Page 58 of The Devil's Trials

And that’s fucking devastating.

“What does this mean?” I ask again, my voice small, hesitant. I’m torn between wanting to know more and just living with the knowledge I’ve already gained. What else is there to know? I’m not sure it even matters now—I can’t be soulmates with someone who doesn’t have a soul. I guess I’m naively hoping he’ll say otherwise.

Xander’s chest rises and falls as he sighs. “You already know.”

Of course I do. And yet, my stomach still sinks.

“Right,” I whisper.

Demons don’t have souls. Theycan’thave soulmates.

The hunter organization would have us all believe that demons can’t experience something as pure as love, but I don’t believe it. Blake is the most obvious evidence that demons can feel and care andlove. I’ve seen it in his loyalty to Xander, and even in the way he’s spoken to me.

Blake is not a monster, and neither is Xander—not to the people who are important to them.

Xander guides my head away from his chest, tipping it up and pressing his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes, pulling in a shaky breath as the tension in my temples softens, then fades completely.

I pull back, breathing, “What was that?”

He blinks, his expression confused as he shakes his head.

“My headache. You kissed me, and it’s just…gone.”

His brows lift. “I don’t think I’ve done anything like that before,” he muses. “It must be another development in my power. Demons are fallen angels, after all. I suppose healing abilities make sense to some degree.”

“Maybe we are still connected somehow,” I offer, my skin tingling at the thought.

His fingers slip free of my hair as he shifts away, his jaw set tight. “If that’s the case, you’ll be in even more danger as I work through the trials to ascend the throne.”

I swallow, my throat raw from coughing for days. “Good thing I’m in demon hunter training, then.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I never thought I’d say that.”

Xander’s expression darkens. “It’s more complicated than that. You’ll be a target, a liability.”

His words slice deep into my chest, feeling more like an attack than they should. I resent the way my chin quivers, and I clench my jaw against the tears threatening to form. I loathe how weak I feel in this moment, in front of him.

Maybe he was right—now isn’t the time to talk about this.

“I think you should go,” I tell him, unable to meet his gaze.

“You’re upset,” he observes, his brows drawn together.

“I’m sick,” I say instead of admitting the hurt gnawing at me. It’s not untrue, though I am better physically than I was a few days ago. “I just need to sleep,” I add, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave.

Xander nods but doesn’t move from his spot on my bed.

I sigh despite the twisted part of me that finds comfort in his proximity. It begs the question of a lingering connection, even in the absence of Xander’s soul. Maybe if I was more awake, clearer-headed, I’d ask about the possibility, but, instead, I say, “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” My eyelids grow heavier, staying closed longer with each blink.

He tilts his head to the side, surveying my face. “I’m not leaving until you’re feeling better.”

Left with no energy to fight him, I stretch my legs out and pull the blankets up around me as I try to get comfortable. “Stay out of my dreams,” I grumble at him, turning onto my side to face away from him, and close my eyes as I exhale a slow breath.

I think he chuckles, but I’ve sunk too far into the warm, comforting cloud of unconsciousness to hear his soft reply.

FIFTEENXANDER

Camille is right. I shouldn’t be here. I should have left—no, I shouldn’t have come at all. I should be building my strength for my next trial, not using it to cure a human headache.

Except, I couldn’t stop myself from coming. I had to see Camille, to know for myself that she was okay.

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