Chapter Twenty-Four
Kara
It was showtime.
I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. Cool air hit my chest, and my nipples pebbled instantly. The burns had faded to a tender pink. I cupped my left breast, squeezing gently as I met the Dark One’s stare.
His shoulders dropped slightly. It was obvious he was watching. Devouring.
I searched for his tail. I’d learned that thing was the most honest part of him, writhing and twitching when his voice and face betrayed nothing. But I didn’t see it. Not even a flicker. That appendage was massive. There was no way it could easily hide.
“You hid your tail,” I murmured, lowering my hand. So, he’d changed his appearance again. For me? Had he altered himself because I once said I hated it?
Interesting.
He leaned forward. “Do you need help undressing?”
Ah. So, he wouldn’t address it.
Fine.
I turned around slowly, giving him my back—and the perfect view. My fingers slipped beneath the edge of my panties. I tugged them down, shaking my hips for good measure. When I bent over to step out of them, I knew exactly what I was offering him: a full view of my ass and the tease of more.
The chair creaked behind me.
Peeking between my legs, I ran my palms down the backs of my thighs and watched him.
The horned devil braced his elbows on his knees. His jaw was tight, and his red eyes glowed. .
“Is this a game to you?” he asked, voice low and unreadable.
I straightened, turning to face him. He looked as still as a statue, but something crackled beneath his skin.
It was a shame I couldn’t see that tail. I had a feeling it would have told me everything. But the way he leaned toward me, practically hanging off the edge of his seat, gave him away. He was interested.
I smiled, amusement blooming inside me. “I’m dirty. Look at all this grime.” I gestured lazily down my body. “Just excited to clean off.”
Those impressive eyes locked onto mine, glowing like coals ready to catch fire. “Do you think I’m the kind of monster you should play with, Kitten?”
Yes, actually, I did.
I turned to face the tub, hiding the twist of amusement pulling at my mouth.
“Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom,” he continued. “You don’t seem to fear me enough.”
Oh, I feared him. Just not in the way he wanted.
The Devil kept me safe. That truth alone should have scared me more than anything.
He protected me from Harvest, fed me, cradled me—touched me like I was something precious.
But the real danger wasn’t physical. It was emotional.
It was the way I responded to him in his domain, the way my body leaned into his presence, the way I forgot who he was every time he looked at me like that.
No wonder my family tried to shield me. I was out here trying to tame the monster in the dark.
Well, maybe not tame. Not anymore.
Using his interest against him might not be friendly, but it wasn’t exactly Stockholm syndrome either. I still planned to escape. I still knew who he was. I still hated his obsession with watching the world burn—and his resentment for my family.
He waited for them to fade away.
And I planned to stop anyone from crossing over when the portal opened—him, Harvest, all of them.
We were enemies, and that truth stayed rooted in me.
Still…standing naked in front of him?
That part was no hardship.
I twisted the faucet, testing the water temperature. Since the tub didn’t exist before, the Devil must have conjured it. Honestly? He appeared to run Hell, along with his entire domain, off raw power. That was impressive.
Steadily channeling power like that would exhaust me—or any of my siblings. It took longer with my brothers (they would never admit it), but fatigue always came. Would the Devil feel that? Would he get tired?
A cool touch brushed my hip. I jerked, then noticed a small table had appeared beside the tub—piled high with fruit…and Slim Jims. So, he was feeding me again.
These were the kinds of punishments I didn’t mind.
I wasn’t about to tell him I liked it—not until after my soak. If he got pissed about my enjoying his so-called torment, he might take it away.
His knowledge of my thing for Slim Jims should’ve worried me more than it did. How did he even know that? Did he have eyes in Grim’s woods?
“Your curse,” he said.
I stepped into the tub.
“You’re not acting like the glutton you are.”
“That’s bold of you—assuming I’m a glutton because I’m cursed,” I muttered, knowing full well I was, in fact, a total glutton.
I popped a strawberry into my mouth as I sank into the hot water. A sigh escaped me, half pleasure, half relief. Then I tore into a Slim Jim and let out another breathy sound as I chewed.
Not punishment.
“Wash, then eat,” he said, voice low, throaty—yet still laced with that ethereal timbre I’d grown used to.
The chair screeched as he dragged it closer, sliding it across the stone until he could rest his elbows on the edge of the porcelain. Close enough that his hands could dip into the water if he wanted.
I materialized a loofah and a bottle of body wash. Popping the lid, I shoved it toward his face. “Coconut scent. Do you like it?”
Then I remembered.
“Oh. Right. You can’t smell.”
The Devil took the bottle from me anyway, squeezed a generous amount of soap out onto my loofah. As I lathered, building up suds, he murmured:
“What do you smell like?”
I froze. My gaze lifted to the towering monster across from me.
Even sitting, he loomed. His presence demanded attention. His gaze wasn’t locked on any place in particular. It jumped around as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on.
Maybe he was …lonely?
Was that why I was here?
Maybe it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that he hadn’t had warmth—or touch—in so long, he was unraveling. Maybe I was a placeholder. Maybe he needed someone to see him, touch him, fuck him.
I didn’t pity him for losing his senses over time, but it had to suck. Existing without the very things that made existence worthwhile.
Still…nothing about this was about me. Not Kara. Not the girl.
It was my last name… my bloodline… revenge.
The Devil didn’t steal me because he wanted me. He did it to get back at my father—for being the good guy.
The truth settled in my chest like a stone.
Tight. Uncomfortable. Heavy.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, rubbing the spot between my breasts, like it would make the discomfort ease. “I can’t smell myself. Oh, Hades. Now I’m curious. What if I’m stinking up Hell during my stay? You should probably let me go.”
His brows straightened into a line. “It wouldn’t matter. I can’t smell you, regardless.”
Once the water was deep enough, I dunked my head. Through the water, I thought I saw him looming over the tub, only to resurface and find him in the same spot. Slowly, I scrubbed my skin clean and let the next thought leave my lips on a whim. “You smell like burned marshmallows.”
He stiffened, then dragged his claws across the edge of the tub. “Do you like burned marshmallows?”
A tunnel of heat channeled through me, especially between my legs. Such a simple question, but my body reacted as if there was a carnal edge in his tone. “No,” I lied.
“I think you’re lying, Kitten.” He took the loofah from me. “Lean forward.”
I sat up, my nipples pebbled and skin red from the hot water.
With one hand, he bent my arm out, curling his hands over mine almost tenderly.
He used his other to brush the loofah down my elbow and forearm, slowly creating suds everywhere he cleaned.
The tension turned into a single throb within my clit.
My lips parted. The monster tended to me so softly.
I wanted to mess with him, but it seemed I was being toyed with instead.
No matter, because I felt every tremble in his hands, even if he couldn’t.
I saw the enrapt focus he had on me and how hard his chest heaved.
Then those bright eyes dimmed as he bent my arm and held up my fingers for inspection. “You’re a little glutton. Of course, you like food. There was nothing else I meant by the question, so don’t lie to me.”
The throb became more, an insistent thrum slipping into my pussy.
I pressed my legs together as he lowered my arm into the water and reached for the other.
He repeated the process. When he cleaned between my fingers, I threaded our digits together, squeezing the loofah between our palms. Suds erupted from the gaps.
The contrast of his claws and broken otherworldly skin against mine was alluring.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes suddenly hooded.
“I think my hands are clean,” I whispered, and my voice sounded throaty to me.
The Devil jerked his arm away and dipped it into the water.
The loofah brushed against the top of my thigh, and it was like an electric zap hit me in the core.
I jolted, barely stopping myself from spreading my legs apart.
He dragged the sponge up my hip, holding my gaze.
My stomach fluttered, something ginormous building there as he moved until he reached my right breast. The scrubber had gotten so bunched in his large palm; all I felt was his scalding touch.
It felt intentional as he palmed my boob, like the monster tested the weight in his palm.
Then he rolled my nipples between his fingers, and my essence burst out around me.
A gasp tumbled from my lips. My desire was all-consuming; an avalanche of sparks that I lit with a match, uncaring of the aftermath.
I just wanted to be crushed by the maddening pulse.
And within that sinful need for the Devil himself blazing through me, I saw the man within the monster. How badly he unraveled. How tightly he gripped the edge of the tub while handling me with the other. His red gaze burned bright again, and he looked a blink away from lunging.
“You want me,” I said, voice raw with my own wants. “And I think it devastates you.”
His trembling stopped. I’d frozen him in place once more.