Page 11 of Chain Me
After licking my lips, I tested one theory by calling out, “F-François?”
Through the shadows, I sensed a doorknob rattle without a word of warning from the person on the other end. That ruled him out. Unease danced down my spine as I wrestled with the prospect of real danger. Perhaps terminating my entire security team hadn’t been the best idea in retrospect? I couldn’t regret it now.
Instead, I grasped at my surroundings for a weapon, finding only a pillow. I brandished it as the door opened and moonlight spilled in from a nearby window to illuminate the intruding figure.
A gasp caught in my throat. It wasn’t a murderer or a robber—certainly not the lanky François.
Hewas a far worse entity.
Not real, I deduced.This apparition was just another phase in an all-too-vivid dream. But pinching my wrist didn’t jolt me awake.
The Devil stubbornly remained, dressed in his usual soul-collecting attire—a flawless ebony suit crowned with a blood-colored tie. Pale skin contrasted harshly with the shadow surrounding him as did his hair—a gleaming shade of gold the sun couldn’t outshine.
With this man’s chiseled jaw jutting in the air, not even God himself would dare challenge him.
Let alone me.
Without invitation, he entered the room, and my heart stuttered as anticipation grew with every inch he gained. Admittedly, this was far from the meticulous, sly return someone like him was capable of performing. Almost as if I wasn’t worth even a fraction of the effort. Still, I’d imagined this moment so many times, assuming what he’d say down to the last word. The general gist, at least.Do be a good girl, Eleanor, and give me my contract book back, please and thank you.
So a rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue before he even opened his perfect mouth. “You’re slacking Dublin. That was far from a dramatic entrance befitting the big bad contractor—”
“You look like hell.” He advanced another step, sweeping his gaze over me. “No wonder your doctor has been consulting experts the world over concerning your case.”
“M-My what?” I blinked, confused. Weeks of fantasizing about this moment, and yet never did I imagine his first words would refer to my medical records.
“Here.” One of his arms tensed, revealing something in his grasp. A knife? He threw whatever it was in my direction and I flinched, covering my head with my hands. Coolness brushed my calf, but no pain followed. Had he missed? I peeked through my splayed fingers, spotting a round object. A water bottle, of all things.
“Drink,” he snapped. “I can hear your heart straining from here.”
His tone was all wrong—deeper than I remembered, for one. Guttural. When I looked up, his mouth firmly resisted even the hint of that cruel, mocking smile I knew so well. The Devil was clearly vexed. Had I interrupted his self-imposed exile with my bloody excretions?
No matter. Matching his tone, I bit back with, “I thought your magic necklace was supposed to help in that regard?” I clutched at the item in question, straining the slender chain. “Or was that just a lie? A way for you to track me all along? I should have ripped it off the second you left—”
“You didn’t.” His gaze honed in on my throat. “Have you tried removing it?” He surged forward another step, only to halt paces from the bed. I had flinched without even realizing it. “Do you even know the lengths I went through getting the damn thing on you in the first place?” The slightest tremor disrupted his words. “Then again, maybe youdoknow? I’m sure she didn’t specify those little terms all on her own—”
“She?”
“Don’t play the fool.” He inclined his head, exasperated with me already.
But the way he was glaring at me trapped any rebuttal in my throat. I’d almost forgotten this aspect of his persona—how dangerous he could seem when he wanted to, fitting the term I’d christened him with during one of our first meetings.
Monster.
“Removing the talisman disrupts its effects,” he growled, a professor begrudgingly bestowing a lesson upon an ignorant fool. “I warned you—”
“I…” My mind raced to keep up as a million words formed and died on the tip of my tongue. In the end, I managed to voice only one pathetic question. “Why are you here?”
“A better question would be: Why were youthere? To provoke me? Well, congratulations, you have. Is it my blood that you’re after?” He nodded toward my extended wrist. “Or could it be that, once again, you’re being manipulated by Raphael? Don’t tell me that you didn’t realize that was no ordinary restaurant?”
I swallowed hard, envisioning the elegant, rich décor of The Maria. Was he correct in insinuating an ominous reason for the splendor? That it was owned by the vampire Raphael…
Shaking my head, I tried to refocus. “I…I didn’t. I didn’t know you’d be there.” Wait. Why was I on the defensive, explaining myself tohim? I shook my head again.Deep breaths, Eleanor.
Obviously, this tactic was one of his many mind games. Mention my sister. Then pretend to care, and even throw in dear Dr. Goodfellow for good measure. How sweet.
I could admire his tact for not launching into demanding his contract back first thing. But what did one say to a creature who’d abandoned them without so much as a second thought, anyway?
Apparently, they said, “You know what? You don’t have the right to ask me about a damn—”Thing, I meant to add before a violent cough racked my spine. I hunched over, grasping the sheets around me for balance. Sheets way too fine to ever be mine.
