Page 25 of Unholy Bond
“You reek of them,” he said, almost tenderly. “I’m flattered, really. But you know this ends with you on your knees, begging. Why not cut through the foreplay?”
I didn’t answer. I kept my face blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He waited, then snorted, turning on his heel.
The door slammed behind him, shaking the stone in its frame.
I sat in the center of the ruined bed, hair wild, body sticky with sweat and sex and Void. For a moment, the loss threatened to unravel me. Then I remembered the way Aziz’s eyes had glowed when the Void marked him, the way Levi had gasped, the way Ian had clung, refusing to let go. They were not gone. Just hidden.
I stroked the skin above my heart, where the lines of the Void curled in elegant fractals, and I smiled.
Lucifer thought he’d won. That was the joke.
I stood, unashamed, and dragged the frilly pink gown over my head, letting the ruffles settle over my hips. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked ridiculous. I looked like a threat.
I looked exactly the way I wanted.
In the next room, the Void coiled and waited, purring with anticipation.
We would break the world, and we would do it on our own terms.
Dinner was going to be memorable.
Chapter 13: Lilith
I did not waste time hating the dress. Hate was energy, and there were more worthy causes for it. The dress would be a tool, an emblem, a costume for tonight’s performance. I slid the slip of pink polyester to settle over my skin. It hit mid-thigh and clung to my ribs in a way that left nothing to the imagination, whichwas Lucifer’s point. He wanted the world to know he could make the Mother of Monsters into a cupcake.
The lace trim of the dress itched even where it didn’t touch skin. The pink made my hair look yellow, my skin sickly, my lips a slash of accidental red. I practiced my smile until the edges of my mouth wanted to split. At first, I tried a subtle, demure upturn. False. I layered on a bashful giggle, the look that said, “I was just happy to be here,Daddy”. Worse. I tested every variant I’d ever seen on a desperate woman, from big-eyed adoration to the submissive downward gaze, and none of them fit.
What did work was the smile that cost something. The one that stretched too wide and let the madness shine through just a little. I locked it in place, counted to five, and then, showtime.
The halls of the palace were already hot with expectation. The air reeked of copper, perfume, and the faint sweetness of formaldehyde. Every surface had been buffed to a shine, every corridor lined with draping velvet the color of dried scabs. I kept my steps measured, toes pointed, shoulders back. I passed a window and caught my reflection in the black glass: a lollipop in a haunted house.
At the end of the corridor, two of my children waited, each dressed in uniforms that flattered their grotesque features. The first bowed deeply and presented an arm. I took it, ignoring the bristle of carapace through the fabric. The second, a pale girl with eyes like wet marbles, clutched a bottle of wine with both hands and trailed behind us. They shepherded me through the main rotunda, past a row of headless statues, and into the dining hall.
Lucifer had gone for baroque. The table stretched the entire length of the room, carved from a single plank of something that looked like petrified whale bone. Every place setting shimmeredwith black glass and silver cutlery. The candelabras overhead dripped molten wax onto the backs of the lesser demons tasked with holding them aloft, and the flames burned a lurid green. The effect was oppressive, theatrical, and somehow almost funny.
Lucifer waited at the head of the table, wearing a suit so perfectly tailored it might have been grown on his body. He stood as I approached, the heat from his gaze a physical force. He looked at the dress, then at my face, and then at the wine.
“Beautiful,” he announced, with the warmth of a glacier calving. “Sit.”
It took all of my control not to roll my eyes or lash out to him as I sat on the chair to his right. The spidery demon filled my glass to the brim, then disappeared. The pale girl poured for Lucifer, the bottle trembled once—our code—then stilled. She retreated to the shadows.
Lucifer raised his glass. “To your compliance. Long may it last.”
He didn’t drink. “Stand,” he murmured into the pause, the word a leash. “Spin. Smile.”
Applause snapped into place—thin and obedient—as I turned.
He drank then and I matched him as I sat down, draining half the glass in one swallow. The wine hit the back of my throat like a knife. I almost choked but swallowed the burn and set the glass down with a steady hand.
Lucifer bared his teeth at me, showing the full array. “You never could hold your liquor.”
“I learn,” I said, keeping my gaze soft.
He waved a hand, and the rest of the guests trickled in. Most were his, the spawn of his more recent conquests: demons with skin the color of tarnished brass, or tails tipped with syringes, or faces made for mugshots. They each bowed as they passed, but none dared meet my eyes. I scanned them, counting at least thirty, each more dangerous than the last.
The meal began. Platters arrived, stacked high with meats still twitching, fruits that bled juice the color of arterial spray, and breads with crusts so black they shimmered. Lucifer never ate at first; he liked to watch me pick at the food, waiting for the moment I let my guard down. I obliged, slicing a steak into tiny morsels and chewing with deliberate slowness. I could see, in the corner of my eye, his fingers tapping a staccato on the table.
The first test came with the soup course. The bowl steamed with a smell like burnt ozone and root vegetables. I cupped my hands around it, letting the heat soften the skin of my palms, and traced a tiny sigil on the rim with the tip of my nail. Just a taste of the Void, a sliver of black to see if the wards would react. Nothing. The soup’s surface quivered, but the color stayed true. I risked a glance at Lucifer, who seemed more interested in the cutlery than the contents of my bowl.
