Page 33 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“And what color would you like, Great Lord Devil Walter Alden of the Misfit Mortal Mage Hybridization?” Orias levitated half of the nail polish bottles, providing a circular catalog for me to sift through as they whirled slowly around.

“Hmmm.” I tapped my chin. “Probably just the clear polish for a nice clean look.”

“Wonderful choice!” Orias applauded me, which made me feel less like a devil and more like a toddler, but given the tantrums devils were expected to have over any tiny whim, I figured the toddler comparison was too generous.

Bez rolled his eyes and then flaunted his neon orange polish.

“On second thought, let’s go with black.” I nodded affirmingly.

I’d attempted a rocker style back as a teen for all of, like, five minutes. The wardrobe required a lot of laidback glam, which was a difficult look to accomplish when I had an obsessive need to be anything but casual. Plus, the first time I painted my nails, my mother hadopinions. It wasn’t the femineity or the queerness. No, she was always fine and accepting and open to any lifestyle her children chose. Except for failure, which I majored in. The real judgment came from the fact she considered me dull as dishwater. It was bad enough I was a failure from a lineage of the most elite mage pedigree, but to change my style to something edgy and alternative made me nothing more than a tragic try-hard in her eyes.

Critical, menacing eyes that still haunted my memories. With the brush of the black polish over my thumbnail, the expression of my mother’s gaze blossomed in my mind. A hateful expression of pity that burrowed to the depths of my soul and made me squirm in place. Even with her long gone, locked away without her magic, I’d never truly escape her years of venomous disgust directed toward me.

“Looking cute, Lord Walter.” Bez puckered his lips, stealing me from my own self-loathing and reminding me in an instant how much I’d grown, changed, and left behind that person who blundered everything he tried. I wasn’t the apprentice who failed every time he applied himself. I was a devilish hybrid with the most darling demon at my side.

I crinkled my forehead. “Are devils allowed to be cute?”

“I don’t see why not, Great Lord Devil Walter Alden of the Misfit Mortal Mage Hybridization,” Orias interjected. “Lilith often strives to be seductive, professing herself the most unattainable harlot of lust and love.”

“Yet she’s most commonly known for ripping out still-beating hearts and strangling her lovers with their entrails.” Bez chuckled.

“Precisely.” Orias’ iris wriggled and set almost into a sideways smile. “The complexity of devils is truly unique to all lesser beings.”

I frowned. That didn’t make devils sound complex at all. It sounded very human, which Bez obviously agreed with based on how he rolled his eyes and then mouthed “petty bitches” before returning to his mani-pedi.

The demons breezed through Bez’s treatment, literally moving at a blurred speed and not spending nearly half the detail on him as they did for me. Not that he complained. His voice dropped deeper, and he bellowed weird noises that I couldn’t comprehend, but it made my essence react. Each growl commanded faster work, a retouch on something already finished or something else Bez relished in ordering.

When Bez’s nails had finally dried, he skipped the massage table they had set up at a nearby station, using a tail to flip it over, and then he strutted over to one of the smaller tubs surrounding the big pool he’d spilled bloody remains into.

“Hurry up, Lord Walter.” Bez unfastened his armored skirt and dropped it to his ankles, standing completely nude with only the gauntlets on his wrists.

Without any hesitation, Bez jumped into the tub. He rifled through the assortment of bottled products lining the tub and squeezed a bunch all at once, releasing a medley of sweet fragrances that created bubbles in the boiling water.

It was quite inviting, and when Bez glanced back at me, grinning, I desperately wanted to get up and join him. Instead, I paused when another demon grabbed my hand and went to work filing my nails yet again.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure this is finished.” I half-smiled. “Mostly. Looks good. Great. You don’t have to do the whole thing again. Do you? I wouldn’t want you to have to feel the need to work on redoing all of this again.”

Gods, that was wordy when, in reality, I simply should’ve said “no” because I wanted this to end. To be over. To completely conclude. To wrap up, so I could hop in one of the hot baths with Bez and make obnoxiously loud groans of satisfaction in bubbly water.

“No worries,” the demon said, filing faster. “Just a final touch-up to ensure everything is precisely perfect.”

The file zipped back and forth against my nails, jumping from one to another and back again so quickly it required my essence to track the demon’s movements. I knew it was essence, too. The sensation of reality stalling, slowing down as my eyes widened and locked onto the action at play. There was a recklessness to their haste until suddenly, the tip of the file jabbed the cuticle of my index finger when hopping around.

I winced, sucking in a sharp breath when a drop of blood pooled at the tip of my freshly painted nail. Hard to see the difference between scarlet blood and black polish, but again, my essence fueled my vision, adding layers of nuance I never realized was possible.

It took everything in my power to reel back the building essence. It surged through me, seeking retribution and ready to explode.

The pain reminded me of the horrors I’d endured when picking at a hangnail, only for it to bleed and tear and ache and threaten eternal agony until the end of time. Seriously—if walking through Lilith’s doorway to Hell involved a hangnail, I might’ve actually considered letting the world roll the dice against a devil.

Okay, dramatic, but it hurt like fuck. I prepared to put my finger in my mouth and clamp down until the blood clotted and the pain subsided, but essence trickled out in a tiny weblike thread, stitching the little tear in my flesh while dragging the droplet of blood back into my body.

“Cool.” I widened my eyes, entranced by the active essence working like a colony of cells determined to keep me, my body, and the kingdom optimally functional. Since I refused carnal destruction, resisting every impulsive urge to eviscerate, the essence changed strategies. Maybe I was getting the hang of this stuff. Little by little.

“Deepest apologies, Great Lord Devil Walter Alden of the Misfit Mortal Mage Hybridization.” Orias thrashed, shoving aside every demon attendant in his path, whether they were performing entertainment, tending to Bez, or preparing for the next spa treatment. “This is a travesty of the highest proportions!”

I held up my hand, showing the healed finger. “It’s all r—”

“Unacceptable.” Bez leapt out of the tub, wings outstretched and tails snapping. Each one flicked against the floor with a crack and thwack from the water. They hit with such force, they sliced through the marble.

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