Page 13 of Married to the Devil

This is magic.

“Ben.”

Her voice in my head is enough to make me scramble to my feet. All my thoughts about distancing myself from her fall away and only leave a certainty.

She needs me.

Her call pulls me through the in-between as surely as if a thread connects us. The shadows between planes that I traverse curl around me as if to usher me forward to the shining light of Stella’s location. Anyone I teleport experiences this as an instant sensation. Only those souls with the ability to navigate through space and shadow can glimpse this world.

I already know where I’m headed to without Stella’s call acting as a beacon, and I don’t care if it creates a political crisis. She needs me.

Even if a certain gargoyle will undoubtedly be displeased by me showing up in their bridal suite.

The pull disappears as the shadows clear around me and reveal a luxurious, if generic, hotel room. My heart races as I take in the room looking for danger.

“You came,” she says.

I frown. “Of course I came. Where is?—”

I cut myself off when I take in her position at the edge of the bed. Stella is wrapped in only a sheet. That would be a distraction alone with the warm tone of her skin showing through the thin material, but the rest of the details jar my thoughts from where they should not go when in front of a married woman.

The usual teasing floral feel of her magic mixes with something darker and unforgiving that must be traces of Stoneheart. My nose isn’t as strong as my demonic senses are to energy, but his scent covers her. The other scents of the room are more delicate: her hunger, blood, and pain.

Her eyes are red as if she’s been crying.

Rage flashes quick, and suddenly I don’t care about skirting around Stoneheart’s ire.

“What did he do?”

Her eyes widen. “Ben?—”

“I’ll kill him myself,” I snarl. Or drop him in Antarctica. I’ve never been, but I can make the trip for this. Even if the political fallout would be catastrophic since he’s Kalos’s ally.

“Kalos will understand,” I say, responding to my own thoughts.

Stella is our responsibility. She was put in this situation for us. Because of me.

“No,” she says, eyes wide.

But the shadows pulse in time to my raging heart. “If he’s hurt you?—”

Stella drops a twisted piece of metal to grab my coat sleeve. “It was consensual.”

That one word, or rather her touch as it slides down my arm to take my hand, collapses the fury that has me sympathizing with the dragon I serve.

“I wanted it.” She nearly chokes on the words, but they are clear enough that I can’t believe any differently.

I look away. The jealousy that stabs me is painful, but I breathe through it. Though I don’t want to stop touching her, I release her hand and shake myself out of my suit coat, wrapping the garment to cover her.

“What do you need?” I ask.

She clears her throat, wrapping a hand to hold the jacket together. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t anyone else I could think to try and summon who would be able to get here without alerting anyone?—”

“I said to call me if you needed anything, and I meant it,” I try to gentle my voice. The strain in Stella’s face speaks volumes. Along with the scents of the room and the wedding dress thatwill live forever in my memory pooled on the floor, the lace and beading ripped apart.

Bitterness fills my mouth, but I don’t allow myself to reflect on anything other than her statement.Consensual.

Stoneheart and Stella consummated their marriage and enacted a mating just as they should. The bitemark on the crook of her neck is binding.

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