Page 21 of Dance with the Devil

He’s hungry—and I’ve lost my appetite.

I push the plate toward him. “You should have some more.”

“I’ll eat when you’ve had enough, butterfly.”

“I’m full?—”

He thins his lips, looking absolutely beautiful in his utter defiance. “When you’ve had enough. If that means I don’t eat, I don’t eat. But I won’t take a spoonful out of your mouth. Understand?”

I gulp.

His expression softens. Running his thumb under my chin, he lowers his voice. “Eat, Genevieve. I’ve been hungry before. I’ll survive. But you’ve gotta let me make sure you do. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“That’s my butterfly.”

And though the noodles taste like goddamn dirt in my mouth as I chew it, I take another bite because it’s the only thing he’s asked of me.

Starve my savior. I swallow roughly. It’s the least I can do.

EIGHT

VISITOR

CROSS

Part of me can’t help but wonder if it would’ve been better for the both of us if the crash was meant to take us out.

I woke up before Genevieve did after. Not surprisingly. Whatever they gave us to make us docile and easy to transport from Springfield to wherever the hell we are now, it had to have been a strong dose. I’ve got a good fifty pounds on Genevieve easy, plus I don’t sleep. Ever. They’re lucky enough that I knocked out as long as I did, but I expected that Genevieve would be unconscious a lot longer than I was.

What I didn’t expect? Was how full of rage I’d be when I came to and found her sprawled next to me on a tiny cot, laid out like a broken doll.

I told her that I tried to bust the door down so we could escape. That might’ve been a bit of an understatement. After seeing the rough way they treated her, I saw fuckingred. I threw my body at the glass, kicked it, even risked my hand by punching it, but nothing I did made any impact.

I got control of myself by the time she was waking up, but surprise, surprise: I managed to get it all wrong then, too.In my bid to keep her calm and promise that I’ll keep her safe, I somehow managed to make Genevieve think that I had something to do with this. Luckily, she realized that I couldn’t almost immediately after she made her accusation, but that still cut me to the core.

I would never hurt her.Never. And no matter what I have to do to prove that to her, I will.

In return, she trusts me to hold her while she sleeps, and if it wasn’t for the fact that we’re being trapped by some unknown villain, treated like trash by his goons, I might’ve marveled over the fact that Genevieve was right: in the most unlikely and unfortunate of circumstances, I found a cure to the insomnia that’s plagued me almost my whole life.

Who knew it would take a blonde ballerina believing in me and my promises enough to allow me the pleasure to hold her close to chase away the demons that constantly kept me awake?

I don’t look forward to what’ll happen when we get out of here. Not leaving isn’t an option. Whatever it takes, I will make sure that Genevieve is safe long enough for either her brother’s Family or my syndicate to find us and burn the world down for taking us prisoner, no matter who the target is.

Genevieve believes it has to be her. As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree that they came after her because of her last name. A man like Damien Libellula doesn’t accrue as much power as he does without making formidable enemies. He only just survived an attempt on his life two weeks ago. Is Genevieve’s abduction retaliation for that?

Or something more sinister at play?

I got nabbed for a reason, too. That prick said that their boss has a problem with mine. If I had any doubts that this was syndicate-related—whether mine or Genevieve’s Family—they’re gone now. Whoever is running the show wants a pet Sinner and Dragonfly, and he has them.

What is he going to do with us? I haven’t a goddamn clue, and as awful as those first couple of days in our cage were—without food to sustain us, and my caffeine withdrawals a bitch to get through—I should’ve known that it would only get worse when our captor decided we were worth feeding after all.

He has a reason to keep us alive. I don’t know what it is, but as long as he has one, I thought we were okay. At the very least, I thought Genevieve was untouchable.

I waswrong.

If we countevery time we sleep more than an hour or so at a time as another full night, it’s day six in our cage. By now, I’ve picked up enough on the routine to figure out some details to help us survive.

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