A Hand in Hell

Chapter 13

"It's late," I said, my voice a sudden rumble of thunder in the silence, and I couldn't even muster the energy to be amused when Lauren nearly jumped right off of her bar stool across from me. The incessant throbbing of my fried synapses had drained what little remained of my enthusiasm after the day's many events. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

"I thought you'd enjoy the company," she said once she'd recovered, nonchalantly crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the counter. "Besides, I don't even know where you want me to sleep."

I smirked, and I hoped it looked more real than it felt. "We'll be sharing a bed, of course. We're married, after all."

Her nose wrinkled. "Just this morning, you strapped me to a table and cut me open. No."

I chuckled around the massive chunk of beef I'd just taken out of my hamburger. "Fair enough," I said, then swallowed with the help of a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. "But, to be fair, if it had really bothered you all that much, I'm pretty sure you'd be gone by now." I watched intently as she dropped her gaze to the counter that separated us, imagining that her eyes desperately searched for some excuse to explain her presence. I hoped she found it. I hoped it was the truth.

"My being here has nothing to do with not being bothered by that," she said softly, seriously, and I paused in opening my mouth to take another bite. "Everything you've done has bothered me. You kidnapped me, you tortured me, you've threatened my family, you—" Her voice hitched, and she swallowed. "You killed my best friend." Boldly, she met my gaze, and I lost myself in those blue depths, in trying to figure out just what that feeling was that gave them their piercing glow. "I hate you, Vera. I really do. I hate you with every fiber of my being for everything you've ever done."

I studied her carefully as I dropped my half-eaten burger to its plate and picked up the napkin beside it. "Why, then," I began calmly, even as I dabbed at my greasy lips, "are you still here?"

She lowered her eyes again. "You saved my life once," she said softly. Her eyes flicked to mine, and she shrugged. "That means something, I guess."

"We both know it doesn't mean nearly enough when the person saving you is also the person who nearly got you killed," I said derisively, letting the napkin flutter to perch atop my sandwich. "I would've been more likely to believe you if you'd said something more along the lines of 'Now that you've exposed me to a world full of demons, I have to stay with you or the Demon Council will cut me open, grill my entrails, and serve them up as a nice snack.'"

She scowled. "That's a reason, too."

"But obviously not the main one, or you would've said it yourself." I put my elbows on the counter and rested my chin in my upturned palms, eyeing her suspiciously. "What are you really doing here? Why are you sitting down to a midnight dinner with the demon who ate your friend and nearly ate you?"

She spun on her stool to put her back to me, and I stared at the back of her head, waiting. Her hand drifted upward suddenly, and I jumped at the sound of a gently jingling bell. I'd completely forgotten about the collar, and now that I remembered, it only added another layer to my confusion. She was still with me and she was still wearing the thing I'd put on her to mark her as my possession? Just what in Satan's name was wrong with this girl?

"A lot of things are keeping me here," she said after a moment, her voice just as soft as the bell that still tinkled to the beat of her ceaseless fidgeting. "You saved me once, you're still saving me by just being with me, and…" She hesitated, the jingling finally fading away. "And I'm still hoping that I can stop you from hurting anyone else. No one deserves to go through what I've gone through. No one."