“Piss off.”
Okay, she might be slow, but she wasn’t stupid. For long minutes, shock held her silent. “This Walker guy is my father?”
“Yes,” Asmodai answered.
“You’re sure? Because my mother never called him the Walker, she called him Finn.”
“Without a shadow of a doubt.”
She reached behind her and fumbled for a chair, stepped back, and sank down before her knees gave out. Everyone in the room was staring at her, with vastly differing expressions. Asmodai appeared amused, as did Christian. Piers looked outraged, but then she had the biggest fae asshole in the world for a father. Did that mean he wouldn’t like her anymore?
Tara’s brows were drawn together as if thinking the whole thing through; then her face cleared and she smiled. “Hey, so your father is my mother’s uncle, which makes us…cousins on my mother’s side, sort of.”
At least the relationship was only on Tara’s mother’s side and Roz wasn’t related to Asmodai—that would have been too creepy.
It was weird; Roz had never even thought about finding her father. Up until recently, she’d presumed he was dead. And since she’d found out that he was actually fae and immortal, she’d been too busy to think about the possibility of him still existing somewhere.
Besides, she hated him. He’d abandoned them. If he’d stayed and protected them, her mother would never have died that night. Roz would never have made a deal with a demon. What would her life have been like?
Her mother had always sworn that he would return for them one day. Had been convinced that he had some reason for staying away.
Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of a daughter with her mixed blood. But she could remember him vaguely. He’d loved her, she would have sworn to that.
Nothing made sense.
Except one thing.
Asmodai was a bastard.
He’d known who she was and hadn’t told her. And he’d planned to hand her over to the man who had tried to murder his own niece because she had mixed blood. She’d believed Asmodai had come to care for her over the years. But he would do this to her? Hand her over to what would likely be her death?
She got up on slightly shaky legs and strode toward him.
He stood as she approached, a puzzled frown replacing the amusement.
Bunching her fist at her side, she drew back her arm, and punched him as hard as she could. Too late, she realized it was the same hand she’d used to punch Jack, and her knuckles were already bruised. “Ow.”
He reached up and touched his lip. “What the hell was that for?”
“You bastard,” she said. “Have you known this all along?”
“I knew you were half-fae, but I only discovered who your father was recently when we met again.”
“And you were going to hand me over to him?”
“I considered it more as an introduction.”
“An introduction to the man who nearly killed his own niece because she had mixed blood.”
He raised a brow as though he hadn’t made the connection. “Even the Walker wouldn’t kill his own child.”
“You reckon?” Suddenly all her grievances against him welled up inside her. “And another thing. You lied to me.”
The amusement was back. “I did?”
“You told me everyone would want me dead. When really it’s just…” She hesitated, hating to put it into words. “Just my father.”
“Actually, I doubt he’ll kill you,” Christian said.
“Really?” How she wished she believed that. “And why is that?”
“He desired Tara’s death because she had demon blood as well as fae. And you said your father stayed with you until you were around six—that hardly sounds like the actions of a man who hates you.”
“So why did he leave, why abandon us like that?”
“My guess is, he got caught up in one of the demon wars, probably couldn’t get back. From what you told us, the timing would have been right. We’ll find out at the meeting.”
It seemed inconceivable—she had a father. He was real. Suddenly, she was filled with the urge to see him, ask him why he had left them. Face him with the consequences of those actions. “You’re having a meeting with him?”
“We’ll have to,” Christian said. “We have to warn the fae that Andarta has the Key. I’ve already sent a message that we need to meet.”
“I’m going with you to the meeting.”
“Actually, you’re not going anywhere near that bastard,” Piers said.
Roz whirled around to face him. “Don’t you start thinking you can order me around,” she snapped. “I’ve had enough of that from him.” She jabbed a finger in Asmodai’s direction. “I want this over and I want this gone.” She waved her arm with the sigil in his general direction.
“You still have one more task to do.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that, and I don’t agree.”
“You don’t?”
“If I remember, the task was to find the Key. I found it. Now get this thing off me.”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do it.”
He smiled. “You are so sexy when you’re angry. I’m tempted to keep you just for the entertainment value.”
Piers strode up to stand beside her. He also jabbed a finger in the demon’s chest. “You ever touch her again, and I’ll rip you limb from limb.”
“You’d fight for her?” Asmodai sounded intrigued by the idea.
Piers snarled, flashing one sharp white fang, and the humanity bled from his eyes, leaving him pure monster. She wasn’t impressed—well, maybe just a little bit.
“Yeah,” Piers growled, “and you know what—I’d win.”
“Maybe here, but—”
Roz stamped her foot, and they both turned to look at her. “No one is fighting for me. You.” She pointed at Asmodai. “Stop winding him up. And you.” She turned her attention to Piers. “Just remember if anyone kills him, it’s going to be me. Which might happen very soon if this mark does not disappear by the time I count to ten.”
Chapter Nineteen
Roz held her breath as she counted.
As she hit nine, Asmodai pursed his lips and gave a casual shrug. And just like that, it was gone. Before her eyes, the sigil faded from her skin. After five hundred years of enslavement, she was free. She could go anywhere, do anything, live her life without the fear that the demon would ask her for something she wasn’t willing to give.
A smile tugged at her lips as a sense of lightness filled her. She launched herself at Piers, wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and hugged him tight. His arms came around her and pulled her close. When she tugged free, he was smiling down at her.
“Wow!” she said. “I’m free.”
“I wasn’t that bad.” Asmodai’s tone was vaguely offended, laced with amusement. He gave her a sly smile, his gaze shifting to Piers. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”
She sniffed. “I really don’t remember.”
“Get that slimy grin off your face or you won’t be having any more times with anybody,” Piers said. “Good or
