Page 45 of Infernal Bindings

I nod; it’s the most reasonable request a person could make, and I have my own in return.

“Can I ask you something?” My voice is faint, my throat swollen with emotion. It’s the question I’ve been tiptoeing around for years—the one I’ve always feared his answer to. “If I asked you to give me back my soul, would you?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I would. I only kept it so we’d be together always. If you don’t want that—” He lifts his fingers, but before he can snap them, I wrap my hands around his and squeeze.

“Don’t.” I don’t know why I say it. This is what I’ve always wanted, but I don’t know what I want anymore. “Please, not yet.”

I hold his hand for a long time before he finally clears his throat. “We should go. You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

Nodding, I let him snap open the black doorway and follow him through it.

22

THE SECOND FLOOR

With Daemon’s scroll tucked into his suit jacket, we make quick work of the bottom floor. Much to our dismay, Salios’s throne still sits in the middle of the cracked-open dance floor, blood continuously pumping onto the wooden boards. As we work, Salios eyes us from his throne, smiling at me every time our gazes meet.

My whole body shudders, goosebumps prickling along my exposed arms.

It’s a relief when we make it to the elevators with four more Infernal names crossed off our list. In his demon form, Daemon guides me through the onyx doors, his clawed hand pressing possessively against my lower back. The elevator doors close, and for a moment we’re surrounded by darkness.

“Why is Salios still here?” I whisper, even though we’re both alone.

“Probably to fuck with us. Don’t worry about it. If he wanted to interfere, he already would have.”

Still, I can’t help but scoot closer to Daemon, like he can somehow protect me from that monster. The warmth from his body soothes me, though—as best as any light witch can be soothed in Hell while dressed as a demon’s pet. The elevator dings open, and when Daemon snaps his fingers, I feel something pull on my neck.

A leash.

He’s attached a leash to my collar like I’m some kind of dog.

I swallow, taking in the second floor as he drags me into it. There are just as many people here as there were at ground level, but they’re not dancing. Gone is the club music, glowsticks, and strobe lights, replaced by dim red lamps, lounge tables, and cushioned chaises that are half-hidden by sheer red canopies. Human women are either fully naked or dressed like me, performing sexual acts behind the curtains where everyone can see them.

In the center of the room, there isn’t a dance floor, but a stage where a naked redhead is bound to an X-shaped object, her hands and feet splayed like a starfish. An incubus paces around her, shirtless, holding a thin wooden cane in his hand. I gasp when he smacks it across her breasts, a red line forming with her scream. Her nipples tighten into stiff peaks, and she squirms as if she’s enjoying it, and I feel myself squirm too.

In terror? Anticipation?

I’m not sure.

He strikes her again, and she hisses in pain. The incubus is twice her size, and still smaller than Daemon. I can’t help but imagine all the ways he could hurt her if he wanted to, and all the ways Daemon could hurt me. As I gaze up into Daemon’s bright, pupilless red eyes, he shows no sign of softness.

“Don’t look at me unless I order you to,” he growls, loud enough for anyone to hear.

My gaze drops to my hands. It’s all an act. I know that. Still, it doesn’t feel that way.

Fisting the leash, Daemon yanks me to an empty chaise and brushes the curtain aside. He climbs in first, then pulls me into his lap, the sheer fabric dropping as I settle into him. Daemon readjusts me until we’re both facing the woman on the stage as the incubus hooks a clamp onto each of her nipples and tugs on the chain connecting them. She wails, her hips bucking into the air, and my throat turns drier than chalk.

I don’t know how she’s not a crying mess by now.

Fingers curl around a bow at my waistband, unknotting it before I even have a chance to react. I try to look behind me, but Daemon grips my chin hard, forcing me to keep my eyes ahead. The bow comes apart as easily as paper rips, and then soft fabric pools around my middle. Slowly, he spreads my legs apart, giving me enough time to use my safe gestures. But I don’t. And soon his fingers dive beneath the thin gossamer. I jump when they find my clit.

Oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

He rubs me in teasing circles as the incubus on stage forces open the woman’s mouth and places an o-shaped gag inside it, buckling it tightly behind her head. Drool drips down her chin, her pink tongue licking some, but not all of it, away.

Breath hot in my ear, Daemon whispers, “The fastest way to scan everyone in here is to get you on that stage.” His fingers ghost across me again, lighter and lighter, until I’m arching into him, trying to generate more friction, all thoughts of anything gone. “Is that something you think you can handle? If it isn’t, tell me now.”