Page 36 of The Demon Prince's Accidental Mate
The tunnels underneath the falls. Above us, the Niagara River raged as it poured over the edge and then down hundreds of feet to crash below, where it continued its course as it had for thousands of years.
But why were we there?
Light flashed. Though the tunnel had some long lights embedded in the ceiling, it was a much brighter, yellower burst. I turned to see Belial warding off a strike from the tip of the man’s staff.
Warding it off withwings.
“What the …” I started to say, too stunned to say anything else.
Beneath the onslaught of flame, Belial advanced, step by step, leaning into it while his wings—wings!—deflected the flames around him, protecting him. He went on and on until he swept up and out from the protection, grabbing the staff and hauling up on it. The gray-clad man refused to let go but, too late, realized his mistake as Belial used it like a lever.
It was over that quickly. The nasty man’s head hit the ceiling and was knocked out. Belial stood over the body for a moment, then ripped the staff from him. I watched as he stomped past me to a corner junction. There, he flung the staff like a javelin down the hallway and out into the waterfall.
He spun and looked at me.
I looked back at him, watching as his features melted back into the tall, handsome man I’d been introduced to.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a gentleness that belied his fearsome visage of moments earlier.
“Y-y-yes?”
“I need to know. Are you hurt?”
“A little,” I squeaked, my hand going to my throat even as I stared at him, unable to look away. “But not seriously, I don’t think.”
“Good,” he said, the wings and tail fully gone, having been absorbed into him or something.
“Belial …”
“Yes?” he asked, clearly impatient to get moving.
“Whatareyou?”
He hesitated, not bothering to hold back his grimace. “We don’t have time for this. We have to go.”
I stood, backing away from him as he stepped toward me. “I need to know what you are. Who are you?”
“I am Belial,” he said. “I am a prince.”
“A prince?” I asked.
“Of the Underworld,” he finished unhappily.
“A prince of the Underworld,” I repeated, stringing the whole thing together. “A prince of the Underworld? You mean you’re a d-demon?”
“Prince,” he added as if that changed it.
I stared.
“What?”
“Does thatreallymake a difference?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m a prince.”
“Of demons,” I pointed out, lifting a hand.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Aprinceof demons.”
