Page 97 of The Fallen
"Goodness, aren't you full of questions. A demon can extract a soul in numerous ways. Some methods are excruciating while others... are the complete opposite." The creature's mouth quirked for a second, as though he was privy to his own private joke.
"Do you have any reservations?" he asked.
"Do you?" she countered.
"What a question to ask, mistress." His tone stirred.
The carriage lurched again, and Belladonna leaned against the window, her heart pounding. She was playing a dangerous game, but she was determined to see it through.
Desmond escortedBelladonna to the ballroom. It was a cavernous hall adorned with a tapestry of stars on the ceiling. The walls were draped in velvet curtains of midnight blue,and the air was thick with the scent of burning candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the polished floor.
The atmosphere was electric, a symphony of whispers, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses. The crowd was a sea of faces, but two stood out.
At the sight of Lucretia and her husband, Belladonna clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. A spark of anger raged within Belladonna, a wildfire igniting in a parched forest and threatening to engulf her in its heat. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This was not the time to act rashly.
“How can we get close to them?” asked Belladonna.
“Simple,” said Desmond. “We seduce them.”
Belladonna snorted. “Of course, that would be your solution.”
“It’s quite an easy thing to do with humans. Shall I demonstrate through a dance?” His thigh grazed mine. He wrapped one hand around her waist while the other held her hand, pulling her closer.
“Do not jest with me, demon.”
“I am perfectly serious,” he said, eyes boring into hers. “Humans are creatures of desire. All it takes is a little charm and a touch of manipulation."
She had always known that demons were slippery creatures, but his cavalier methods made her stomach knot. He was doing the same to her, wasn’t he?
“Come,” he said, leading her onto the dance floor.
Desmond was a master of the dance, his movements fluid and graceful. The music swelled, and he pulled her closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Trust me," he whispered, his voice a seductive caress. "Together, we can make them pay."
She inhaled a deep breath. "I trust you."
He was a serpent slithering through the garden of her heart, his charm a poisonous apple that she was all too eager to bite.And she knew, deep down, that she was willingly surrendering to his temptation. She couldn't resist his words, his charm, his power. Him.
Desmond dipped her suddenly, and she drew in a sharp breath. Her fingers grasped his lapels, clinging them for a few moments. She drew in his scent, the scent that plagued her dreams and lingered throughout the day. She quickly released the fabric.
His lips stretched into an amused smile. "Can you not handle this proximity?"
"Nothing of the sort,” she said, her cheeks aflame.
But can you, demon?
Tchaikovsky's soft, tremulous Winter Dreams faded into Vivaldi's breathless Winter. Glissandos filled the air. The enticing sounds seduced Belladonna’s mind, and a strange intoxication crept into her veins. Maybe it was the biting, heady strings. Maybe it was the way Desmond’s smoldering eyes bore into hers. No longer did she control her restraint.
Like a dam unbarred, her unseemly thoughts flowed with vengeance, a trembling flood, and she purposely channeled them to him. Her spell worked, for the beast's eyes sharpened.
"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered dangerously.
"It's like you always say," she said. "The game becomes boring if it lacks thrill.
Desmond's eyes glinted, a flicker of hell-fire. His hold on her waist tightened. One hand inched further and further behind her back until it rested on her tailbone. Slowly, he rubbed the erogenous spot. Belladonna could feel his sharp nails clawing through his glove. Digging into her.
“You’re playing with fire, little witch.”
“And you’ll be the one to get burned.”
