Page 4 of Hell of a Thing

Inside the modest tent, crimson candles surrounded the summoning circle where one of my more trusted underlings had inscribed the series of runes required to bring The Devil into the mortal realm. With a snap of my fingers, the flames came to life, unbothered by the wind thanks to the thick canvas I’d insisted on. Tying the flap shut behind me, I strode to the center of the room and knelt in front of the summoning circle.

The Devil had full access to the souls of sinners in Hell, but here, we could offer him more. Innocence, brave. Under the guise of the carnival, we could offer him the very best and truest of humans for his special collection, not just those bitter souls condemned to an eternity of suffering.

I shouldn’t have been nervous. I’d been sent here for this—to ensure this group of carefully selected humans believed this place was for their amusement so they would sign their souls away, and yet when the time came to face The Devil, even I couldn’t deny the twist of my stomach. With a simple gesture, he could end everything I’d worked for and send me back to Hell.

It was paramount that I impressed him tonight.

My heartbeat quickened as I double-checked the lines carved into the wood panel floor. If there were errors in the runes, I couldn’t spot them.

Sweat dripped from my hairline, stinging my eyes as I took a steadying breath, wiping at my brow with the back of my hand.

Better to get this part over with. He’d be more than willing to pull a nail from my finger for every minute I kept him waiting. Without further hesitation, I reached under my skirt, removed the ritual knife from the hidden thigh strap, and closed my eyes. The ancient chant floated from my lips with ease, growing in power and demand with each passing second. Pain rippled from my palm to my fingertips as I wrapped them around the blade, squeezing until the skin parted. Hot blood trickled from my knuckles into the center of the sigil as I offered my essence and waited for his response.

Only a second or two passed before the aura shifted, and I felt the fabric of the human world rip apart to admit him.

“Hello, my King.” Curse the way my voice quaked beneath the weight of his presence.

The Devil did not care for cowards.

I was Isra, commander of his legions during the war, and I would keep my back straight in his presence.

Familiar fingers wrapped around my injured hand and drew it closer. A warm, wet tongue traced the cut and encircled two digits, licking up the blood as the wound healed and left behind the sting of his venom. Memories of whathe could do with that tongue flooded to me, sparking a warmth between my quivering thighs.

“Summoned me right on time. Good girl.” His defined, smooth voice sent shivers down my spine. “Stand.”

Keeping my eyes tightly shut, I stood in one fluid motion. I knew better than to look before he allowed it. A demon learned from her mistakes, especially ones that left scars. At least he let me keep my eyes, even if it was because he liked me to watch as he brought out the blades he used to carve patterns in my skin.

“Mmm, you have always been my favorite, Isra.” Words that mean very little coming from him. Especially when he took the knife from my other hand. Even as I worked to breathe evenly, my body remained tense.

“What would you say is the best part of this mortal body, hmm?” His breath warmed my ear. “The pleasure? Or the pain?”

I hated how much I loved his games. The thrill and terror that warred within my body. Despite the drawbacks of his presence and the potential of loss, I still found myself looking forward to this meeting. One night spent with him nearly provided more pleasureandpain than I could handle.

“Answer me, demon.” The tip of the blade pushed my black robe to the side and traced my collarbone to the red sweetheart cut corset beneath.

“Painispleasure,” I stated. If only I could see his reaction. Was my answer what he wanted to hear? A tremble of fear shuddered through my frame, even as a bolt of arousal shot straight to my core.

“Look at me.”

Finally, I pried my eyes open to see red skin stretched over a broad chest and firm nipples. Dark purple tones deepened the lines of his abs and hips down to his black fur-covered goat legs.

In an instant, the blade dragged across the soft skin beneath my chin, forcing my head up. “I saidlook at me, little demon.”

“I’m sorry, my King,” I whispered.

Deliberately, he pressed the tip of the knife against my quickened pulse. Red eyes with thin black pupils searched my expression, which I fought to keepneutral. Very few things scared me, but The Devil holding a blade to my throat was enough to take even my breath away.

I’d seen him dispatch countless demons for seemingly trivial offenses.

Sharp pain rippled through my neck as he pressed more firmly, drawing hot blood that dripped down my chest to the curve of my breasts. His twisted black horns glistened in the candlelight as he tilted his head to trail his forked tongue along the same path, cleaning every drop.

Moving the dagger between my legs, he found the slit in my long black skirt and reached beneath it. At first, I thought he was returning the blade to the holster, but then the distinct sharpness moved up my inner thigh. Casually widening my stance, I gave him access, holding myself completely submissive to his touch. A mix of pleasure and fear swirled in my chest as he carefully traced my clit with the tip of the blade. The chill of the metal felt good against my heat as he carefully worked the ball of flesh. Just as I started to relax into the sensation, a jolt of pain overwhelmed the pleasure as he pierced my soft flesh. The pain brought a sense of excitement to the moment. Biting my lip, I worked through the sensation, but a whimper escaped my throat, and I could feel his irritation in the way his wrist tensed. The Devil could cause the most unbelievable pain or indescribable pleasure, depending on his mood, and his face gave nothing away.

Was he pleased?

Was he angry?

Would it be pleasure or pain today?

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