Page 9 of The Demon's Vow
“But if you fight me, if you so much as think of crossing me, Lukas…I will ensure their suffering. Their souls will be mine to torture and play with for all eternity. Do we have an understanding?”
His threat hung in the air, cold, clear, and absolute. A defiant refusal rose to the tip of my tongue. My fists clenched at my sides. Every instinct screamed to fight, to yell, to do something. But those urges were extinguished like a candle.
My eyes flickered to the door, beyond where Jess and Darcy could be lying helpless, then back to the eight-foot-tall prince of hell who could have eviscerated them without a thought...but hadn’t.
Any fight in me drained out as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a hollow, cold acceptance. I was utterly and completely outmatched. I wasn’t the smartest person, but I knew when to give up.
“Fine,” I whispered, my voice heavy with surrender. “I’ll go with you. Just…don’t hurt them.”
He reached out, and I couldn’t help but tense when those talons came near me, but he was surprisingly gentle as he cupped my chin, forcing my gaze to his.
“Sweet Lukas,” he purred, the endearment sounding both like a caress and a threat. “I give you my vow.”
He leaned in once more, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to slither down my chest and vibrate through my body.
“A Demon’s Vow is not like the fleeting promises of mortals, so quick to be made and just as easily broken. It is binding. To break it would bring danger to my very existence. Their safety is ensured, and that is a fact, as immutable as the laws that govern the underworld you humans fear. Do you understand?”
I nod. I was both mesmerized and terrified by the absolute certainty in his voice. This wasn’t a simple reassurance. It was a statement of fact. But his vow wasn’t made out of kindness—it was a transaction, sealed with a power I couldn’t begin to comprehend and guaranteed by a magic more ancient and solid than anything in my world.
He was telling the truth, and I didn’t simply believe him. Ifeltthe sincerity, the weight of the conditions he set.
Suddenly, a loud crack split the room. A yelp ripped from my mouth as I instinctively clapped my hands over my ears. The ground beneath my feet shook violently.
The demon turned slowly, looking down at that dark void he’d emerged from, then back to me. “The gate is closing.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He tilted his head, studying me with that look a teacher gives a kid who’s just said something profoundly silly. “It means we’re going home.”
Home? What the fuck does he mean by home?
Before I could process the meaning behind the word, he reached for me. In one swift, fluid motion, he literally whisked me off my feet, scooping me into his arms like I was a damsel straight out of some Harlequin novel. A startled squeak escaped me, and I locked my arms around his neck in a death grip.
I knew I wasn’t a lightweight, but he lifted me as if I were. The sheer, effortless power in the motion should have terrified me more than anything yet, all I could focus on was his overwhelming warmth. His chest was a furnace against my side, radiating heat that seeped through my clothes and into my chilled skin. I don’t know why I thought he would be cold like marble. My hand splayed against the back of his neck, feeling the corded strength of his muscles, reminding me of a sleek, powerful leopard.
He held me securely. Despite the circumstances—and those freaking claws—his grip was gentle. Firm and unbreakable, yes, but not crushing. It was a hold that spoke of control, not brute force. A quiet thought whispered through my mind: I’d never felt so secure. As soon as that thought materialized, a rush of heat spread through my body. My face felt hot.
He walked toward the centre of the room, pausing in front of that dark abyss in the ground—the gates of hell, I guessed. My heart hammered against my ribs like a frantic bird trying to escape its cage. I tightened my grip, burying my face against the solid wall of his chest, inhaling his scent of smoke and amber as he leapt into the darkness.
It took every single ounce of willpower I possessed not to release an ear-shattering scream into his ear, but a strangledwhimper was stolen from my lips as the darkness swallowed us whole.
The last thoughts that crossed my mind before I blacked out were that my friends were safe. And I was well and truly his.
Chapter 6
LUKAS
Iwas drawn out from a deep and dreamless sleep by the loveliest scents I had ever encountered. A floral perfume, perhaps rose and vanilla, layered over the mouthwatering aroma of spiced meat, roasted vegetables, and freshly baked pastries.
Fuck, I hadn’t eaten in hours.
The combination was so potent that it seeped into my senses and gently tugged me back to the surface.
It wasn’t just the smells, either. A comforting warmth surrounded me. My body felt so relaxed, as if I were floating on a cloud of cotton candy or something. It was the right kind of heat that loosened tight muscles and knots. I wanted to sink into it and never wake up.
Then I noticed faint sounds, steady rhythms that gently nudged at the edges of my awareness, along with distant whispers and airy giggles.
“Look! He’s waking up!” a voice said, her tone both melodic and eager.
