Page 111 of The Devil's Trials

“Can I have my dagger back?” I repeat.

“We both know you won’t use it on me.”

His confident tone makes my eyes narrow. “Do we?” I taunt, unable to help myself. He doesn’t get to win this verbal sparring match.

Xander sets his fork down, holding my gaze. Reaching behind him, he pulls my dagger out and sets it on the table, close enough for me to grab. Then the arrogant bastard picks up his fork and proceeds to eat.

I sit back with a scowl, crossing my arms.

He points at my plate with his fork. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I grumble, and yeah, it’s childish, but it’s either that or scream profanities about this whole shit show. I think I chose the tamer option.

After swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, I proceed to down my glass of wine. Because if I’m going to endure whatever this is with Xander, I’m at least going to do it with a buzz.

TWENTY-SEVENXANDER

Camille’s arrival could have gone worse. I expected her to be upset, and it was warranted. I would’ve much rather gone for her myself and had her come willingly, but there wasn’t time to finesse that. What’s important now is that she’s here and she’s safe. With my third trial looming, I can’t worry about Camille and keep my focus where it needs to be.

I left her alone last night when she retreated to the bedroom Blake brought her to when she arrived. As much as I wanted her next to me, I have to be mindful of how close I get. I’m so fucking close to the throne, and with just under a month until the winter solstice and the ascension summit, my final trial could come any day. I need to be at my strongest. I can’t let any ounce of weakness in.

Camille brings out whatever humanity lingers in me which, by all accounts, is dangerous. Any flicker of vulnerability could mean the difference between ascending the throne and being damned to guard the deepest, darkest pits of hell.

But that doesn’t stop me from being drawn to her, especially when she’s under the same roof I am.

The others have kept their distance since they arrived. Greer hasn’t left her room, so Jude has spent most of her time in there with her so she isn’t alone, while Roman and Francesca have been scouring for any information about Marrick’s plan to create demons from humans.

I find Camille leaving the dining room and cut into her path with a smooth, “There you are.”

“Where else would I be?” she offers with an arched brow, and I can’t ignore the way her heart beats faster when she sees me. An ever-present reminder of how I enjoy the way I affect her far too much for a demon who isn’t meant to feel such things. That said, I suppose the primal instinct to claim her is far from human…

I tilt my head to the side, trying to get a read on her, though she’s learned quite well to school her features. “How are you?”

She blinks at me, a prelude of her wildly unimpressed tone. “Seriously? How do you think I’m doing?”

“Camille—”

“I didn’t think I could feel so claustrophobic in such a huge house but I’m trying not to rip my hair out here.”

“You’re welcome to explore the grounds, though it’s a bit cold out there now. Or I’m sure Gio would be happy to give you a cooking lesson. Something to pass the time so you’re not entirely left alone with your thoughts.” I know how she operates. How easily her own mind can betray her and trigger a panic attack. I’ll do whatever I can to prevent that from happening here.

“You want me to hang out with the demon equivalent of a Disney character?” When I chuckle at her frankly spot-on reference of Gio, she punches me in the arm, and I don’t stop her. “It’s not funny!”

I cough to muffle the sound of my laughter, holding up my hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve just never heard someone describe Gio that way, but it’s pretty accurate.” He’d absolutely agree too—even the demons are nicer in Canada.

“Whatever,” she grumbles. “That’s not the point.”

I nod thoughtfully. “Of course not.”

Camille exhales a harsh breath. “You won’t let me leave this place, and I’m going out of my mind. I went from training every day to nothing, and it’s making me antsy.”

“Let me change, and we can go down to the gym together.”

“No,” she says without missing a beat.

“No?” I can’t help the lilt of amusement in my tone that surely matches my expression.

She shakes her head. “I’m not going to train with a demon. Especially not you.”

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