Page 23 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

She sighed, the spark sputtering out.

I let out a breath and looked away. “Your fire is beautiful. It’s what will bring your people together.”

Searra snorted. “I’m only human.”

“Yet your spark is the brightest in Hell.”

“I know that’s the case toyou.” Fully dressed in a regal black gown, she returned to the bed. Small hands rubbed my back, circling my middle. Her cheek rested against my shoulder. “But Ash, not everyone sees me that way, and I cannot always burn for you.”

“Don’t burn for me. Burn for yourself. Burn for your people.” I wrested her around the waist and dragged her across my lap. “Burn because you were fucking born to.”

She hesitated. Her lip slipped under her teeth, and something bright flashed through her features.

“It was always you who gave me that spark anyway,” she spoke softly, between kisses that traced my tense jaw. “And now my fire has returned.”

I snarled. I hurled her further up the bed and stalked above her, two dainty wrists in hand. “You are mistaken, Searra. I have nothing to do with your spark. I was selfish. I wanted to bask in it all by myself. But now your people need it, and you will share it with them. They will see you as I do.” I captured her mouth, then drew back and added with a growl, “Though there are some things I will remain selfish about.”

I gave her no option to argue. I sucked and bit her bottom lip until she arched against my hold, ready to show her all the primal ways I wanted to own her.

She pulled away with a gasp and offered a soft, spark-less smile that made my chest ache. Without a word, she detangled from me and scooted off the bed. In the same three seconds it took for my hands to grow cold, she’d crossed the room.

Someone knocked, but it wasn’t on the front door. My throat clogged as I watched Searra hurry to the golden door, tossing a glance at me over her shoulder that darted to the window.

I had one leg out the window when her suitor burst through.

“You’re late,” Filaris hissed. Her scowl bounced from Searra to me. “And you should be gone by now! The warlord’s scout is on his way here.”

Sure enough, there was a second knock, this time from the hallway. “Your Highness, Warlord Lavar requests your presence immediately.”

Grief passed over Searra’s features. I rolled my eyes against the stabbing pain in my gut and ducked out of the window. As if I hadn’t crawled out of this very window, into the shadows, a million fucking times before.

It wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured my life outside of that elements-damned tower, but her heart was still mine, and that was all that truly mattered.

For now.

∞∞∞

I wandered the palace grounds while my queen was preoccupied. A group of kids played torchball with torches poorly made from discarded wood. The round mass of fire bounced from tip to tip, wobbling as they ran. I paused to watch with a smile. As kids, Searra had stubbornly pretended to know of torchball, long after it was obvious she had no idea what was going on and was not, in fact, a fire wielder as she’d claimed.

The ball of fire hit the ground, bouncing twice in the sand before fizzling out at my feet.

“Awww,” the tallest child bemoaned. “Brazzo, you have to catch the ball, not swing at it!”

“I didn’t!” came a high-pitched squeal.

I raised a palm, flourishing to catch their attention. With superior sleight of hand skills, I tricked their eager little eyes into thinking it would pop from my palm. Satisfied the audience of tiny demons was entranced, I put my other hand to my mouth and blew the thumb like a flute, letting fire dance over my knuckles. Opening my hand into a circle, I blew through the ring like a circus hoop to a chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s. A tiny bead of fire remained. Flipping my palm, the bead grew and grew until it was large enough to toss toward wee Brazzo’s torch, where it wobbled into place.

“Whoa!” the kids cried in unison.

“Why is it black?!” screeched Brazzo, allowing an older kid the opportunity to steal the ball.

The other kids raced off, but this curious nugget tugged the brocade cuff of my billowy tunic.

“Sir? Are you the demon slayer?”

My muscles barely braced against a flinch. I tussled Brazzo’s tuft of lava-orange hair. “You better catch up.”

“Wait for me!” Brazzo squealed as he chased after his friends, casting me a fearful glance over his shoulder.

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