Married To The Devil Bride

3.

“You can’t be my husband.”

“No?” He glanced at me as he selected a decanter full of clear liquid and lifted it up to the light. “We said our vows last night before God Himself. A little uncomfortable for me—but I suppose the Almighty would have been keeping an eye on things regardless.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re married, Evie. Like it or not, you’re mine.”

He turned his back to me as he reached for a glass. As I eyed the muscles of his back, I saw that he had nail marks down his shoulder blades too. Just like the ones I’d found on mine. Beneath the scratch marks, there were two twisted scars on either side of his spine.

Whatever had caused them…

It looked like it had hurt.

“Can I tempt you, Evie?” When he turned again, he was offering me a glass.

“I…um.” I licked my lips. My mouth had suddenly gone dry. “No. I have a headache.”

And obviously, I’d overindulged last night.

Massively.

Disastrously.

It wasn’t like me, but neither was any of the rest of this.

It was the only explanation.

If what this man was saying was true…

I’d gotten drunk. I’d gotten married.

And I’d f****d up my entire life in the process.

“Maybe later, then.” He shrugged and reached for a different decanter. “If your head hurts, you need water anyway. Here.”

He poured me a glass and crossed the room to offer it to me.

There was no ice floating in it, but when I wrapped my fingers around the crystal, it was shockingly cold.

“I thought last night was really one to remember, you know.” His gaze was scrutinizing now. Like he was trying to stare through my eyes straight into my soul. “On every level. Shame you don’t agree.”

“I want my phone,” I snapped back at him. “And my clothes.”

“Yes. You’re a woman of many demands.” His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk again. I was grateful when he didn’t.

“And I want to leave.” I pulled myself up to my full height—not that it was much. I was around five-seven. This man was easily six-four. “I don’t want you to try and stop me, either.”

“We’ll see about that.” He wrapped his fingers around the glass on top of mine and pressed it to my lips. “First, drink.”

I kept my eyes on his as the liquid hit my lips. I gave it a tentative taste first. There was no burn of vodka, no bitter taste like he’d drugged it. Just…water.

Probably the best water I’d ever tasted, actually. It was cold and crisp, like he’d taken it straight from the melt of an iceberg.

A sip quickly turned to greedy gulps. He took the glass from me when it was empty and refilled it, then pressed it back into my hands.

This time, I didn’t need any prompting. I was thirstier than I’d ever been.

“Good girl. Now, as for your demands… Your phone, I distinctly recall watching you chuck it into the fountain at the Bellagio around midnight,” he said as he watched me finish off the second glass. “Your clothes…”

He moved across the room again and picked up the white body-con minidress I remembered putting on before going out last night. There was a pink sash still pinned to it that said BRIDE, but the sash and the dress were both torn down the front between the I and the D.

“Ruined, unfortunately. My fault,” he admitted.

“Your fault?” I lowered the glass as I stared at my ruined dress.

“Just couldn’t wait to see it on the floor.” He shrugged and tossed it aside. “We’ll get you new clothes—and a new phone as well. But as for leaving…”

I swallowed and pressed my back against the wall again as he approached me. He steps were slow and measured, but I knew when they stopped, his body was going to be as close to mine as he could get.

“If you remembered anything about last night, Evie, you would know why that isn’t an option.” He loomed over me and plucked at the sheer white wedding veil that still fell over my hair. The warmth of his breath washed against my cheek as his lowered his lips to my ear. “But if you’d like to get back into bed and behave yourself for me, I’m sure I could find some way of making you recall exactly why you don’t want to leave.”

My heart was pounding again. As he rested his forehead against mine and his hands encircled my waist over the sheet, my legs were jelly. Useless.

But I wasn’t falling for this. I wasn’t going to let myself.

Not again.

No matter how much my body might have hated me for telling him no.

“Get out,” I growled through my teeth at him. I’d never thought of myself as an intimidating woman, but in this instance, I was pretty sure I needed to become one.

And fast, too.

To my relief, he took a step back. That insatiable smirk had finally left his lips, but the hunger in his eyes still lingered.

“I vowed to obey you last night, Evie.” His voice rumbled as he spoke, and my heart skipped at beat like it was trying to match the rhythm of his words. “If that’s what you think you want…”

But then that wickedness glinted in his blues again and he descended on me like a man starved. His mouth claimed mine, hard and fast. A quick, ruthless victory.

He ran his thumb across my cheekbone, and my entire body flared to life. His lips burned like wildfire. It made me gasp, and he took advantage of my parted lips, pressing his tongue into my mouth and flicking it against my own tongue.

For all his talk of being the Devil incarnate, this time I was almost inclined to believe him.

God. He even tasted like sin.

“How’s your memory now?” he whispered against my lips.

I blinked.

I drew in a breath.

Then, I slapped him again.

“Mm. Fair enough.” When he backed away, he looked resigned about it. “I’ll go, then. While I’m gone, though—you should really order up something to eat. Indulgence is just upstairs. They do a croque madame well worth going to Hell for.”

“I’m not eating breakfast.” I clutched the sheet a little tighter around me. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.” He stooped to pick his shirt up off the floor and shrugged it over his shoulders. “You may not remember it, but you made a deal with the Devil last night. I vowed to obey you. You vowed to obey me, too—and I say you’re staying.”

“You can’t keep me here,” I insisted.

“Can’t I?” He paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder at me. “The Inferno is my domain, love—and you are my wife.” There was no playful wickedness in his eyes now—just fire, burning dark in the pale blue of his irises. “I can do as I like.”

Luke

I

f I didn’t already know I was damned, I would have been sure of it as I left our suite with the mark of Evie’s palm still burning on my cheek.

Three whole smacks before she ordered me out.

Two kisses, too.

I pressed my hand to my cheek fondly as my shirt flapped around my waist.

At least it was a new record.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” Phlegyas bowed low at the waist to me as I entered the elevator, flashing me the top of his salt-and-pepper hair. “Might I congratulate you again on your new bride?”

“Save it and take me up to Avarice.” My jaw was tense as I moved to the back of the elevator, but I kept my shoulders loose.

An eternity of ruling Hell had taught me a thing or two about managing my temper.

Words to live by: never let your men see you truly burn until you mean it.

“Trouble in paradise, sir?”

“And down here as well.” My chest rumbled with annoyance. “She’s already thrown me out.”

“My condolences. Marriage is never easy, sir.” Phlegyas pulled his gloves on a little tighter then pushed the button for the fourth floor. The doors slid closed and the elevator shifted upward. “As you well know. I’m sure you’ll smooth things over soon.”

“I’d better.” Outwardly, my shoulders were set, and my expression was vacant. Inwardly, I was smoldering. “Pray for me, Phlegyas?”

Phlegyas chuckled and made a big show of crossing himself. “Every day of my death, sir.”

There were no clocks in Avarice. All the better to keep our guests at the tables there until either they were spent, or all their money was.

My pocket watch said it was only one in the afternoon, but Avarice was the finest casino on The Strip—and this was still, technically, Vegas. The floor was full of demons and sinners alike. It was cacophony of sensation, emotion, light, sound. Triumph. Loss. Victory and defeat.

Singing over it all like a soloist in a Baptist choir, no matter whether the chips were up or down, was that one thing I needed more than anything right now.

It wasn’t greed that drew gamblers into casinos, it was hope.

At a black felt-top poker table, I found an empty stool. As soon as my ass kissed the leather, I found a drink in my hand as well.

“Still celebrating?” A suave demon with sleek black hair and a smooth smile folded as I sat down. Abaddon—the Destroyer. Master of the Abyss.

“No such luck.” I took a sip of my drink and let the tonic fizz on my tongue until the gin burned down my throat. “Licking my wounds.”