He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as though marshaling an extreme amount of patience. “No. There is no devil.” He gazed up again, a charming smile playing about his lips. “I understand this must be confusing for you. I will leave you as soon as you do what I ask.”
She crossed her arms. “Look, I have a little memory problem. I don’t know anything about the first fifteen years of my life. You may have heard of me; it was all over the news after I turned up in a burning church in London. The tabloids called me the Mystery Girl.” Wherever the scar had come from, that was a secret only Former Ursula could unravel. Not the clueless, unemployed girl trying to eat bread and butter for dinner.
“Mystery Girl? Never heard of you.” He studied her carefully, the candlelight flickering over his smooth, golden skin. “I can tell you this. Emerazel is not the devil. Some mortals call her that, but she is a goddess. Her domain is the volcanic magma in the center of the earth and, when angered, she destroys cities. She is neither good nor evil. She is love, power, rage, and light. You cannot fight her. You cannot win this.” All signs of softness left his face, and his gaze grew fierce, almost feral. “Do not fight her, and do not fight me. You will not win.”
The hair rose on the back of her neck. “Right. According to the crazy bloke who followed me home and broke into my house, I owe my soul to an all-powerful goddess of rage and power.” She clamped her hands on her hips, trying to ignore the chill running up her spine. “I’m not signing your stupid paper.”
“That’s really a shame.” Kester tilted his head, almost apologetic. “Then I must reap your soul for Emerazel now.”
Ursula forced a smile onto her face. “Whatever that means, it’s not happening either.” She grabbed the tea candles from the counter, flicking the hot wax in his face.
Kester hardly flinched.
Her panic rising, she grabbed the cast-iron skillet and swung for his head. He reached up to block it, and it slammed against his arm with a crunch. He emitted a low, inhuman growl that rumbled through her gut. As he glared at her, eyes blazing bright green, his forearm swung down at an awkward angle, a mangled mess that should have had him screaming in agony.
She steadied her breath. “I’m not signing your devil’s pact tonight. I don’t care if you work for Satan, or Emerazel, or if you’ve escaped from a psychiatric hospital. I’m not giving up my soul. Whoever you are, you need to leave now before I shatter your skull.”
Kester’s eyes slid to his arm, and he whispered softly—words at once strange and familiar. A chill licked up Ursula’s spine.
She stared as Kester’s arm straightened with a cracking sound. With the arm fully repaired, he raised his hand again, wiggling his fingers.
Her heart skipped a beat, and the word demon rang in her head again.
“That really hurt.” His eyes, now the color of blood, met hers.
Her mind screamed, Not human!
He unleashed a low growl that trembled over her skin, and she became keenly aware of each of her breaths.
He lunged for her. Instantly, she brought her knee up and into his chest, redirecting his momentum into the cabinets next to the kitchen counter. Wood splintered with the impact.
He started to stand, but she kicked him in the head. Her boot shattered his nose, spraying blood on the kitchen tile. He fell back holding his face.
“Ursula,” he purred, slowly getting to his feet. His eyes wild, he unleashed a wicked set of claws from his fingertips, and Ursula’s mind screamed with panic. He pressed the end of the pen, and a thin blade protruded from one end. “You should have signed.”
He moved so fast she didn’t have time to react before he’d pinned her against the wall, gripping her wrists in one hand. The tips of his claws tore her skin, and a low growl escaped his throat, rumbling through her core.
His teeth—his fangs—lengthened, and he pressed in closer, leaving no room for her to kick him. Cold fear stole her breath as she struggled to free her wrists, but this freak was terrifyingly strong. What is he?
He leaned in closer, his breath warming her skin. His eyes roamed down her body, and candlelight flickered off his pen’s sharp blade. “It’s a shame you’re going to make me do this. There’s something about you I like.”
She tried to yank her wrists free. “You don’t have to do anything. You can just leave me alone.” She could hardly breathe. This was it—the last few moments of her life. What do I say about a sad life like mine? She was nothing—a complete loser. No family, no job, no money, no future. Her whole life was just a name, a date, and a piece of paper…
A trial.
Ursula, you idiot.
“I request a trial,” she breathed into his neck.
Surprise flickered across his beautiful features, and his fangs retracted. “What did you say?”
“A trial,” she said more firmly.
Still pinning her to the wall, he clenched his jaw. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” His eyes returned to their emerald green color, and he began muttering in that strange language again. His words transfixed her, soothing her racing heart. A strange sense of calm flooded her body, until her world began to dim.
Chapter 4