Chapter Fifteen #3
The way he said that name… It was the only time I ever sensed something close to true hatred in his voice. Not annoyance. Not amusement. Just cold, ancient loathing.
“So, what? You hate him more than you hate me?” I asked.
The Devil was silent. Then, in that slow, impossibly low voice, he answered, “He wants to ruin what’s mine.”
I blinked. What’s mine. The words settled in my chest like a stone dropped in still water. My brain rejected them. My heart betrayed me.
I took a step back. “I’m not--”
“You are here,” he interrupted. “And that makes you mine.”
There was no passion in the claim. No warmth. Just an undeniable truth, stated like gravity. I didn’t know if it was because I was his prisoner, his mate, or something worse. But the way he said it sent my pulse skittering.
“You’re disgusting,” I muttered, though my voice lacked bite.
His mouth quirked. “I’ve never pretended otherwise.”
Then his gaze flicked to the side, toward the door that led to his sanctum—like he was already done with the conversation. Like my soul wasn’t currently trying to claw its way out of my body to make sense of him.
“And if Harvest gets in?” I asked, voice quieter now. “What happens to me?”
His eyes met mine once more—unblinking, unyielding.
“I won’t let him hurt what belongs to me.”
I didn’t say a word.
“You learned I might be your mark recently,” the Devil began. “I’ve carried the knowledge in my head since you were a babe. I had plenty of chances to kill you as a child. Spent a good portion of my time trying to find ways to subdue you for an eternity or stop your immortality.”
My eyes bulged, even though he had already told me before he wanted me dead. But finding ways to subdue me? “Did you find a way?”
He grunted. “I had enough resources to put you to sleep forever, but your father discovered me returning to the woods and put an end to it before I could.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re a mercy compared to Harvest after admitting that?” Unbelievable. I could only gape at the Dark One. “I’m supposed to be thankful I’m not trapped in another curse—one of sleep.”
It was a constant shock to the system that I actually felt attraction to him. How disappointing to learn I was becoming a victim of Stockholm Syndrome.
He turned quickly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he gestured to me. “Would you stop? I told you I can’t stand that face.”
“What face?” I asked, folding my arms.
“Disgust. Anger.” He tossed a hand up in frustration. “It’s hard to tell anymore. You cycle through both constantly.”
“You mention my looks every time you get uncomfortable.”
It was his turn to be still.
“Yeah,” I said, catching the shift. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You don’t know how to handle me. So you deflect.”
“I don’t deflect,” he snapped, but his tail lashed sharply behind him. A dead giveaway.
“You just told me you planned to put me to sleep for eternity,” I said, voice flattening. “And now I’m…what, supposed to feel flattered that I’m locked in Hell with you instead?”
“I didn’t say that,” he growled.
“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I challenged. “For me to see you as the lesser evil.”
A long silence passed. His hands dropped to his sides. His expression shifted—less fury, more fatigue.
“I never said I wanted to be your better option,” he said finally. “Only that I am.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel safe?”
“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to make you accept your fate.”
My stomach turned, not because of fear—but because, deep down, I already knew I was trapped. Not just here in this domain, in this cell, in his grasp—but somewhere deeper. The pull between us, the curse that tethered us. And worse—my own cursed body, which wasn’t rejecting him anymore. Not fully.
I hated that I understood his point.
Still, I squared my shoulders. “You may be the one keeping Harvest out, but you’re not a savior.”
His gaze flicked to mine, eyes unreadable. “I don’t want to be.”
His jaw ticked when I said nothing. “Enough with the expressions!”
So, I made sure to deepen my scowl.
His brow arched. “Would you rather I had put you to sleep back then?”
“Maybe it would have been better,” I spat angrily. “But no, what I want is for you to stop punishing me for something you caused. You cursed us. You marked us.”
He said nothing as he resumed walking, his silence speaking volumes.
I pushed, “I want you to let me go. I need to help my family.”
“They can’t stop this,” he said flatly. “They never could.”
My heart sank. “Then let me try. If you’re so sure you’re going to win, what’s it matter?”
His voice thundered in reply, hitting me like a blow to the chest. “Accept it. This is where you belong…until you are no more.”
Heat flared behind my eyes. Anger spread through me like poison, bitter and burning. I clenched my fists and stared him down. There was no point arguing with someone who’d already written my fate for me. But I’d prove him wrong. Somehow.
Once we entered his sanctum, he strode to the bed and tossed me onto it. Not roughly, but with enough force to remind me that I didn’t get a choice.
My brows furrowed in confusion, but before I could speak, he muttered, “Don’t think about fading. If I have to chase you, I’ll get creative.”
He crossed his arms with a smirk, standing like he had all the time in the world to watch me squirm. His tail flopped onto the bed beside me, massive and coiling.
I stiffened.
It moved toward me with the slow deliberation of something alive—and aware. The sheer size of it made my stomach churn. Did he make it that way on purpose? Or had Hell warped him so completely even his body bent to its will?
I scrambled backward, chest tight. All of my earlier bravado drained. Maybe he couldn’t touch me in the way he once could, but there were…other ways. Other horrors.
Bile rose in my throat. I’d rescued enough women to know how far some creatures would go to assert dominance.
The Devil sighed like I’d just insulted his intelligence. “Your thoughts are plain on your face, Kitten,” he said, sounding almost bored. “What you’re imagining? It’d kill you. And I don’t want that.”
Then his tone darkened, a grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “But making you uncomfortable? That, I enjoy.”
He wasn’t trying to violate me. He was trying to get in my head. And damn it, it was working. Except… not quite how he expected.
The panic ebbed, replaced by reluctant calm. He wasn’t going to hurt me. Not like that. And yet, he was still punishing me. The tail slowly wrapped around my body in a tight, snake-like coil. My arms, my legs—pinned. I couldn’t move an inch.
I stared up at the ceiling and tried to steady my breathing. I didn’t want him touching me. But being restrained like this—with no threat of worse—somehow soothed me. I hated that.
“Sleep,” he ordered, his voice losing some of its edge as he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me.
I blinked. “I thought this was punishment.”
“It is.”
I tried wiggling. My shoulders, my arms—everything was held firmly in place. I hated sleeping like this. I liked to sprawl.
But then something unexpected happened. A thicker part of his tail curled beneath my head, lifting it just enough to cradle it like a pillow. Another small shift tucked me slightly to the side—an ideal position for sleep.
So he was punishing me… with forced comfort.
I closed my eyes, too exhausted to resist any longer. And within seconds, darkness pulled me under.