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“Please, Salios. She was only trying to protect me.”
“I do find that admirable,” he admits. “A light witch in love with a demon. A murderer, too.” The archdemon pulls me close, the scent of rust on his breath. Blood. Bending, his lips are mere inches from mine and heat radiates from them. “How do you feel about another bargain? I win, and you’ll become my personal pet for Daemon here to watch me enjoy whenever I feel like it. You win, I’ll let you go.”
I arch a brow. “You’ll let me go? No strings attached?”
“No strings attached.” The smile Salios gives me is sinister.
“Don’t do it, Annie,” Daemon pleads. “You can’t trust him.”
I can’t trust you either. Squaring my shoulders, I stare into the archdemon’s blood-red eyes. For half a heartbeat, they flash pink, revealing him for what he is. “Tell me what I have to do.”
36
ANGEL WINGS
“The rules are simple. All you have to do is survive for one hour, and I’ll let you go.”
Salios’s words reverberate in my skull as I stare at the dark and empty arena in front of me. It isn’t like a football stadium, more so the Roman Colosseum—if the Colosseum had been restored to its original glory, and painted dark red. I’m unsure if the paint is dye or blood, not that it matters either way.
Shadows still surround me, curling around my arms and legs as I step up to one of the building’s enormous gates. Alone, I enter, my footsteps scuffling on the stony floor. Only silence greets me.
Inside, the stadium seats span at least two-hundred feet tall. In the center of the pit is a luxurious bed with sheets made of golden feathers—angel wings. I don’t want to think about how Salios made them, or rather who he made them from. But even in the pitch darkness, they glimmer. Slowly, I descend the many many steps, until I reach the bottom, my heart thumping louder and louder with each step closer to the mattress. And then I reach it.
Anxiety knots my stomach as I run my fingertips along the soft sheets. Salios appears beside me a moment later, blinking into existence so quickly, I jump.
“Do you like them?” he whispers. “It was here the angels cut the wings from my back. They even built this arena to make a public spectacle of it.”
He snaps his fingers, and a sword appears on the bed—dull and tarnished with golden blood. His blood. When I peer back at Salios, his shirt is gone, his back exposed to me. Even in Daemon’s body, there are deep pink scars there. His skin ripples. Black hair becomes long and golden, his red eyes softening to match. The archdemon—the fallen angel—is beautiful. Of course, he is. Full lips are framed by high cheekbones and a square jaw. Freckles dot his cheeks.
“I fell from grace trying to protect the woman I loved,” he says simply, his eyes glistening. “She betrayed me like Daemon betrayed you… Go ahead, touch them. I can tell you want to.”
Hesitantly, I trace the scars along his back. Bone still sticks beneath them—jagged and sharp—and I wonder if it’s still painful to the touch. If it is, he doesn’t show it. For the first time in my life, I don’t fear Salios. I pity him. Whatever happened in his past has warped and twisted him into this thing, and he’s warped and twisted everything else in return.
He doesn’t ask me to remove my hands. He lets me finish in my own time, then offers me a sad smile. “Sometimes we only learn our lessons by being made spectacles of,” he says. “But don’t worry. I won’t cut into you the way they did me. I’m not that cruel.”
Salios lifts the sword from the bed and turns it in his hand, contemplating. “Who would you like to dole out your punishment, Annalise? You can pick any of my demons, myself included.”
“And they’ll feed on me for one hour?” I ask, my throat suddenly very dry.
“Under my instruction. When the hour is up, you may go home. If you pass out, use your safe gestures, or die…”
“Then I’m yours. Forever.”
Salios smiles. “You’re mine regardless, Annalise. This bargain doesn’t override the first. It just gives you a few more decades on Earth.”
But that’s long enough.
Pending Christopher is still willing to help me, we can find a way to regain my freedom. Maybe. Either way, that small sliver of hope is good enough for me. It has to be because the alternative is too bleak to imagine. Despite everything that’s happened, watching Daemon be tortured, and Salios using me to torture him, isn’t how I want either of us to spend the rest of eternity.
“Who’s doling out your punishment, Annalise?” Salios asks again. “Or would you have me choose?”
There’s only one demon I know who wouldn’t take pleasure in over-feeding on me. Only one demon who might try to spare my life. And even though I’m pissed as hell, I’m not an idiot. Swallowing my pride, I say his name and hate myself a bit for it. “Daemon.”
“So be it.”
Salios’s sword vanishes.
He clasps his hands together, and a moment later the stadium is full. What must be every demon in his kingdom stares down at us, confused expressions on their faces. Voices explode from everywhere—too many conversations to keep track of. And even though I knew my punishment was meant to be public, I still balk at the sheer size of it.
