Page 12 of Ex-Mas
“And how would you know that, Lysandra? Would you like to see?”
My hackles rise. Logic tells me he’s lying — he told me himself that once they’re in Hell, their only choices are their human bodies or their demon forms — but myinstincts say otherwise. He just told me that. Why lie now? “Sure. Show me then, because I don’t believe you.”
Adrian closes the distance between us, one hand gripping the bar while the other beckons me forward.
Like I have anywhere to go.
I take the half-step forward that brings me to him, flinching when his fist tangles tightly in my hair and he pins me there. “As you wish.”
The world around us fades, and suddenly we’re in a different Hell altogether. It’s some sort of bare, beach house with the words “all your fault” covering every wall. I can smell the sea salt, hear the waves, but although that familiarity should be comforting, it’s the exact opposite.
There’s nothing peaceful about this place, and based on the gorgeous redhead, I’m guessing this is her Hell. And she’s the demon that answered his call.
She’s staring down at me — or who I assume is Adrian — and grinning. “When will you stop moaning her name?” She teases, slicing a knife down my chest, and I’m shocked when I actually feel the bite of it. “If you want to see her so badly, so be it.”
She looks across from Adrian/me to where my visage is standing, and there’s a deranged smile on fake-me’s face as I slowly take the knife from her. “Hello, Ade. You look so hot covered in blood. Can I play too?”
I lift the blade above my head and stab down, a gasp leaving me as I return to the cage in Adrian’s Hell and he releases me entirely.
“Believe me now?”
My heart is beating so hard it’s making me lightheaded. She didn’t need to have my face, she conjured my whole fucking body — piercings, hair dye, birth mark and all. “No wonder you hate me.”
“I knew it wasn’t you, but it was a long two years.”
He turns away from me and begins to walk away, giving me an opportunity to stare at his back. It makes me think of all the times I would admire it as he slept on his stomach with arms raised under his pillow, giving me a sense of longing I cannot feel. This isn’t that same man, yet he smells the same, walks the same, has that adorable mole at the base of his spine.
My Adrian may be in there somewhere, but I doubt I’ll ever get him back. “So youknew it wasn’t really me, and I’ll know it really is you. Seems fair.”
“Fair? You want to talk about fair in Hell?” He chuckles, plopping down on a recliner that’s facing me. “You know what I want to talk about? Those other dudes you fucked. What are their names?”
“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business,” I mumble, desperately hoping he’ll drop this before I have to tell him the truth. “You said you can’t go topside without being summoned anyway, so what does it matter?”
“Believe it or not, I have friends in low places.” He summons his bottle of alcohol and starts singing Garth Brooks with a terrible southern accent, and I can’t help but stare. He hates country music.
The combination with that fucking song blaring in the background is enough to make me wish I could die down here and stay dead. “Don’t quit your day job.”
He flashes me a grin that shows off his sharp teeth. “You used to love my bad singing.”
“That was before you had a tail.”
“Fine. You sing for me then.” He meets my gaze. “Now.”
I feel the power behind the command, and as much as I try to fight it, the songcomes out anyway. I can feel my cheeks heating up from embarrassment as he takes it up a notch, forcing me to grip one of the bars of my cage like a stripper pole and dance.
“Good girl. Look at you,” he praises, rising to his feet to come closer again. “Let me see that ass.”
My body violently jerks as I turn around, and he bends me over so fast my head slams off the other side of the cage. I’d cuss him out if he didn’t have me midway through the second verse.
His sinful hands slide along my skin, arousal warring with the degradation I feel when two fingers slide up my cunt. “What were their names?” he growls, pushing those digits inside of me. “Say it.”
Again, the command isn’t something I can fight.
The problem is... I don’t know.
“I never knew their names,” I word-vomit. “I didn’t want love or companionship or any of that bullshit. I just wanted to feel something.”
“And what did you feel?”
