Page 115 of Ballad of Nightmares

But first…

Ana let the dead body limp to the ground as Sam approached the bars, and from inside the man’s body came her iron claw. Sam stopped short, freezing, realizing she’d had the thing in her possession the entire time the night before.

In her hair.

The silver decorative claw glinted in the light coming in from the high window. She tilted her head back and brought her weapon to her tongue, licking the blood from the end.

“Good morning, Samarius,” she drawled, her tone sounding of a devious tease.

Sam glanced around him lazily, raising a brow at his men dropped dead on the floor. “I see you redecorated,” he said. “Did you not like the look of armored demons in the corners?”

“I like the way their blood looks on the walls better,” she returned. “Gives thisdrearydungeon a pop of color.”

She turned then and ran her hand across the wall, letting the blood on her skin stain the stone, and her teeth flashed at him beneath the wild hair when she looked at him over her shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but—

Ana lunged at the bars.

Sam flinched as she threw herself against them. The iron from her claw scratched the bar, causing sparks, and she laughed in a growling snarl that then echoed around the room with every hitch. She hung herself from her clenched fists around the rods, leaning back and exposing her neck to the ceiling.

“Samarius Cain…” she drawled, swinging on the bars. “My father used to say your name as though it held the old magik. As though saying it too loud might summon you…”

When she straightened, Sam reminded himself not to open the cage. Her delirious grin made his stomach knot, and she folded one arm over her chest, bending her other elbow and taking a piece of her hair between her fingers.

He swallowed at the memory of how he’d once pulled that hair, snapped her back, and gripped her head. How she’d arched so fucking beautifully as he struck her ass and buried his cock in her dripping pussy. He wanted to take her then, hear that laugh and see that wicked smile come from deep within her as he tamed her chaotic self…

He would devote himself to her chaos.

Soon.

“And how did you once say my name?” Sam forced himself to ask.

She held his gaze again, a daunting, restricted chuckle sounding in the back of her throat as she twirled her curl. “Oh, Samarius… I onceworshippedyour name,” she teased in a pleading breath that made his weight shift. “My final conquest and crown… I have pleasured myself to your name and the thought of ripping out your heart more times than I can count.”

She launched at the bars again with a great snap, jerking as she throttled against the iron, fists wrapping around them tightly. All he could see beneath her wild, frizzed curls over her face was the lift of her full lips, the streak of white teeth behind her dangerous smile.

He cursed his own twitching cock at the sight of her true self and the fantasy she told.

And then she began singing the old witch’s lullaby about him in such a sinister high pitch that chills rose over his flesh, and for the first time in his life, he felt fear.

“Tick-tock… goes the clock… to watch your world fall apart… tick-tock… in the dark… say his name and—“

“Enough,” Sam seethed, and the room shook in response.

Ana laughed maniacally, her head throwing back. “What’s wrong, Sam? Afraid of a little magik?”

Sam stared at her smile, growing numb at the games she intended to play. It was such a difference from the Ana he’d left screaming in the cell the day before.

Two halves of the whole woman he was utterly and tragically in love with.

“Are you over your crying?” he asked coldly.

Her smile dropped, replaced with rage and fire in her eyes that he knew the words had triggered such seething inside her. Ana lunged at the bars, an audible growl leaving her with the thrust of her palms against the iron.

“Over my crying…” She reared back and launched spit into his eyes. “Do you not see the dead demons around you?”

Sam wiped the spit from his eyes with a handkerchief. “Yes, tell me, my Temptress, how did you kill my demons?”

Her lips tugged at the corners, obviously excited she had mystified him. “You think my father raised me only to take kingdoms?” She chuckled softly. “He raised me in the wastelands of Icemyer after the Firemoor legions cleansed the eastern edge. I was raised by witches and demons of your own making… I know everything about you.”