Page 26 of Unholy Bond
I upped the ante with the wine. As I refilled my glass, I whispered a fragment of the old tongue under my breath, nudging the liquid to swirl counterclockwise. The wine obeyed, forming a tiny whirlpool before settling. Still no reaction from him, but a ripple passed through the demons at the table. I caught the eye of a brass-skinned one near the end and saw a twitch of fear. I smiled at him, just a little, and watched as he spilled wine down his front.
The green leaned a shade colder. Ink seemed to thread the bone—there, then not. The talk thinned and the skin that made up thewards inhaled. I kept the count, pulse to pulse, letting the room teach me its cycle; by the next sway of the flame I had it: sixty-six.
And then a pause.
“Parlor tricks,” said Lucifer, interrupting my thoughts.
A wet ring haloed my glass. I dragged one bead with my nail until it kissed a hairline fissure beneath the table; cold leapt up my finger, clean and bright. I let it numb my fingertip and kept smiling.
Lucifer leaned over, voice pitched low for my ears alone. “You’re enjoying yourself.”
“You throw an excellent party,” I replied. “It would be rude not to.”
He laughed, and the sound sucked the warmth out of the room. “You always were a quick study. That’s why I kept you around, even after the betrayal.”
I dipped my bread in the soup, chewing carefully. “You don’t believe in forgiveness.”
He shrugged, a ripple of muscle under the suit. “Forgiveness is for mortals. I believe in incentives. You behave, you get a reward. You rebel, you get reminded of your place.”
I looked at him, wide-eyed and perfectly blank. “And if I do both?”
The sharp curve of his lips could be called a smile, if you were generous. “Then you’re truly mine.”
The palace purred, only for me.
The hand came down on my thigh at the start of the second course, a weight that squeezed just enough to bruise but notenough to leave marks for the crowd. I flinched, only because it was expected. He wanted me to react, to test the limits of my docility. I let him slide his hand higher, the claws just grazing the hem of my dress. My skin prickled, the nerves raw and over sensitized. I forced myself to take another bite, ignoring the pressure.
Lucifer turned his attention back to the table. “I want to thank you all for your service,” he said, voice booming over the chatter. “We are entering a new era. The world above is fractured, and soon, we will take our place as its only constant. I expect loyalty. I demand it. Those who doubt will be replaced.” He let the words hang, then squeezed my thigh a little harder. “There are no second chances.”
I looked down at the table, then back up, adopting my best look of dumb devotion. “Of course, my lord.”
He laughed, squeezing my thigh again, fingers moving in small, rhythmic circles. My body responded in all the humiliating ways. Heat pooling between my legs, a flush crawling up my throat. But above the noise of my body, my mind was silent and surgical, cataloging every touch, every gesture, every gleam of emotion on his face. I let my hand drift to his under the table, resting lightly on the back of his wrist. I kept my nails retracted, soft and compliant. His thumb stroked the inside of my thigh, then pressed hard, as if daring me to object.
I let a black vein pulse up my temple, just once, a warning to the Void not to jump the gun. The power inside me surged, eager, but I forced it down with the force of memory and spite.
Even with all that effort, his pulse hiccupped under my palm. One beat gone thin, then righted. The sigil stitched at his cuff blinked a fraction out of time and steadied. I widened my eyes like a good girl and reached for my wine.
The conversation at the table drifted to battles won, tortures administered, new punishments invented. The demons traded stories like office gossip, but behind every anecdote was a layer of threat. I giggled at the right moments, even offered a story or two of my own, nothing too revealing, just enough to keep the guests unsure of where I stood. Every so often, I traced another sigil on the glass, or on my thigh, letting the Void out in infinitesimal increments. No alarms. No pushback.
By dessert, Lucifer had moved his hand all the way up, fingers sliding under the edge of the panties he’d sent with the dress. I was surprised he even bothered with underwear. He dipped his thumb inside, slow, then rotated it in the way that had always made me gasp. I made the sound, soft and perfect, and let my eyes go heavy-lidded. He watched avidly, then moved his thumb faster. I pulsed another black vein, this one at the base of my jaw. The Void inside me shuddered, but I held it back.
He leaned in, his mouth nearly at my ear. “You like this,” he whispered, and there was a challenge in it. He wanted me to fight, to lose. I gave a tiny, helpless moan, then reached for my wine, nearly spilling it. I drained the glass and looked at him, tongue licking a drop from the corner of my mouth.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nearly growled. “You’re learning.”
He pulled his hand away just as I was about to come, and the withdrawal left a cold spot that ached. He raised a fork to my lips, balancing a chunk of bloody fruit on the tines. “Taste.”
I opened my mouth, took the fruit, and bit down. The juice ran down my chin, and I caught it with the tip of my finger. I licked it clean, never breaking eye contact.
He smiled, victorious.
He had no idea.
He snapped his fingers, and the demons of the palace sprang into motion, clearing plates and extinguishing the candelabras with brisk efficiency. The hall emptied, the guests shuffling out in silence. Only the two of us remained, the light dimmed to a soft, infernal glow. He leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over my shoulder.
“You’ve done well tonight,” he said. “I might even consider letting you have a key to your room.”
