Page 3 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

“I wish to.” I glanced down at his mouth, watching it form the words. “Show me who I walked through Hell to reach, Firefly.”

“By all accounts, you didn’t walk.”

“No. I burned it down.” His nose dipped to trace my jaw, and I choked on a whimper.

“Then you’ve already been an asset to our rebellion.”

“What does an asset earn, your highness?”

His hands roved down my spine to settle on my hips. Nothing had been easy for this past decade, but how my body responded to his was like second nature. Like leaves allowing a breeze to carry them. When he ground against my core, my whole body buzzed, though whether it was from within or the reverberation of his primal growls—or possibly the lavaberry wine—was insignificant.

“A-a place at the table,” I answered breathlessly.

He responded with another dark growl. He sucked my earlobe into his mouth and nipped it, wresting another whimper from my parted lips. My nipples pebbled against linen, begging for his mouth to roam there next.

“I’ve waited to feel your body melt against mine for nine years.” His voice was hoarse. “I’ll not settle for a seat unless it is your warm cunt.”

2

Ash’ren

Stone shrieked in that awful way it does when a sharpened claw slices through it. Three thousand two hundred and eighty-seven days. I didn’t have to count the lines to know.

Another count breezed through my mind. Two hundred and twenty-seven days since I’d been called on to do Devil’s dirty work. His devotees had taken weeks to fetch me before, but this was excessive. Perhaps the Fyre council finally made Devil cease his gods-forsaken digging. Or perhaps someone had killed him. Fucking flames, I hoped not. The honor of slaughtering that prick was mine, second only to Firefly.

With nothing better to do, I’m flooded with bittersweet memories of slippery thighs and midnight orgasms. If I could go back in time and tell my child self that my secret best friend would grow up to be my firsteverything, I would do it all again.

I eyed the door, overcome with the urge to walk right through it. Nah. I would wait three more days, avoid the beating if I could. For now, I’d read a book.

The tower was lined with empty bookshelves for a total of fourteen books. Only five weren’t bullshit religious texts about Devil and his stolen land of nightmares. The brainwashed peopleof the pit truly believed in that drivel. Anyone not from Hell knows it’s a fucking cult.

The Fire in my Belly. I blew dust from the famous demon chef Tiki’s memoir. Surely with that much dust, I’ll have forgotten some piece of it. Alas, no. By the third chapter, I set the book aside.

Two steps from the bookshelf to my writing desk, where parchment was already addressedDearest Fireflyin orange blood.One look at the scabs on my left arm and I retracted my claw.

With a huff, I tilted my chair back and ran a hand over my forehead, coming to rest on the stump of my right horn. Was it taller than yesterday? Or three hours ago?

I could always jerk off. My hand slipped down my trousers, and I closed my eyes, trying to picture her face. My cock swelled. Though her features faded in and out of focus, I could still see her lips curled into a smile or stuffed with my cock. It seemed the only time she wasn’t smiling was when she had a mouthful of cock, and even then, she was pure sunshine. My Firefly.

My spine went taut at a particularly passionate memory. Not our first time, which had been full of fumbles and nerves, but the first time we’d risked fucking in her bed, her father home somewhere in the palace. With all our practice in the garden, the Soul Springs, and the Flamewoods, we knew how to please each other by then. It was the first time we’d addressed the bulb at the base of my shaft. She’d lickedit. Though she’d taken me in her mouth before, I’d always guided her, stopping her above my knot of nerves. Didn’t want to scare her away. Similarly, she’d been squirmy at first when I tended to her cunt with my mouth, but she’d gotten over that eventually. That night, she’d decided it was time for me to get over it. Fires help me, I’d groaned so loud and deep, she’d burst into giggles.

“I’m yours, Firefly. Every inch of me. My knot will know no other cunt’s warmth.”

“It will never fit, Ash.”

“It will. You were made for me.”

I stroked the swollen bulb at the memory. My declaration had brought a beautiful pink shade to her cheeks and transformed our late-night fucking into something deeper.

The thought of my knot brought a much less sexy memory to mind. Our final night together. Desperate, I’d made my case, my voice rising in anger. I was all teeth and terror, knowing she slipped further away with every suitor she courted at her father’s insistence. She’d met my ire pitch for pitch until we came full circle. Though she’d claimed to no longer love me only moments before, she stroked my knot with a wisp-like tenderness, sorrow a bitter taste in her kiss.

“You forget, Firefly. My knot is yours. Youwilltake it, and see your womb flooded with my seed until you’re plump with my babies.”

“Ash, we aren’t kids anymore. I’m to be the queen of Hell, and you—you’re just a beloved memory.”

Her words rejected me, but her moonstone eyes churned with grief.

Feeling suddenly filthy, I took three steps to the washbasin spelled with Hydran magic, but before I dropped my dingy trousers, a whistle drew my attention. Not the tune the guards used. It went quiet and then, moments later, came again. The same tune but different, with a little trilling at the end.

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