Chapter 18 #2
She honestly wasn’t sure what she would have done. Laughed? Passed out? She at least would have hoped she were wearing pants when this conversation—confrontation? The distinction was yet to be determined—transpired, but luck was not on her side.
Filling in Belphegor had gone about as well as could be expected. Lots of frowns and plenty of huffing and a great many expletives muttered under his breath, but he’d promised to hold his questions until the end, recognizing the utility of her being able to get the whole story out at once.
Now she was finished, and the dreaded time for questions, comments, and concerns had come. Undoubtedly, Belphegor would have plenty of all three.
“Upon accepting my proposal, our betrothal contract was logged and flagged by the Office of Internal Infernal Affairs, who then apprised you of the covenant to which you are already bound, courtesy of the vows you exchanged with this man in the sixteenth century when you were still human. But this man is not really the man you married, but rather an uncanny likeness, a…doppelg?nger of sorts who possesses his soul, which has been reincarnating for the last four hundred–some years. And you came here to this depressingly small town in nowhere Georgia so that he could renounce his vows and free you from the shackles that bind you to him. Do I have that right?”
She winced. Shackles? Jesus. “I wouldn’t quite use those words, but that is the gist, yes.”
Belphegor’s chest expanded with a deep inhale. He released it slowly, his breath hissing from between his clenched teeth as he fixed her with a hard stare. “For Satan’s sake, Effie. Does your heedlessness know no bounds?”
Finn, who until now had sat silently, his face stoic while Effie spoke, braced one forearm flat against the kitchen table and leaned forward. “Watch it.”
Belphegor scoffed. “Are you so easily offended?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you have to say about me,” Finn said. “My problem is with how you talk to her.”
She rested a hand on Finn’s arm. It was to distract him, to soothe him, but it grounded her, too. “Finn, you don’t need to—”
“As Effie’s fiancé, I have her best interests in mind.” Belphegor’s gaze flitted from her point of contact with Finn to her face. “She knows that.”
“And as her husband, I’m telling you to watch your mouth. If you have something to say to her, either find a nicer way to say it or fuck off back to whatever slice of Hell you crawled out of.”
Oh. Wow. Jesus fuck. Finn’s words sent a straight shot of heat to her core. He spoke like a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to get his point across. Calm, assured, like someone used to being listened to, obeyed.
She pressed her thighs together. This was so not the time to be getting hot and bothered. For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t even wearing pants. The thought of leaving a godforsaken puddle on the seat made her cheeks burn.
“You are either very brave or very stupid. I am undecided.”
Her head snapped to the side, cheeks burning even hotter. Belphegor wasn’t looking at her, but at Finn.
“Look, Belphegor. I’m figuring things out, okay?”
“What does that mean? It is straightforward, no?” He gestured toward Finn with an open palm. “He simply needs to renounce his vows.”
Finn cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, see, I’m not doing that.”
“Have you tried threatening him?” Belphegor asked.
Finn rolled his eyes, looking utterly unbothered in the face of the six-foot-seven demon suggesting extortion.
“I’m not going to threaten him. Jesus, Belphegor. Free will matters. You and I both know that.”
Hands steepled in front of his chest, Belphegor observed Finn thoughtfully across the table. “Have you tried making him an offer he can’t refuse?”
She really wished Belphegor would stop talking about him like he wasn’t there. “Finley and I have a deal, okay?”
“Oh?” Belphegor perked. “Tell me, darling, what did you offer him in exchange for his cooperation?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that kind of deal. He wants to remember…before. He’s agreed to renounce his vows either after he remembers, or on October thirty-first, whichever comes first. We are working on restoring his memories.”
Finn stood, chair legs screeching against the hardwood floor. Without a word, he stalked out of the kitchen.
“Is he often prone to such fits of melodrama?” Belphegor asked, words dripping with derision.
She stared at the doorway, chest tight, baffled by Finn’s exit. “Maybe…it’s better if you go wait for me at the inn.”
Belphegor frowned. “Am I to understand that you are…asking me to leave?”
She winced, not unaware that the optics here were…confusing. “Just…you need to let me handle this, okay?”
Not that Finn was something to be handled, but it was easier to say that than explain that she wanted to check on Finn because of how much she cared about him. That was a can of worms she didn’t relish the thought of opening.
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then stood, tipping his head. “I will await your arrival. If you are not back in an hour, I will return to assist you with whatever has impeded your timely return.”
“Sure.” She forced a smile. “One hour.”
“And, Effie?” Belphegor paused, his frame filling up the doorway, and looked at her over his shoulder. “I know you, and I know there is plenty you have not told me. We will be discussing this further.”
There was little she loved less than being told what to do, and Belphegor knew it.
“You’re right. There’s a lot we need to discuss. Starting with the fact that I don’t want to—” Marry you. She clenched her jaw. Not here, not with Finn in the other room, not when she wasn’t sure how Belphegor would react. “We do need to talk. I’ll meet you at the inn. We’ll do it there.”
Finn was in his bedroom, staring out the window that looked into the side yard. She stopped behind him, hand hovering uncertainly in the space between them. Would he even welcome her touch right now? She let her hand fall.
“What do you see in that son of a bitch, anyway?”
“Finn.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “You don’t—you don’t seriously want me to answer that.”
“I asked, didn’t I?” He turned to face her. His eyes were flinty, the set of his jaw hard, stubborn. “Tell me what’s so great about this guy, because I’m not seeing it.”
Belphegor wasn’t a bad—okay, he was a demon.
He was bad. Or at least he wasn’t good. Not by the traditional moral definition of being virtuous.
Well. He kind of had a hard-on for the cardinal virtues, but—that really wasn’t the point.
He’d really let his dick flag fly today, showing off the worst parts of himself.
“He was in a right snit today, Finn. You saw the worst of him. But fine. If you want to know the truth, he’s…
smart. Some of the most lucrative inventions and tech ventures that ail mankind the most were his idea.
You really think Zuckerberg and his roommates or even those Winklevoss twins came up with the idea for Facebook entirely on their own?
” She snorted a laugh. “Spare me. He’s also one of the Seven Princes of Hell, a group of demons who collectively serve as Lucifer’s right hand.
He’s incredibly well connected and respected, and until recently, he was considered to be Hell’s most eligible bachelor.
He’s everything a demon could want in a partner. ”
If anything, Finn looked less impressed than before she’d started speaking. “I didn’t ask what everyone else sees in him. I asked what you do. What do you like about him?”
“I already…” She stopped, sighed, and played back everything she’d said, all the traits she’d listed, then racked her brain for others that were more specific, personal.
“I like that he…he…” She rolled her lips together and tried to ignore the mounting tightness in her chest as she drew a complete and utter blank, unable to think of one thing she actually liked about her fiancé. “He’s…”
“You can’t answer me, can you?” Finn’s lips twitched.
What little space existed between them was easily erased when he rested his hands on her waist, staring down at her, his lids heavy and his eyes dark.
“Because he doesn’t make you feel like this, does he?
” His thumbs brushed the fronts of her hips, the cotton of the shirt she’d borrowed sliding pleasantly against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Could he even get you off, or did you close your eyes and think about me when he was fucking you?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisting in the front of his shirt, dizzy from the sudden ferocity of the flush sweeping over her entire body. “N-no.”
Finn hummed. “No, as in he couldn’t get you off, or no, you didn’t think of me?”
Her eyes squeezed shut, her throat aching.
She’d tried her damnedest not to think of him. It had hurt too much knowing that when she opened her eyes, he wouldn’t be there.
But she didn’t want to say that. She was so tired of missing him. She didn’t want to miss him anymore. Not when he was right in front of her. “Finley.”
She felt his groan as much as she heard it. “The way you say my name…” A soft, shuddering breath escaped his lips. “Do you even know what you do to me?”
He rocked against her, just once, letting her feel him, his cock hard against her hip. A throb low in her belly started to spread.
“And don’t even act like it’s not the same for you.
” Finn dropped a hand to the hem of her shirt, his fingers sliding up the inside of her thigh and ghosting over her center.
“Biting your lip and pressing your thighs together under the table like I wouldn’t notice.
Because why?” His hand slipped under the waistband of her panties. “Because I called myself your husband?”
He stroked a finger down her slit and groaned.