Page 10 of Infernal Bindings

And I hate it.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget what Daemon is, to pretend he’s my friend with my best interests in mind. I turn away from him, my eyes burning with rage, embarrassment, humiliation, sadness, and a dozen other emotions that I left my baptism to come here. I could lose everything—my mate, my family, my magic—and instead of bringing me somewhere safe, he brought me to the singularly worst place a light witch could go.

I’m an idiot for trusting him.

Gently, Daemon cups my cheek and turns my face toward his, staring at me with those devilish red eyes. As if reading my thoughts, he says, “Demons can’t enter my house, Annie. It’s been warded against that. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

But is that true? What about when the contract comes due?

I sniffle. With the pad of his thumb, Daemon wipes my tears away, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Slowly, I let go of my legs—not because I’m convinced he isn’t a demon out to destroy me, but because today has already been hard enough and I don’t have the energy to fight him too. When he hugs me, I let him, burying my face into his warm chest.

“Promise me nothing bad will happen,” I say, the sound muffled through his clothing.

Daemon doesn’t miss a beat. “Nothing bad will happen, Annie. I’ll protect you. Always.”

The words are a balm to my fears. I breathe into his suit jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of his expensive cologne, and let myself pretend they’re not a lie. When we break apart, I stare at the velvet curtain hiding the cityscape beyond. Hell. The Septem. His mother. I have so many questions, ones I never dared ask before today. It’s not that I thought Daemon wouldn’t tell me—I can technically force him to share whatever I want—it’s that I never wanted to be tempted by the darkness like my aunt. It’s bad enough they already have my soul.

“You can ask me anything,” Daemon says, catching me staring. “If I can answer it, I will.”

“Can?” I arch a brow.

“There are things I’m not supposed to share, Annie, even with you. I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me.”

I scoff at the suggestion that I’d ever do such a thing, but nod anyway. Then, I peel back the edges of the curtain and stare at the bustling city full of demons. There isn’t a human in sight. “Where’s the lake of fire?” I blurt. “I was always told Hell had one.”

Daemon shrugs. He leans back on the couch and stares out the window with me. “It might. Hell is vast, and I’ve only seen a fraction of it. As an incubus, I’m confined to the kingdom Salios rules over. Who knows what’s in the others.”

Kingdoms?

He must see the confusion on my face because he answers without ever needing to be asked.

“Seven factions. Seven kingdoms. Access is tightly restricted between them. When my mom passes over, I’m unlikely to see her again.” A twinge of sadness twists his features, but then he blinks, and it disappears, smoothed over into something blasé and bored. “And before you ask about the other kingdoms, I know very, very little.”

“Will you get in trouble by having me here? One of the demons saw me.”

Daemon doesn’t look the least bit concerned. “Unless that demon is clairvoyant and could tell you’re a light witch, it doesn’t matter. We’re allowed to have human playthings.”

I let that word sink in, my gaze flitting to his large, luxurious bed, to the velvet sheets atop it, as I imagine all the playthings he’s splayed beneath him. I picture myself as one of them—naked and wet from the tub, bound to the posts—and quickly avert my gaze, shutting off the thought before it can truly begin. Warmth pools low in my stomach, though, and I refuse to meet Daemon’s gaze just in case he can sense it.

He’s an incubus, Annie, I remind myself. This is the effect he has on people. It isn’t real. Nothing about Daemon is.

Swallowing, I force myself to focus on something else, anything else. “Your mom,” I say finally, because nothing breaks one-sided sexual tension quite like discussing someone’s parents. “She’s ummm…” How do I say this without insulting him? “She’s older than I imagined.”

“She’s sixty-two. Isn’t your mom like two-hundred and something?”

“Yeah, but yours looks sixty-two.” Smooth, Annie.

If I’ve offended him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he closes the curtain and turns so we’re face to face again. “Witches in the Septem age like normal humans. Only angels have the power to grant eternal life.”

I frown at him. “Then why on earth would anyone choose the Septem over the light witches?”

“Because, Annie, the Septem values freedom and choice.”

That’s rich coming from a demon who owns my soul.

I bite back the words because I don’t want to fight with him tonight—not when fighting with him means being left alone, or worse, returned to my house to face the consequences of my actions. Still, I’m unwilling to completely drop the topic. “You said access between the kingdoms is restricted. How does that value freedom and choice?”

“Human freedom. Human choice,” he clarifies. “Could you imagine if thousands of demons were allowed to run rampant?”