Chapter Three
The flames of Hell warmed Skye’s skin, familiar yet suffocating, as she sifted herself and Remi out of the Earthly plane.
Remi stumbled back as they magically rematerialized in her bedroom. “Where are we?” he asked, his eyes wide as he turned in place, taking in the large canopy bed with black silk sheets, the blood-red walls, and dark mahogany furniture. Firelight illuminated every inch of the room.
Skye liked to lean into the human stereotypes of her kind. It made their reactions more fun.
“Welcome to Hell,” Skye said with a wave of her hand.
Remi’s gaze jerked to her. “Hell? We’re really in Hell? This is—you are?” He kept stuttering half-formed questions.
Skye forced her inviting and friendly smile to remain in place, despite her disdain that wanted to melt it away.
She always became impatient with this part of making a bargain.
When the shock took over and everything became real for her prey.
She hated dealing with a human’s emotions.
They were unpredictable and messy. Sticky and disgusting.
Things like fear and grief and insecurity had no logic or sense.
They were amorphous things that couldn’t be contained or reasoned with.
Nothing like the seven emotions that demons experienced. Anger had a cause. Lust and gluttony had an objective. Jealousy and greed provided a focus. Pride and sloth were simple motivations. Manageable. Understandable. Most importantly, within her immediate control.
“You’re really a demon?” Remi asked, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead.
Skye nodded and sauntered over to her bookshelf, adding an extra swing to her step in order to activate the part of his subconscious that she’d indoctrinated in his dreams to react to her body with lust. Reason retired when humans slept, making it the perfect state for them to be susceptible to suggestion.
She plucked her crystal ball from the top shelf of her bookcase and turned. Remi’s eyes darted up to her face from where they’d been lingering on her backside. It could have been her tail that drew his attention, or her ass.
Most likely both.
Good.
She walked toward him. Remi backed up with robotic steps until the backs of his knees hit her bed, and he tumbled into a seated position.
Skye tracked the way his heartbeat quickened with her demon hearing.
“My name is Skye Monroe,” she said. “And yes, I’m a demon. This is Hell. You aren’t dreaming.” She pinched his arm.
“Ouch.” His brows furrowed as he rubbed his arm. The shock that had widened his eyes moments before morphed into confusion as he narrowed his gaze at her.
“Now that that’s out of the way. Let’s get to the fun part, yes?” She flourished the crystal ball in front of him, but he didn’t look at it, keeping his steady gaze on her face.
“What do you want?” Remi asked with far too much suspicion for Skye’s liking.
“I told you. I’m going to make you a rock star,” she purred, leaning into her hip.
His gaze finally dropped to the crystal ball in her hands.
“Would you like to see what I can do for you?” She waved her hand over the crystal ball to move the magic inside, but he shook his head.
“No.” He got up and pushed past her to stand in the center of the room. “I don’t want to see anything. I want to know what you want. You’re not going to give me something for nothing, are you? So skip the car salesman routine and name the price.”
Skye bit back her irritated sigh. She’d spent so much time gathering intel and weaving herself into his dreams to lower his defenses.
Typical humans were like soft clay, moldable to her demon magic, but Remi’s onyx encasement around his soul must extend to his prey instincts too.
She’d need to work around his own protective logic.
She sat down on the bed and put the crystal ball on her nightstand. She couldn’t get too discouraged. His soul was too powerful to walk away from.
“You’ve surely heard the stories, Remi,” she said, modulating her voice into a deep, seductive caress. “What price do rock stars typically pay to get devil magic to make them rich and famous?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want my soul?”
Skye put her arms out behind her on the bed, lounging back and thrusting her chest forward just a bit to make an appealing line of her body. “Yes.”
She blinked and shifted to using her demon vision. The onyx of his soul glimmered even brighter in Hell. It called to her, singing its tempting lullaby.
A soul had never been so enthralling. She gave him a little smile and fluttered her eyelashes. She curled a finger and beckoned him closer.
Remi licked his lips, following her unspoken instruction, his eyes wandering over her body, his tension loosening as he was pulled into her snare.
“I want you to sell your soul to me,” she said, slow enough to imbue her words with demon magic.
The bargain wouldn’t take if she used compulsion.
A soul had to be given freely. But a sprinkle of her demon magic to make her words sound better, sound less threatening, more enticing. Well, that never hurt anyone.
Remi drew closer, and she hooked her finger around the chain on his neck, pulling him in. “And in exchange, I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”
She ran a hand up his chest, and his eyes fluttered shut. His muscles gave out as she tugged him down to sit beside her on the bed. “Don’t you want that?” She hovered her lips near his ear. “Don’t you want what I can do for you?”
He swallowed, his body softening into her temptation. She was close to getting him to give in. She could feel it. Her soul lust almost blinded her. The scent of leather and the faint earthiness of the cigarette they’d shared was intoxicating. He was going to give in. She was close. Close. So close—
Remi snapped into a rigid posture. He pushed away from her and stepped back, leveling her with a glare that made her smile falter.
“Can you bring Emerson back to life?” he asked.
She pursed her lips. “No, I can’t bring the dead back.”
“Is he here? In Hell?” Remi asked. He glanced at the window where flames from a hellfire pit crested into view.
Skye shook her head. “It’s a myth that when humans die their souls go to Heaven or Hell. The Devil doesn’t have dominion over the afterlife. Neither does the Goddess.”
Remi poked his tongue to the inner corner of his mouth, playing with his lip ring. “So where is he? Where’s Emerson?”
Skye couldn’t stop her eye roll. “I don’t know.
I’m not your priest.” He was derailing the plan.
He’d been so compliant in his dreams—when she had finally been able to get into them—and with the flyer, she’d been sure that she’d burrowed deep enough into his psyche that he would trust her, give in to her, but he was proving far more resistant than she expected.
Remi crossed his arms. “If you can’t bring my brother back, then there is nothing you could offer me that I’d trade my soul for.”
Hellfire blazed in her veins as her indignation rose. Never in her twenty-five years had she met a human so infuriating. Certainly not after spending this long nurturing the lead.
Skye gritted her teeth and rubbed her thumb over the back of her right wrist, along the birthmark, which connected her to the Devil’s magic so she could complete soul bargains for him. It was the Devil’s mark that kept her under his control.
Blowing out a breath through her nose, she plastered on her most seductive smile and reached out to Remi, skating her hands under his denim jacket, holding his hips as she pulled him toward her.
His skin was warm under her fingertips. The rippling muscle along his back made an urge to dig her nails into his skin almost override the logic of her seduction.
She couldn’t force. Couldn’t hurt him. She needed to coax him with slow movements.
His face hardened, but his legs moved as she bid.
That was more like it.
She patted the spot beside her on the bed. He hesitated for a second, but then complied and sat down.
His blue eyes didn’t leave hers. The sharp angles of his face and his high cheekbones made him so pretty.
The long swoop of his black hair hung over one side.
Skye had never enjoyed the gathering intel phase of a soul bargain, but she hadn’t minded staring at Remi from afar.
He was even more beautiful up close. Seeing him through the haze of his dreams was nothing like the flesh and blood version of him.
It was a fight against her instincts just to keep her hands to herself.
They sat shoulder-to-shoulder. She couldn’t help but press into his lean body. She moved her wings so they weren’t against him, but her tail curled around his hips.
It was all part of the seduction, of course.
She needed to stoke his baser instincts. His lust broke down his defenses. His desire to be adored by millions of fans. His need to protect his bandmates.
Skye grabbed the crystal ball off her nightstand and held it in front of them. She waved a hand over it to direct the magic. Flames burst, and as they dissipated, they left in their place a future she was sure Remi would salivate over.
A dark stage. A stadium full of fans screaming as smoke rolls in. Four figures walk out, and the crowd erupts. Tension breaks as the lights shine down on Remi, West, Ollie, and Liam. Liam pounds out the beat. West and Ollie strum the first chords. Remi grabs the microphone and opens his mouth—
Skye burned the image to ash. “I could give you that,” she whispered. “And I could give you so much more.”
Remi’s eyes began to lose their veil of distrust. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, thinking.
“The path you’re on right now is not the one you want,” she said, fluttering her hand over the crystal ball. Flames burned through the time-space continuum and brought a glimpse of his current future within the glass orb.
Remi and Liam sitting on a beat-up couch, passing a bong between them. Disappointment and years of unfulfilled dreams aged their faces. Their bodies heavy with resentment and shame.
Another wave of her hand changed the image.