Page 86 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

When the admonishment never came, my courage returned. I peered around the corner into the dank dungeon buzzing with dark magic, easily the size of my spacious closet. Orbs of flame with no torch or candle floated ominously, strung through by red ribbons of—was thatblood—that ebbed and dripped mid-air. An imposing shard of tourmaline ruptured the smooth concrete floor, seeming to grow directly into the ceiling. One yard across on all four sides, the monolith was a phenomenon in structure as well as function. A tear in space-time, where bridges to unknown worlds manifested for Devil to pluck souls from. Dormant for ages, it didn’t feel so harmless now.

Devil levitated a foot from the ground. A wooden book stand held the book that had tried to eat me as a kid.

The scene was more or less what I’d expected, except for the gruesome atrocities lining the far wall. Humanoid creatures lolled, half-dead. Each was strung up on two planks of wood that looked like anX, arms and legs spread wide and nailed down. It was the very stance from the Faith Keeper’s teachings. Millions of martyrs had died this way, and I now saw why. In hopes of opening the portal and bringing Devil fresh ground to destroy.

Something prickled at my neck, and I looked back to find Ash’ren descending the stairs. Black fire bent the shadows around him, his power palpable. I wasn’t sure it would be enough.

There was a faint whirring sound, followed by Devil’s triumphant guffaw. I watched in horror as the mirage of a forest formed on the monolith, like looking through a foggy window. Devil began to chant in between cackles, his wickedgrin growing until he was unrecognizable as anything other than evil incarnate.

47

Searra

Dread. Ash’ren placed a steadying hand on the small of my back, and I realized I’d been shaking my head against the overwhelming sense of doom.

My mate didn’t appear as hopeless as I felt. Unflappable as always, the determined set of his jaw bolstered my confidence. I could do this. I had to. No one else could get close enough.

Ash’ren did not like my idea, but our silent competition yielded to me, and I knew he could be trusted not to rush in before my signal. My signal being simple: stab him in the balls. Or wherever I had the opportunity.

I stepped away from the corner. I palmed my poison-dipped dagger and approached my father from behind. Devil didn’t flinch when I pressed the tip of the blade to his nape, a pinprick of skin mottling by the touch of poison. He chuckled and flipped the page in his book.

I pushed the dagger further, until its tip sliced into skin and sent a dribble of orange blood down his nape. Dragging my elbow back in a slicing motion, my hand, the dagger—

It wouldn’t move.

“Hello, Little Torch.”

“I am not yours,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, the rest of me utterly frozen. “You stole me from people who may have loved me.”

“Maybe.”

“The way you’ve treated your people is blasphemy. I was wrong to let you live. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

He chuckled again. He peered at me over a shoulder that rose and fell indifferently. “My fault for not teaching you better,daughter.”

“Not your daughter.”

“No.” He gestured to the portal with his free hand, which had changed scenery. “No one’s daughter, then. It’s hard to have a family farm when the ground is a crater.”

The amused tone of his voice made my stomach churn. I didn’t want to look, but in the end, I couldn’t help it.

Snow fell steadily over a barren land. Enormous holes littered the landscape. There was some debris, which was the only clue that something had once been there. The corner of a windowpane. The busted wood of a door, knob attached. A half-buried fork. In the distance, rusty farm equipment.

My vision blurred, my suspended hand forced to stay still and not waver. I blinked it off, but Devil had done his damage. One hand awkwardly keeping contact with the book, he reached for me, tucking a stray braid behind my shoulder. I snarled like some kind of animal, trying to brandish my dagger, but my weapon hand didn’t move.

“Poor dear,” he cooed. He gently brushed a finger over my velvet choker, hiding the crescent scar I had no explanation for. “Don’t you want to know? No survivors. You’ll never know if you were loved or not.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m loved here.”

Devil laughed, his brow arching as he regarded me with that creepy smirk. “Are you? Is one lowly demon’s lust truly goodenough? Technically, you’re royalty.” His features appeared to soften. He reached toward me again, caught himself, and dropped his fist. “I cared for you, in my way.Carefor you. Why don’t we put this behind us, and everything can go back to the way it was. Families argue all the time, but we stick together. Does that sound all right, Little Torch?”

Pain blossomed in my chest and I glanced down, only to see nothing was lodged in my chest but my turmoil. His hands were nowhere near me. One of them twitched where it kept contact with the book. I stared at it for a moment, until I was sure of what I was seeing.

Trust my intuition. That’s what everyone kept telling me, what Ash’ren hedged all his bets on. My gut.

Meeting Devil’s pleading stare, I mumbled, “Fine. But you must promise not to hurt them.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to think my father’s grin was pure, but he nodded as he flipped the page of the book again, flexing his fist once it was free.

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