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Iclimbed into my big fluffy bed, the sheets cool and soft against my skin as I snuggled my cheek against them. The last few days had been rough—booking my flight, explaining to my dad that I was leaving and wasn’t sure when I would be back.

This was my last night at home before I headed off tomorrow to see Mom. Going to her, staying with her, they were big steps in my life. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. This wasn’t about her and me trying to form some sort of relationship deeper than what we had. I was comfortable with her at a distance. I didn’t want to change the dynamic between us, and I intended to make that very clear.

With the wheels set in motion and my mind exhausted from planning and packing, I fell asleep with ease, but the peacefulness didn’t last. Like the night before and the one before that, I awoke panting and shivering. It was becoming a nightly ritual, as if in sleep I opened my mind to slip into Ashor’s. The dreams were the same. Slashing darkness. White-hot pain. Cracking bones. Torrential agony.

The sounds, the torment, the anger and fear all stayed with me long after the dream faded to blackness. Seeing through Ashor’s eyes left me confused. How was it just days ago I’d seen him in his home in Brimstone, but when I closed my eyes, I was dragged into the dream as though caught in an undertow and tossed into a nightmare?

This last one, I’d been sliced and diced with a blade. No. Not me. Ashor. Bare chested and strapped to a slab of stone, he’d been splayed out like a piece of meat ready for carving. Each slash burned his flesh but was never deep enough to puncture or cut any vital organs. Cayden was very good at his job. How they remained friends, I’d never understand, because when I glanced up at the fair-haired demon with emerald eyes, I wanted to skin Cayden alive and roast him for dinner.

I was at the point where I didn’t know which of my visions to believe. The dreams in which I was Ashor or the mirror reflections? Which one was real? Or was it possible they both were?

* * *

New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz, the city of a million dreams, Old Swampy, and the land of Dixie. Whatever nickname you gave the Louisiana city on the Mississippi River, it was a melting pot of history that I was intrigued to explore, but touring the city wasn’t why I was here. Strolling down Toulouse Street, I followed the map on my phone. I was on a different sort of investigation.

My succubus mother was currently charming the men and women in New Orleans, because every night was a party. The city was alive, vibrant, and brimming with culture. Demons of her nature blended right in.

Hooking a left on Royal Street,I kept getting distracted by all the shops and spicy smells drifting out onto the road, inviting me in, so it took me twice as long to locate Mom’s building. I was absolutely taken with the French Quarter of New Orleans, and my credit card was singing at me from inside my bag. Not to mention, my stomach was growling. The flight had been two and a half hours, which meant the little snack pack of cookies served on the plane was the only thing I’d eaten all day.

I checked the time on my phone and sauntered into one of the cafes to grab something quick to eat. The devil only knew if my mother had any food at her place. She was a demon, after all, who didn’t have quite the same nutritional needs humans did—souls were her main source of diet, and she had many ways to obtain a human’s life source outside of the bedroom. Striking a deal with a demon was often more harmful than having sex with one—unless you got her pregnant, of course, but that was a rarity.

Mom lived in a quaint apartment in one of the oldest neighborhoods in New Orleans, right above a gift shop. The buildings in the area were interesting, many with Spanish influences. Local artists and their work lined along the roads, hunging on fences in a beautiful display of traditions and emotion.

With my toasted bourbon croissant in hand, I counted down the street numbers until I was standing in front of a gray brick building, chewing on my last bite of heaven. Lush green ferns hung along the second story balcony that overlooked the bustling streets below. After licking the crumbs from my lips, I smoothed a layer of lip gloss over my lips and pushed through the back door that led to the stairwell.

Inside the building, I passed a brick courtyard with a small pool framed by ornate potted plants. A row of lounge chairs sat under a cluster of full trees, offering both sun and shade. The scents of chlorine and suntan lotion blew in the air, and I was glad I remembered to pack a swimsuit.

A minute later, I was staring at a white-painted door with her apartment number on it—3A. I chewed on my lower lip, shifting the strap on my bag higher up my shoulder as I lifted my hand. My closed fingers paused.

Informing Dad about my travel plans had not been easy. He assured me that he understood, knew it was something I had to do, but letting his little girl stay with her demon mother wasn’t an easy task for my father. He would worry, even with my promise to call him daily. Chloe had cried and hugged me, a fairly normal reaction from my stepmom.

Chase, unlike my cool and collected father, had no problems telling me exactly how he felt about my plan to see my mother.

Are you fucking insane? What the hell for?

Those had been his exact words.

His wardrobe might only be black and white with an occasional gray, but my cousin was colorful in other ways. His love. His language. And honesty. No lies or deceit, when it came to Chase. Unlike another demon I knew.

Ashor and Chase couldn’t be any more different, and yet, they were all too similar, which was probably why the two would never get along. Ever.

The only person I hadn’t told of my impromptu trip was my mother. Possibly not the smartest plan, but I had checked to make sure she was in town before booking my flight and not off gallivanting in Hell or in Europe. With Mom, you never knew what she was up to or who she currently had in her bed.

This should be fun.

I exhaled, rapping my knuckles on the door, and I took a step back, waiting. A few seconds later, the rustling of movement and bare footsteps padding over the floor seeped from inside the apartment.

She flung open the door and leaned a shoulder against the doorway. The flicker of shock in her crimson eyes was quickly hidden with a sultry smirk. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. What brings you to New Orleans, ma cherie?”

I dropped my bag on the floor. “I thought it was time for some mother-daughter bonding.”

“Hmm. You don’t say.” Her lips twitched in a way that implied she knew I was lying, and yet she didn’t press the matter but swung the door open and gave a sweeping gesture with her arm. “Make yourself at home.” Dressed in flowy cotton shorts that were cut short and a simple white tank top cropped to show off her midriff, she looked like a hippie. Nothing about this woman screamed demon, but that was part of the allure. All sex. Her long champagne-colored hair was tousled, as if she just strolled down the beach or woken up from a romp between the sheets. I sooo didn’t want to think about that and peeked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was inside.

I rolled my luggage into the main living area of the apartment, taking in what sort of place Mom lived in. I’d only met my mother for the first time after I started college. Things between us weren’t roses and rays of sunshine. And it was all kinds of awkward being here.

She sauntered off into the kitchen while I looked around. “Just how long will you be staying?” she asked as I heard her opening the cabinet. “Not that I’m complaining. I never thought you and I would ever be under the same roof.”

The floors were a rich bamboo decorated with cream-colored woven rugs. Delicate white curtains danced at the open windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in a soft stream of sunlight into the room. “I’m not sure yet. I hope it’s okay that I just showed up.”

Water ran from the tap. “I’m guessing this surprise trip is more than wanting to spend time with your mother dearest. I heard whispers of your recent visit to the Court of Darkness and a certain prince….”

I continued my exploration, running my fingers over the arm of a white couch. All the walls were painted white as well and were decorated with what looked like local art and hand-knitted macramé. Everything in the place could have been purchased from Free People or Urban Outfitters. When did Mom become so boho chic? “What did you hear?” I asked, my stomach muscles tightening at the mention of Ashor.

Carrying two glasses of tea, she strolled back into the room and offered me one. “Oh, this and that.”

“Kira,” I growled. It was difficult to call her mom to her face. She hadn’t yet earned the privilege.

“So, I’m right. He is why you”re here.”

“And if he is…?” I countered, taking the glass into my hand as I studied her reaction.

My mother’s features were cool, not giving away much emotion, just like a typical demon. She sat on the couch, crossing her legs as she got comfortable, a hint of a smile playing over her lips. “I want to hear all about it.”

* * *

Kira’s crossed leg tapped in the air, her glass of sweet tea half gone. Demons could fake eating and drinking in situations to blend in, but it wasn’t required for them to live in the mortal world. “So, my only daughter gave her soul to a demon. How very paradoxical that I disobeyed my queen and court to smuggle you out of Hell, only for you to tie yourself for eternity to a higher demon’s son—a prince at that.”

Yeah. I got it. Fate was a twisted son of a bitch, but it wasn’t like I planned to be abducted by the Wild Hunt. “I didn’t give him my soul. He tricked me.” From my position on the couch, I had a view of the sliding glass door, which led out to the balcony. It was open, and the warm breeze fluttered into the apartment, carrying traces of magnolia.

“Did he?” She cocked a disbelieving brow. “Did he also trick you into wearing his crown? It does look good on you, by the way.”

So I’d been told. Normally, wearing a glittery crown would so be my thing, but this crown wasn”t just a pretty piece of decoration for my head. It served a purpose. Multiple purposes. “You can see it?”

“Hmm. I’m a demon,” she replied, as if it should have been obvious to me.

Nothing was obvious anymore. “Oh. How am I able to see it then?”

“You’re his mate. In essence, what’s yours is his and what”s his is yours. A bond such as yours is formed deep within our cores, to the soul, to the heart, to the bones of our body. He might have tricked you into the underworld, but no game or lie could have bonded your soul to his. The essence of your soul recognized his as its match.”

“It doesn’t really matter how it happened now. What’s done is done.”

Her lips pressed together as if she was trying to hide a smirk. I didn’t know what it was about this situation she found so amusing, but I found her humor irksome. “As far as princes are considered, you could have done worse.”

I set down my barely touched glass of tea on the coffee table. “Good to know, but I didn’t come here looking for approval or to discuss Ashor’s limited redeeming traits, but a solution.”

“You haven’t told me what it is you are looking for. If you’re here to sever the link between your souls, I might know of such things, but it comes with a very steep price, one I am not sure you are willing to pay.”

“Why does everyone always assume I want to break the bond?” I mumbled, another crescendo of panic gripping my chest.

Kira arched a brow, the corners of her lips twisting. “You like him. The prince got under your skin, and that’s what made you jump on a plane to seek out me for help, the last person in the world you would ever ask.”

I scowled. “You are the last person, but you are also one of the few demons who isn’t trying to kill me.”

“And who you aren’t hunting,” she added.

There was that. “Will you help me?” I asked, keeping all desperation out of my tone.

Silence rippled between us, her eyes searching my face. “You haven’t told me why you need a demon’s help. Don’t tell me you want to go back to the Court of Darkness; only a fool would—”

“He is going to do something stupid,” I blurted, not all that receptive to being called a fool. It had been a long day, and the journey here, however short, was starting to wear on me and my patience.

She stared at me as if I’d grown a pair of horns. “And?”

Dealing with demons was more frustrating than the mall on Black Friday. Why had I thought this was a good idea? I should grab my bags and get on the next flight back to Chicago. “I have to stop him,” I said like it was the most obvious answer to the stupidest question I’d ever heard.

“Why, exactly? The Prince of Darkness is more than capable of taking care of himself—and you, apparently, seeing as he got you out of the underworld. That is no small feat. And what makes you think he is going to do something rash?”

A scowl crossed my lips. She didn’t have to tell me of Ashor’s sacrifice. Thanks to our connection, I knew all too well the payment for such deception. How much did I trust her? She had helped Chase once, many years ago when Angel was in trouble, but I was uncertain how much information I could reveal without jeopardizing everything. She was my mother, but that was of little importance to demons. She had no loyalty to me, had no reason to help me or keep my secrets. “Because the queen is torturing him because of me,” I retorted. Because I need him to tell me what was going on with me!

She gave a slight, who-cares shrug. “The Courts of Hell have their own rules, and the Queen of Darkness is not known to be a merciful ruler.”

“No shit,” I muttered. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. I owe it to him.”

Flecks of red spun into the center of her eyes, showing for the first time an emotion other than amused. “You owe him nothing,” she said with stone-cold seriousness.

The sudden change in the air took me aback. “Maybe I don’t, but the moment his soul became entangled with mine, so did his life and what happens to him. I won’t get a moment of peace with his mother torturing him.”

“I see your point. I assume your connection has manifested itself somehow for you in the mortal world.”

These mother-daughter talks were so helpful. “It has. Can you help me or not?” I wasn’t ready to divulge my newly acquired ability or the dreams.

She thought about it for a long moment of silence, leaving me dangling on the edge of my seat while I waited for her to give me an answer. My knee bounced impatiently, and I was about to ask her again when she said, “What do you have in mind?”

A rush of air expelled from my lungs, loosening the strain that had formed in my chest. “I want to break him out of the underworld.”

She chuckled, a soft, husky sound. “That’s a joke, right? Kidnap a prince?”

“I wish.”

Her wavy champagne-colored hair shook with the movement of her head. “Such poetic justice. How can I say no? It will cost you though.” A gleam lit in her eyes, smoldering in gold and crimson.

So much for thinking being her daughter would earn me a favor. “You want me to make a deal with you? Are you kidding?”

She gave me a meaningful look. “It is the only way I can offer you my help. There are rules.”

Shit. I was so going to regret this. “Fine. I’ll do it.”