It’s time to find the goddamn Seer and ask him what the fuck is going on.
32
QUITE DONE NOW
ADRIANA
Byron stares at me and I don’t like it.
His gaze is just as intense as Enzo’s, but it has none of the allure of the darkness in Enzo’s eyes. There’s only debauchery. Only lust. Only lechery.
“Should we get to know each other?” he asks.
I’d really rather not.
He isn’t attempting to hide his thoughts, and they’re filthy. Byron’s eyes explore my lines and curves without shame or hesitation, and his hips keep rolling suggestively. He keeps licking his lips and it’s unpleasant, in the way that turns my stomach.
“Would you stop doing that?”
Byron grins and leans forward. “Doing what, princess?”
“That.” I wave my hands, gesticulating at his entire person. “You. Just stop staring at me like that and we’ll get through this until Enzo comes back. Hopefully, it won’t be too long now.”
The man shakes his head from side to side and laughs. It’s deep and dangerous, and my chest spasms, suddenly aware he knows what Enzo’s doing and it isn’t good.
Obviously, it isn’t good. I harbor no illusions that demons punish sinners and have some knock-on effect that makes the world a better place. But the expression on Byron’s face suggests Enzo isn’t the one causing trouble. He’s in it. In deep, if the lines that cut across Byron’s face reflect the extent of the danger Enzo’s facing.
“How bad is it?”
“He’s faced worse.”
I fiddle with my cardigan, unnecessarily adjusting it to Byron’s amusement.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No,” he chuckles. “I value my life far too much to risk it by crossing Lorenzo. He doesn’t want me to tell you, and you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
I huff and get up, making myself a cup of tea. Byron’s stare doesn’t deviate and he watches every move I make, getting up when I duck behind the kitchen island.
“For God’s sake,” I hiss. “Where did you think I’d disappeared to?”
He leans against the counter, and this is becoming oppressive. I slide him a cup and he eyes it with suspicion. Like it isn’t a perfectly acceptable mug of tea. Like it’s poisonous.
“Who knows, princess?” he grins. “There are more things in all of Heaven and Hell than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
I roll my eyes and slurp my tea. Viciously. He winces and I double down, slurping my tea as I weaponize the only thing at my disposal: manners.
“He’s in Hell then?”
Byron stiffens as he lifts his cup. I guessed right.
“You do not want to play this game, princess.” He edges closer. “Not with me. I’ve known Enzo a very long time and he may have given me strict instructions about how to handle you, but I know how to bend the rules. I haven’t survived by being obedient.”
“Can you at least tell me how long he’s going to be?”
The china clinks as my cup hits the marble countertop needlessly hard. I’m running out of patience and it’s only been a day. I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the evening with this asshole guarding me, and the thought of him watching me while I sleep makes my stomach churn.
“A day—maybe two—for you. For him, it’s different. Time works differently in Hell, Adriana. It bends and warps. It isn’t linear. Sometimes higher demons can control it, but it has a way of eking out the torture that’s going on around it.”
