Page 75 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

His gaze narrowed. I could see plainly what painful thing he wanted to say.

“You’re right, of course,” I started, taking care not to show how much it hurt. “I’m not your daughter. Nor are you my father.” I sipped my wine. “Those titles never suited us anyway.”

Devil gave no hint of a response. My gaze trailed over him, noting the bloody mess of his wing, the horn sticking from his stomach, the stump atop his head. I glanced at Ash’ren, who shrugged casually, his most charming impression of an impish smile decorating his oh-so-guilty features.

“My love,” I cooed. “You were very naughty.”

“I’ll take whatever punishment Your Bone-Blessed Majesty would give, for I would do it all again.” He tilted his head menacingly. “In fact, perhaps you’ll allow me a little do-over? He still has too many horns for my taste.”

Devil’s face crinkled at the use of my stolen title. I let out a seductive chuckle. “Settle down. Let’s see where the night takes us.”

“As you wish.”

Ash’ren winked. He stepped around us to the drink cart and poured himself a glass of volcanic panic, bringing the tray of beverages to the dining table to sit at my left. I held up my glass and Ash’ren filled it with lavaberry wine. “Let’s get straight to it, then. Tell me about the portal.”

I couldn’t remember a single time Devil hadn’t seemed invincible. He was a cold but steady presence. No one could harm me. If they tried, if they made me cry, their whole family would suffer the consequences.

Now he lay tied and gagged at my feet.

I lifted a finger to Ash’ren and the gag dissipated.

“Daughter.”

His voice was so brittle. Hoarse with pain and defeat. This demon had taught me the many masks of a royal. Right now, he pleaded with me using his fatherly mask. Thankfully, I knew not to trust his many faces.

“Daughter,” he choked out again. “Trust me. You do not want to know.”

Ash’ren snorted. I shot him a look and he covered his grin with a sip of thick orange alcohol.

“Perhaps we could chat with some privacy,” Devil suggested. “Father to daughter.”

“Not happening,” Ash’ren stated flatly, downing the rest of his glass.

I considered the request. A small, insecure piece of my heart wanted to unwrap him and place my hand in his, the wisp-like gesture of affection he preferred, the bare minimum for a child to cling to as proof their parent loved them. Proof their caregiver didn’t mind their burden. Reaching to my neck, I calmed myself with the velvet fabric covering my scar. Whatever my tragic origin story was, it wasn’t worth risking my kingdom’s lives over, and I didn’t trust myself to be alone in my father’s presence.

“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my king.”

Ash’ren choked, a dribble of liquid fire sputtering out. I shot him a bemused look.

“King!” Devil spat the word like it was venomous, then howled with dark laughter that ended in garbled coughs. “You cannot coronate a suitor without my permission, child.”

I finished my wine and twirled the empty cup in my hand. “I beg to differ.”

“This is my kingdom! I made this empire! It’s mine!”

“Once again,” I said, sounding bolder than I felt. “I beg to differ.”

“It won’t be yours until I give it to you.” A tiny flame flickered in the back of Devil’s throat before black flames covered his mouth again.

“I don’t think he likes that idea, my love,” Ash’ren sing-songed. “Should we cede it back to him?”

“Hmm.” I rapped my fingers on the table, then shrugged. “Nah.”

Devil squirmed aggressively. He looked so much like a fly in a web, thrashing to break free, that I giggled. Slamming a hand over my mouth, I shared a bright-eyed look with Ash’ren as Devil went preternaturally still.

“Ungag him, Ash.”

“Daughter,” Devil hissed. “This isn’t you. Please, let us speak alone.”

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