“Very well. I swear off the cruelty. For now.”
Nod. —First, you need to provide her with comforts. If you give her a bed, she will think of you favorably whenever she’s in it. The same with clothes. Then you invite her to dinner. Afterward the two of you could explore the castle, and you’d let her pick out treasures for herself.—
Graven was a type of time capsule. The thousand rooms throughout the seven towers were filled with mystical goods—art, jewels, weapons, clothing, and more—preserved since his foresires had first created this castle.
As boys, Sian and Goürlav had played among those rooms, calling them the attics of the gods.
The two brothers had once been inseparable. After Sian’s return from Sylvan, they’d never been as close. How could they have been? Yet another thing Kari had stolen from him. . . .
—You could delight your mate with the marvels here.—
Reminded of his rage, Sian snapped, “She deserves no delight.”
Uthyr tapped his chin with a long talon, innocently asking, —Didn’t she call your home a “pathetic excuse for a castle”?—
The little witch had. She must’ve compared Graven to the stately castle in that Magic Kingdom and found the demons’ seat of power lacking. But so far she’d seen only a derelict tower and a cavern here.
He scrubbed his hand over his nape, recalling an exchange between himself and Kari:
“Do your kind truly burrow in the ground?” she asked with a shudder.
“Some live in the underworld of the Abyss.” As his ancestors had before Graven had been completed. “But we also have temples of solid gold and a grand castle.”
“Grand?” She scoffed. “I suspect your definition of the word does not match my own.”
Sian stopped pacing. “If you were a talented seducer as a man, that would have been millennia ago. What do you know of modern females?”
Uthyr cast him a fang-filled grin. —I watch soaps.—
NINETEEN
Need a weapon.
Lila, Chip, and Dale had scoured the tower top to bottom but hadn’t found anything she could use to protect herself once she climbed down to the ground.
Because she would be climbing down—even if she had to burn every inch of herself on vine to become immune. But then what? She had no weapon, survival gear, currency, or a map.
She didn’t even have clothes.
Figuring someone might have lost a piece of jewelry in the fountain drain—a diamond could come in handy—she crawled into the basin. Chip and Dale hung out on the edge to oversee the job.
She told them, “If I get stuck in this well, go find Timmy.” Ass sticking in the air, she wedged her arm into the drainage pipe, patting around for anything loose.
Nothing. She pulled her arm out, then eyeballed the drain. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her voice echoed down the pipe.
Chip started to skitter like crazy.
She raised her head. “What? What are you looking at? No, seriously, what are you looking at? I can’t tell with all your eyes.” The rest of the unseen spiders skittered in the walls . . . like a warning.
She sensed the heat of a gaze on her upturned ass. Must be Abyssian. She whispered to Dale, “Fuckface is right behind me, isn’t he?” She gracefully made it to her feet and turned to the demon.
As usual, he wore no shirt, just low-slung leather pants. His horns were straightened, his eyes black. Surprise, surprise—he was hard.
Had the demon been leering at her on all fours, imagining what he would do to her?
A shiver raced over her at the thought. She was reminded of another inscription on the wall: Horns flaring, he mounted her from behind, wedging his great shaft into her wetness.
Her cheeks flushed. Damn it, she could not be viewing Abyssian Infernas in a sexual light. No female could be that hard-up.
Without a word, he began pacing in front of her, his large, scuffed boots pounding the stone floor. Trying to get himself under control?
She sat on the fountain edge between the spiders, and the three of them stared as he strode back and forth.
When the demon frowned at her colleagues, she said, “Meet Chip and Dale. Guys, this is His Highness, the evil tyrant of hell.”
Still Abyssian said nothing. Pacing, pacing. Finally, he grated, “What is a face character?”
He must’ve had his own spies check her backstory. “A greeter of sorts at Disney World.” At his blank look, she said, “It’s an amusement park with rides and games.”
“The castle I saw at that . . . park was a facsimile?”
She nodded.
“Then the Magic Kingdom is a place of trickery,” he said, seeming keyed up at the idea.
“People know they’re getting tricked. They like it.” She tilted her head. “I’d call it more make-believe.”
“And this place was built for amusement?”
Unable to resist, she said, “Mortals also go there to worship a mouse god. His likeness is everywhere. There’s a duck demigod too. I could show you around.”
He gestured at himself. “Go into the mortal realm?”
With his horns, glyphs, and dark red skin? That wide mask of black around—
Her lips parted. His eyes had turned green. He’d grown calm enough for them to revert to their natural color.
A vivid, blazing green. Whoa.
Inner shake. “The mortals would, um, think you were in costume.”
“And then you could use your speed to flee among them.”
She should’ve concealed her super speed. All fey were fast, but the royals were the fastest. Some said that was how they’d gotten to be royal to begin with.
Since this was the calmest she’d ever seen Abyssian, she tried to reason with him: “Will you just trace me somewhere I can use a phone? If I miss any more days without calling in, I’m going to get shit-canned from my job.” She knew she could never work there again—her hiding place had been blown—but it’d be nice to give her supervisor a heads-up. Oh, and then to use her speed to flee the demon among the mortals.