Page 170 of The Bonds of Indigo

“Getting there.”

I pick up my fork, stab one of the vegetables, and bring it to my mouth. It tastes like broccoli—if broccoli had a hint of sweetness. Not sure I’m a fan.

“It makes your kind a hot commodity for favors like going to the Vayl… or here, to the Beyond.”

I force myself not to react. Instead, I stab into the mash and take a bite. As soon as I swallow, I look directly at him and shrug.

“Yes, you’re correct. I’m quite used up these days.”

“Dollface… don’t.”

“What? It’s true.” I smile, letting the food settle. He was right—I’m already getting full after just two bites. What is in this?

“No,” he mutters. “I mean don’t piss me off.”

I smile wider and shake my head.

“Then tell me why you opened the gates to come here. And last I heard, you were serving several life sentences in Thornegate.”

“She didn’t open the gates, I⁠—”

“Does it have to do with why you killed one of my Grimhorns?”

It’s like I can feel Lucifer tense beside me, even though he’s not touching me.

I take a third bite before reaching for the cup filled with what I assume is red wine. From what I know, Demons don’t drink blood for sustenance. Just pleasure.

“A Grimhorn?” Proserpina asks, brows lifting. “How would she have come across one of those, sweetheart?”

I shift my gaze just as her eyes settle on me.

I’m well aware that Grimhorns only do Belial’s bidding—which should make anyone question why one would try to grab me and drag me off somewhere. It begs the question of who truly has those creatures wrapped around their clawed little fingers.

“Were you attacked by a Grimhorn, Amarah?”

The wine is surprisingly good, so I take another sip, ignoring Lucifer prodding through our connection.

“If you’re accusing me of sending one after her, wife, you would be wrong.” Belial groans, and from the corner of my eye I see him take a long swig from his drink. His cup is far larger than any of ours, but that makes sense. He’s four times my size. It does make me wonder why Lucifer isn’t bigger. Maybe that’s his mother’s side.

I also wonder if that’s why he’s so soft—physically and mentally—with me.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” I can’t quite place the infliction in his tone. Anger? Upset?

“Yes, I was. Twice, actually.”

I’m just lifting my glass again when my chair is abruptly tugged toward Lucifer. The wine nearly spills over as I dart a sharp look at him.

“You’re too far for my liking. Why don’t you come sit in my lap?”

My eyes widen. “But I’m still eating.”

“You can eat here.” He taps the table, then his lap. “Get over here. Now.”

That isn’t a request.

What did I do?!

“Amarah, a Grimhorn only appears when instructed by my husband,” Proserpina says directly to me as I rise from my seat. “Or they appear to collect a targeted soul for transport to the Beyond. And seeing as though you are very much alive, then… you are saying one went after you on Belial’s⁠—”