The moment Scindra’s heels clicked away down the corridor, Satan turned back to Havana. Shadows swayed like living things, licking up the walls like black tongues.
Havana stood silent, her pulse still riotous in her throat. Her lips were swollen, jaw marked with bruising desire. The taste of him lingered in her mouth.
“You did that on purpose,” she said, voice rough.
Satan c****d a brow. “What, claim you in front of the looking glass or let Scindra interrupt so you'd crave more?”
She didn’t answer.
Because she already knew it.
And worse, she loved it.
The way he made her ache for power and pleasure like they were the same.
“She hates me,” Havana said, turning toward the portal again. “Scindra.”
“She hates herself,” Satan corrected, stepping behind her once more. “For not being
