Page 27 of Ruthless Demon

“They were probably hoping for both,” I tell her honestly. “Only, your death was virtually guaranteed. If I hadn’t known exactly what attacked you and known exactly who to go to for treatment, you would have—”

The word sticks in my throat. I growl against the lump and press my lips to the tender skin near her collar bone. She tightens her embrace, then her fingers find my hair again.

“What did Cephalus have to say?”

“Nothing helpful. He claims that he had nothing to do with it. That if he wanted you dead, he would have done it before I arrived.”

She shivers. “He did enjoy mentioning that I was at his mercy,” she murmurs reluctantly. “He also made sure to tell me that my death wouldn’t help him reach his goals, but that my life and his control over it was the key to solving his problems.”

I scoff at that. “There’s a one-track mind for you. He’s convinced himself that there’s only one path to get where he wants to go, and only one person can make that trek. You’d think a person would get tired of slamming his head against the same wall after a century or two.”

“You’d think,” she says wryly but then is pensively silent for a moment. “You don’t think he changed his mind, do you? That he came up with some other way of doing whatever it is he wants to do and decided to get rid of us on a whim?”

I almost cringe hearing it laid out like that. I was so furious this morning that I wasn’t thinking clearly; if I had been, I would have come to the same conclusion I’m arriving at now. “No,” I tell her with a heavy sigh. “He’s fairly predictable. He’s had his mind made up about me for decades. If he were capable of coming up with an alternative solution, he would have implemented it long ago. Convincing me to come back, even through an act of violent coercion, is an admission of weakness. At least to him. He’s admitting that he can’t finish this on his own, that he needs my help. If he had a secret goal to assassinate me, he would have done it without risking his own reputation.”

She nods. “That’s kind of what I was thinking, and I hate it. Cephalus would have been such a simple answer.”

“He would have been. Not easy, but simple.”

“Lucifer,” she says in a small voice that nearly breaks my heart. “They failed. Someone tried to kill me, and they failed. I-I don’t think failure is something people just accept around here.”

“You’re not wrong,” I tell her. “Whoever did this is going to try again. Look at me.”

She meets my eyes and I see her terror. The longer she holds my gaze, the more that fear fades; the confidence and trust she has in me strengthens my resolve. “Whoever the villain is, they won’t succeed. I swear to you, I will keep you safe.” I kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her mouth. “You have my solemn vow.”

She sighs contentedly, molding herself snugly against me. The oath rings through my blood, steeling my every nerve. She’s mine, and no one, in this world or any other, is going to take her from me.

A series of taps at the door interrupts our moment. I’m tempted to ignore it and draw this moment out for as long as I can. The tapper taps again, a little louder and more insistently.

“Okay,” I groan before I kiss Sophia’s shoulder as I roll away from her. “Hold your hellhounds, I’m coming.”

“Hold your hellhounds?” Sophia repeats with a laugh.

“Horses have more important things to do around here than make appearances in colloquialisms,” I tell her with a quick grin as I slide into my pants. “Hellhounds have a lot more time on their hands.”

It’s a silly, ill-thought out joke but her laughter brings me joy, and double when I’m the one who evoked it; I appreciate her quirky sense of humor. I’m grinning when I pull the door open, expecting to find Fenriz on the other side. He’s there on the other side of the hall, glaring daggers at the creature who did the knocking.

“I told him you were not to be disturbed,” Fenriz growls.

“King Cephalus sent me,” the scrawny messenger says defiantly. “He’s calling for a war council, and your presence is required.”

Swearing under my breath, I snatch my shirt off the floor and yank it on over my head, then shove my feet into boots as I make my way back to the bedside. Sophia’s watching, analyzing everything. I kiss her deeply, drinking in her touch, letting it soothe my temper—if only for a moment.

“I have to go,” I tell her. “You’ll be safe.”

Sophia nods, giving me a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Reluctantly I leave her, closing the door behind me. I point at Fenriz, then the door before I say, “Watch her. Nobody in or out. Not even servants.”

“Understood, boss.” Fenriz takes position in front of the door, folding his arms. He’s a solid brick, a staunch protector. She’ll be safe—she better be.

I’m furious that Cephalus would take full advantage of our deal so soon, especially after the attempt on her life. That anger informs my movements, forcing the messenger to scurry to stay far enough ahead to lead me. I know where the war room is; I’ve spent many long nights there, cooking up new and interesting ways to get our asses handed to us. But the messenger is determined to do his job, and pays for it in red-faced breathlessness by the time we reach the chamber.

“Prince Lucifer,” he huffs. “As requested, sire.”

“Dismissed, messenger,” Cephalus says without looking up from the map he’s studying.

The demon bows deeply and wheezes off down the hall. I close the door and look around, there are a dozen or so advisors cluttering the space. Abaddon and Wargund are, of course, hovering near my father. Rir shoots me a grim smile from across the room. Meshach, who appears to have found a shirt, is also in attendance, which means Diana wasn’t exaggerating about how much he has impressed my father. The others are mostly familiar faces, although I don’t remember working closely enough with any of them to recall their names.

Cephalus looks at me from beneath his brows and gestures for me to join him at the tall table. One look at the map sets the tone for my mood. It’s a map of Earth, specifically North America. Death Valley is circled in red. How appropriate. I can’t imagine the proximity to the city I’ve made my home is an accident.

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