Trick or Treat for the Desperate Devil
Page 100
The other side of the bed is empty.
I sit up.
“Belinda?”
Nothing.
Bathroom door open.
No shower running.
No muttered complaints about my minimalist decorating.
No curly-haired Witch wandering around wearing one of my shirts.
No Belinda.
Her clothes are gone too.
My heart stops.
Then my Devil goes absolutely apeshit.
Gone.
“No.”
GONE.
“She went home.”
My wings explode outward.
The bedside lamp goes flying.
“Fuck!”
I catch it with magic an inch before it hits the floor.
My pulse is suddenly pounding.
The peace from thirty seconds ago?
Gone.
My Devil claws at my insides with one command.
Find her.
“I know where she fucking lives.”
FIND HER.
“She is thirty feet away!”
My tail lashes hard enough to knock a pillow across the room.
This is ridiculous.
