Devil May Care (9 page)

“I...” Hands clamped behind my back and wedged against the wall, I couldn’t pry his fingers from around my throat. If he wouldn’t let me speak, how could I even begin to reason with him?

My element rolled over my flesh and coiled around him. He’d feel the touch of it the way I’d felt his, as though a warm hand caressed his skin. My eyelids flickered closed, chest heaving, lungs ready to burst, but I eased the touch of my element further. Tendrils of power coiled around his legs, writhing up his thighs and over quivering muscles. I couldn’t call fire, but I could extend the essence of my power out to him.

He pressed his lips hard against my cheek and growled through his teeth. I coiled the energy around him, into him, seeking the source of his element. I couldn’t draw his power from him, not like I had Akil. Damien’s air element opposed mine, but I could distract him. I drove my ethereal touch deeper and discovered a seething well of darkness.

The grip around my throat eased enough for me to snatch a breath. He brushed a cool leathery cheek against mine in a curiously feline gesture. “I feel you inside me, my Muse.”

I fluttered my eyes open while sinking my element further inside him, circling the dark well of his soul, tentatively stalking around its edges. Damien was damaged in a way I had no hope of reaching. A substantial primal madness pulsated inside him. I’d known he was sick, but I hadn’t realized how deep the corruption went.

He released my throat and slid his hand over my shoulder to find my wing-stump.

Now I could breathe. I could speak. “I had no choice,” I wheezed. His cold hand slid over the healed bone where he’d sheared my wing from my body. I winced, the memory of the assault slicing through me. I spat out my lies. “Akil—Mammon—he forced me to hurt you.”

Damien’s hand withdrew from my stump and rested on my shoulder. He leaned back. Gray eyes searched mine. Hell-knows what he saw there, perhaps exactly what he wanted to see. He pulled back and lowered me to my feet. I slumped against the wall and drew my wing back around me. I held his searching gaze, sensing I’d stumbled upon something I could use. “What could I have done? He wanted me for himself. I’m nothing. I could no more go against his wishes than I could yours. He’s a Prince of Hell... I had no choice.” He read the desperate tone of my voice as despair, which of course it was, but for entirely different reasons than the one I’d just manufactured.

“Mammon is Prince no more.” Damien spat on the ground.

I gritted my teeth, and my jaw muscles jumped. I refused to let his revealing words rattle me.
Buy it Damien. Just hear what you want to, that your beloved pet, your work of art, your muse, didn’t turn on you.

“I was always yours,” I said. My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees. “Your muse.”

His jaw set. His lips turned down. His eyes pinched into narrow slits sharp enough to pierce through me and sink into my soul to discover the truth. “My muse...”

“Always.”
Please, please let him believe me. I don’t want to die here…

He knelt before me and clasped my face in his cold hands, locking me in his unwavering stare. I saw hope in the briefest flicker of light in his eyes and the gentle parting of his lips. He wanted to believe me.

I flung the touch of my power inside of him and locked it around the throbbing darkness. Lashes of tainted energy spiraled around mine and tangled with my touch, pulling me further into him. I gasped and twitched. His dark dragged me down. What the hell was he doing?

“Are you lying to me?” His grip on my face tightened. He could crush me. He was capable both mentally and physically of grinding my skull to dust.

“No.” I squeezed the simple denial through my clenched teeth as he pulled me deeper in to the terrifying unknown.

“You are mine. You were always mine. You will always be mine.” Dry lips smothered mine. His forked tongue pried my mouth open. I clamped my eyes closed, still trying to tug my ethereal touch out of him, but he wouldn’t release me. Every time I plucked a piece of power free, an eel-like tendril reached out and snapped it right back down. Screams burst inside my head.

His hands rode over my shoulders and down my back. My skin prickled. His roaming left hand rode up my wing. His toxic touch ignited memories that burned against my flesh. I realized with dreadful certainty that I wasn’t escaping him. Nobody was coming to save me. I would have to endure the worst he could do all over again.

Ryder, someone, anyone... Don’t let his happen.

D
amien was right
.

He knew how to break me.

The creature I had once been, the tiny insignificant half-blood, she’d never really left me. I’d told myself she’d died with my owner, but those lies returned to haunt me. I had despised her, the old Muse—the slave, the piece of meat—and shoved her down into the smallest corner of my mind, wrapped her in fifteen years’ worth of denial and left her there to rot. That would have been fine, except I hadn’t anticipated Damien’s return. Perhaps, had I known he still existed somewhere, I could have prepared myself. I had no defense. I’d spent over a decade painting over the emotional cracks, every time they showed through my carefully constructed veneer of reality. I’d focused on remaking myself into something new and clean, bright and fresh. A human woman. I had a job, friends, an apartment, a cat. I watched
Lost
and swore at the ending. I wasted time drinking lattes in Starbucks. I sang in the shower, painted my toenails bright red, and dyed my hair, only to regret it in the morning. I had good days, when the sun warmed my skin and I couldn’t hold back the laughter. I had bad days, when I struggled to make enough money to pay the rent on my workshop. It all came together and created something so acutely real that I’d forgotten the years of slavery at the many hands of many demons.

Damien hadn’t.

He unmade me. The woman I’d become—the happy, independent woman—she’d been a dream. I knew that now. Akil hadn’t saved the wretched little girl at all. He’d left her to wallow in her own filth and dream up fanciful images of a world that didn’t exist. What good was freedom if all it achieved was the agony of having it ripped away? If I’d never known what it meant to be free, Damien couldn’t have hurt me the way he did.

I felt the break of dawn snap through the morning air even though I couldn’t see it from inside the hut. I lay on my side and watched logs crumble to ash in the grate. I was alone except for the scurrying of sharp-eyed-needle-point-legged critters skittering across the floor.

The ghost of Damien’s touch bloomed in the bruises beneath my skin. My hands, still clasped behind my back, were numb. I wished the rest of me felt the same. My wrists throbbed where the skin had rubbed raw. An abrasive burning ache radiated through all of me, alternating between teeth-gritting agony and wretched, feverish trembling.

I couldn’t escape his ozone smell. The sickly sweet scents of vomit, perspiration, semen, and blood surrounded me. My gut churned. Had it just been my body he’d invaded, I might have been able to scrape myself off the floor and find it in me to rage at him—given time—but he’d pulled me inside his rotten, rancid core. His poisonous touch had sunk beneath my skin, unraveling as it went. He picked apart my hopes and dreams, and drowned them beneath his lust, greed and hunger. When he couldn’t take any more—when I’d fallen silent and retreated into a numb husk of myself—he’d thrust his element into me. He invaded all of me, poured himself into my open wounds and smothered my strength, my will, my soul. Not done with soiling my insides, he broke down my rapidly diminishing barriers by pounding into me. I did nothing as he ruined me inside and out. Satisfied and spent, he discarded what was left of his half-blood slave in a stinking puddle of muck.

Fifteen years to make Muse the woman. A few hours with Damien to unmake me.

When the woman in white walked into the hut, I didn’t care who or what she was. I wasn’t entirely sure she was real. I didn’t trust my senses and was afraid, if I moved, my body and mind might shatter.

She knelt before me. Her skin sparkled in the dawn light spilling through the open doorway. She wore a delicate, translucent gown, through which I watched the light play across her female physique. I felt her cool touch feather across my cheek. Her brilliant-blue eyes flicked over my used body.

A small dagger, its surface a brittle blue, glinted in her hand. A flicker of a thought briefly offered me some relief.
Perhaps she will kill me now.
But she reached behind me, and after a few stokes of the blade, tossed my shackles away.

“My sweet thing...” Her voice chimed with a delicate melody.

I reached out a trembling hand and touched her face. Ice spidered across her cheek. A bitter chill sprinkled down my fingers. I hissed and pulled back.

“Come, Little One.” She slipped her arms beneath me and lifted me as though I weighed nothing. “He will return soon enough, and it would be best if he did not find us here.” I buried my head against her cool shoulder. Closing my eyes while curled up in her arms, I could pretend I was safe.

Her heartbeat held the same lullaby quality as her voice. I listened to its gentle rhythm as she carried me away from the little hut on the hill and away from Damien’s reach. Time passes differently beyond the veil, measured by the weight and taste of the air. Dawn and dusk aren’t reliable and can be manipulated by the most powerful of demons, hence the body becomes attuned to what it can measure. As the air lifted and thinned, I suspected we’d been walking for roughly an hour.

She asked me if I could walk when I lifted my head to take a look at our surroundings. I nodded and let her lower me onto unreliable legs, then walked beside her. We’d arrived at the fringes of a lake. The azure waters matched the woman’s eyes. She was a demon, but she’d chosen to appear human to me. Either she didn’t think I could handle her true appearance, or she was hiding her true form for other reasons. Even human, she was a breathtaking figure of serene beauty. Snow white hair cascaded in gentle curls down her back. Her pale skin glowed and shimmered beneath the morning light, as though she’d been sprinkled with sugar. Her oval face and delicate cat-like almond eyes exuded a warmth her cool touch couldn’t detract from. She didn’t watch as I waded into the water and washed the filth from my skin. She didn’t see my tears.

It would take more than water to cleanse his touch from me.

We walked for long enough that my body stumbled. My muscles seized up. My legs trembled. I wondered if I might just as well lie down and rest when we finally reached a pebble beach. A quilt of snow had settled over the edge of a forest. Light refracted through icicle-tipped tree branches. The temperature plummeted as we ventured toward the snow. My breath misted in front of me, and my skin glowed warm in response. I pushed ahead; the air rippled around me. The ice attempted to suck the warmth from my flesh. My element flared.

The white woman smiled over her shoulder at me. “It will not hurt you.”

That was easy for her to say. I hung back as she walked over the snow. Her light footfalls barely left a single imprint.

I retained a little of my element and kept it close against me. My heat-wrapped feet promptly melted holes in the snow, making my progress a little awkward. Before long, we reached a grove frozen in ice. The ambient light slithered across brittle surfaces and fractured into tiny rainbows which danced like sprites around us.

“Would you mind?” She gestured at a stack of kindling in the center of the grove.

I obliged with a flick of my hand and ignited enough of the wood to start a fire. I assumed it was for my benefit.

“Wait here,” she said. “I’ll return.”

I melted the snow a few feet back from the campfire and sat with my legs drawn up, chin resting on my knees. My body throbbed with unpleasant heat. All things considered, I was lucky to still be breathing, but I didn’t feel lucky. I felt filthy, like a soiled rag. At one time, I had lived with this night after night for as long as I could remember. Damien’s control had been the whole of my wretched existence. But this time, Damien’s violation mattered on a visceral level. I knew my worth. I was strong. Powerful. Capable of great things. More than that, I was a woman. A living, breathing, human being. An entity all of my own. Why–how had I let him do this to me?

I curled my claws into my palms and pierced my skin again, wincing at the fresh pain. But something in that new pain relieved the horrid depth of anguish and disgust in the pit of my stomach. It was a clean pain.

The white woman returned, carrying a tin pot of something. She hung it over the fire. Within minutes, I smelled a sweet but sharp odor rising from the warming water, like eucalyptus and tea tree oil, cleansing but with a kick. Only my eyes moved as I watched her stir the concoction. Her lips seemed to be pulled into the most delicate of smiles at all times, as though she were listening to music that nobody else could hear.

She poured some of the mixture into a tin cup and handed it to me. “Drink.”

I sniffed at the steam rising from its surface and wrinkled my nose.

“It will take the pain away.”

“I’m not in pain,” I shot back.

“Drink.” She smiled.

What was the point in denying the truth? I lifted the cup to my lips and sipped. The tea tasted bitter, but as the warmth rolled down my throat, softness spread through my muscles.

Satisfied, she sat on a snowy tree stump. Her gown resembled a gossamer veil. It barely existed at all. I could clearly admire the curves of her dainty body beneath. When in the netherworld, demons rarely craft themselves clothes, real or illusionary. Why would they? Clothing restrains. It restricts. Demons need to feel the elements around them, feel the air against their flesh, the earth beneath their feet. It’s different in the human world. When I revealed my demon there, she layered herself over me, clothes and all. On the other side, anything human doesn’t survive for long. My clothes had fizzled away the second I stepped through the veil, as would anything I had with me. Full demons could manifest clothes when and however they pleased. I didn’t have that luxury. My human half wanted to cover up my vulnerability, but my demon was in control. She slapped my insecurities down.

“I must apologize. I wish I had found you sooner,” the white woman said.

The tea scalded my lips, but I welcomed the heat. “How did you find me?”

“He wouldn’t have taken you far. I know where our world layers your Boston.”

He could have. He could have wrapped me in his arms and taken to the air. We could have been half way across the netherworld in hours. She seemed to read my mistrust because her blue eyes softened sympathetically.

“He would not wait to claim you again, Muse.”

Claim me. I shuddered and gulped down more tea. “I couldn’t stop him.” I closed my eyes and felt his abrasive touch roam over me. It had taken years to lock the memories away, to stand tall and walk proud, as though I hadn’t been beaten into submission both mentally and physically. Now the memories were back, mingling with new ones, and I teetered on the edge of madness. “The restraints—I tried to summon—” I licked my lips and flicked my gaze to hers. She looked back at me with quiet dignity. I silently ordered myself not to fall apart. Not yet. “I had to make him believe I was his again. I had no choice. It was all I had... I couldn’t...” I bowed my head and bit into my trembling lip. Words wouldn’t suffice.

“I know. You do not need to explain. You are alive. Wounds will heal. Drink. You are safe here. For now.”

He would find me again, and I had no idea how I might react. I could tear into him. With the restraints gone, I could summon the fires of hell, draw the heat from this world and the human realm. I could funnel it all into his soul and burn him from the inside out. But it wasn’t that simple. If I lost control—which was highly likely—there was a chance the sheer weight of power would destroy me.

“He did something...” I pressed the palm of my right hand to my chest. “Inside.”

She blinked slowly, her smile falling away. “
Tamashii rokku
...” she whispered, and then for my benefit said, “He’s claimed you—inside?” She tapped her chest. “He has locked your soul?”

I didn’t know what that was, but the look of barely restrained horror on her face was already conjuring up likely scenarios in my mind, none of them good. Perhaps I should have felt something, fear maybe. I didn’t. I just felt empty. “I tried to reach out to him with my element, to distract him, but he pulled me in. There was something inside him, something dark, it dragged me under, and then he was inside me.” A surge of nausea rolled over me. I gagged and pressed the back of a hand to my lips, blinking back tears.

I watched her throat move as she swallowed. She came forward, knelt before me, and took my free hand in hers. My blackened skin pulsed with fiery veins against her delicate, icy touch. The cool touch of her element slid across the back of my hand and up my arm. I recognized that elemental touch but couldn’t pin it down. “You and he, you are joined. As one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He cannot do this to you unless you are willing.”

I snatched my hand back. “I wasn’t willing.”

“Willing or not, you let him in, Muse. He’s tied your soul to his. If anything should happen to either of you, the soul will join its mate. You are as one.”

My chest tightened. Bile burned my throat. “There’s a way out?”

She looked away. “I... do not know.”

I cleared my throat and threw my gaze skyward. Curdled clouds drifted across the lilac sky. “There’s a way.” There’s always a way out of these things. Isn’t there? I might have been raised among demons, but I’d been deliberately sheltered. I knew more about the human world than I did the netherworld. Soul-locked. I never knew such a thing existed.

“I didn’t let him in,” I growled.

I’d shut down once he’d made it clear what he wanted. My mind retreated while I let him use my body, but even cowering inside my own subconscious, I hadn’t been safe. His power had plunged deep inside to depths I didn’t know existed. He hadn’t done that before. Before, it had all been physical abuse, but fifteen years ago, he hadn’t known what I was capable of. He’d thought of me as a plaything, below him on the demon social ladder. Six months ago, I’d rendered a Prince of Hell impotent. I could pull the power of two worlds into my being. Things had changed. No wonder he’d claimed me. It made him powerful in return.

I gulped back the swell of rage and agony, but it still leaked into my voice. “There are rules, right?” I snarled. “There must be some sort of order here. Otherwise you’d all be tearing each other to pieces.”