Page 57 of Demon Bound

“Forcing you to serve me,” he added.

“You didn’t force me. This was a mutually beneficial arrangement from the beginning.”

“I knew you had no other choice.”

That much was true.

“I would never have hurt you. When I said I would, I was lying.” His lips twitched, betraying some emotion on his otherwise impassive face. “I would not keep you against your will.”

Raiya looked up at the strange, frightening being before her—a monster who, against all odds, was not monstrous.

“You’re nothing like what they say, are you?” she said. “Demons are just like anyone else. You think and feel just likewe do. You’re just trying to live. You’re not monsters. You’re not evil.”

“Are we not?” he asked tonelessly. “What is a monster? What makes something evil?”

“Hurting people. That’s evil.”

“I hurt people. I hurt you.”

“Do you think you’re evil?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She felt a swell of warmth and sadness for him. “How doyourpeople show remorse?” she asked.

“In the hells, penance is paid through submission and servitude. If I wished to align myself with someone I had previously offended, I would put down my weapons and prostrate myself before them so that they could punish me or feed from me. I would offer myself to them to use however they wished.”

She arched an eyebrow. She had a difficult time imagining him doing something like that. “Have you done that?”

“Not willingly.”

“I see.”

“My people express regret when they want something from someone. Apologies are made for diplomatic reasons.” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I want. I feel regret because… I’m afraid I have been cruel.”

She thought back to all the things she’d seen him do, to when he murdered Eunaios and Nirlan’s guards, to when he spared the farmers and that Paladin on their way to Ontag-ul, to how careful he’d been with her body every time they’d come together. Dominating others was in his nature. But maybe he didn’t want it to be.

“I don’t think you’re cruel,” she said. She watched his shoulders relax. The crease between his brows disappeared.

“Tell me what service you require in order to forgive me,” he said.

“An apology is enough on its own, as long as it’s heartfelt.”

“Then… I apologize.”

“I accept your apology.”

He searched her face. He looked like he didn’t quite believe her.

“Do you really think demons can feel all the things that mortals can?” he asked.

“Why shouldn’t they?”

“We are made different.” He lifted her hand. “Look at you. Look at me.”

She looked down at the massive, dark hand enclosing hers. He allowed her to turn it over. There were dark lines creasing his palm. There were whirling fingerprints. There were calluses beneath his fingers, freckles here and there, scars from old wounds, and faint veins beneath the skin.

“There are more similarities between us than differences,” she said. She ran her fingers along his, and she felt him stiffen slightly. His skin felt normal enough—perhaps a bit less soft than a human’s—but she knew it was impenetrable to most mortal weapons. But he was not invulnerable. His missing arm was proof of that.

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