The Darkest Touch

Demons spotted her and rushed forward. Sorry, boys, but I’m not sticking around for a powwow with you. She pushed open the doors and strode inside like she used to do when Hades brought her with him to visit his “son.”

Lucifer jumped to his feet, a triumphant grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “Keeleycael. How extraordinary. I’d heard you were free and hoped you would come to see me.” His gaze raked over her. “But I did not expect you to look quite so...awful.”

She raised her chin. So she wasn’t in one of her gowns. So what. “I heard you had plans to ruin Hades.”

He inclined his head, not even trying to deny it.

“Would you like my help?” she finished, and he laughed.

He didn’t hesitate. “I would.”

She let her gaze scan the room. Not even she could see Torin now that she was out from under the Cloak. What was he doing?

“Come to me,” Lucifer said, waving her over. “Let’s reacquaint ourselves.”

So formal and polite; such a liar. “I’m impressed,” she said—while remaining in place. “If you want to chat with me here, that means you’ve done something Hades never could; you’ve gotten the demons to follow you absolutely and know they’d never betray you. Never publically reveal the words they hear you speak in private.”

His jaw clenched.

Direct hit. She’d just reminded him that they couldn’t talk openly in front of his soldiers. That the fiends could—and most likely would—run tattling to Hades. Now when Lucifer ushered her out of the throne room, it would be because it was his idea, not hers.

“You’re right,” he said. “I have. But I’ve just realized there’s no place for you to sit comfortably.”

Can’t smirk. “This is true.”

As he closed in on her, she noticed the hard glint in his dark eyes—one he couldn’t mask. Evil! Never-ending pit of despair.

He offered her the use of his arm.

Though she would have rather plucked out her eyes, she took it. He led her away, through a maze of elaborate hallways where demons fornicated in the vilest of ways, and into the master suite. The bedroom was a study of hedonism. Black satin, black velvet, black leather. Toys and weapons hanging on the walls. Mirrors everywhere. Candles glowing in the darkness.

Demons rushed in behind them, carrying trays of food. In minutes, a five-star dining experience was set up, a table occupying the center of the room. He’d always been big on appearances. Liked people to think he was solicitous, loved beginning interactions with gallantry, playing the role of helper or whatever he thought his target desired, and then, when the person was well and truly hooked, flipping the psycho switch. It was a game he played.

He held out her chair, and she sat.

“Aren’t you so very gracious,” she muttered. Trying to lay a foundation he plans to rip out from underneath me.

He poured her a glass of what looked to be wine but was probably blood and made her a plate, but she couldn’t identify half of what was on there. As if she would take a single bite anyway.

Watching her, he leaned back in his chair. “My sources tell me you’ve joined the Lords of the Underworld.”

There were threads of hatred in his voice, and she could guess why. He thought the Lords should follow him, allowing their demons to rule their lives. That the warriors continued to resist the evil inside them was a thorn in his cloven hoof.

“I had, yes,” she admitted. Why deny it? “Did your sources also tell you that the Keeper of Disease infected me over and over again? That he abandoned me on multiple occasions?” Was that resentment in her tone?

Definitely. While she hated that she’d spoken ill of Torin, and to the enemy no less, the truth was the truth, and there was no way around it. At least it gave credence to her cover story.

She fiddled with her food, feigning interest. “Why do you care about this anyway?”

“Care?” He laughed. “I like to keep my options open, sweet. That’s all.”

“And you truly believe the Lords are an option?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her tone.

He glared at her, and she mentally berated herself. She had to tread carefully and not antagonize him by dangling the carrot he could never quite reach in front of him. He was warded. If he decided he no longer needed her, she would be unable to use her power against him.

His bedroom door suddenly burst open, and a gorilla-like demon raced inside. “Three prisoners attempted to escape, my lord, but they didn’t get far. They await your punishment.”

Keeley stiffened. Torin, Viola and Pandora? Probably. Mission fail! Time for damage control.

“Where are they?” Lucifer asked, as calm as before.

“The throne room, my king.”

“Bring them here.”

The demon raced away without missing a beat.

Throat dry, Keeley asked, “What are you going to do with them? And why do you have two females chained next to your throne?”

His dark eyes glinted at her. “What would you like me to do? And because it pleased me to do so.”

“Let them go?”

He smiled, shook his head. “You always had a soft heart. I had hoped that what Hades had done to you had hardened you.”

It would have, permanently, if not for Mari...and then Torin.

“You know, the timing strikes me as odd,” he said, his tone merely observational. “Does it you? You arrive, and suddenly there’s an escape attempt.”