Page 5 of The Dame & the Devil

With his illusion gone, there are no more devils but the one holding me close.

Instead, the saints wheel around the dance floor with sinners dressed in red. Cages of lightning spark around their heads as they scream and plead but make no sound.

“Hello, little fool.” His voice is velvety smooth.

Too sultry to be safe.

When he twirls me, my skirt fans out… no longer black. The red is darker than what the sinners wear, but it still marks me as fallen.

It marks me as his.

It seems ridiculous to say it back to him, but I can’t say the word my mind has screamed since I tasted him. Finally.

So I study him instead.

“Do I meet with your approval?” The amusement in his voice makes me want to smile, but I let my gaze sweep over him again, instead.

Following the line of his long torso—the only part of him that seems to pretend at being human—to the black fur covering his legs and the scaled, clawed feet that turn us agilely. The tail he has wrapped around his leg ends in a conical tip that sends my mind to places it can’t go yet.

“I thought you’d be taller.” I say, unable to stop myself from being a smart ass, even in the company of the Devil.

He chuckles and takes a step back. When he does, his legs straighten, and I realise what I’d thought was the end of his foot was in fact another stretch of incredibly long legs.

“I couldn’t give you too many clues, little fool. How would you appreciate finding me without the chase?” He returns to the height he’d been at when I found him.

“I’ve looked for you for long enough.”

“I know.” He leans close. “It’s why I finally decided to let you catch me.”

A sharp gasp draws my attention away from him, and my head snaps toward the sound.

A young man stumbles back from the devil he has kissed a moment before the sinner is revealed to him.

The Devil turns me for a better view, hand on my stomach as he pulls me back against his front. “Look at them all,” he says, as if I didn’t just see the two of them burst in a puff of smoke.

He drops my hand and sharp fingers turn my face to the next saint willing to take the risk. “Each one is terrified their choice will fail them. And when they’ve pressed their lips to the one they’ve taken a chance on…. Eyes widen in terror, and then….”

It happens exactly as he says. The chaste kiss, the wide eyes. She squeaks, stumbling backward in a panic, tripping over her black skirt and falling to the ground. All her fear is for nothing. The woman in front of her loses her Satanic disguise and they disappear like all the others have.

He spins me again, drawing me back into his arms and my skirt wraps around both of our legs.

“I remember the first time I tasted ash, all too well.”

“But unlike them, it became a disappointment, not a triumph.”

“They have different desires than I do.”

For the saints, it will be a momentary defeat. For me, it was abject failure, time and again.

But I don’t have to feel it this time.

I’ve won my version of the Devil’s game.

The Devil turns me up the dance floor, weaving through the dwindling saints and sinners, as if this unending waltz is the only thing on his mind.

The steps and turns keep me pressed close to him, and I wouldn’t draw away from him if I could.

My fantasies won’t even allow me to manage it.

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