Chapter Fifteen #2
Still, his words made me pause. The Devil didn’t strike me as the avenging sort, especially not for my sake.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “I thought this was all your game.”
His expression didn’t shift. His monstrous chest rose and fell, but his voice remained even. “I told you what your punishment would be for attempting anything. And it wasn’t this.”
I blinked—remembering.
The tail.
My horror must’ve bled into my face because his tail suddenly thwacked loudly against the floor like a judge slamming a gavel.
“Don’t make that face,” he sneered. “It twists those annoying features of yours into something grotesque.”
His words were sharp as razors, but something didn’t match. His red eyes brightened as he stared—burning with something not at all like malice.
Like interest.
“I can’t stand the sight of you,” he added.
And yet…he held me captive. And looked. Always looked like I was a puzzle piece jammed in the wrong board. Like he couldn’t decide whether to rip it out or keep pressing.
I squared my shoulders.
“You’ve said that before,” I muttered, waving my sword lazily, as if dismissing the weight of his stare. My eyes dropped to his bare chest—ripped, scarred, skin crawling with unnatural movement—and I swallowed before adding, “The feeling’s mutual.”
Slowly, he stepped closer.
“I know. You’re shaking. Always shaking around me.”
I glanced down and realized my sword trembled in my grip.
Damn it.
I lowered the weapon and looked away.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks—not from desire, not from his body or his words.
But from shame.
“And you’ve been crying.”
I froze, then reached up, startled to feel dampness on my cheeks.
The tears surprised me more than his observation.
Dad’s words echoed in my mind like a cruel wind through hollow bones, and I fought the new wave welling behind me.
I didn’t understand why it gutted me so badly.
It wasn’t like I desired the Devil—Hades, I didn’t even like him.
But the idea of my father being disappointed with me… that wound had no shield.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but that distraction gave the Devil his opening.
In a flash, his hand shot forward, gripping my weapon. He wrenched it free and tossed it aside like it were nothing more than a toy.
I arched a brow, a spark of irritation flaring. “I can materialize it right back into my hold.”
“And I’ll take it again,” he replied, tone maddeningly calm.
He stepped in—too close—and I caught the scent of him: scorched sugar and smoke, like burned marshmallows. My stomach twisted. Not in hunger. Not exactly. But in that strange bloom of heat low in my belly, a void that wasn’t empty but… waiting.
It wasn’t the usual pain of my curse, the consuming hunger that clawed through me. This was quieter. Warmer. Worse.
“Let me go,” I said under my breath, tugging at my arm. There was no give.
His grip didn’t tighten. He didn’t need to. He simply held. Dominant, unmoving, like a mountain watching an avalanche try to push it.
So I did what I knew: dropped my weight and bent my knees, aiming to flip him over my shoulder like I had once before.
For a moment, it almost worked.
He staggered, just slightly, and I stumbled into him.
He caught me.
One hand moved to my hip, locking me in place. The other released my wrist, as if to grant me some illusion of freedom.
“You and your absurd strength,” he muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself.
Then, with unsettling ease, he slipped his arms beneath mine—hands under my pits—and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My boots left the ground.
“You almost had me,” he said.
The admittance pleased me, and I couldn’t help but smile smugly.
He lowered me just enough that my feet touched stone again, though his hands lingered for a breath too long. A deception that he was letting me retreat. Before I could step away, he grabbed me again and carried me against his chest. My palms slapped against his hot flesh.
I stared up at him, breath shallow, heart pounding.
Not from fear.
From something far more dangerous.
His steps were slow but purposeful, each one echoing like a silent threat across the stone floor. I’d expected a smug remark, another verbal jab meant to put me back in my place—but nothing came.
And that was…strange.
I tilted my head slightly to study his face. The harsh, beautiful lines of it were set tighter than usual. His jaw clenched. His mouth was pulled in a firm line, unreadable. But what unsettled me most was his tail—no lashing, no tapping, no flicking. Still as death.
What just happened?
I almost asked, but the words lodged in my throat. Maybe it was guilt gnawing at me for trying to flip him, or maybe it was because the silence felt so fragile that speaking might shatter something I didn’t understand.
So I settled for the smallest of frowns as I continued to watch him.
He didn’t glance my way, but the tension in his brow deepened, and for a flicker of a second, I swore I saw…something.
Worry?
No way.
He disappeared twice earlier—once right after I’d wandered off and again after he’d killed that monster pretending to be my father. That wasn’t a coincidence. Something had rattled him.
And if the Devil was rattled…that wasn’t good for any of us.
I scowled, trying not to squirm in his arms. “You could’ve let me walk.”
“I could’ve,” he agreed, not sounding the least bit apologetic.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he held me like I weighed nothing, like he wasn’t restraining an enemy—but something…other. I didn’t like the way that thought made my heart stutter.
A sharp throb swirled low in my stomach unexpectedly, and I tensed all over again.
“You were picking a fight. It’s not going to change your punish—”
He froze, eyes locking on mine. His pupils constricted like a predator catching a scent.
Something flickered across his expression—something raw and unreadable.
His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but then clamped shut.
His brows pinched together, gaze dragging to my mouth and lingering far too long.
My breath hitched before I could stop it.
A strange tension fell between us as his lips parted. I swore an inferno, much like the one beneath the crack of his skin, blazed in his reddened stare…
Then I faded, reappearing behind him. I kicked him in the back and sent him sailing a few feet. He disappeared midair. My leg didn’t get the chance to drop before he was there, grabbing me at the bend of my knees. He pulled me into his chest and cradled me there. Again.
Even through my clothes, I could feel how warm his chest was and tensed. “What’s your problem?”
“I thought, for a second—” His mouth snapped shut, then curled as he wrinkled his nose. “What I thought was impossible."
“And why do you keep carrying me this way?”
“Don’t worry, Kitten. You’ll still get your punishment.”
My stomach churned. What was my punishment involving his tail going to be?
I hated the thought that fear was creeping back in—not from his strength, not even from the unpredictable nature of his power—but from the possibility that he sensed something I didn’t want him to. Something I hadn’t even admitted to myself.
I clamped down on the emotion rising in my throat and forced a scoff. “So dramatic. You act like punishing me is the highlight of your eternal existence.”
“It’s certainly the most entertaining thing I’ve had in centuries,” he said dryly, though something in his tone had softened—just slightly.
His steps were slow, deliberate as he carried me back toward his sanctum. I didn’t fight him again. I wasn’t sure if I was too drained, too confused, or just…too aware of how close we were. I kept my hands pinned to my lap, refusing to touch him, even accidentally.
My skin still burned in places I didn’t want to acknowledge.
As we reached the door, I dared a glance up at his face. His expression wasn’t smug. It wasn’t cold, either. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight line.
I frowned. “Something happened.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set me down on my feet gently, too gently for the monster he was supposed to be.
“I took care of it,” he said at last, cryptic as ever.
That didn’t ease the tension brewing in my chest, but maybe it wasn’t from danger. Maybe it was from something far more confusing.
Something I couldn’t escape, even in Hell.
“My family,” I started, and his head bent. His large horns strangely caught my attention as I asked. “Are they why you keep disappearing?”
“They’ll never be able to enter,” he said plainly, jaw ticking slightly. “Do you need another opportunity to say goodbye? I feel like you’ve had a lot.”
“Don’t you worry about my goodbyes. There’s no need,” I said defiantly. “I’m more curious about what you’ve been doing.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Your family isn’t the only one trying to get in.”
“Harvest?”
“I’m showing you a mercy my creation never will if he gets ahold of you.”
Yes, but why? Why was I stuck with the Dark One? If Harvest was trying to get to me and the Devil was preventing it, why? The idea was confusing as it was unsettling. Why would Harvest going after me upset the Devil?
“A mercy?” I wanted to laugh.
But my voice caught in my throat. I was too aware of the heat he radiated. And worse? How none of it hurt. How his presence quieted my curse. How easy it was to breathe around him, when everything inside me should’ve been screaming.
He finally looked at me, those ember-red eyes watching too closely. “Yes. Mercy.”
“Right. Because dragging me to Hell, locking me in a cell, and threatening me with your tail is merciful,” I deadpanned.
“I haven’t even begun to show you what I’m capable of,” he said, not as a threat but as a grim fact.
I narrowed my eyes. “You want control. That’s it.”
“Harvest doesn’t ask for permission. He takes. He’d kill you without batting an eye. So, yes, I am a mercy.”