“That doesn’t sound good, Rosier.”
“I feel amazing,” I assure her. She’s laying on her side now, looking at me. “And you?”
“I feel… fucking powerful.” Her face falls. “Is that wrong?” Her brows furrow further.
I reach to touch her cheek.“Who taught you to relinquish control? That you should shun power?” It’s my turn to knit my brows and frown. “I should murder this man.”
Minnie shakes her head, “You’d have to murder a lot of people.”
“Then so be it,” I agree. “I am a devil, after all.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
ROSIER
I fall asleep fasterthan I would have liked. But I fell asleep in her arms, sniffing her hair that smells of floral oils and her skin that smells like sunshine.
The morning sun hits my eyes, and I grumble as I cover my face with my arm. Last night took more out of me than I expected. It could be… what did Minnie call it, dropping? I try to ignore the sounds of footsteps and running water, yearning for a few more minutes of rest. Or a few hours.
“Rosie…” Minnie whispers, and I groan. “You don’t have to get up, I’m going to work.”
It takes a moment too long for me to comprehend what she’s saying. By the time I realize she’s leaving, that we haven’t had our goodbye, I hear the front door shut and the pins click into place.
“Shit–” I toss the blanket aside and bolt for the door. “Minnie!” I step into the hallway, looking back and forth the corridor looking for her. She couldn’t have gotten far with those tiny legs of hers. “Minerva?” I run down the hall to the stairwell, catching sight of a familiar head of curls at the bottom. “Minnie!”
She looks up at me, her eyes so big I can see the whites of them from up above. Her hair is high atop her head, showing off her round cheeks. She’s wearing a skirt today, her plush thighs on full display. Her mouth opens, but a different voice calls from below.
“Put some fucking clothes on!” There’s an older woman on the steps below, her face a mask of rage and disgust. Suddenly, I understand what it means to be naked. “Don’t make me call someone!”
I take one last look at Minnie before rushing back to the apartment. I’ve left the door open, and Leaf is strutting up the hall. “No you don’t–” I mutter as I scoop him up and lock us both back inside the apartment. I press myself against the door, holding Leaf to my chest.
He lets out his grating meow that lets me know he’s hungry.
While Leaf eats, I put on some clothes, a bit shaken by the woman in the stairwell. Now dressed and with Minnie gone for the day, I stand in front of her bookshelf.
I’m a bit more specific about my preferences with her collection: no overly gentle, kind, sniveling men. They’re rare–Minnie has a clear preference for the more crass gentlemen–but when they do appear, I want to throw the book out of the window. I also don’t enjoy anything contemporary. Historical books have balls, duels, and complicated rules of courtship. Devils might not care so much about affairs of the heart, but the hierarchy that exists in these books, they would appreciate.
I also rather enjoy when the couples argue, when they toss each other aside in a fit of jealousy or because something has been left unsaid. It’s like watching lower devils tear at each other, neither one achieving any sort of victory. But in the end, the couples succeed. Always.
Sometimes I learn something new about mortals from the pages, things about flora or how paints used to be mixed. I think I’m learning more about what mortals want as well. Why there even need to be so many books about love.
And, obviously, I like the fucking.
Before I can settle on a title, there is a knock at the door. “Rooooosie.”
I’m going to kill that succubus.
I march to the door and open it right as Kas sings again, “Rooo–oh, there you are.”
“I take back my apology from yesterday.” I notice standing behind him is Tim, Chanel, and Moniz. I lift a brow. “The gala isn’t till tomorrow.”
“Exactly.” Kas shows me a stack of papers he has in his hands. “And we need to prep. Without Minnie.”
He pushes past me inside the apartment with his procession of succubi. My teeth grind against each other. He wants to scheme in Minnie’s apartment without her. It’s an obvious betrayal.
Maybe our little game of begging affected me more than I realize.
Kas spreads his stack of papers on the small table in front of the couch. Each one has a small portrait attached to the corner. I grab the first one, the image of a man with pale skin and eyes looking back at me.
