea of a mate.”
I try not to be so self-deprecating, but after more than fifteen years in Sierra’s shadow, it’s tough. And I don’t blame her one bit for my own insecurities. Like always, I deal.
But it seems as though Glaine won’t let me—at least, not alone.
He doesn’t need the chains as an excuse to get closer to me. But he takes it, and now he’s consuming me. With his gaze, with his masculine scent—spicy and warm and so much nice than the rotten egg stink—and his possessiveness as he bows his big body over mine.
“You are small. Your ears are rounded.” He lays a warm finger on the shell of my ear before I can jerk my head out of his reach. His touch scorches—and I don’t just mean my skin, either. “Your fangs are too tiny to do any damage. You are mortal and you can die. I won’t allow that, but these are facts. You are a pale shade of red. Your eyes are dim. You are no demoness… but it doesn’t matter. Because, to me, you are perfect .
“You are perfect because you are Billie. You are also mine.” He pats my poor sleep-flattened curls gently, as though I’m a pet… but I get the vibe that, if given the chance, he would’ve gone for a more intimate touch than on my ear. “Sombra demons are i mmortal. That means we are patient. I have forever to earn your forgiveness and your heart.”
He’s immortal.
I’m not.
I don’t have forever. I don’t even have more than the handful of days it’s going to take to find a mage to separate us and, hopefully, send me home. Sierra has got to be worried. Roy’s probably pulled in his whole security team, searching for me. And Three… I miss my cat. I miss my phone . I miss my life.
But when I glance up and see the look on Glaine’s face and know—just know —that he means what he says… I swallow roughly.
For once, I don’t have a pithy comeback.