Page 182 of Bred
The deepest, darkest pits are where those monsters deserve to be.
“And now you give me your life.”
The Devil’s words take a moment to sink in. “You want to kill me?!”
My shrill voice cuts into the blackness of my room, but the evil man just rolls his eyes. “Are you listening to me? A dead Natalia is no good. I don’t want your soul, I want yourbody.”
CHAPTER TWO
LUCIFER
ThewheelsturninNatalia’s brain as she tries to figure out what I mean. To my amusement, she comes to the wrong conclusion.
“Mybody? Like you need parts to perform some satanic ritual or something?!”
Her hazel gaze flashes indignantly, and I barely repress a chuckle.
“Nope. Guess again.”
Natalia chews on her full bottom lip, the action stirring my barely curbed lust as the feral hunger inside of me grows. She ponders what I could possibly mean when if she merely looked down, it would be obvious.
I’m wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket over a t-shirt, a la human, because it’s cold as shit outside, but the denim fabric does nothing to mask my hard-on. It’s rather impressive, if I do say so myself, but then again, I’m the Devil. Of course, I have a big dick—you have to, to run a place like Hell.
“I have no idea! Just tell me, please!”
“You really should show the Prince of Hell a little more respect. I have a legion of demons at my beck and call.”
“I’ve known worse.”
Her sad whisper tugs a bit at the vestiges of my compassion. Although buried, some humanity still lingers inside of me, although I’ve never been human. God made us to protect them, and so, he instilled their emotions in each of us.
When I fell—willingly jumped off the cliff is more like it—a lot of those sentiments became twisted or dormant. In my line of work, kindness kills. Any softness gets devoured bit by bit until you’re nothing but a husk.
“Want me to tell you about your family?”
“No.”
Her terse answer surprises me. I would delight in hearing about the gruesome pain meted out on those who wronged me, but it would seem that Natalia would rather just forget.
“They’reextremelyuncomfortable.”
Understatement of the century—they’re fucking wish they were dead.
“I don’t want them uncomfortable. I want them sorry.”
A grimace carves along my face. I can give her their eternal suffering, but never their genuine regret. Only they can gift her that, and I doubt those monsters are truly sorry. I make a mental note to double down on their punishment—only the best for my girl.
“Satan?”
“Lucifer. Satan is a human name given to me by those sycophants of He Whose Name We Don’t Speak.”
“Voldemort?”
“God, you little smartass.”
“Riiiiiiight.”
She’s so cute. I’m going to spank her tight ass and knock her up, and she doesn’t even know it.
