Chapter Seven
Charlotte
Sunlight streamed through the window, tickling my eyes open. It was so bright and warm—welcoming in every way the dry, arid, burning air of hell wasn’t—
Hell? I frowned, face crumpling. There is no sun in hell.
I cracked an eyelid open, peering blearily through the bright light... until I found the source.
Ronin sat in his seemingly favorite armchair, gazing into a hand mirror. The mirror completely blocked his face, but did nothing to stop the blazing, beaming golden light shining from it.
I choked, eyes widening as that light brushed my skin, and healed me.
All my aches and pains vanished. The cuts on my lips from giving that monster of a cock not one, or two, but four blowjobs—sealed up and faded as though they were never there. The hickeys and bite marks vanished. The hobbling ache in my middle was gone.
Wow. Ronin’s glamour must be down, so this means this light is coming from his true face.
I sat up, slowly crawling to the end of our sweat-soaked and ravaged bed, and wishing to move closer still.
Ronin’s amazing. He’s so wonderful, so beautiful, so generous, and so kind.
Thinking about it, I do owe him for saving my life more than once.
Okay, he was a little rough yesterday, and he tricked me into a terrible and degrading bond on the penalty of my sister being subjected to something horrible at the claws of Pravat, Bruno, and Kazuya, but wasn’t that my fault? If only I hadn’t denied him when he offered the first time. If only—
The light winked out.
Setting down the mirror, Ronin was his normal, heartbreakingly handsome self once more.
I lurched back, horror leadening my bones. What the hell is wrong with me?! What was I just thinking? It’s my fault? Ronin’s kind and wonderful? Have I lost my freaking mind!
“Ahh, you’re awake.” Ronin padded over, and my anger compounded even more.
Even with the glamour, Ronin was sinfully gorgeous in every single dangerous, tempting way. He hadn’t bothered to put clothes on or cover himself, so there was nowhere for me to look but at the hard, corded muscle rippling down every inch of his body.
He still had my blood on his cock from the blowjobs, and even more on his chest from when he bit me in the heat of chain orgasms and broke the skin. On anyone else, the blood smears would be grotesque, but on Ronin Belphe, it was war paint. War for my obedience, body, and soul.
A war he won.
Leaning over the bed, Ronin tore the blankets off me without so much as a how do you do. “Hmm, looks like you’re all healed up.”
He didn’t ask how, because he obviously already knew.
In that moment, I realized with complete certainty that Ronin never had to do any of this.
He didn’t need to propose the sub bond, give me the phone, order his buddies to attack me, threaten Dora, or make me degrade and debase myself on my knees.
All Ronin Belphe ever had to do was show me his true face... and I’d have done whatever he asked of me—twice.
Smirking, Ronin caressed my jaw—possession bleeding from the touch. “Shall we go again?”
Sitting up, I looked him in the eyes, grabbed the glass of water on the side table, and threw it in his face.
Ronin snapped back—likely from surprise more than anything else. I was snatching up the blankets and walking away before he recovered.
“Oops,” he said mildly, chuckling. “I guess that’s a no to round twenty-three.”
I slammed the door on his laughter, my body flush with rage from head to toe.
I HELD TIGHT TO DORA’S hand, leading her out into Ronin’s empty room, and then into the hallway. Again I scanned the hall left to right to make sure Ronin wasn’t anywhere to be found. I don’t know why I expected him to wait behind and walk with us, but I was relieved he didn’t.
“Muriel, are you okay?” Dora asked. “Did something happen?”
My throat tightened as flashes from the night and day before rushed through my mind.
How could I be okay? Ronin blackmailed me into bed, pounded me like a slab of steak, and then sauntered over to me with the biggest, most victorious smirk on his lips like he’d won a fun game, instead of doing something terrible to me.
That was bad enough, but what was even worse was my body’s betrayal. Orgasm after orgasm under that bastard’s rough and uncaring ministrations, and every single one of them burned me with shame.
I know it’s a natural response. I know I can’t control it. But every single shudder and moan was his permission—giving him license to pump harder as he said, “Why are you telling me to stop? You’re loving every minute of it.”
I tossed my head, shoving his lust-dipped words out of my mind. “I’m okay, Dora,” I replied. “I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Of course that was all I was going to say. Even if Dora wasn’t suffering under the pure soul curse and we were back on earth where we belonged, I never would’ve shared something like this with her. I was her guardian. It was my job to protect her. Not trauma-dump on her.
She need never know the lengths I went to with Ronin to keep her out of harm—
—even if the proof of it was bare for all to see.
I glanced down at my shoulder and grimaced for the thirtieth time that morning.
I hadn’t noticed the day before when he showed me, but every single top, blouse, and dress Ronin generously gifted me was sleeveless. Even the pajamas. Meaning there wasn’t a single time of the day or night that his brand wasn’t on display.
Dora happily skipped along behind me as I made for the mess hall. Ronin’s insane face card may have swiped away my aches and bruises, but it did nothing for the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours.
Together we entered the mess hall—my arm around Dora to keep her close—and it all kicked off immediately.
“Ow, ow, ow,” someone catcalled. “Is that the mortal bitch?”
“I’ll be her bitch,” someone else pinged back. “Damn, girl, were you always this fine?”
“Hey, get over here and sit on Daddy’s lap!”
“Give me a taste, baby!” This was said by one of the new female students.
I gritted my teeth as their repulsiveness, and their laughter, got louder. Male and female demons, they were all catcalling the crap out of me.
It was true that I did look much better than I usually did, now that I wasn’t walking around in Lucifer’s revenge wardrobe. That morning I picked out a pink, square-neck minidress that flared at the waist. It went spectacularly well with my new gold goddess sandals.
Lucifer wasn’t beefing with Dora, so he packed her nice, normal clothes. We were in matching pink, but her dress was a long, casual summer dress with daisies on her skirt to match her sneaks.
All this hooting and hollering reminded me of when Dora and I would go out looking all cute, and random guys would hit on and catcall us.
Every time, I’d send them speed-walking across the street when I whipped out my phone and yelled at them that I was going to post all over social media that a creepy-ass perv was shouting lewd stuff at a minor.
I forgot for a second that this was the place where the creepy-ass pervs end up.
Amidst all of this, Ronin sat—slept—in his throne within the Sins’ new and exclusive eating area with his wannabe harem pawing all over him.
Sauda kept trying to guide his head onto her shoulder.
Kama stretched out on his lap. Raven laced their fingers together, and held his hand while she sat.
Eris stroked his horns—which I discovered the hard way were an erogenous zone for demons—and Ursula perched on his chair arm, snapping pictures of herself making cute, pouty poses with Ronin as her backdrop.
I looked away from them and scanned the mess hall. The arrival of the princesses brought some changes to how things were done during mealtimes.
Instead of buffet lines, everyone sat down for meals and were served from the kitchens. But the kitchen staff didn’t take orders and they didn’t do service... which meant the demons on the bottom of the pecking order had to play waiter and waitress.
The princesses transferred with their gang members, so they didn’t need to fight over which guys were going to kiss their feet. But the guy demons were still getting used to the way things were done, so—
“Hey!” A dolphin demon shoved a ladybug demon so hard, he had to bust out his wings to stop from hitting the ground. “Go get my food, bitch.”
“Go get your own fucking food!” He rebounded fast, flying back and punching the guy dead in the face. “Who the fuck you think you’re talking to!”
I sighed as yet another fight broke out.
“Come on, D, let’s go.”
The buffet tables weren’t gone, they were just in the kitchen now. Stepping through the double doors on the right side of the mess hall, I went into the kitchens, said hello to the staff, was completely ignored, and started filling my and Dora’s plates with eggs, bacon, and sweet potato hash.
“Here, you take this,” I said, passing Dora our coffee cups. “I’ll carry the food.”
“No problem,” she chirped. “Wow, this looks yummy.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Who knew that if you want to eat the finest cuisine, you gotta go to hell.”
Adora laughed, and my lips quirked up in response. When it was the two of us like this, it almost felt like old times.
“Would you mind getting the door?”
“Sure,” she said, pushing it with her back and holding it open for me.
I stepped outside and a shadow fell over me. He ripped the plates out of my hands before I could think to open my mouth.
I looked into the snarling, lethal maw of a lion demon.
“Be quicker about it next time, mortal b—” He gagged on the insult, slicing off mid-sentence. Eyes widening, his gaze latched on my shoulder. “B-b-beauty,” he finished. “Wow, you look beautiful this morning, Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?” I squeaked. “You know my name?”
He laughed—a high-pitched, uncomfortable sound. “What are you talking about? Of course I know your name. Just like I know you shouldn’t be carrying this by yourself. Here,” the complete stranger said, bowing over our plates, “let me take these to your table for you.”