The door slams in Byron’s face, and he’s forced to open it himself. He seems to struggle with it and Enzo growls, irritated that this is taking longer than necessary.
He’s forgetting this is a mess of his own fucking making.
“I was taking care of…”
“I don’t give a shit,” Enzo snaps. “We’re leaving. Adriana needs fresh air and a change of scenery. Sunlight, gardens, flowers, and those fucking boats she likes watching sail down the river. I assume everything is ready?”
Byron pales, and it clearly isn’t.
“For fuck’s sake, Byron. What the fuck have you been up to?”
“Sorting your shit out,” he says, snarling at Enzo in a tone as vicious as any I’ve heard in the past week. “Morgana’s pissed that half her coven was wiped out and her next three books are going to be bestsellers. Elgios is already claiming credit for saving the fucking day, and I had to set a few things straight. Half the fucking demons left in Hell needed paying from your vaults, and I haven’t even mentioned the fucking chaos breaking out in London.”
Enzo crosses his arms and shakes his head.
“Sorry about the books, Adriana,” Byron says, sheepishly. “I talked her down from five and made her promise they’d be good.” He turns to face Enzo again. “Keeping up with you takes more than one demon. You need to replace Eva.”
“Then find a fucking replacement.” Enzo pauses. “Get someone for Adriana too.”
“I don’t need…”
The searing look stops me in my tracks.
“Baby, you do.” His expression softens. “You’re going to have your hands full.”
Byron lets his eyes fall to my stomach. He couldn’t be less subtle if he fucking tried. It’s far too early for me to show any signs of pregnancy, but Byron’s still looking. Damn hard too. Enough to make me shift uncomfortably.
“What the fuck are you staring at?”
“It’s true then,” Byron says. “The rumor’s true. A Nephilim, Amaymon.A fucking Nephilim.”
Enzo pulls himself upright and spreads his wings, beating them with pure menace. His eyes brim with aggression and his teeth bare in a blatant display of violence. Enzo’s magnificentlike this—deranged, dangerous, and depraved. A monster, but a beautiful one.
“Mine,” he roars, and Hell trembles. “My submissive. My woman. My child.”
46
READY FOR IT
ADRIANA
The road to Hell is less of an actual road and more of a torrent of darkness that we move against to escape its clutches. It’s some kind of energy flow or portal. Enzo tried to explain it to me when we started on this awful journey, but I lost track when he started explaining complex metaphysics and what sounded a bit like quantum theory.
I give up trying to stay conscious and collapse against Enzo, safe in the security of his hold. It’s peaceful in a way. It’s quiet. And it doesn’t make me feel like I’m about to throw up.
Light burns my eyes and I hiss as I wake. Rays creep through the curtains and I turn away, pulling the covers over myhead. Despite all the time spent recovering in Hell, I'm tired and need to rest. I still don’t feel refreshed and Hell isn’t an ideal place to take a break.
There’s still a lot to unpick and it feels overwhelming. My mind jumps from thought to thought, scrambling the ideas around without solving any of the problems.
Enzo ensured I was physically fine and there isn’t a scratch or scar on me. On the outside, I’m the same as I ever was and you’d never guess anything bad had happened.
On the inside, I’m a fucking mess. My emotions run wild and swing from one extreme to the other. I dread going to sleep because of the nightmares and hate the agony of being unable to drift off. I’m tired, I’m on edge and every fucking sound makes me startle.
I’m not coping.
And Enzo isn’t forcing me to.
He’s being reasonable. Unusually reasonable. It’s worrying.
