“Not at all. I’m just having a hard time believing that you would share your hard earned position as the leader of the damned with anyone, let alone me.” I wasn’t having a hard time believing it; I just plain didn’t believe it.
He ran a finger down my chest, stopping it only once it rested in the valley between my breasts. “You are much sharper than I expected,”—gee thanks—“but here I do think you’ve misinterpreted my intentions. I am not going to share my power with you, but you will not be a prisoner of hell. You will be my consort.”
I wanted to disbelieve his offer completely; I knew that’s what I should do. But it was the name I’d heard whispered for the past week that gave me pause. I’d been called the devil’s consort by other entities. Perhaps this was a genuine proposition.
I wandered over to a chaise with a suspicious stain on it to sit and think. Behind me the devil paced, the click of his heels jarring.
My skin prickled. The room was unnaturally cold, as though something as intangible as happiness had been sucked from the space.
I rubbed my arms and thought over the devil’s offer. Being a vampire meant that my soul would be damned—if it wasn’t already. And that meant a one-way ticket to hell. Only I wouldn’t be free; I’d be a prisoner.
If I agreed to the devil’s proposition, then the afterlife wouldn’t be as bad as the alternative. It would also mean that Leanne would live—if the devil spoke the truth. I doubted he did.
I thought of Leanne, poor, doomed Leanne. She’d made me swear to not give up my soul, not even if someone’s life was at stake. I hadn’t put the pieces together; I hadn’t realized that the someone she was talking about was herself.
I glanced at the red-brown stain on the chair. Choosing to be with the devil meant that I’d willingly choose this, this corruption of the soul. That I couldn’t do.
“No,” I said, making my decision.
The devil’s footsteps stopped clacking against the marble floor. There was something ominous about the silence that followed.
He turned on the balls of his feet, the soles of his Italian leather shoes screeching against the tile. The worst part of the silence was that he didn’t break it. His eyes bore into mine, but his hands stayed clasped behind his back and his legs were rooted firmly in place.
“No,” I repeated, ill at ease with the silence. The room seemed to swallow the sound.
“Come to me,” he finally said.
I didn’t move, partially because I hated taking orders and partially because I knew that getting any closer to him couldn’t lead to anything good.
Tremors began to rack my legs, moving upwards until my entire body shook.
“Come to me,” he repeated, his voice as calm as ever.
My teeth chattered from my trembling body. “No,” I managed to get out.
He sighed, as though I were a kid having a tantrum. He held out his hand and flicked his fingers.
My legs began moving of their own accord. I fought for control of my limbs, but I only succeeded in making my steps more halting and clumsy. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming from the sensation. In jerky steps I’d crossed the room until I stood in front of him.
“Was that really so hard?” he asked.
An angry tear slipped out of my cheek. He focused on it. “You’re crying. Here, let me.” He reached up, but rather than wiping away the tear, he backhanded me.
My head snapped back, my knees gave out, and I crumpled to the ground.
“You are being ridiculous. You will agree to my terms,” he insisted. He didn’t sound even mildly upset. Like all he was trying to do was slap some sense into me.
I rubbed my burning cheek. “I refuse your offer.”
He kicked me in the gut and I screamed. That brought a smile to his face. “How I enjoy a good lover’s quarrel.” He kicked me again, the pain lacerating my body and bringing tears to my eyes.
“I’m not your lover,” I said around the pain.
“Oh really? Then what, exactly, do you think we were doing that night we were together?”
I didn’t breathe. Where a minute ago I felt cold, now I felt hot, as though I were burning up from the inside out. That couldn’t be true, just like all the other lies he’d told me.
But he does tell the truth sometimes, a small voice inside me whispered.
“Oh, I do wish you could remember,” he said. “Then again, what’s one night when we have many more ahead of us?”
No, I refused to believe it. Some things were too disturbing to even consider.
“I won’t agree to what you’ve asked of me.”
The devil crouched down next to me. A small smile played along his lips; to him I was amusing. He threaded his fingers through my hair and slammed my head into the ground. The marble beneath my head cracked, and I felt a warm wetness pool beneath my head.