Page 20 of The Devil's Waltz

I roll my eyes, walking back to the kitchen as Blake follows, closing the door behind him.

“You sure enjoy reaffirming my doubts about you.”

“Dick,” he mutters without heat, dropping onto a barstool. “Oh, good. You made coffee.”

I snatch up my mug before he can swipe it for himself. “What are you doing here?”

“A demon can’t check in on his best half-demon pal?” Besides pushing boundaries, Blake also loves to remind me I’m not a pure-blooded demon like him.

My father, whoever he was, was human. A plaything of Lucia’s, I’m sure, and someone I’ll never know, because he fled after one night with my mother.Fair enough.

For the first fifteen years of my life, I lived in hell with her until she decided I needed to be socialized with humans. She views my humanity as my greatest weakness, but also something she won’t hesitate to use to her advantage.

For over a decade, I’ve hated the monster who gave birth to me.

I’ve never had a mother. Only a queen. And thanks to the twisted bond all demons share with our monarch, the desire to serve her that exists inside me is nearly impossible to fight.

That said, when Lucia advised me of the plan to target Camille, I quickly decided that I’d comply one last time and then I’d disappear. Of course, I can never truly escape my queen—she’d find me anywhere I went—but I have this pathetic feeling, something akin to hope, that she’ll let me go. There is no shortage of demons whose loyalty she’s never had to force. My position at her side is replaceable. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

“Blake,” I bite out, my tone a warning for him to get to the fucking point already.

He huffs out a dramatic sigh, raking his fingers through his spiky pink hair. He’s been on a colored hair kick lately. Last month it was green. Both colors pop with his dark, thick eyebrows and tan, olive skin tone. “How are things going with the hunters’ daughter?”

I swallow the rest of my coffee, barely tasting it, and turn to put my mug in the sink. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because it’s going well or because it’s not?” he pushes, flicking a non-existent piece of lint off his black jean jacket. He’s wearing it over a Sex Pistols T-shirt paired with black skinny jeans and Doc Marten boots.

“It’s going fine,” I say carefully, a muscle feathering along my jaw.

He notices and holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t bite my head off. I’m just making sure things are still on track. I’m here to help you.”

Exhaling a heavy breath, I lean against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “Things between Camille and I are progressing steadily. Since the attack almost a week ago, we’ve gone out twice. She stayed here last night—”

Blake lets out a whistle, shooting me a devious smirk.

I blink at him, straight-faced. “She fell asleep while we were watching a movie, jackass. Nothing happened.” That said, I would’ve been more than happy to oblige had she wanted something to happen. The thought crossed my mind more than once while she was here.

“Oh.Boringgg.” He drags out the word in a singsong voice that makes me grind my molars.

“She took off this morning in a panic over it, but aside from that, I believe it’s going well.”

“In terms of a timeline…?” Blake trails off, waiting for me to answer.

“I don’t fucking know. However long it takes. I can’t force her to trust me—that would defeat the purpose of this entire charade.”

“Right, but you know Lucia—”

“I know what she wants,” I snap, my stomach clenching as my temples throb with pressure. Part of me bristles at serving her, following her every depraved demand. On the flip side, there’s another part—a darker, twisted part—that craves it. It feeds the monster I try desperately to keep buried deep. Most of the time.

Blake seems to get the message, because he backs off. “When all of this shit is over, we need to get away for a while. You have that fae buddy with a hotel in Canada, right? Let’s go visit the North.”

“Toronto is south of Seattle.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Besides, I’m sure he wouldn’t really appreciate me bringing problems to his doorstep.”

“You are so fucking stubborn, you know that? Why is the idea of your friends being there for you so hard to grasp?”

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