Demon's Bride

Her mouth tugged in a sardonic smile. Let them try and burn her. She would blow out the flames with a wave of her hand.

Unless they bound her hands. Then she might be burned. Already, she thought she could smell her flesh being charred, flaking away from bone to be borne aloft on currents of heat.

Leo would come to her aid. Shoot them all down, or use his fists to knock them senseless, then cut the ropes binding her to the stake and take her far away to safety.

She shifted onto her back. No indulging in fantasy, in fairy tales. The world is not so kind as to give us heroes and rescues—not without a price.

“Unquiet thoughts make for a poor lullaby.” Zora spoke softly, her voice smoky and subtly accented.

A

“I hated him, too,” Zora murmured.

A

“Whit.” The Gypsy shook her head. “That gorgio fascinated me, yes, but I knew what he was, what he had done. He’d taken so much from me—my family, my freedom. I wanted nothing to do with him.”

“But I thought ... you seem so very ... in love.” It hurt A

Zora’s gaze warmed, and her mouth curved into a small, private smile. “Oh, most terribly. Yet he spilled more than a little blood to earn it.”

This conversation was stranger than Zora sitting on the floor. A

Yet there was a point of convergence for her and the Gypsy: Hellraisers.

“I don’t want Leo’s blood spilled.” A

Zora shrugged. “If, Duvvel willing, we survive our task, you won’t have to see him again. If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.” A

“Hard men to love, these Hellraisers.” Zora’s words were wry, yet tinged with deeper emotion. “Harder still to not love them. But I think there is a reason why Livia chose to give magic to you and I.”

“Because we might get close to the Hellraisers.”

A definite smile sounded in Zora’s voice. “Because we’re strong.”

The door opened. Someone entered the room. A

“The door was locked,” Zora said.

“I had the i

Of course he did. Leo could make anything happen through force of will.

Untrue—he had not made A

“I want to be alone with my wife,” he said.

“I don’t think she wants to be alone with you,” answered Zora.

Before Leo could retort, A

“I left him in the taproom,” said Leo.

A

A

“Here’s some stew and bread.” As he said this, she heard a bowl being set down atop a table, and the rich scent of cooked meat and the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through the room.

“I’ve no appetite.”

He expelled a breath. “Think what you will of me, A

Taking her arm away, A

Yearning and need throbbed through her. And sorrow.

“Spite? Is that what this is? Spite?” She sat up, and the room tilted. Truly, weariness took a toll. And, she admitted to herself, hunger. “How very petty of me. To be out of temper when I discover that my husband is in league with the Devil. And had been lying to me for the whole of our marriage. What a dreadful virago I am.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t,” he growled. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“As truth ill becomes you.”

Snarling in frustration, he dragged his hands through his hair. A

“It was a mistake,” he ground out. “A goddamned mistake.”

“Putting too much sugar in one’s tea is a mistake. Giving one’s soul to the Devil in exchange for dark magic deserves a grander sobriquet.”

He crossed the room in two long strides, until he loomed over her. “You’re a woman possessed of a good imagination. Imagine this: You are offered your heart’s desire. What you want more than anything in the world. The cost of this gift is never mentioned, only its advantages. All you have to do is hand over the smallest trinket, and you finally possess that which you’ve always coveted.” Anger and need darkened his eyes as he stared down at her. “Imagine it, A

She stared up at him. This fierce storm of a man, devastating as a hurricane. She did as he asked; she envisaged herself in his position. Months ago, before she had met him, what might she have wanted so badly? A place of her own. A husband, family.

She did have those things, and lost them. Both because of Leo. But to keep them, to keep him ...

The other Hellraisers were men of wealth and aristocratic privilege. Leo had wealth in abundance, but not the proper breeding. She knew so much about him now, how much he craved access into a world that barred him entrance, his pride. His need for acceptance.

All of those things he had been offered. Few could have resisted the temptation. Saints, perhaps, and Leo was far from beatification. God knew she was no saint.

“The lies, Leo,” she said at last. “All those untruths I swallowed, like a credulous patient gulping poison instead of medicine.”

“What was I to tell you? How could I even begin to broach the topic? ‘Lovely day at the Exchange, my dearest, and by the by, I made a bargain with the Devil.’”

She shoved up from the bed, shouldering past him. “Do not be flippant about this. You’ve no right to ridicule me.”

He let out a breath. “True. I’ve only my self-abnegation. And your hatred of me. Both justly earned.”

“I don’t hate you.” She turned to face him.

He brightened, and the hope in his gaze made her heart break all over again.

“I want to despise you.” She knew she was being cruel, yet the cruelty was for herself as well as him. “It is not merely the lies you told, but the fact that you deliberately used me. Collecting coins for you. Having me believe I was gratifying some secret wish, a shared confidence for you and I alone. And I was so bloody eager to give you whatever I could. To help forge our wedding vows into a true marriage.” She shoved her knuckles into her eyes, forcing back the tears that wanted to fall. When she felt in control of herself again, she let her hands hang down at her sides. “None of it was genuine. Just a manipulation.”