Chapter 23

Her body was growing hot, and sweat beaded on her neck. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’ve become quite attached to my soul, and I plan to hang on to it.” His lips looked full and soft, but she forced herself to tear her gaze off them, stepping backward toward the sinks. A strange ache was beginning to fill her body, and she couldn’t stop looking at him.

Slowly, he moved closer, his eyes trailing over her shoulders, her cleavage, her hips, as if he could see right through her dress to the lacy pink bra and panties underneath, and the thought sent a strange thrill through her belly. What is he doing to me? With a trembling hand, she lifted the blade of the pen toward the center of his chest. “Don’t get any closer. I won’t hesitate to reap your soul.” I need to burn him, but I can’t remember how.

“You silly little thing.” His eyes blazed with desire. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am?”

A battle raged in her head—carnal desires warring against the corner of her mind that wanted to bash his head into the tiles. Some traitorous part of her wanted to rip off her dress right there and invite him closer, while the rest of her knew she should stab him with the pen. I need to get out of here.

She could yell for help, but Emerazel would surely slaughter her for calling attention to herself.

Abe prowled closer, licking his perfect lips. Ursula let the silky strap of her gown fall lower. She wanted him to see all of her, wanted his hands on her bare skin.

Just inches from her, he ran a finger over her collarbone, and heat blazed through her. He leaned in, and she arched against him, desperate to feel his lips against hers. “I wish I could take you to Oberon’s. It would be so fun to show off a gorgeous human pet like you, with your perfect breasts and ass…”

Fuck. Hadn’t Zee and the hairdresser said something about Oberon’s? But it hadn’t sounded nearly as tempting as when the word rolled off Abe’s tongue. Whatever Oberon’s was, she wanted to go with him. What was she doing here? She was here for him, wasn’t she? Here to please this god of a man. She felt her legs opening, and her hand slid up his chest. There was something she was supposed to be doing, but her mind was a blank.

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck, his eyes trailing down her heaving chest. A pleasurable heat radiated from his body, and she could think of nothing but his touch.

He lowered his mouth to hers, and for one glorious instant an inferno of euphoria flared—until it died as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a gnawing emptiness and overwhelming sense of revulsion.

Abe pulled away from her, his face contorted with disgust—just like Ursula felt. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, as if trying to wipe away her taste.

“Ugh.” Infuriated, he glared at her, gripping her wrist. “What the hell are you?”

Rage simmered in her chest. She was getting sick of being treated like a toy for the demons to play with. “I’m a hellhound.” Free of his spell, she could feel the fire rising through her arms, hot and molten. Abe jerked away from her, and she threw a hard punch at his pretty face, thrilling at the smack of knuckles against bone.

Abe’s head snapped back, and he growled. Faster than a storm wind, his hands were at her throat, and his cold stare hypnotized her. He opened his mouth, sucking in air from her body. As he did, a deep void filled her chest. She kicked his shins, but his eyes remained locked on her, unflinching.

Her blood rushed in her ears, her limbs tingling and weakening. What is he doing to me? She was going to die in the men’s bathroom at the hands of a pervert she’d just kissed. This was worse than the fake heroin overdose. Abe’s fingers dug into her neck, his icy eyes flashing with cold light.

Her vision grew dark, and she could hear her own heartbeat growing weaker as he sucked the life from her. Panic exploded in her skull. He’s killing me. Lights flashed before her eyes. Her lungs were going to implode, as the fire inside her guttered and dimmed. A tiny lick of flame danced in the recesses of her mind, and as her energy drained from her body, she tried to stoke it to life, but it sputtered and died. Something else was filling her mind now—a memory: a gleaming sword in the sunlight, in a field overgrown with wildflowers, a smaller sword in her own hand. The blade cut through the air, glinting in the sunlight, as she was taught to wield it.

Fight, Ursula.

Someone, long ago, had wanted her to be a warrior.

Fight.

She blinked, trying to refocus her vision, and she made out the blurred outline of her attacker. She needed to?—

Thwak! Something hit him in the side of the head, and he released his grip.

Abe let her crumple to the ground, and her head smacked against the floor, the nape of her neck pressing against the bathroom tiles—cold, just like her body. She felt as though a heavy weight pressed on her, crushing the life out of her. Nearby, Abe was fighting with someone—a woman—but Ursula’s limbs were frozen, drained.

“Ursula!” they shrieked. Zee?

She licked her lips. She needed to warn Zee away—Abe’s kiss was death—but she felt herself drifting away, a cold wind whispering over her skin.

I need to help Zee. She willed herself to get up. She would fight him, smash his pretty face into the tiles.

With a great force of will, she forced her eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. Abe had drunk so deeply from her it took virtually all her remaining strength to roll to her side. She blinked, her vision coming into focus. Abe, a few feet from her, stood clutching Zee like a rag doll.

If she’d had any of Emerazel’s fire still within her, she would have tried to scorch him, burn him to ashes, but he’d sucked her dry. She needed to hurt him another way.

Her eyes flicked to Emerazel’s pen, glinting in the yellow lights just a few feet away. Slowly, like she was moving through quicksand, she reached for it until her knuckles brushed its bony cylinder. She tightened her fingers around it, pulling it into her grasp.

Zee’s blond hair hung down as Abe held her in his arms, her black high heels dangling over the floor. Ursula inched closer, shivering at the chill that emanated from him. Had she actually been attracted to this monster?

Gritting her teeth, she rolled closer and stabbed the pen’s blade into his heel with all the strength she could muster.

He wrenched his foot away with a muffled grunt, then tottered for a moment before crashing to the floor, the knife protruding from his foot. She yanked out the pen, its blade stained with blood.

“Gods below,” he sputtered.

A small smile curled her lips. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

He rose, lunging for her like a lion attacking its prey. She stabbed him again; she’d aimed for his heart, but the blade lodged in his stomach instead.

On his knees, Abe threw back his head, roaring, the bony pen shaking where it protruded from his gut. He clawed at it, as the wound started to smoke. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Emerazel’s weapon.

Abe leapt to his feet in a blur of motion and staggered toward the exit, blood and steam bubbling between his fingers.

She rose on her elbows, trying out one of her new seductive smiles. “For such a little thing, it’s got a hell of a bite.”

“Bitch,” he spat before flinging open the door and disappearing into the hall.