Page 22 of Hate Mates

I bite my lip. I know better than to antagonize him, but my body and my head aren’t communicating right now.

I got bored. Simple as that. So, why won’t you leave me alone?

Don’t forget you contacted me, not the other way around. The Devil never goes looking for souls. They’re offered willingly, and you, dear Izzy, gave yours with your legs wide open.

Cocky bastard.

That doesn’t give you the right to hack into my computer.

There’s the slightest of pauses. My breath hitches, and I wait for the validation I need for the hornets to stop swarming. Instead, they all sting at once.

Keep telling yourself that, love.

I press two fingers to my lips to hush the scream that’s brewing behind them. Closing my eyes, I draw in a few deep breaths, then open them and lower my shaking hands to the keyboard.

Did you ruin Fletcher?

Those three dots bounce, then stop, then bounce again.

I take from those who break my toys.

I grit my teeth, furious at myself for not being more furious at him.

You’re sick.

I’m also a man of my word, which is more than I can say for you. You’ve refused to log back on because I awakened things you didn’t know were there. Things that’d have others clutching their proverbial pearls.

The hornets swarm into my throat and start stinging. Deep down, I know he’s right, but my pride doesn’t want to take the hit. So, I let the panic that’s been building all day turn it into something more volatile.

Fuck you. I refuse to be lectured by some asshole behind a computer screen. News flash, you’re not actually the Devil, so why don’t you get offline and go touch some grass?

Shoving the laptop across the bed, I swing my legs off the mattress just as those damn three dots start to bounce. I tell myself not to look, but it’s a losing battle.

Whoever poured you that last margarita should be shot.

I stare at the line in disbelief. Sliding off the mattress, I stumble backward toward the bedroom door.There’s no way he could know that.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I spin around while dialing 911, only to run into a brick wall. I stand frozen as two leather-gloved hands take a punishing hold on my wrists.

“Bad girl, Izzy.”

FIVE

Lucifer

Ispin Izzy around and slam her back against the wall. She moves like she’s in a daze, her eyebrows bunching as I lock her wrists above her head with one hand and pry her phone out of her fingers. She says nothing, blinking slowly as I drop it to the floor and crush it under the heel of my boot.

I’ve heard of the dangers of method acting. A performer can get so caught up in playing a role that they get lost in it, sometimes to the point of losing who they are. Their mannerisms, behavior, even their personality shifts, and suddenly they’re no longer portraying a character.

Theyarethe character.

I always thought it was a bunch of bullshit…until now. Until Izzy sent that first message, and Lucifer took over my every waking thought. The way she bowed to him had the real me slipping further away.

There was only ever one way to shatter the glass on her dirty little secret…

In full Devil form.

The look on her face when she sees me is even better than I imagined. Her lithe body stiffens and shakes under my grip, anoutward manifestation of the fear and lust that’s clashing inside her pretty little head. I pull my lips into a tight smile, enthralled and empowered by her confusion. It’s not a comforting gesture. The black and white skull face paint stretches them into a sinister leer I found fitting for what I had planned for my wayward mouse.

---