“You count that as sex?”
“Oh, come on,” I groan. “I think me riding your leg counts for something.
He chuckles, “If you say so, Minnie.”
Finally he crawls forward and lays down beside me. I don’t hesitate to rest my head on his chest. He’s warm, his heartbeat louder than I expected. The hollow feeling is gone, replaced with a security like I’ve been wrapped in a dozen blankets.
“You really mean it.” Rosier mutters. “You get very attached to your companions, don’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I yawn, his body making a nice pillow. I try to forget that he’s completely exposed. Though it doesn’t bother me all that much. “Don’t feel too flattered. It’s probably subdrop.”
“Explain.”
“Our not-sex was an emotional high, so now I’m at an emotional low. I think. It’s been a few years since my girlfriend explained all this to me.”
He nods, “So men really can’t punish you correctly, can they?”
Despite myself, I snort.
“You said you don’t normally do this.” He looks at me with genuine curiosity. “Explain that too.”
I look up at him. “I’m sort of a two date minimum kind of girl.” Rosier raises a brow. Obviously he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Before I have sex with someone. It’s a two date minimum.”
“I’ve been here two days,” he points out. “Three, really.”
“No, uh, a date is like a dinner or going to an event with someone. A way to test out the relationship, make sure you like each other.”
Rosier’s eyes light up, and he seems to understand. “Like courting in those books of yours.”
I nod. “Yes exactly.” I guess it’s my turn to ask a question. “Do they have courtship in the Hells?”
“A version of it. For political reasons.”
“Is that how your parents did it?” His muscles tense. “Sorry.” I would have reacted the same if he asked about my parents. “I shouldn’t… it’s not my place to ask.”
“My Mother made a pact with my Father when she was alive,” he explains. I tilt my head to the side, the similarities not lost on me. “When she did finally pass, my Father chose her as his consort.”
“Did… she have a say in it?”
“Minnie.” Rosier looks at me with a blank expression. “The whole point of the contract is so devils have souls in Hell they can command. Choice isn’t an option. We can command lesser devils, too, but there is a certain power associated with controlling the souls of mortals.”
Social capital? I guess if Rosier is a Prince, there has to be some sort of court, and I’ve read enough Tudor era romances to know how that goes.
“Being the consort to a Prince of hell doesn’t sound that bad,” I say with a shrug.
Rosier snorts. “You would think that. I’ve noticed some patterns in your reading.” I shoot him a frown, making it clear I don’t appreciate the comment but he continues, “It’s far from a love story. My Father chose my Mother, she bore me, and I grew up surrounded by devils of my caliber. When my Father passed, my Mother passed on with him.”
“How long ago was that?”
“You mortals are so obsessed with time. I don’t even know how to explain it, but it was not that long ago that they passed, along with all the other souls my Father reaped–thousands of years worth.”
All things die, Minnie,his voice echoes in my mind.
“You’ve got me beat,” I tell him. “I never knew my dad. Probably a good thing.”
He lets out a snort. “I doubt your Father was worse than mine.” Before I can explain the mortal intricacies of crime lords, Rosier reminds me of an obvious detail. “Prince of Hell and whatnot.”
Thatispretty bad. Or pretty good? “You turned out alright?” I offer.
