Grabbing the edges of my shirt, I lifted it over my head.
His eyes smoldered, and I swear the flames in them brightened as he watched me. “And the bra,” he said.
“This isn’t a strip tease.”
His lips curved up, but he didn’t argue with me, so I didn’t bother removing the bra. If he really wanted me to remove the garment, then we’d just have to duke it out.
Despite my words, this felt exactly like a strip tease. I could feel the touch of his gaze the entire time I changed. Only once I’d tugged the dress over my head did he resume undressing himself.
He pulled off his socks. “You might as well get comfortable changing in front of me. We’ll be doing a lot more than just that very, very soon.”
I bit back my fear. He hadn’t tried anything yet, but he was the devil, the lord of the Underworld. Give him enough time and he would.
He turned away from me to retrieve a new shirt from a dresser adjacent to my own.
I sucked in a breath.
His back was the only part of him that lacked any sort of perfection. Two painful looking scars sliced down either side of his spine.
Where wings once were. This thing had once been an angel.
The flesh was stained a burgundy color, and it didn’t lay flat. Broken bone and scar tissue rested beneath it.
Without meaning to, I crossed the room and reached out.
“Don’t.”
I ignored him—never a wise move—and ran my fingertips over the lumpy, discolored tissue. He shuddered but didn’t stop me.
Vulnerable. He was definitely being vulnerable, and it was doing strange things to our connection, like urging me even closer.
“These look like they still hurt,” I said.
“Sometimes they do.”
I ran my palm over them, and whether unconsciously or not, the devil tilted his head back under my touch, his hair brushing against my face.
He swiveled and caught my hand. Bringing it up to his nose, he breathed in my scent.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked, staring at our entwined hands.
“What makes you think I’m being nice?” At his words, the atmosphere in the room changed completely. Now he felt like a threat.
I pulled my hand from his grip and backed away.
Faster than I could react, he grabbed my chin, squeezing it tightly.
He stared at me long enough for me to squirm. Long enough for me to realize that he was the devil, and my soulmate, and I was trapped in a room with him.
Our connection throbbed. I’d felt that familiar pulse before, I knew that what usually followed was something physical. In this, I was more knowledgeable than the devil.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. A moment later, I felt his lips brush mine. I could only barely taste the brimstone on them.
His free hand angled my head towards him.
“Kiss me back, my queen,” he said, his lips moving against mine.
I shook my head.
“You think I won’t punish your vampire for more than just your infidelity? The moment you displease me, I swear to you I will.”
A shudder worked its way through my body.
So that was how it was going to be.
If Andre were here, he would’ve told me to fight the devil, no matter what might happen to him. That was what soulmates did, they protected each other. And I’d always protect him, regardless of the personal cost.
My stomach churned as my lips began to move against the devil’s.
Wrong, wrong, wrong! my mind screamed, but my connection seemed to approve. As did the siren.
Traitorous bitch.
The devil’s hold on my chin softened. The kiss lasted far too long, and I felt dirty from the inside out.
Finally he broke away, and I gasped out a breath as his lips left mine. He looked breathtaking, which only made me feel more conflicted. His face was one you should trust, one that you wanted to forgive of any wrongdoing because he appeared incapable of it. It would be so easy to give in to that pull, and if I lived here long enough, without anyone but the devil and his demons to keep me company, it might happen.
No. Fight for your humanity, Gabrielle. Don’t let him have that last part of you.
“You’ve given me human urges, consort. They’re weaknesses, but I can’t say I regret them.” His thumb skimmed over my lower lip. “Not at all.”
Chapter 11
Gabrielle
Ten minutes later we entered the dining room. Two place settings had been set out at the end of the table, along with trays full of an assortment of breakfast items. It’d been over twenty-four hours since the devil took me. In all that time, I hadn’t slept. The urge to had disappeared along with my mortality.
The urge to eat, however, had not. I hungered more now than I ever had—for food, for blood, for violence, for power. It was just one more twisted aspect of who I now was.
Our chairs had been angled so that we could face each other while we ate. I slid into my chair. A plate of French toast had already been placed in front of my seat. Hades also had a plate of steak and eggs waiting for him.