WILLOW
I gasped the moment those strange, glowing golden eyes found mine without hesitation, his stare latching on and pinning me to the spot.
My hand trembled against his chest as I blinked back the sting of horrified tears.
What had I done?
I swallowed, slowly pulling my gaze off his and glancing at the archdemons, watching our interaction with far more interest than I cared for. I tugged at my hand, still pressed against his chest, his skin crackling and peeling where it had burned against mine. Nausea stung the back of my throat at the scent as I tugged again, revealing raw, red flesh in the shape of my hand.
The handprint was a vivid red against the gold of his skin. My breath shuddered in my lungs as I fought to pull free but didn’t dare to do so quickly. He watched me, his eerie golden stare assessing my every move as I tried to quell the panic in my body.
His hand moved quickly as I pulled away, tearing more of the burnt, charred skin from him. He grasped me around the wrist, his grip solid as I fought to get free. Moving slowly, he sat up in a smooth, fluid glide that didn’t betray a hint of how long his body had been vacant and neglected. I moved with him as he left me no choice, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the cot. The archdemons had raised it up, laying it atop the arms of the Tethys throne so that he was level with me as I stood.
The cot didn’t shift as he moved despite the precarious position, his movement so carefully controlled that it was unnatural. His heated stare
never left my face to look at the others in the room as his other hand lifted from his side, reaching beneath my free arm to settle at my waist. His fingers grasped the fabric of my top, bunching it against my skin as he jerked me forward to stand between his spread legs.
He held my stare, ignoring the trembling of my hand and bottom lip as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. A deep sigh left him the moment our skin touched, his grip twitching against my wrist as his eyes finally drifted closed.
I swallowed, pulling back to glare up at him. He ground his back teeth together as his hand dropped from my waist, and he raised it to slide it beneath the curtain of my hair and touch my jaw. Sweat slicked my skin at the contact, his body so warm it felt like it might burn me. It was such a contrast to the way his Vessel had felt, to that striking chill that had always permeated the air around him.
“Don’t look at me like that, Witchling,” he murmured softly, his grip tightening around the curve of my head when I tried to flinch away from his touch.
Those ethereal eyes hardened into a glare, glimmering like molten gold when I used his moment of distraction to tear my hand from his chest. I tried not to look at the perfect handprint that marred his skin, at the way it didn’t seem to show any sign of healing in the way I would have hoped.
He tilted his head to look at the mark, his lips tipping into a cruel smirk. “You marked me,” he said, gazing up at me through his lashes with the hint of white teeth peeking through his parted lips. It was a look of smug satisfaction, purely dominant—a predator who had won his prey.
“I did everything you asked,” I said, shaking my head as I tried to pull away from his touch. He grasped my hand in his, raising it to stare at the burnt remains of flesh that clung to my skin. When he touched a single finger to it, I watched in horror as the remnants melted into blood, sliding away from my hand and dripping onto the floor at our feet. It was the same way he’d melted the new flesh off the Covenant’s bones to form Charlotte, and the memory was far too fresh in my mind.
“You did,” he agreed, trailing a finger through his blood and dragging it up onto where my wrist peeked out from the sleeve of my sweater.
“So let me go. You have no use for me anymore,” I argued, keeping my voice quiet. His finger stopped that slow, traitorous trail over my skin,
freezing in place as his nail seemed to elongate in the sudden anger that pulsed off him in waves.
It pierced my skin, my own blood welling as I gasped at the sensation of the warmth of his slipping into the wound and entangling itself with my own. It shouldn’t have felt that way, shouldn’t have flooded my veins with tingling heat that set me aflame.
But it did.
“You want to leave me,” he said, slowly whirling that animalistic gaze to my face once again. There was no warmth in the hardness of his rage, only anger I didn’t want to contemplate as I flinched back from him.
“What reason would I have to stay?” I asked. His face fell immediately, the anger from a moment before disappearing so suddenly it gave me whiplash. Somehow, the vast emptiness and lack of emotion on his features were worse than his anger.
He released me, allowing me to stumble over my own feet at my sudden freedom. I backed away another step as he stood smoothly, this form of him so similar to the Vessel he’d occupied for centuries. Except that had been a hollow imitation of the real man before me, of the dominant, masculine beauty that prowled toward me with slow confidence.
He’d been beautiful before, more handsome than any human I’d seen, but now, in this form, he was somehow more. His hair was thicker, darker, and a deep brown so close to black that only the lanterns overhead exposed the difference. His bone structure was sharper somehow, more refined and distinctly masculine. His golden eyes seemed to sit deeper in the structure of his face, making his brow more pronounced. In spite of the delicate fullness of his mouth, the tense line of it was menacing and ruthless as he stared at me. He seemed bigger than before, not just in height but the width of him. His muscles were carved into his lean form as if he were a sculpture that belonged in one of the churches in Rome.
Because they’d been based on him.
Even his forearms and hands spoke of strength, of the ability to crack my spine in half if I looked at him wrong. His very essence filled the room, plunging us into darkness as the air sickeningly warmed, the taste of apples coating my tongue.
“I achieved what I came here to do and things I never would have wanted,” I said in an attempt to remind him that I’d always had an agenda
in coming to Crystal Hollow. In my ideal scenario, this town had always been a pitstop, if I managed to survive it at least.
The latter seemed unlikely, given the unfortunate turn of events.
Like being stabbed by the man I’d somehow allowed myself to fall for, similar to the naive little girl he’d accused me of being.
Even I knew I stood no chance of fighting my way to freedom. My magic was distant, overused in the opening of the seal, and with none of the earth nearby for me to call on. I glanced at the Madizza throne from the corner of my eye, the black-tinted rose petals fluttering in an invisible breeze as if they felt the faint call of my magic.
I stepped back once more, hoping to get just a little bit closer and avoid the death Lucifer promised in his stare. I bumped into something massive and hard at my back, tilting my head up to look at where Beelzebub stared down at me with disinterest—his black, leathery wings twitching as they curled around his shoulders. He reached around the front of my body, capturing my chin with a hand as the other touched the back of my head.
The breath caught in my throat, the realization of what he intended flashing through me faster than I could react. Gray wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of killing me himself, allowing his minion to do his dirty work in the end.
Lucifer’s eyes widened, his expression turning horrified as his mouth opened suddenly. “No!” he commanded as Beelzebub sharply snapped my head to the side.
A crack resounded through my skull as Gray rushed forward, catching me as I fell. He stopped me from crumpling to the ground as my head hung at an unnatural angle that I couldn’t right, my lungs compressing as they expelled a final breath.
His hand slammed into my chest, an ache spreading from the heat of his touch when all that surrounded me was cold.
But inside, I burned.
