Page 1 of Devil's Delirium

Chapter One: Whispers of Menace

Tess

The first time Ivanthreatened to kill me, I laughed. By now, I didn’t even smile. The suffocating atmosphere in Empire Decay Ink, where I worked for him as a tattoo artist, had transformed what should have been my dream career into a waking nightmare. Immersing myself in my daily routines—organizing the shelves and attending to social media and customer emails never really quieted the uneasiness.

The only thing scarier than the darkness in Ivan’s studio was the man himself. My boss prowled the floor with a predatory grace, his piercing gaze following my every move and hissing subtle threats under his breath. “I hope you don’t choke on your lunch today.”

Ivan purposely kept me on edge, but knowing that didn’t soothe my anxiety. He never interrupted my work with a customer. Still, subtle intimidation coated every sharp, disapproving glare wheneverour eyes met, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he passed by.

“You know, there are worse things that can happen to a person than being burned alive.”

As a witch who’d given him ten years of my life, that one cut deep. Not that I ever had a choice. It was part of the Fidelity Pact he made me agree to in return for the help he gave me when he found me—a starving homeless teenager. With each passing comment, the tension grew thicker, reminding me of the power he wielded over me. I’d signed the contract. I’d agreed to the magic that kept me enslaved to him and unable to say no. This was my life. Every day, trapped in a perpetual state of terror and anxiety.

“At the end of the day, I’m going to take you out. You know that, don’t you?”

It was my greatest fear that when he was sick of me, he’d just kill me. And he’d get away with it, too. He got away with everything.

I couldn’t do anything about it.

I’d long ago decided I’d made my bed, and there was no hope for me.

“I’m sure you will, Ivan,” I mumbled with my back turned, wiping equipment.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

He seized my shoulder and spun me around to face him. Dark, slicked-back, greasy hair reflected from the overhead lights, distracting me as he read my black T-shirt with “Believe in Magic” written in neon pink letters. He snarled softly before piercing me with that gaze again. “What did you say?”

He made my skin crawl and my pulse quicken. I glanced down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal of it. “I just said I’m sure you will. I agree.”

“You should thank me. You probably would have died by now if it weren’t for me.”

That was the annoying truth. I was cold, starving and alone when he found me. Even though I was terrified of him, he offered me food and played his part well. By this point, I wasn’t sure if I felt the decade of terror had been worth staying alive at all. Sure, I was warm and fed, but also a nervous wreck from all his abuse.

He strode off toward the front desk to rifle through some paperwork, and I blew out a relieved breath. I was so far past worn down, I was nearly ready to run into traffic and end it all. But not now. Today, I was determined to get a break from Ivan, at least for a little while.

With my hands hidden behind the shelf, I slipped my glove off and stuck a needle in my pointer, rubbing the drop of blood between my thumb and finger. Whispering a distraction spell under my breath wove bewilderment through the room. Since we were alone and I wore an anti-confusion charm on my bracelet, I waited for the effects to kick in. When Ivan’s expression wavered with uncertainty, and his eyes clouded over, I asked him, “Didn’t you have a pile of paperwork in your office?”

He blinked, as if emerging from a trance, before turning toward his office in the back room. He wasn’t emerging, though. He was descending, and I would pay for it eventually. Regardless, a wave of relief washed over me—a sweet respite from my tormentor and just in time for my final client appointment.

Brandon arrived on time, and we got right to work. The blue and green dragon on his back was coming along nicely. It was his third appointment, and we were working on shading now. He was pleased,and I was proud of myself and how well it was coming out. At least there was that to feel good about.

By six o’clock, when all my clients had gone, I was finishing up the cleaning routine, nearly ready to go home when Ivan emerged from his office. His cold, disheveled demeanor sent a chill through me. I knew from experience what that meant. This was my spell’s rebound, where he was darker and more unpredictable than ever. It was always a gamble, but when you need relief in the moment, the future seems such a long way off.

“We’re going out,” he declared. My objections faltered as he seized me by the arm with an iron grip, his fingers digging into my flesh. “I have somewhere to take you.” His cruel voice dripped with authority I had no right to contest.

Panic surged inside, but before I could protest, his grasp tightened, his breath hot as he leaned in close to hiss in my ear. “Remember who owns you.” A malevolent grin spread across his lips as he savored the fear that coursed through my veins. His words echoed hollowly in the crowded cavern of my mind. I didn’t need the chilling reminder of the power he held over me, leaving me feeling small and powerless every single day. The Fidelity Pact pulsed within me every second of every day.

We locked up the shop, and Ivan wrapped his arm around my waist, whispering obscenities as we strolled down the street like lovers. The thought made me sick. His touch made me want to rip my skin off, but there was no fighting him or his insults…wherever we were going.

“You smell ripe, don’t you?” He snickered.

My stomach flipped at the revelation, and I had to stomp down the shame. “I’ve been working all day. I’d like to go home and shower.”

He sucked in air through his teeth, dragging a finger up my arm and down my chest, stopping to circle my nipple. “Yes, maybe I’ll bring you home, and we can shower first…”

Holding in the gasp that threatened to escape me and the instinct to rip his fingers off, I took a slow breath in instead. Going home with Ivan to shower with him was not ideal, to put it mildly. “No, Ivan. That’s okay. Let’s just get to wherever we’re going.”

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