Page 26 of A Match Made in Hell
Oh, good. Behaving. The one skill I don’t have. Plus – ‘How do I know you’re not lying?’
‘If I wanted to harm you, Willow, there are far easier ways for me to do it.’
He makes a good point. I look away from him, thinking. Aric’s tail has marked a path where he scraped his spike on the floor, the line like chalk on a playground, only this game is far more dangerous.
I can’t stay here. I can’t trust Sath. I’m floundering in the dark, searching for a solution that doesn’t exist, unable to makea good choice because there’s none to be found.
‘Come on,’ he coaxes. ‘We both know you don’t want to quit. This is your only way home. You need me as much as I need you.’ His tone is all charm now, laced with seduction and sin.
‘In that case, don’t do that. Don’t be all . . . devily around me. If you need me so badly, you don’t get to treat me as some subject you can manipulate and threaten.’
His brow quirks. ‘Devily?’
‘What? It could be a word.’
He snorts, shaking his head. ‘Fine. Agree to continue with the tasks, and I promise, in private, I’ll try and be less . . . devily, as you put it.’
‘And in public?’
The humour dissipates from his face. ‘I won’t lie. If you’re seen challenging me, I’ll be forced to do to you what I did to that man.’
I swallow.
‘What do you say?’ His eyes gleam. ‘Truce?’
The only thing stronger than my uncertainty is my desperation to leave.
‘If I say yes, it doesn’t mean I agree with what you did.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘I think it makes this place just as bad as Tartarus.’
‘The demons will be delighted to hear it.’
‘And if I discover this concession of yours will hurt me, I’ll find a way to put you in the Void instead.’
He inhales. ‘Noted.’
Since he’s being agreeable, I try, ‘And if you wanted to do the next task right away and get me out sooner, I’d be okay with that.’
‘I’m sure you would be.’ He grins. The expression is so transformative I have to blink several times. ‘I’ll see you next month. Try not to get in trouble in the meantime.’
10
Trouble has a habit of finding me whether I go looking for it or not.
The first week, I keep to my room, scratching off the days on my wardrobe. It’s safer that way. I stare at the four walls with nothing better to do than dwell on all the things I miss about home. The days where Noah’s in a good mood and he brings me pastries in the morning. Where we spend hours lying in the park, hands entwined, and evenings in crowded bars filled with laughter – Sasha’s loudest of all.
On day eight, I risk going to Dionysus again. Being driven mad by boredom and longing is just as dangerous as entering that dance floor. If a distraction’s what I need to get through this, I don’t see how that can be a crime. Hands caress my waist, my hips – at one point I’m pretty sure a cold pair of lips skim my neck. At first, I cringe away. Noah and his ring are waiting for me back home.
I hope he’s missing me.
I hope he’s missing me so much that, when I get home, the relief of seeing me is enough for him to never want to lose me again, and all our days turn into good days.
But that only makes me realise that missing me is not the same as waiting for me. He thinks I’m dead and gone for good. What if, by the time I return, he’s moved on? The idea of arrivingon his doorstep to find I’ve been replaced has me letting the next pair of hands stay where they are. Demon, human, I don’t care. Something about the music makes me too delirious to worry who they belong to.
This repeats, night after night after night, time stretching in immeasurable amounts, like the sun has risen and set above us and we’re still going in a blur of motion. I never see the same group of humans twice – apart from one. Harper. She always smiles and waves me over, and I always respond with a shake of my head, ignoring the yearning in my belly that wants to tug me towards her. Friendships in the afterlife have the potential to be permanent – for everyone but me.
