Page 57 of Sweet Violence
"Fuck this," I growled and vaulted over his thumb, freefalling to the living room floor far below.
Why couldn't it have been deadly magic that'd help me blend in? I'd literally rather have some supernatural acid eating away at my humanity than this. Take a part of his soul? Something I could never give back? There'd be no leaving Hell, no going back to my life, nothing but Hell and the devil and the circle. I'd be their mate, their woman, for life.
No fucking way was I giving up my independence, my job, and all the things I loved—hunting, killing, candy, cliché murder mystery shows…
When have they ever asked you to give that up?an irritating voice asked. I ignored it.
If they wanted me, they'd get me as I was. Sharp, stabby, and snapping. But … no one was ever supposed to fall in love with me or offer to give me their damn soul. Mate bonds were one thing, but this was going too far.
I was so distracted, I barely noticed the walls flying past me and the floor rushing up fast. A huge, crimson hand caught me before I could hit it, cushioning my fall and giving mere bruises instead of broken bones. I didn't want to admit I'd known he would catch me.
My body jolted in his palm, my heart jumping and crashing, and for a second I wasn't here but falling through endless blackness, gutted and bruised and broken. He'd caught me, then. He'd always catch me.
My chest compacted into a dense, pulsing pain. Why couldn't I just accept that he cared for me? Why couldn't I just accept his soul? Anyone else would be thrilled the devil was enamoured with them, and just go with it.
"Fuck," I rasped, splaying in his palm and shaking all over. Tears of frustration burned my eyes and slid down my cheeks, leaving streaks of heat and liquid.
"Don't even think about being hard on yourself," Dev ordered, setting me gently on my couch. "You were tortured, babygirl, and you might think you've recovered from that, but you most certainly have not."
I made a throaty sound, staring at the ceiling.
"It lives in your mind, and haunts your sleep. You're barely outrunning what was done to you. Your body has healed, but your mind is far from it."
I ignored that, until—
"You've been keeping my nightmares at bay."
"You need sleep; you're struggling enough without your body coming apart again."
I clenched my jaw against another rush of emotion. I knew he was right, and this volatile state would continue until I actually faced what happened, but I didn't want to. I wanted to run forever.
I tried to saythanksbut my tongue wouldn't obey me. I ground my teeth, trying so hard to keep it together. I wasn’t supposed to be this emotional, this affected—I buried all my emotions in a sealed vault deep down and never let them come to light. I hadn't faced my grief over losing—and killing—Dad before and I wasn't about to face this, either. But cracks had formed.
Grief, relief that he wasn't dead, dread that I'd have to kill him again, fear that I wouldn't have the strength to do it, and … hurt. So much fucking hurt.
I jolted when Dev set me down and shrank suddenly, reaching for a glass I left on the coffee table, dregs of pink fruity alcohol in the bottom. He shook the drops of liquid out over my rug, which was fucking rude even if rugsweremy mortal enemy, and then—
"What are you doing?" I demanded, flying to my feet.
He jabbed claws into his chest, right in the centre, and my stomach flipped when he pulled out a strand of pulsing red light. It looked like I imagined magic to look before I really saw it.
Dev didn't answer, clipping the strand with the claws of his other hand, and placing the glowing red thread in the empty glass, trapping it with a marble coaster.
"Keep it. It's yours—and it's your choice whether you take it inside you or not."
"That's … a piece of your soul," I murmured, staring at the gleaming light in the bottom of the glass. It throbbed with power, or life, or whatever actually made up a soul. "I'm looking atyour soul."
I jumped when Dev bent over me, kissing the top of my head. "You are worth more than you know. You are worth everything. My soul is yours. I won't use it to control or change you. I only want to help you kill those who've wronged you."
Or he could just be saying that, and there could be hidden side effects.
"It's the only way for you to get into the training hall." He kissed my hair again. "I love you no matter which decision you choose. But if you go to the hall as you are now, you'll be discovered as a spy in an instant."
Eh, I could massacre them. But then I'd never know if they were Eidolon's minions…
And I’d lose the advantage I badly needed to survive my dad.
"I'll leave you alone now, as you'd prefer," the devil said, and caressed a knuckle down my cheek before heading for the door.
