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Thankfully, I don’t have to search the room for my pants, because a black vortex opens up in the middle of the floor. Faith slides out of it, surprisingly, in her human form, with her hair twisted into an elegant high ponytail. She’s wearing very little makeup this morning, save for swoops of cat-eye liner. And she’s also got on a super-soft looking beige sweater and jeans. Appropriate for the weather, finally, and damn, does the sweater hug her body in all the best places.
“Good morning,” she announces, and holds out a cup of coffee like she’s my secretary, ready to go over the morning’s listof bullet points. “I brought you this. And a bagel is in the bag, if you want it.”
I arch a brow and take both the bag and coffee from her, then she walks behind the counter and opens the register.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I toss the bag onto the bed and pop the lid on my to-go coffee.
She doesn’t bother looking up at me. “I’m getting ready to open for the day. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re about to open for the day, yeah, which is funny considering this isn’t a real business,” I say. “And this is your last day on Earth, right?”
Faith lets out a long, exasperated sigh and then narrows her gaze on me. Then she slams the register drawer shut again. “Yes, Byron. I am well aware of what day it is and how much time I have left. Thank you for reminding me.”
O… kay. She’s in a foul mood this morning, despite our incredibly hot night together. But I’d be a special kind of asshole if I thought that her impending date with the Pit would be nullified simply because we had mind-blowing sex. Even I’m notthatgood. I just thought she’d be doing something else with her time. If I only had twenty-four hours of freedom left, you bet your sweet ass I wouldn’t be working. Fuck no. I’d be doing everything in my power to make sure my last day wasn’t my last day. And I’m determined to make sure it’s not her last, either.
Because I’ve fallen for her.
Not only that, but she doesn’t deserve to be sent somewhere like the Pit. She deserves the freedom to make her own choices and carve her own path in life, like we all do.
“Faith,” I start, and take a quick sip of my coffee. Faith stares down at the register and pretends to go through her opening routine, but at this point, I’m starting to understand her a bit better. She’s quiet. Too quiet. She must be scared shitless. Iknow I would be, and I’m not too proud to admit it. “We need to talk.”
She still doesn’t look at me while she steps out from behind the counter and flips the closed sign to open. I sigh and shake my head.
“Faith, sweetheart. Look at me, please,” I murmur, not wanting to set her off. But this is important. She finally lifts her chin and shoots a glare in my direction.
“Let’s not make this any more difficult than it already is,” she snaps, then crosses her arms in front of her chest. I set my coffee down on the counter and search for my clothing. The last thing we need is for random people to wander in to find a bed and a naked man in the middle of a candy store. How would anyone explain that one?
Faith waits until I’m changed and then snaps her fingers, spiriting the bed away.
“No, making this more difficult is precisely what we’re going to do,” I say, and stalk toward her, closing the gap between us. She glares up at me, and I work my jaw as I stare down at her in kind. “The easy thing would be accepting your fate and waiting for it to happen.”
“Correct, because there is nothing we can do,” she says, venom in every syllable. “So let’s not waste our time.”
“As opposed to…? Opposed to what, Faith?” I gesture to the room and snort. “As opposed to working in a fake store for the rest of the day? You can’t be serious. Let’s sit down and talk about this. Work something out. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can figure out a way for you to either meet your quota or get out of your predicament.”
She rolls her eyes at me, which makes me growl in response, and then she moves to lean against the counter. “You don’t understand how Hell works,” she says.
I swallow. “You’re right. I don’t. Because we haven’t talked about it. We met, we fucked, and haven’t done a whole lot of talking. But the moments where we did talk, Faith? Those were of the best times I’ve ever spent with a woman.”
Her bottom lip trembles for half a second, so quick I almost miss it. But it was there. The slightest tell. “I’m not lying, Faith. I don’t date women. You know that. You’ve seen my soul,” I say, bringing my palm to my chest. “You know what’s in here. It’s black, but you make me want to turn things around.”
“So go turn things around, then. We don’t need to speak to one another ever again,” she hisses. I flinch as though I’ve been slapped. She doesn’t mean what she just said, because I can recognize a fellow damaged soul when I see one. As the old adage goes, hurt people hurt people. Even if she’s a demon, I’m going out on a limb to guess it’s the same. Because Faith might not be human, but we have a lot more in common than she might think.
“Don’t say shit like that to me because you think it’ll make things easier,” I grind out, stepping toward her again. She jerks away, averting her eyes to stare at a random spot on the wall. I brush my fingers against her shoulder and murmur, “Because we both know that’s not the case. We both know we want each other. That’s not what we should be fighting right now.”
Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I swear I see the glimmer of wetness in her eyes. When she goes to dab at them, that’s when I’m one hundred percent positive she’s feeling something other than contempt, too.
“I don’t want to go,” she murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “I don’t want to go back. Get thrown in the Pit. Doomed to an eternity of loneliness.”
My heart breaks at the words, and I clench my fists. Who do I have to hit to keep her free? Whose life do I need to ruin in order to save the woman I’ve come to care so fucking much about? At this point, I’d do anything to ensure her freedom. Anything atall. But I have no idea what to do. I’m just a mortal human man, after all. I can’t take on Hell.
She looks back at me, tears slipping from her violet eyes, and places her hands in mine. My fingers curl around hers tenderly and squeeze. No, there really isn’t anything I can do.
“What if you didn’t go back?” I ask.
She lets out a derisive snort and says, “I can’t just not go back. I don’t think that’s how it works. They’ll summon me, and I’ll have to go.”
“So you don’t know for certain.”
