Page 76 of The Devil's Trials

I ignore that and continue, “You have the skills and potential to be a strong asset.”

Her brows lift. “An asset to what, exactly?”

“Me.”

She barks out a laugh. “You have got to be kidding me.” When I don’t join in, her expression hardens. “Holy shit, you’re serious.”

“Quite.”

Harper stares at me, processing what I’ve said. “I’m going to need more to go on here.”

“You need experience and demon hunts under your belt to graduate training, and I’d rather delegate the task of killing my own kind.”

She purses her lips, her forehead creasing in thought. “Just so I’m clear what’s happening here. Are you suggesting…we work together?”

I nod. “Would you consider it?”

“Making a deal with the devil?” she mutters as if to herself before speaking louder. “What do you get out of this?”

Closing the distance between us, I lower my voice. “I get out of killing. You may not believe this, but I don’t particularly enjoy it.” Soul or no, the act of taking a life doesn’t bring me anything.

She eyes me suspiciously. “Right. Isn’t that what your lackey is for? What’s his name? Brent? Brody?”

I chuckle. “Blake is occupied with other responsibilities. Besides, many demons take issue with killing their own. Which is where you come in.”

“What, you want me to be the devil’s executioner? Your personal hunter?” She frowns at the words that spill from her lips a second later.

“If you want a title, sure. I’m offering you a position on my council.”

Her heart beats faster, and she swallows hard. “If anybody found out, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

I press my lips together in consideration. “So no one finds out. We keep it to ourselves—and Blake, because I tell him everything.”

“Is this the part where you ask me to keep it from Cami?”

I scratch the stubble along my jaw. “No, I won’t ask you to do that.”

“Good, because I won’t. I’ve always talked to her about training, even when she wasn’t part of the organization.”

I acknowledge that with a subtle nod. “You’ve spoken to her about training since she started again?” The question is out there before I can stop myself, ignoring the dull sense of discomfort in my gut.

She hesitates and then shrugs. “A little. She’s been taking classes at Ballard along with extra private sessions with Noah and—Get that look off your face. You’re not allowed to get angry that he’s involved. That he’s helping her. He stuck his neck out for your asinine plan that wentsideways, and quite frankly, we’re lucky he was there. If he hadn’t been, I can’t say that we would have made it out alive.”

I grit my teeth at the pressure in my chest, the possessive urge to snap back at Harper, despite knowing full well she’s right.

I have no right to be angry over another man being close to Camille and helping her with something I can’t. But that doesn’t change the rage simmering in me, because even if Camille doesn’t know it, some greater power—the stars or universe or whatever—decided she was mine, same as I was hers.

Of course, killing Lucia stole what was left of my soul, destroying the otherworldly bond between Camille and me. It didn’t, however, take away the all-too human feelings I developed for her.

I don’t need a soul to love Camille Morgan.

I’m suddenly torn between relief that I can still feel the most important part of the humanity I thought I lost completely, and dread, because on some level my life as the king of hell would be easier without the attachment of emotions.

Perhaps also easier if I was no longer capable of love.

I push the thoughts away and focus on Harper again. “I need an answer. Do we have a deal?”

Her pulse jumps, and she swallows. “I need time to consider it.”

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