A Devil Named Desire Read Free Page B

little Hope. It’s not as though I’m going to eat you.” He chuckled. “If the rumor mill is to be believed, I prefer small children, lightly roasted.”
    The coffee in her hand threatened to spill, and she lowered the cup to her lap.
    “I’ll spell it out for you then, shall I? I go by many names—Satan, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles—but the only one you need to remember at the moment is Sammy.” Inclining his head in a mock bow, he added, “Sammy Divine, at your service.”
    She focused on her breathing, knowing her best hope was to remain calm and not hyperventilate; despite the depression that had lately possessed her and her currently weak state, she was fit, and she’d hadn’t taken a five-week course on self-defense for nothing.
    Let the maniac think she was compliant, lull him into thinking she was weak . . . she could use the cup as a weapon . . .
    He drew closer, forcing her to look into his face: lean jaw, sharply chiseled cheekbones, coldly handsome in a way that only increased the terror in her heart. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Hand me the cup.”
    Heart pounding, she played for time, and handed it to him without a word.
    “Still you doubt me.” He shrugged. “No matter.” He cocked his head. “Allow me to prove it to you.”
    From the corner behind him came a shadow, getting larger and larger, spreading like a stain across the wall, the floor, the very air itself. It twisted and roiled, turning in upon itself and back again. It rose, getting bigger and bigger, until it was looming over him. He had to know it was there—impossible not to know it was there, but he showed no reaction, no fear.
    Hope gasped, scrabbling back against the pillows, but the door was behind him and there was nowhere to go. Horrified, she could only watch as the shadow grew larger.
    Then, from the inky darkness itself, something stepped into the room, and her blood ran cold.
    Two huge wings, black as night, a lump that coalesced into a head, tipped with horns as blackened and sharp as wickedness itself. Hope cried out when she saw its eyes, red as coals in the dark pit of what passed for the creature’s face.
    “Meet Nyx,” the Devil said smoothly. “My right-hand man.”
    The thing hissed in response, and Hope shrieked, long and loud, covering her face with her hands.
    Silence answered her, a silence that frightened her more than anything else that had happened so far. She felt the bed dip and cringed away, keeping her face covered, too weak and shocked to do more. The scent of spices curled into her nostrils like smoke, telling her Sammy had come closer. His fingers gently encircled her injured wrists, pulling her hands away from her face.
    “Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, thou art with me,” he crooned to her softly, in a profane parody of biblical verse. “Nyx is the shadow in the valley of death. He is a soul eater, and he is hungry, as hungry as the Darkness from whence he came.”
    Afraid to look in the direction of the monster, she trembled, and kept her eyes down.
    “Look at me,” Sammy ordered.
    Afraid not to, she raised her eyes to his face. His eyes were such a pale, pale blue; like ice on a frozen pond. Beautiful, but just like ice, there was death beneath the beauty.
    “That’s it,” he murmured softly, mere inches away. “Look at me. Look into my eyes and listen to me carefully.”
    Terrified, gasping, Hope didn’t move, feeling like a rabbit pinned by a fox.
    “You gave yourself into my keeping when you slit these pretty wrists,” he told her. “Suicides belong to the Darkness, so you’re mine now, do you understand? Your soul is mine.”
    The demon behind him shifted, just slightly, but it was more than enough to make her flinch in terror. Another tear slid down her cheek.
    “It’s time to make a bargain, you and I.”
    Almost against her will, she felt a faint stab of hope. “A ba-bargain?”
    “I’m going to offer you a gift—a gift