I reached out and touched the relic, whispering a desperate prayer under my breath. Even knowing it hadn’t saved Andre or any other vampire didn’t matter at the moment. Time and reverence had made the thing holy.
Andre paused to wait for me, but he didn’t comment on my behavior. If anything, something like understanding flickered in his eyes. He’d done this before, perhaps many times. He knew what it was like to ask for salvation even if deliverance would never come.
He called over a servant. “Please get Gabrielle a clean set of clothes and leave them in my room.
Once the servant left, he placed a hand on my back and steered me farther down the hall. “Soon they will know you’re here.”
Andre didn’t have to clarify who “they” were. Considering the entire supernatural community wanted my head, I might as well assume he meant all of them.
“And,” Andre continued, “later tonight I will have to contact the coven and schedule a meeting.”
I cringed. “They’re going to eat me alive—right after they draw and quarter me.”
We came to the door of his room, and he held it open for me. “Soulmate, our coven will not harm you.”
Andre didn’t close it after I entered, and I swiveled to look at him. He nodded to the bathroom. “Get clean. I need to set my coven’s business in order, among other things. I’ll be back here shortly.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I sighed as I peeled off the leather pants and the matching bustier. I could die a happy woman if I never had to wear leather again.
When I stepped into the shower, days’ worth of grime slid off my body. I practically moaned at the hot water beating down my back. Up until now I hadn’t noticed just how cold I’d gotten, not until the steam and the warm spray thawed my body.
The air outside the glass shower stall rippled, the steam seeming to displace itself. I stared, first transfixed then horrified, as a figure coalesced from the mist.
Not just a figure. A black suit, custom tailored, hugged wide shoulders. It tapered inward at a narrow waist. The slacks beneath it were crisp, a starched line running down the middle of each pant leg. Gleaming leather shoes crossed at the ankle. Almond eyes stared at me through the mist.
The devil lounged against the nearby wall, scrutinizing me. His mouth didn’t move, but his words tickled my ear.
“Miss me?”
I covered myself as fear coursed through me.
“Nothing I haven’t seen many times before.” Again, the devil’s mouth didn’t move, but his voice spoke in my ear. I didn’t know if he was referring to the female form in general, or mine in particular. I seriously hoped it was the former.
“What is with you and bathrooms?” I said over my fear.
He ignored my question and pushed off the wall, heading towards me. All that separated us was the clear glass stall that encased me. Filmsy protection against a man that could appear at will.
I backed up. “Stay away from me,” I warned him.
“Or else what?” he challenged.
I drew in a shaky breath. I had nothing. No threat of mine could scare off Pluto, the devil—whatever and whoever he was.
The steam inside the shower stirred, and then he stood in front of me. I stumbled back. While he appeared corporeal, water passed right through him.
His eyes flicked over me, and my skin crawled. “The vampire’s time with you is coming to a close. Shame that he’s wasting it, too.”
“He’s not wasting it.”
“Oh?” The devil’s brows rose in mock surprise. He stepped forward, crowding me. This was the closest he’d ever come to me here on earth. His voice dropped low. “And yet I’m the one in the shower with you.”
Goosebumps broke out along my flesh at the wanting in his eyes. “I didn’t invite you.”
“I didn’t ask for your consent.”
We stared each other down, and I flared my nostrils, anger rising. But even it couldn’t compete with the sheer panic that flooded my veins.
The devil leaned in, removing the last space between us. “Coming back here will be the death of you.”
Despite the hot water, a shiver tore through me at his words.
He lies for a living. This is no different, I told myself.
But I couldn’t pretend away the subtle palsy my limbs had taken on in the last day, or the way my heart sometimes slowed to a crawl. My appetite was going too. I wouldn’t need someone to gun me down; my body was doing a great job of dying all on its own.
The devil didn’t step back, not immediately. Instead he lingered, not touching, but only just. Having him this close reminded me that he’d taken me—twice—to do with as he pleased. While he hadn’t physically violated me, he’d tasted my soul. That was another type of desecration.
“Did you expect anything differently of me?” he asked, reading my thoughts.
His sharp words held a hidden meaning in them. If I was to believe what I’d learned of him, then he wasn’t just the devil—and he wasn’t just Pluto, either. He was all those primordial gods of the Underworld, and there were many of them with their own myths, and not all were terrible.
Osiris, the Egyptian version of him, for all intents and purposes, seemed like a half decent guy. He’d loved his wife, Isis, and judging from the fact that after he’d been chopped to little pieces by his brother—ew—she’d painstakingly collected them all and put him back together, I’d say she might’ve had the hots for him as well.
In no universe would I put the devil back together like Humpty Dumpty if someone slaughtered him. I was far more likely to do the jig on top of his grave—or help kill him myself. Believing he was capable of good felt too much like I was excusing the infinite evil he’d orchestrated throughout lifetimes.
“Give me a reason to,” I finally said.
I assumed my words would anger him. Instead he tipped his head forward. “I just might, consort. I just might.”