“This close to you, it doesn’t hurt,” Andre said between kisses.

  He was going to make me cry, and I really didn’t want to cry. I wanted to obliterate every thought beyond this moment. Thinking of the future was when things got messy, and really, this was all very simple. He was my one and only. I was his. No bond could create or destroy this. It had a life of its own.

  Andre moved, and air hissed out from between my teeth. He thrust back into me, his eyes locked on mine. There they stayed.

  “I will always be yours.” He went about saying those words like he did everything. Fiercely. Deliberately.

  “And I will always be yours.”

  He moved against me and my fingers sunk into his back. After that, we let our bodies do the talking.

  Andre

  Andre held Gabrielle tighter than was necessary. But if he had it his way, they’d still be joined completely. Instead, he had to deal with this restlessness.

  Bonded to another man.

  One far more monstrous than Andre, and that was saying something. The delicate skin he now stroked—would the devil touch it with the same reverence Andre did? The situation might be more bearable if the dark god were capable of kindness.

  In all his seven hundred years, he’d never heard stories of the devil’s compassion.

  He rubbed his mouth. What would the lord of the Underworld do to Gabrielle once he found out Andre had been with her?

  He’d been a selfish bastard, not considering this until the deed was done and it was too late. She might have to suffer the consequences alone. And there were bound to be consequences.

  He dragged Gabrielle closer and pressed a rough kiss to her mouth.

  Her brows furrowed. “What are you thinking about?” she asked after the kiss ended.

  “What am I ever thinking about, soulmate? You.” And he smiled at her because she was his sun.

  As if to prove his point, her skin brightened. She stretched out along him, and he all but groaned. Yes, if he were a better person, he’d keep some distance between them for her sake. But he wasn’t a decent person. Gabrielle had given him his humanity only to take it with her to hell.

  And he wouldn’t apologize to anyone about it—not even the devil himself.

  Gabrielle

  I threaded my fingers in Andre’s hair as he rained kisses down my neck. We’d been in his bed for well over an hour and it felt … ephemeral, this happiness. Which made me more hesitant to leave. Because as soon as I did, I’d have to stop pretending my life was normal.

  “Andre.”

  He must’ve heard something in my voice because he raised his head.

  Now that I was coming back down from my earlier high, I’d begun to shake. “Something’s wrong with me.”

  He cupped my face, brushing away several stray strands of hair. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

  He noticed my body trembling. “You’re working yourself up for no reason.”

  “My blood gives life to demons—just like that necromancer.”

  Andre didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, which probably meant that he’d already learned about this ability or figured it out on his own.

  “That doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you.”

  “It’s unnatural.”

  “That’s a word the Politia uses to damn anything they deem evil,” he said.

  “But Andre, I am evil. I’m the queen of the Underworld.”

  He pulled back. “That does not make you evil.”

  “Then what does?”

  “Your heart, your actions.”

  I couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  “I hurt Caleb,” I admitted. “After what he did last night, I wanted to destroy him.”

  “What happened last night … ?” Andre repeated. His face darkened as he put the pieces together. “He was the one that shot you.” A muscle in Andre’s cheek feathered. “And you returned to Castle Rushen to punish him.”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” His voice roughened with renewed anger. “The boy should be thankful I haven’t had the chance to punish him myself. I doubt he’d survive it.”

  Last night felt like an eon ago. I closed my eyes and remembered Caleb’s expression, his shaking hand. He’d gone through with it—fired the bullet that nearly killed me. It might’ve too, had the devil not claimed me before my life could expire on its own.

  I sat up and brought the sheets along with me. “I wanted to hurt him,” I said. “That was my first thought. It should’ve been you. When Oliver led me back to the Isle of Man, I should’ve pulled him into a hug and then insisted we find you.”

  Finally I found the courage to meet Andre’s eyes.

  He was frowning.

  “I’m … not quite myself,” I continued, “and I’m worried that the Politia’s right to try to get rid of me.”

  “Soulmate,” he slid a hand along my jaw and cupped my face, “I understand. I do. You’ve seen me destroy an entire branch of my coven when my anger took me. Men and women whose company I’d cherished for hundreds of years. All gone in an instant because the need for vengeance rode me too hard.

  “So you were angry, and you hunted down Caleb. What happened once you found him?”

  I chewed on my lower lip. “I threw him into a cell to rot.”

  “You threw him into a cell.” Andre’s lips twitched.

  I gave his shoulder a light shove. “It’s not funny.”

  Andre’s expression sobered. “No, it’s not. A boy tried to destroy my queen, and he still breathes.”

  Er, … not the direction I was hoping to take this conversation.

  “You will not feel bad about what happened,” Andre said, bossy as ever.

  When I didn’t nod, he gave me a slight shake. “You will not. The world thinks badly of you. The world is wrong. Don’t let their misconceptions cloud your judgment.”

  “But—”

  “You can keep your guilt, but you cannot let it consume you,” he said. “Now, you still look far too thin. Hungry?”

  I knew what he was doing. Trying to distract me from my thoughts. It was such a little thing, this kindness, but it made me smile.

  “Famished.”

  I followed Andre through his house, towards the kitchen, wearing a robe Andre had bought for me at some point. I ran my fingers over the silky material. If he had it his way, his closet would be filled with my clothes. Already, bits and pieces intended for me—such as this robe—were making their way into his home.

  The thought had me pressing my lips tightly together. If I could have a do-over, I would give it all to him. I’d let him fill his house to his heart’s content with knickknacks meant for me, and I swear I would never fight it again.

  Anything to make this man smile because I couldn’t bear his pain.

  As we crossed the foyer, I saw that Bishopcourt’s windows, which had blown inwards last night, were intact once more. Kind of embarrassing that I hadn’t noticed it when I first entered.

  “How are they all … ?”

  Andre came to my side. “Someone in my coven fixed it, but I don’t know who or when.”

  Andre, the control freak, in the dark about his home? I took a good look at him. He hid it well, but sorrow tugged at his features, and beneath that, pain.

  “What happened after I left?” My voice came out as a whisper, because things that scared you shouldn’t be said too loudly lest you give them power.

  “Dark times, soulmate,” Andre said, taking my hand. “I would rather not speak of them.”

  I nodded, trying not to worry over the past.

  “Come,” Andre said, ushering me forward.

  For the most part, the mansion appeared untouched by the horrors of the previous night. Someone had swept the floor, righted the furniture, and removed or magically repaired the broken items in the room.

  A twisted part of me wanted to venture into the bathroom where I’d been shot, just to see if any of my
blood still stained the floor. I already knew I’d smell myself embedded into the cracks. The alluring scent of the siren, the sickness that clung to me, the taint from the devil’s premature claim, and the ancient curse that rode through it all. A darkness still clung to this place, a darkness that called to me. You couldn’t wash away evil with cleaning supplies or a simple spell.

  Andre led me to a table. “Blood or food?”

  “Um … ” I rolled my lips inward. “Either?”

  He gave me a nod and ordered the chef to prepare both blood and a plate of fettuccine alfredo, my favorite dish.

  He took my hand and played with my fingers. “You still haven’t told me about the twelve hours that preceded this.”

  “And you haven’t told me of the time after I left.”

  His lips tilted up, but there was no mirth to his smile. “After you left, there was nothing but pain and anguish. My coven had to hold me down out of fear that I would kill myself.”

  I breathed through my nose to keep myself together.

  “They began to drain me of blood, hoping that if they weakened me enough my body would go into stasis—a type of sleep—and I could remain like that indefinitely so that they could live.”

  “That’s so … cruel.” Anger rose at the thought of anyone hurting Andre. That emotion quickly morphed into a sharp ache—I’d hurt him far greater than any of his coven could.

  “It was their only option,” he said, scenting my emotions. “Don’t begrudge them their actions. I would’ve done the same had I been in their shoes. Now,” he said, squeezing my hand, “what happened to you?”

  I was still digesting his words. So much pain I’d left him with. Enough to force his coven into incapacitating him. If things remained as they were, that pain of his would continue to grow. That didn’t sit well with me.

  “Love?”

  I blinked several times, refocusing my attention. “At the center of hell, there’s a castle. The devil took me there.”

  Andre squeezed my hand tighter.

  “He showed me around the place, tried to get under my skin,”—and succeeded—“and introduced me to his a demon horde, but for most of the day he left me alone.”

  “He left you alone?” Andre clearly didn’t believe it.

  I shrugged. “I got the impression that he’s a busy guy.”

  “Indeed,” Andre said quietly.

  A moment later, my food came, saving me from having to detail the horrible intimacy that had developed between the dark god and me.

  The pasta smelled heavenly, and when I took my first bite, I groaned. It tasted even better.

  “I take it this means you got your appetite back?” Andre’s lips twitched.

  “Mmmhm.”

  God, I’d missed food.

  I tried the blood next. Two weeks ago I might’ve had a hissy over drinking the liquid. At this point, I was simply thankful that I was hungry at all. Bringing the glass of it to my lips, I tipped it back and took a swallow.

  That awkward moment when blood tastes delicious.

  “My mate enjoys both blood and food,” Andre stated, reading me like a book. He glanced up to the ceiling. “Thank the heavens.”

  Once I polished off the meal, Andre took my hand again. “I’ll have a shower started for you, and one of my servants will bring you clothing,” he said. He led me back to his room. And I let him.

  This temporary calm couldn’t last. For one thing, my blood thrummed for carnage and chaos. For another, I would return to hell soon enough and face another day in the devil’s company. But I’d enjoy this while I still could.

  Andre didn’t let me go until after he started the shower. Then he backed away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  I fiddled with the ties of my robe. “You don’t have to go,” I said, somewhat shyly, my earlier courage now nowhere to be seen.

  Andre’s expression was tormented. “God, soulmate, I would love nothing more. But I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  Regret swam in his eyes. “Because I cannot know how the devil will punish you for it.”

  The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn’t care then, and I didn’t care now.

  “Once he might forgive, but if you continuously betrayed him—I won’t risk it.”

  “Andre—”

  “No, soulmate, on this I won’t budge.”

  When I realized he was being dead serious, I bit out, “Fine.”

  I undid the ties of my robe, and let the garment slide off my shoulders, not bothering to cover myself.

  His jaw clenched. “Don’t tempt me. My good intentions only go so far.”

  “Then leave.” I tried to sound confident, but the words came out full of hurt. I stood naked and bared for him, and I felt spurned.

  My voice was the cue he waited for.

  He pushed me against the wall, his hands in my hair and his lips on my mouth. I gasped, and Andre took advantage of the action, his tongue pushing its way against mine.

  So much for him not budging.

  I returned the kiss, mussing his hair as I wrapped myself up in him. He groaned into my mouth, and all my momentary insecurities vanished.

  With reluctance, he pulled away from me. “I can’t, soulmate,” he said against my lips, breathing heavily. “As much as I want to, I can’t have you incur the devil’s wrath even more than you already have. Please don’t force the issue.”

  I swallowed and nodded.

  “Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Then he bowed his head and left me to my shower.

  Andre

  Only when he was far away from Gabrielle did Andre allow himself to slam his fist into the wall. At this point, he wasn’t even sure what he was pissed about. The devil’s new claim to her? The very real possibility that the man might punish her for sleeping with Andre? Or turning Gabrielle down when neither knew how much time they had together?

  The anger dissipated into steely resolve, and he continued down the hall. One of his men intercepted him.

  “Sire,” he said, “the Politia just arrived outside our gates.”

  In spite of himself, Andre’s lips curved up. They picked the perfect time to come knocking.

  “They’re demanding we turn over Gabrielle.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Prepare the men and alert the coven members that remain. I will meet with the Politia and let them know what I think about their demands,” he said darkly.

  His man nodded and split off to see to his orders.

  Andre headed for his room, where his fondest weapons were kept. At the back of his closet rested a timeworn chest. Crouching in front of it, he ran a hand over the wood.

  The modern world was usually tame. But thanks to his bond with Gabrielle, he’d seen more violence in the last several months than he had in the last century. And the predator in him was pleased.

  He unlatched the chest’s bindings and swung it open. Inside, his favorite swords and daggers rested.

  Andre strapped the swords to his back, his movements jerky due to his agitation. That gaping maw he still felt in his soul, it was real. Worse, there was the very real threat that his soulmate could transfer her affections from Andre to the devil through the god’s trickery.

  He wouldn’t let that happen. Whatever it took to win her over, he’d do it. The connection wasn’t everything. People fell in love all the time without the aid of a bond. And if the bond was all there ever was to his relationship, well then, severing it should’ve released him, not imprisoned him more than ever.

  He clenched his jaw, an angry smile stretching across his face as he threaded a belt around his waist. He’d love nothing more than tearing into her enemies.

  The shower still ran. He’d let his soulmate be—for now.

  He stalked back down the hall. It was time to remind the Politia why he was someone you didn’t cross.

  BOOM.

  Bishopcourt shook as something powerful blasted against it.

  Those bastards hadn’t eve
n waited for him to tell them to shove their orders up their asses. They’d gone straight to declarations of war.

  Andre pulled his twin blades out from his back, rolling his wrists and swinging the swords lightly. The last time he’d wielded these, it had been to deliver Gabrielle’s retribution. A grim sort of satisfaction spread through him at the thought that he’d use these blades once again on her behalf.

  Tonight he would be her champion in earnest.

  Chapter 9

  Gabrielle

  I relaxed under the spray of the shower. Water pelted my skin, and after hours in that hollow underworld, the sensation felt indescribably good.

  I leaned against the wall. So screwed. I was so, so screwed.

  BOOM!

  The explosion threw me to the floor of the shower stall.

  Typical. The moment I got naked, shit would hit the fan.

  I reached up and turned off the lever. An eerie silence descended. The lack of noise raised the hairs along my arm.

  The Politia had found me once again. They still thought that antagonizing me would get them somewhere. All it did was piss me off.

  The mosaic saints in Andre’s bathroom pleaded with their eyes as I toweled off. What they wanted me to do, however, was a mystery.

  A set of clothing rested on Andre’s bed.

  Hurriedly, I pulled on the items, sighing out my relief at the shirt and pants. Now I looked less like Elvira and more like … Buffy.

  Whatever, I looked better.

  I stalked out the door, passing several faded paintings of various individuals, and that saint’s relic. Vampires and their old-ass trinkets.

  Andre’s coven gathered in the entryway. When they saw me striding out, one after another dropped to a knee.

  My steps faltered. Even now, after I was taken, they still showed their allegiance. Or maybe it was because I was taken.

  “You can’t have her. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.” I could hear the cold determination in Andre’s voice. He was already outside, facing down whatever had come for me.