Death Lord

7

5

EIRA

I

looked down at my wrists once more to make sure they were actually freed from the wall. Had Belial really let me go? The silver cuffs still blocked me from using my powers, so it wasn’t true freedom, but it was something. I looked around for a weapon to use against him, but all I saw were bottles of alcohol and an old mop. I grabbed the closest bottle of wine I could find and scrambled to follow Belial up the stairs.

I couldn’t believe the turn of events over the last few minutes. I’d gone from thinking I was going to die, to agreeing to work with my father’s murderer, who was supposedly trying to help the city, even though I’d watched him attempt to kill a shifter in cold blood.

And then there was that weird, crazy desire I felt whenever he was near, which I was desperately trying not to think about. Every time he touched me it was like fireworks were being set off all throughout my body, and intense need filled my core, demanding I touch him back. Or worse, kiss him. No way was I ever doing that, so my body needed to calm the f**k down already.

“Are you ever going to take these cuffs off?” I asked, holding my hands up. The silver caught the dull light and winked. It was excruciating to be cut off from my magic and so powerless. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be human. No wonder they needed so much protection.

“I will when you can be trusted to not stab me in the back with a spear of ice.”

“Wow, you’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?” I sighed. “So, basically...never. How am I supposed to help you if I’m cuffed? I can’t use any of my magic or shift at all. I could fall down these stairs and die because I can’t catch myself.”

He snorted. “I have faith in your ability to walk up a flight of stairs. Although I could carry you, if you’re so worried.”

The thought of Belial taking me in his strong arms again sent a shiver of lust and fear through me. “Keep your hands off me,” I snapped.

Except my traitorous body secretly wanted him to touch me all over, for some dumb reason. Back in the basement, I’d been so sure that Belial had been about to kiss me, and the weirdest thing was that I’d been about to let him. My body wanted me to get close to him, telling me I could lean into him, close my eyes, and trust he would protect me, which made no sense at all. Why would my survival instincts be misfiring so hard when it came to Belial? I had never had them fail me like this before. In fact, I’d always prided myself on being able to trust my instincts and be right about a person. But now? Belial was just pulling up a bunch of question marks along with this strange desire that pulled us together like magnets.

I kept having to remind myself that he was the enemy, and that turning my back to him would be like laying myself out in front of a target and begging to be hit. I’d only agreed to help him because I wanted to figure out what had happened to those shifters he’d claimed he hadn’t killed, including my brothers. If I stuck with him for a bit, I was sure I’d be able to uncover the truth of what was going on.

I’d also use the time to try and figure out how to kill him. He’d said he was Death, but I wasn’t entirely convinced, or even really sure what that meant. Even if he was Death, there had to be a way to kill him. I’d start looking for his weaknesses and how to exploit them in my favor. No one was infallible, and I’d figure out what made Lucifer’s son tick—and then use that to end him.

Belial led us through another door and into the bar he owned. I’d only seen it from the outside, where it sat on the corner of a street in the French Quarter, with blue shutters on tall windows and big red doors at the entrance, along with a sign that said Outcast Bar with two black wings on it. Inside, the bar was a mix of new and old, like it had been around for decades but was also managing to keep up with the modern era. Without my shifter senses my nose felt clogged up, but I could still smell alcohol and food in the air, something like burgers and fries maybe.

Along the back wall was a huge mirror with many different bottles of alcohol, and behind the bar was a beautiful woman with Asian features and long black hair, who was polishing some glasses. She wore a black corset that was half leather and half lace and showed off all her assets.

“I just closed up for the night,” she said, hardly glancing up as Belial sat down at the bar.

I followed him a bit more slowly, glancing around and noticing that the place was mostly empty, with only a few stragglers hanging around. Of course, he wouldn’t want to bring me to his bar when it was open. It would be too easy for me to slip away in a full crowd of people, magic-dampening cuffs or not. “Surely you can spare the owner of this establishment a drink?” Belial asked.

“For you, sure. But what about your guest?” The woman shot me a brief glance, like I was barely worth her time.

“She needs one, too,” he said. “She tried to kill me.” I gaped at him. Who would go around telling people that?

The bartender gave me a second, more appraising glance, and then shook her head and let out a laugh. “Okay, yeah, she deserves a drink.”