Devil's Punch (14 page)

Now I'd given him reason to doubt me. Did that make us even?

Then I added, “I won't make you talk about her again if you'd rather not.”

“It's not Lily, per se. Just how badly I failed her.”

Yeah. He wouldn't be here, if he'd known the risks, if she'd gotten regular cleansings. Such a small thing, but for want of the horseshoe nail, and all that. Most likely, he'd be married with a kid or two, working as a stockbroker or a day trader, while his wife with the beautiful singing voice ministered to the unfortunate. Instead, he had an inert Chihuahua and me. That illustrated perfectly how unfair life could be.

“It's pretty clear neither one of us is perfect,” Chance said. “We've both screwed up. At this point, we have to decide what to do about it.”

“Do you believe I can do better?”

“Do you think
I
can?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“Then let's start there.” He pushed to his feet, weariness in every movement. “If I can stay awake, I'm taking a shower.” He paused. “You're lucky, you know. If I had more energy, I'd have bitched you out good.”

“Let's hear it for exhaustion.” I listened to the water running in the bathroom, and the next thing I knew, it was a long time later. I knew that because Greydusk was rapping politely on the door, and it wouldn't wake me without a good reason.

“Sybella grows impatient,” it said.

“Any trouble?”

“It was quiet until the summons.”

“Awesome.”

“I am to inform you there is clothing suitable to your station in the wardrobe.”

Suitable to my station. Fabulous.
No doubt it would be elegant and uncomfortable as hell.

“I need time to get ready.”

“I will pass the message to Gilder.” Its footsteps trailed away.

I raised up on one elbow and found Chance gazing at me with lambent, sleep-lidded eyes. The bed was big enough that I couldn't remember running up against him in the night. Or day. Whatever we'd slept through.

I made a conscious choice to move toward him. He met me halfway and his arms slipped around me, as they had so many times before. I didn't stifle the memories this time. I let them come, and some were beautiful. Once, I'd thought he was the best thing ever to happen to me. Maybe I would again.

“You feel so good,” he whispered.

“You too.”

He buried his face in my tousled hair, rubbing his cheek slowly side to side. I wondered then:
Did love ever truly die?
I stroked his back and held him, savoring the moment.

“Sad as it sounds, this is the happiest I've been since you left me.”

I eased back to stare at him. “That's…pretty messed up.”

“I know,” he said.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that revelation. I mean, on the surface, it was flattering. But I'd moved on. Put my life back together and grown stronger. Chance had fixated on getting me back. I asked myself if that was healthy or if it was a sign of how much he'd come to love me. Maybe I didn't know shit about relationships and I was looking for an excuse to wig out and run.

Right now, none of it mattered.

I leaned in and touched my lips to his. His fingers tangled in my hair, his mouth an endless sweetness on mine. He'd always kissed like a god. Our breathing was ragged when I pulled back.

“Time to get up.”

But before we did, he brought me breakfast in the form of another protein bar and water. After I ate, I got out of bed and went to the wardrobe, where I found clothing suitable for the circus. Seriously.

Apparently, Greydusk wanted me to wear a satin brocade gown with a jeweled belt and a formal headdress. It looked like a combo of the shit they made Amidala wear in those awful
Star Wars
prequels and crazy Ren Faire garb run amok.
Yeah, there's no way. Over my dead body, I put one of those on.
Chance came to stand behind me, wearing nothing but his boxers.

Damn
.

He really was breathtakingly beautiful. His hair was long and shaggy, gleaming like a raven's wing. It looked like my hands had been in it. His face? Well, that had always been sculpted to splendor beyond human limits. Since I'd left, he'd spent more time working out, more time sparring, and the result was a body that could make me stop and stare. I'd never seen anyone with an eight-pack before. When he caught me looking, he ducked his head, inexplicably shy, and it delighted me.

“You're gorgeous,” I said. “I mean, you always were, but in a more
GQ
, impervious way.”

“Now?”

“I can't look at you without wanting to touch.”

His eyes widened, but so did his smile. I never would've been so honest about my desire before; my confidence wasn't up to the mark. Back in the day, I'd worried that he'd feel like he had to lie if I said something like that, because clearly I wasn't his physical equal, and I avoided the subject instead of addressing it. I pretended the looks we got from other women, the
oh my God, you're seriously a couple
stares, the
she must be a freak in bed
speculation, didn't bother me. This time it really didn't.

Yet I stopped myself from going to him. With Sybella breathing down my neck and a comatose dog to worry about, I couldn't be making out with Chance. Even though I wanted to. And that was a little worrisome. Not that he wasn't totally kissable, but when in Sheol, I had to wonder if the demons were fucking with my libido. I wasn't going to dance to their tune.

So with a faint, regretful sigh, I hauled the least offensive garment out of the wardrobe. In side drawers, I
discovered their idea of underpants suitable to my station. Chance's jaw dropped. And I stifled a scream of frustration.

“Seriously?” I said out loud.

“That's so…” He was grinning.

“I hate you. Go take a cold shower or something.”

While he mercifully did as I ordered, I scrambled into the ridiculous contraption. The undergarment was all one piece, designed to pinch and push up, and give me a demon-style body with impossible curves. It was a little hard to breathe after I got it on, and then I pulled the dress on. The fabric slithered in a disconcerting manner as I smoothed it down. Then, to my horror, I saw it…moving. Tightening. I went to yank it off, suspecting it would try to kill me, and then I realized it was shaping itself perfectly to my demon-enhanced silhouette.

Holy shit
.

Light as air, it felt like wearing nothing at all. There had to be magick involved, because with the dress on, even the horrible corset-thing didn't bind like it had. Naturally demons would think of something like this since they lived for temptation. And what better way to drive men crazy? I was eyeing the headdress when Chance stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks, towel in hand.

“Dear God.” His voice went hoarse.

I admit his expression gave me a purely adrenal thrill, like if I offered him the slightest encouragement, he'd back me up against the wall and do me hard with my elegant gown around my waist. And what woman didn't love that feeling?

Focus,
I told myself.

“There are clothes for you, too.” I broke the spell over him by using my words.

He exhaled and gave himself a slow shake before crossing to get dressed. Then I went to check on Butch. The dog still couldn't be roused.

Heartsick, I paged through the blue grimoire, muttering to myself. Chance skimmed the other one alongside me. I wanted to believe he cared as much as I did. After
all, he'd been there when we adopted the dog. Together, we almost constituted a family. Maybe we
were
if the rules were generous in their definitions of such things.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and that made me mad. My dog lay like a tiny statue, unresponsive. Even his flesh had gone cold.

He's not dead. He can't be
.

But
if
he was, I would ascend and level this place.

Without much hope, I tried a couple of spells, but Greydusk pounded on the door again and worry laced the impatience of its tone. “We truly should not keep Sybella waiting.”

Well, Chance was ready—and he looked like a prince. No shit, he really did. He wore black trousers, a white shirt edged in silver, and a sleeveless surcoat, which wasn't exactly what I'd call a vest. With a sword belt and a couple of rapiers, he could have starred in an adventure movie.

“Butch will be okay,” he said, soothing me with hands on my shoulders.

I squared them. Sure. Just like Shannon would be. With me at the helm and his luck staining me as we went along, there was
no way
this could go bad. I kept the thoughts to myself as I stepped out into the antechamber, where Greydusk was waiting for us. Not surprisingly, the demon looked the same as the day before.

“It's about time,” it muttered.

But that didn't prevent the Imaron from sweeping me a surprisingly elegant bow. Court manners, I knew instinctively, though why I'd recognize them as such when I'd grown up in a cursed Southern town so small you could blink and miss it, I had no clue.
Movies,
I thought. Or maybe it was more inborn knowledge that Kel had mentioned, bred in my blood and bone from the genes I carried.

“Shall we?” I ignored the obeisance.

With unpracticed hands, I lifted my skirts and followed Greydusk. Gilder had gone at some point, leaving another hauntingly exquisite Luren in his place. This one was darkness with an inky river of hair and eyes that
shone like polished obsidian in his dusky face. I swept past with less than half a glance; that was the way I had to roll here. In Sheol, I might find land mines everywhere.

Greydusk did not greet him, so I passed down the hall in silence. When we reached the imposing double doors, the demon paused. “Remember my warnings. Agree to nothing. You must bargain with her for sufficient freedom to investigate the city and find your friend or she will hold you as her benign hostage.”

“For how long?”

The Imaron replied gravely, “Until your will is no longer your own.”

That was an insidious thought. Sybella didn't need to move against me. She could just keep me here, close to her, gradually becoming seduced by the constant exposure to heady demon magick. Eventually, my will would falter, and given my performance at the Chasm of Despair, I imagined it wouldn't take long.

Our time's limited. Good to know
.

I puffed out a fortifying breath and gestured for the demon to show me in. Instead, Greydusk threw open the doors and boomed in an impressive voice, “To the assembled august personages of the Luren court, I present to you Her Highness, Corine Solomon, the Once and Future Queen, now and forever more, the Binder!”

What. The. Fuck
.

With an introduction like that, I had no choice but to put some swagger in my step. I entered the room bareheaded, chin high, and I was thunderstruck to find myself surrounded by Luren. The aura was dizzying, so strong I almost blacked out from the collective sensual overload, but the charm bracelet Tia had given me pulsed on my arm. Pain lashed up to my elbow, but it also settled my head. Likely it wasn't supposed to work that way, but magick never hit dead center where I was concerned. Things went wrong or backward; at the moment, I was grateful I could think.

This was Sybella's version of an ambush, then. In confronting me with the assembled might of her court, she'd
calculated that I would buckle and I'd be her slave—one way or another—by the time I left this room. And without Tia's help, it might've gone down like that.

Beside me, Chance collapsed. My heart twisted with fear, but I couldn't show too much concern or they would realize how much he meant to me.

Instead, I offered a wintry smile. “It is a pleasure.” Most of the Luren knew I meant I'd rather eat glass than make nice with them, but they did seem impressed by my fortitude. Who the hell knew how long it would last? I skimmed the room instead of approaching Sybella. “But do you truly mean to conduct our business amid such a multitude? How…egalitarian of you.”

By her sharp sound, she knew precisely what I meant. “Guards, clear the room, save for Gilder and Lash.”

In short order, the minions carried out her command. When the influence dulled, Chance stirred at my feet. Greydusk helped him up. I held myself stiff and still, conscious of Chance swaying at my shoulder. It had to be weird for him, hearing me described this way, even stranger that I'd stood against their charms. He'd found me clerking at a dry cleaners for fuck's sake, but it was no less bizarre for me, remembering that Greydusk had called him a godling. And maybe that was why he'd felt that “click” he tried to explain; it had been our mutually odd heritages perking up.

Greydusk stepped up on my other side, so that I had an honor guard of my own. I felt pretty sure he wouldn't let Sybella get within touching distance, and I wouldn't look into her eyes.

Fixing my gaze over her left shoulder, I said softly, “You did something to my pet. Not one day, and you've already broken your promise.”

She hissed out a breath at the boldness of my sally. “You dare to call me oathbreaker, here in the heart of my strength?”

“Only because it's true. You promised no harm would come to me in your house, and yet my dog won't wake up. I
love
my dog. Therefore, I am upset. Worried. Hurt, even. And that is harm, by any definition.”

Greydusk made a soft sound. I heard approval in it. Strength surged through me, surety. I knew how to talk to demons. I knew how to push them and twist them, manipulate and force them to my desires. It wasn't something I had ever learned, but I
knew
it, like the curve of my own cheek or how to breathe as I slept.

Shit.
I really
was
the Binder. I had the old king's magick, along with my mother's. What that meant for the future, I couldn't guess. I could only steer with one unshakable goal in mind.