Chapter Seven #3
“Of course not. Love does not exist,” she said with no trace of mocking.
“It is a human fantasy. Something you waste your time with to make your mortal existence bearable— Oh, and what is roman... tic?” Sabrina sounded genuinely curious.
“And how are you confusing the translation spell? My lord swore I would be able to understand your human speech.”
I seriously thought I might cry. Hell was a terrible place. Of course I knew this even before I came here, but it never occurred to me that the true reason it was so horrible wasn’t because of the fire, brimstone, cruelty, or torture.
It was because you had to endure all of those things without friendship, romance, or love.
“All of that aside,” I got out, “I don’t think Tristan is involved.
He looked genuinely surprised and embarrassed when he got an eyeful of my boobs.
If he knew I was Dora’s sister and he was just trying to get me to reveal myself, why go that far in the performance?
I mean seriously, can you even blush on demand?
” I tossed my head. “My point is I want to give him the benefit of the doubt until there’s proof.
Get into the werewolf wing and suss out all you can learn about him.
Because something tells me the return of the Slaughterer of All But One is big news on their side of the door. ”
“Very well.”
Sabrina slithered down my leg and set off with no more argument—which was a miracle in and of itself. I followed her with my eyes until she slipped into the darkness.
I blew out a breath. “Okay. Time to—”
Clink.
I whipped around, eyes snapping to the end of the hall—just in time to see the figure dart back and disappear around the corner.
“Wha— Hey? Hey!” I chased after them, beating it down the corridor. “Who are—?”
I skidded around the bend, but there was no one there.
THAT NIGHT, I PERUSED through my textbooks—looking for any mention of the witches. Shockingly, there was a lot. In the books assigned for the History of Hell and the Great Invasion, there were pages upon pages about witches—
—and none of it was flattering.
I assumed it was because demon editors didn’t believe in censorship, because the whole thing was just a rant about what bitches, cunts, whores, and all the rest witches are.
I mean, for real, the ink bled with hatred towards all things witch.
There was no end to the information on how much witches suck, but I couldn’t find a single line related to the history Professor Radu shared with us that day.
Nothing about how witches rose up to stop the vampires, demons, and fae that were stealing their blood, souls, children, and lives.
Nothing on the covens that became so formidable, they started to give the supernaturals a run for their money.
And definitely nothing on how they banished them all from earth, threw them in hell, and slammed the gates behind them.
“Was Radu there?” I muttered to myself while flipping through my rewritten notes.
“Is that why he knows the truth? But even if he was, why is it a secret? The lords of hell would really prefer demons believe hell was invaded instead of admitting they were beaten by a bunch of girls?” I snorted. “Men.”
My key shot out of the lock, snapping my head upright. I was up and beaming by the time Ronin walked through the door.
“Hello, Mr. Belphe, welcome back.”
He cast a disinterested glance over me, then flicked over to the spread laid out on the coffee table. “What’s this?”
I giggled. “Why, it’s dinner, of course. I noticed how noises and crowds tire you, so I thought you’d prefer a nice, quiet meal here.”
Quirking a brow, he looked from me, to the sausages, pasta, fruit, and cheesecake beckoning him over, and then back to me.
“You poisoned it,” he dropped like it was a simple matter of fact.
“And what? You think I’ll find your murder attempt endearing because I was intrigued by your pointless act of defiance? ”
My glowstick grin went nowhere. “You’re so funny, Mr. Belphe. Of course I didn’t poison you. Why would I poison the wonderful, handsome, talented demon that it is my privilege to serve?”
Pale lips curled. “Ugh. What the hell’s the matter with you? You talk like you dress.”
If anything, my smile widened. It was true, I looked particularly insane in bright pink velour sweatpants and a canary-yellow blazer with some serious shoulder pads, but Lucifer’s attempts to humiliate me, couldn’t touch me right now.
It was just too much fun seeing the mix of disgust and confusion on Belphe’s normally expressionless face. Why?
The only other time he broke his stoicism was when he hurt me in front of everyone. If there was anything I learned from my time in middle school, it’s that sociopaths lose interest quick when you take all the fun out of bullying.
I made up my mind right there in the middle of class that just because Belphe had power over me... it didn’t mean he’d get to enjoy it.
“If it’s not poisoned, eat it,” he ordered. “Now.”
I shrugged. “As you wish.” Skipping over to the table, I picked up the fork and happily helped myself. I figured he’d be suspicious of anything I served him, so I only chose food I wanted to eat.
“Yum,” I chirped, digging into the cheesecake.
A symphony of creamy vanilla, butter, and sugar burst on my tongue.
Say what you would about hell, but this place would get no complaints from me about the food.
“Are you sure you don’t want some?” I teased, waving a speared piece of sausage at his darkening expression. “Yummy, yummy, tasty, tasty.”
I don’t think it was possible for anyone to look more disgusted than he did right then.
“Enough,” he said, turning away. “Prepare my bath.”
Shrugging, I brushed past him and went into the bathroom.
Every time I went into it, I was knocked over by the luxurious finishes and obscene expense. Would I have liked to live in this dorm without the demon intruder? Absolutely. But I had a strong feeling that no matter how much I irritated him, I’d be the one forced out, and not him.
Wonder if there’re any more dorms this nice hidden among the demon wing?
I thought as the tub filled. Under the sink I found a bottle of sweetly scented bath oils, so I dumped them indiscriminately into the water.
There were still a bunch of keys left over in the box, so I could just grab a bunch and go around trying every one until I find a room that’s comfortable for me and Sab—
The door flew open.
I looked up in time to see Ronin quickly swipe a piece of cheesecake off his lip, and then scowl at his reflection—as if he was pissed at it for not warning him he left evidence of enjoying the meal I brought for him.
“That’s enough,” he said, jerking his chin at the running faucet. “I’m ready.”
“Okay.” I turned it off and stood to leave. “Have a wonderful bath, Mr. Belphe, and—” I pulled up short, blinking at him.
He stood between me and the door, those cool, glittering ruby eyes reflecting my confusion. Expressionless, he held out his arms.
It took me a full thirty seconds to realize what he wanted me to do.
My smile vanished. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
His smirk curled into his cheeks, setting free two tempting dimples. “What’s this? Your phony deference disappears so soon?” Ronin clicked his tongue, setting my teeth on edge. “Pity.”
Phony deference? He saw through me and what I was doing that easily?
No, a stubborn voice butted in. It’s not going to be that easy at all.
“What? What are you talking about, sir?” I chirped. “Forgive my surprise, I just couldn’t believe you wished me to sully you with these unworthy hands.”
I paused, hoping against hope that he would tell me not to sully him with my touch, but all I got for my awkward silence was a raised brow.
I forced a laugh. “Oh... kay.” Shaky fingers reached for his belt. “Here we go. This... is... happening,” I croaked as I tugged the belt free and then grasped the hem of his shirt. “I am undressing you now. For your bath. And it’s not weird or creepy at all.
“Nope,” I popped, dropping his shirt on the floor. “I’m f-fine with his.” My voice cracked at the hard, smooth, bulging pecs crowding my face. “Absolutely fine.”
I reached for his zipper and my brain fritzed out, putting an end to my rambling.
Ronin was not the first or even the third man I undressed.
I was not the bumbling virgin I appeared to be then, but never in my life had a man this gorgeous...
glared at me this hard while I unbuttoned his pants.
So much naked hostility didn’t tend to accompany an act this intimate, so I flat out had no idea what to do with myself.
Swallowing hard, I snapped my gaze to my shoes and quickly pulled down his pants, then his underwear. I was looking anywhere but up as he stepped out of his clothes and brushed past me.
The doorknob beckoned me like a siren to the sea. “Okay, well, have a good bath, Mister—”
“Get my loofah.”
I blew out a hard breath. “Mr. Belphe,” I forced through gritted teeth. “You are closer to the loofah than I am.”
Indeed, I put it right next to the soap dish.
“What’s the relevance of my proximity to the loofah?” he asked. “Either way, it needs to be in your hand to wash me.”
If I thought my brain crashed to a halt before, it was nothing compared to the crater-inducing explosion that resulted from those words. Slowly, I turned to him... and that damn shit-eating smirk.
Time came to a standstill.
Reclining in the bathtub, Ronin soaked to his chest in the scented, warm water—daring me to drop my phony deference.
The man was no dummy. I may have caught him off guard at first, but now he knew I was being an annoying yes-man to take all the fun out of tormenting and pushing me around. But doing everything Ronin said with a lunatic grin on my face... meant doing everything he said.
Am I really so determined to beat this asshole at his own game that I’ll get down on my knees and scrub his back?