Page 28 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

“I can’t promise you will see a battle,” Searra spoke to the crowd with renewed vigor. A spark of her vibrant flame peeked through her mask, burning, burning. “But with hearts this brave, there’s nothing Devil can do to break us.”

Searra stepped down. I no longer had to squint to see her flame as she eagerly engaged in conversation with the most vulnerable of her people.

“Sir?” The honorific fell on deaf ears until it was repeated one, two, three more times. “Sir? Sorry, erm, Sir Ash Render?”

“Huh?” Spinning, I came navel-to-nose with a short, squat demon, whose horns didn’t reach my armpits. “Ash’ren is fine.”

“Sir Ash’ren—”

“Ash’ren. What’s up?”

“How do we enlist?” Behind the man, several others had gathered, awaiting my response. In fact, most of the post-queenly-pep-talk crowd hushed, their attention clearly on my answer.

“Tomorrow, report to the tents. Bring—” I cut myself off. Considering these people didn’t have much—or rather, nothing—I had to improvise. “Bring your shovels and the fighting spirit your queen has instilled in you this day. I will do the rest.”

“Our shovels?”

“Yes.”

“I thought we were to stop digging,” said the second man in line, a human.

“We won’t be digging.”

It made sense, anyhow. If—when, as far as I could believe—Devil escaped whatever was holding him in Fyre, the pompous asshole wouldn’t expect an army of stolen laborers to raise their shovels against him. Though I doubted these hard-worked servants would ever make an army.

15

Ash’ren

The rest of that evening, I spent my time anywhere other than the so-calledmodestsuite until night had fallen.

I paced the room now, counting each step. Unlike the last room I’d called prison, this one was large enough to lose myself in the numbers. When thoughts overtook the numbers, the walls seemed to close. I dropped to the floor and tortured my muscles with three hundred fifty-eight push-ups until my mind found me there too. This furnished room twenty lengths greater than my former cell, was every bit as cold and lonely.

Jaw clenched so hard I might shatter my teeth, I walked to the stone wall between my room and Searra’s. I placed a hand flat on the wall and leaned my forehead on the rough stone. No reason to be so lost, for my heart slept only one wall away.

Long after I’d sunken to my knees and flipped to lean against the wall, her window creaked open. An invitation.

On the outer wall, I found footholds in the stone and scaled my way toward hers. Using pure muscle memory, I wiggled the stubborn window up and snuck inside. The moment I made it through the frame she was there, arms around my waist, head tucked to her spot on my pec. Ambrosial hair oil perfumedmy nostrils. Suddenly I could breatheagain, full, invigorating breaths, not like the shallow mimics I was gulping down before.

“Ash,” she breathed.

“I’m here.”

All the almost-touches from the day coalesced into a tangle of limbs. With stumbling feet, I maneuvered us to the bed and lifted her onto my lap. Her touch set me aflame and cooled my raging fires at the same time. I nuzzled into her neck and nipped the skin below her ear, not close enough, needing to bury myself in her natural rosy scent, to live inside it like a second skin. To slam home, where I fucking belonged.

“Arrrgh,” I groaned, locking her in place when she wriggled her peachy ass on my lap. Her curves filled my arms so well, and I knew her body would hug me like a glove if it allowed me inside.

Our hands never ceased roaming, squeezing, caressing, as she curled into that perfect spot. Her legs circled my waist, head tipped up against my shoulder. She watched me with those blue irises, her inner light shimmering through like sunshine on broken glass.

A slow grin began to part her beautiful face, bidding my cock to rise.

“If you’ve ever, I’ve never. . .” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the ceiling. “Hmm.”

We’d invented the game to dare each other into stupid things. Like most things between us, it changed over time. Sometimes the silly game led to arguments, but more often, I bent the rules in my favor. Forcing her to touch me. A chaste kiss. A spine-shivering dance upon my lap. A glimpse beneath the dresses and nightgowns I’d never seen her free of. My already hard cock snapped to attention so quickly that I briefly worried it might break.

“If you’ve ever felt the urge to push Fuegis into the Lavalet Depths, then. . .”

My lip curled. I dug my nails into her waist until she squealed, the squirm it earned the only thing to keep my cock from going flaccid. “If you haven’t, then you’ve never heard the man speak. Come on, princess, you can do better.”

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