Chapter 4 #2
I shot a glare at his broad back, my brain warring between the concept that there was no way this could be happening and the idea that this very much was happening and I needed to move. ‘Are you asking me to narrow down my life to a collection of items in the space of ten minutes?’
‘Seven minutes now, actually.’ Damien ran his finger along my necklaces hanging on the jewelry holder. ‘You’re not great at time management, are you, love?’
I stared, unblinking. ‘There’s no way this is real. Literally no way in Hell.’
‘Mmm, that’s where you’re wrong. See, I’m only here because of Hell.’ Damien shot me a dark look over his shoulder. ‘You still haven’t answered my question. What do you need?’
Deep breaths. I just had to take deep breaths and everything would be fine. Maybe the best thing to do would be to go along with whatever he was saying, and figure a way out after. Grace, though… ‘Do you promise Grace will be okay?’
He turned, stuffing his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side. A glimmer of the man I met on the trail was back, leaving me wonder which side was real. ‘You have my word.’
‘I don’t know you well enough to know if your word is trustworthy. You are currently kidnapping me.’
A dark brow raised. ‘Don’t get it twisted, love. This is entirely consensual. And in Hell, all we have is our word. I promise you. Your sister will want for nothing. Now.’ He looked down at his watch. ‘You have approximately five and a half minutes left. What. Do. You. Need?’
For a kidnapper, Damien seemed oddly concerned I had everything I could need in my new home, and I couldn’t quite put the two concepts together.
‘That shirt you picked up. The one you sneered at. It was my dad’s.
I’m not leaving without that.’ I thought for a second, filing my life down into a list of necessities. ‘And Archie. Archie has to come, too.’
‘Archie.’ Damien’s voice was dry, and if his eyebrows raised any higher, they were going to fly off his face altogether. ‘And pray tell, Stella, who is Archie?’
‘Archie is my cat. I’m not going anywhere without him. He’s sleeping in the living room right now.’ Shame, too, because if he was here now, I was certain Damien would have a few new scratches on that perfect face of his.
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘A cat. You want to bring a cat to my house. Can’t your sister—’
‘No. Archie is my cat.’ I crossed my arms, giving my glare every ounce of anger currently flooding my veins. I needed something to remind me of home. ‘Do you have a problem with animals?’
‘Not animals. Just cats.’ He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. ‘Fine. Go get the damn cat. The falling-apart shirt and a cat. Why not? Most people would grab their jewelry, or their diary, but I have to go for the one woman who wants a scrap of fabric and a cat—’
Damien didn’t appear to be talking to me, so I slid out of bed and flung open my bedroom door with a glare. For a moment, I considered racing down to Grace’s room, dragging her out of the apartment with me, but I really didn’t know how fast Damien was and—
‘A cat. Of all the fucking things.’ He finally met my gaze with a shake of his head. ‘Don’t bother going to your sister’s room. She’s not going to wake up, and you’ll just piss me off for not listening. Go get your damn cat and we’ll leave.’
I rolled my eyes and stalked off toward the living room. Archie gave me a perturbed meow when I picked him up off the couch, my arms filled with his fluffy, white fur.
‘Shush,’ I whispered, holding him close until he settled. ‘I don’t know where we’re going, but it’s going to be fine. I promise.’
I stomped back to my bedroom, only to see Damien slouched in my armchair again, fingertips pressed against his temples like he had a headache. Good. I hoped he did. I planned on giving him a headache every day he kept me hostage.
Snatching the soft shirt from my still-open drawer, I cleared my throat.
‘I’m ready.’
Damien peeked out from beneath his hand. ‘What the fuck is that?’
‘Archie. If we’re going, let’s go. I want to get this over with.’ I huffed and held Archie closer to my chest.
If I had to describe Damien’s expression in one word, it would be horrified. ‘That’s not actually Archie, is it?’
I sniffed. ‘Well, his full name is Sir Archibald of the House Whittier if you must know. And I’m not going anywhere without him.’
‘You told me you were getting a cat. Not a beast from Hell.’
My eyes widened. ‘How dare you. Archie is a cat. He’s a Maine Coon.’ I gave Archie a reassuring pet, whispering, ‘Don’t listen to him. You’re perfect and beautiful.’
‘Love, I created the creatures in Hell. I’m going to recognize one when I see it. And that thing is not a fucking feline.’ The fingertips went back to his temples, desperately pressing into the skin there.
‘If you want me to come with you willingly, then Archie is coming, too.’ I stood, shoulders back, unwilling to back down.
After what felt like a century, Damien raised his eyes to mine. I expected to see reluctance, maybe even surrender. What I wasn’t expecting to see was the challenge flashing brightly. Something in his gaze sent a simmering heat through me, slow and steady.
‘Fine.’ He got to his feet, stalking over to me, and for the first time, I was acutely aware of just how much he towered over me. He was overwhelmingly big.
I tipped my head back so as not to break his gaze. Something in me, some instinct I’d long since forgotten, told me not to be the first to break. Luckily for me, I was a pro at holding myself together.
So when Damien offered me his arm with no explanation, I took it. When my room disappeared, a void of nothingness surrounding us, I refused to let myself show an ounce of fear.
And when the world finally came back to, leaving us standing in an overly cold and ornate room, despite a fireplace burning gently in the corner, I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
‘I expected more from Hell.’