Page 13 of Realm of the Wicked

STELLA

If this was Hell, there were a lot of people who had gotten a lot of things very wrong.

Besides the happily crackling fireplace, there were no open flames and no one being roasted alive. I couldn’t hear the screams of anyone being flayed, although it might’ve been due to Damien cursing next to me.

‘Would you shut up for two seconds?’ I snapped, clutching Archie, even though the cat made no move to leave my arms. I couldn’t be certain the entire room wasn’t booby-trapped, so for now, he was safer right where he was. Besides, his little heartbeat kept me grounded.

Damien choked. ‘Did you… did you just tell me to shut up?’

‘I did. I’m trying to listen.’

For what it was worth, Damien did fall silent after a muttered insult along the lines of, ‘No respect.’

Even in the silence, all I could hear was the crackling fire, my heartbeat, and Archie’s soft purring.

‘And what exactly are we listening for?’ Damien asked. His voice carried a note of sheer exhaustion. If he thought today was bad, he had another thing coming.

For the first time since we’d arrived, I turned back to look at him. In the light of the room we stood in, I could study him more clearly now. I took in the perfect skin, tanned like he’d spent every summer as a child in the sun, but that might’ve just been the fires of Hell. His cheekbones were molded in such a way that I wasn’t sure even the finest sculptor could replicate. He towered over me, but held his height as power, a means of respect. He didn’t hide away from it. In other words, he was simply beautiful. The most stunning man I’d ever seen, and my worst nightmare rolled into a singular form, currently glaring at me. I’d thought he was striking on the trail, but it was nothing compared to how he looked now. Ethereal, I thought.

‘Stella.’ My name rolled off his tongue as a warning, or a caress. Maybe both. ‘I don’t like being ignored. What was so important to listen to that you told me to shut up?’

A flush rose from the back of my neck, heating my cheeks when I realized I’d been caught staring. ‘I was trying to listen out for the screams of people’s eternal torture. It’s kind of quiet in here. Do you keep them locked away somewhere? A basement, maybe? Or do you have some kind of torture dungeon?’

Damien slammed his eyes shut, slowly counting backward from ten. I watched, curious, until he hit one, and looked at me again. ‘We aren’t in Hell. We’re at my home.’

‘Your… your home?’ For whatever reason, this answer gave me pause. I assumed the kidnapping would end with me in some kind of prison cell, let out for exercise an hour a day.

‘Yes. My home. We’re currently in the formal sitting room. You sold your soul to me, Stella. Not to Hell.’ Something shifted beneath his gaze, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. When he met my gaze again, his emotions had softened. ‘Did you really think I was taking you to Hell?’

‘Well… yeah. That’s how the stories go when you sell your soul.’ I gave Archie a nervous pet, taking in what Damien called the formal sitting room. It was definitely formal. The fireplace stretched up to meet the tall ceiling, cased in a shiny black marble. The bronze sconces on the wall flickered, lit by candles. All of the furniture looked like it came straight out of a European castle circa 1823. The couches appeared to be entirely uncomfortable. This brought another question to the forefront of my mind. ‘Where exactly is your house, then? Where are we?’

Damien shrugged, leaning against the arm of the overstuffed chair. ‘Still on Earth, if you want to get technical. Time passes differently here, though. You’ll learn soon enough.’ He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. I was struck with the image of his broad shoulders. ‘Why would I let you bring that beast if I was just going to lock you in Hell for the rest of eternity?’

‘Archie is not a beast.’ I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his muscles pulled at the dark sweater he wore, seams straining over his broad shoulders. I hated him for taking me away. I hated him. I did. ‘And maybe it was just some kind of messed-up psychological torture.’

He pressed his lips together like he was fighting a smile, holding up a single finger. ‘So let me get this straight. You thought I was going to let you take the beast from Hell to your eternal torture, only to take him away as a way to mess with your mind, and you still brought him?’

I huffed, doing my best not to stomp my foot like a petulant child. ‘So my logic might be a little flawed, but excuse me for not being more sensible when someone breaks into my house in the middle of the night, calls themselves a devil, and takes me away!’

‘Not a devil. The Devil, Stella.’ Whatever humor scrawled across his face disappeared immediately. ‘I am not one of many. Diabolus. Hades. Beelzebub. Call me whatever name pleases you, but know there is only one of me. Don’t forget that, ever. No matter what. Do you understand?’

‘Are you going to hurt me?’ The words slipped out before I could stop them, my fears finally bubbling to the surface from the first time we met.

His pupils blowing wide, Damien’s gaze flashed, dark eyes flickering briefly in the candlelight. ‘Not if I can help it.’

I nodded, attempting to process the exact situation I was in. I didn’t even know how to begin to make sense of it.

Something in the distance howled, sending goosebumps over my skin.

He pushed off the chair, nodding his head toward the massive double doors at the far end of the room. ‘Come on. I’ll show you to your room. Tomorrow, you can meet Agatha. If you think I’m scary, wait until you wake her up in the middle of the night.’

‘My room? Agatha?’ My feet were on autopilot, following Damien to the carved wooden doors that soared over my head, depicting what looked like the Garden of Eden, a snake winding around an ancient tree.

‘Yes, your room. Despite what you may think, I’m not throwing you in a dungeon cell or forcing you to sleep in a cage at the foot of my bed. You have a bed and a room of your own. Although I’m beginning to see the positives in said dungeon.’

The hallway was cold and dark, the sconces on the wall unlit, leaving only the moonlight coming in through the windows to light our path. Damien began to take a grand set of stairs, curving higher into the gloom, leaving me to follow. ‘Agatha is my housekeeper. She maintains the estate, makes sure I’m fed, things like that. Anything you need, you’ll go to her for.’

Hell had a housekeeper. This thought made me want to laugh at the absurdity of the entire night.