“Rahvyn,” he whispered.
She screamed, even as she abruptly could not hear anything. And as he slumped to the side, she lunged for him. She got there too late to keep him from landing hard, landing as if he were lifeless.
“No!” she yelled. “No!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The landscape Balz found himself in was desolate as far as his eyes could see, nothing but obsidian sand beneath his feet and black clouds roiling overhead. As red lightning licked the underside of the sky’s thick cover, a strange, troubling wind blew in from the horizon, ruffling his hair.
“So Lover Boy is back, I see.”
Balz closed his eyes at the sound of the demon’s voice, but if he wanted to shut the sight of Devina out, it wasn’t going to help. He saw everything just the same whether his lids were up or down—and that was when he knew he was inside his mind. And he wasn’t the only one who was there.
Devina stepped in front of him. She was wearing a long white dress that was like a waterfall, and in the odd wind, her brunette hair seethed around her shoulders in a way that reminded him of snakes.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She laid her red-tipped fingers on his bare chest as if she were claiming him. “I’ve missed you.”
He looked down and saw that he was completely naked.
“And I know you’ve missed me.”
Something hit his back lightly. A drop of rain. And then there was another drop. And another. A stream of them now.
Blood was falling from the black clouds and landing on his skin, and he watched as if from a great distance as his torso began to stripe with red. The sanguine wash stung wherever it came into contact, and he had a thought that it was like her red nails had scratched him all over.
“Kiss me,” the demon demanded.
The rain did not touch her. It was as if there were an invisible umbrella above her, the discharge from the storm diverting from her head and that white dress.
A wedding dress, he realized. Like the human women wore at their altar.
“Kiss me.”
Leaning into him, the demon tilted her head back and parted her lips. From under a veil of heavy eyelashes, her black eyes glowed with a heat that made his stomach churn. She was ugly in a way that defied the eye. She was evil in a way that decried the soul.
When he didn’t respond, she lifted a brow.
“Playing hard to get?” Her husky laugh was an auditory caress. “That’s not your style, even though you hate me. Like I’ve always said, one of my favorite things about fucking you is the way your body betrays your mind and your heart. It’s a beautiful sacrifice of principles, especially when you come inside of me.”
With that terrible smile, she sank slowly to her knees, the bright white gown pooling on top of the red puddles that were forming on the black ground, the satin skirt floating on top of the blood.
“Fine, I’ll take care of things.” Staring up at him, she slipped her hands over the curves of his hip bones. “I like this view. And so do you.”
She licked her bright red lips, her pink tongue taking its time with the route.
Fuck that, Balz did not enjoy the view. He hated the view, especially as she opened her mouth.
His cock was flaccid as she sucked it down, and the warmth, the slickness, the pull, made tears come to his eyes. He did not want this. He never had.
As she retracted her lips, his stomach rolled and he turned his face to the blood rain, closing his eyes and feeling the tip-taps on his cheeks, his nose, his chin.
Down at his hips, she put more work in, more with the suction, faster with the back and forth. The even edge of her teeth, as they scraped over the ridge of his head, was a clear warning to him. But he didn’t care if she bit the goddamn thing off.
Pain now. She was roughing him up.
And then she gripped his balls and twisted.
Balz locked his molars and held in the pain, his hands tightening into fists at his side—
The demon stopped. “What the hell is wrong with you.”
Leveling his head, blood dripped into his eyes. “I do not want you.”
As he spoke, the rain got into his mouth and he tasted dark wine. And when he swallowed properly, a trail of heat, of strength, sizzled down his throat and bloomed in his gut.
“You don’t get it,” she snapped. “It doesn’t matter whether you want me or not.”
The demon punched at his pelvis in frustration. Then she shoved herself back, planting her palms in the puddles that did not touch her.
“You’re still mine.” She glared up at him. “Your little trick with that knife—it didn’t change anything.”