Vyra walked to the wardrobe and yanked it open, whipping out a glittering black dress just this side of sheer. She shook it out, her lips pressed flat. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying maybe you could’ve put a little more trust in him.”
I re-dressed myself in the glittery number she’d provided and let her lace up the back. “You know I value your thoughts, Vyra, but asking me to put blind trust in the demon who soul-bound me is asking a little much.”
She fastened a necklace around my throat, a line appearing between her brows. “Soul-bound?”
I clenched the palm that was now unmarked. Even my hand felt empty these days. “He branded me.”
“Melisande, that’s not…” She broke off as a Chainling opened the door, a hooded face popping around the side.
“Your horse is ready, Lady Wrath.”
“Thank you. Let’s go, Vyra. I can’t promise I’ll apologize, but I think I can manage to sit twenty feet away from him without throwing a knife at his head.”
She hadn’t stopped frowning, but trailed after me to the stables, where the Chainlings had led Capheira out beneath the twilight sky. I stroked her soft muzzle, pain piercing my chest. I’d been so happy when Belial had given her to me…
Maybe if he’d offered me freedom to begin with, I wouldn’t have been forced into thievery and tricks.
This distance was his fault.
Tascius sliced upwards, cutting off the Daeva’s cock. The spiny appendage went flying across the arena and landed at Belial’s feet with a wet slap.
I gritted my teeth, digging my nails into the raven feathers on my throne’s arms.
There was nothing I wanted more than to go to him, to take up a sword and help him bring the Daeva demon to its knees.
The thing looked down at its mutilated penis, which was already healing over, and a wide smile stretched across its lips. Thorny hands shot out to wrap around Tascius’s throat.
My muscles quivered. There was a sword right there. All I had to do was grab it and jump down.
But Belial was watching me with a hawk’s intent gaze, looking for any sign of weakness.
I forced myself to lean back on my throne, nonchalantly watching the Daeva strangle my Nephilim mate. Tascius planted a boot in its gut and kicked hard, breaking out of its grasp.
The Daeva didn’t get another chance to recover before he punched a hole right through its throat with his dagger. The demon slouched over, gushing greenish blood all over the arena floor.
“Another one down.” Belial clapped loudly, the sound lost under the roar of his spectators. “How much longer can Exile last?”
Tascius rose, swiping his arm across his forehead. Sweat gleamed over the broad planes of his chest and abs.
A chest and abs I hadn’t touched in a week. I knew he’d keep fighting until he was sliced to ribbons just to be near me.
I shouldn’t have come tonight.
But now that Tascius was on the arena floor, so close but so far away, I was too weak to leave, to waste the few hours I had to just look at him, even though the creatures Belial brought out were growing successively worse.
Tascius refused to lose a single round, and Belial knew that as long as he was there, I was there. It was a three-way battle of wills and exhausting to the bone.
I sat up straight, refusing to look away. Tascius deserved my full support.
“He can outlast anything you throw at him, Prince,” I shouted across the arena.
Belial’s aquamarine eyes, glittering with banked anger, flashed at me. “Your confidence in him is unshakeable, Lady.” The subtext was clear and cutting: unlike your confidence in me.
I’d fucked up something fierce when I’d made my bet with Belial.
Demons were twisted creatures.
I’d asked for my freedom and half of the Seventh Circle. With Tascius claimed as my mate, I’d mistakenly assumed that included him.
Of course, after I’d stolen from Belial and thrown every kindness he’d done for me back in his face, I should’ve known he would exploit every possible loophole to make my victory sting.
“And he deserves every drop of it.” I smiled at Belial, showing my teeth. Unlike you.
Belial leaned back on his throne, the bones creaking as they shifted under his weight. He looked more delectable than ever, his shirt unbuttoned to show off his sculpted chest, sleeves rolled up around his forearms. “It’s a shame he doesn’t have your cunning.” He’ll never be free.
“I wouldn’t underestimate him.” Fucking try us.
Belial swiped his thumb across his lip, as though he wanted to smile and was holding it back.
God, but I wanted to cross the arena now and beg for his good graces. I hadn’t stolen the knife to stab him in the back with it.
Was my freedom too much to ask for?
But as long as he held Tascius over my head… he was an enemy.
Vyra’s eyes darted between us, and most of the demons in the stands within earshot were leaning in, practically panting to see a fight between the Prince and Lady of Wrath.
I wouldn’t oblige, no matter how much Belial pissed me off. I knew all too well how I responded to close proximity with the delicious warlord of Hell’s armies.
It was safe to say my skill in battle wouldn’t be my weakness.
“Exile is the last one I’d underestimate, Lady.” Belial dragged a hand through dark hair, smirking when my eyes fixed on the movement and remained there. “What should I throw at him next? I want to make sure you’re entertained.”
You could entertain me by giving him his seventh round.
The words remained unspoken. Belial had yet to replace Yraceli, which meant the seventh round was now Belial himself.
Despite my confidence in Tascius, not even he could defeat the Prince of Wrath in his own element. The demon was nearly untouchable.
Judging by Belial’s cruel smile, he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I forced my gaze back to Tascius, who’d drifted nearly to the
