Page 91 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

He produced a palm-sized package of wrapping parchment. Leaning onto my elbow and squeezing my eyes shut at a wave of dizziness, I gingerly lifted the wrapping from one corner.

“Oh my goodness,” I breathed, ignoring another fresh dizzy spell as I sat up straighter. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hell needs its queen, Firefly.”

I examined the small, exquisite hairpiece. It had a row of metal spikes to slide into the hair, and two small rings on either side to lace a braid through, clearly made specifically with me in mind. Along the face of it, a delicate pattern of bones was interlaced with amethyst, my favorite gemstone. Before them sat a row of purple thorns. Dead center of it all was a lone Forgotten Ones’ bone, which stood taller than the rest. Somehow, the beauty of the piece made even the most dangerous of bones look elegant.

“A fitting replacement?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed through tears. I traced my fingers over the smooth bones, their edges fine but dull. Someone had spent extra care on every detail. “How did you make it?”

“Jadan’s handiwork. All I did was collect the materials.

I balked. “At a makeshift forge? But the quality!”

“I believe it was finished up after their fancy new title brought boons, like legit working conditions. But that’s not even the coolest part. Look closer.”

Tracing the smooth bones with his index finger, he gave me an odd stare. I peered at him skeptically, then back to the bones, trying to decipher his riddle. There were several of the smooth bones, arranged to make an upside-down V with the spiky one standing tall in the center. The spiky one was gray while the rest were white with brown splotches, like those I’d seen too many of, sticking out of flesh in the healer’s tents. I gasped.

“No way, Ash. They are not.” I gaped at him, but he only grinned and gave the slightest nod. “These are the bones of my people?”

“Freely given. Eagerly, even.” His eyes softened and he cupped my face. “You’re afraid to rule because the man who raised you was hard. But you are soft, and yet you rule without even trying. The moment you saw your people’s pain, it became yours, and you didn’t sit around delegating. You proved yourself by doing nothing more than what you felt was right.” He kissed my forehead and swiped a tear from my cheek. “Your family has grown. And I’m talking of the thousands who respect you, not just my pup in your belly.”

He nipped at my nose, and I squeaked. “I suppose I could be this kind of queen.”

I held it up to him and he obliged, tucking it into the crown of my hair and lacing my two small braids through either side.

“It suits you,” he said. “Now you need to eat something.”

He began to rise, but I stopped him, tugging him back down and launching my hands to his trousers with only a slight wave of dizziness. “Rings no, not until you finish what you started.”

Ash’ren’s brows flew past his horns and he laughed unexpectedly, the sound reverberating like joy personified in my heart. “What I started? WhatIstarted?”

“Don’t give me that. I remember you kissing me down there.” I waggled my brows.

“I think you mean what I finished. Did you know you get super horny while you’re in a coma? I was afraid if I didn’t help you come, you’d never wake.”

“Should I pretend to be asleep again, then, hmm?”

“No. You shouldeat.” Taking my wrists in his hands, he laced them with black flames that roped to the headboards and around the posts there. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m starving, too.”

He ripped the covers from the bed and situated between my legs, lifting my ankles and dropping me open wide, the gossamer gown I’d woken up in falling to my hips. I wriggled and squealed in protest.

“No, Ash! Not that! Please, just fill me—oohhh,” I slackened involuntarily, but wasn’t ready to give up. “Please, Ash, I want you to fill me.”

“And I want you to fucking eat,” he said, words muffled. Something nudged at my cheek, and I hungrily turned to let it in—

And got a mouthful of sticky bun. I yelped in surprise and he laughed, his rumbling laughter quaking at my core. I squeezed my thighs around him and rode his stupid face, begrudgingly taking a bite of the tasty treat.

“F-fine. D-don’t stop.”

Epilogue

Searra

Two Years Later

"This is not the Hell I remember,” Elodie marveled. She reached for a vine of peace ivy that scrawled around the Temple of Truth. With a wide, open archway instead of closed doors, we could see the Keepers of the Faith practicing inside. Five young novices studied at desks, pens scribing as the old man I knew as Keeper spoke from a dais. One pair sat closer, taking turns tattooing their notes onto each other.

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