Page 18 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Cage

WE RECEIVED INTEL FROM THE perimeter guards on the eastern side of the city—near Briarmere Forest—that those cattle had been found slaughtered. Kalix was the first to get the news and had already geared up to investigate.

I set out through the halls, searching for Millicent. She had taken to eating her dinners outside, and I knew exactly where to find her.

Stepping through an open archway, I emerge into the crisp night air, and the garden unfolds before me in moonlit silence. Sure enough, my guess is correct. Obsidian-black curls spill over the back of the stone bench. The unruly depth of their darkness is unmistakable.

“Up, little witch. Dinner is over…we need to go.” My voice is firm, loud enough to carry over the bench as I approach.

She does not move. She doesn’t snap at me.

Odd.

We have been avoiding each other, and I welcomed the reprieve while it lasted. But there was work to be done, and she had a purpose here—whether she liked it or not—whether I liked it or not. We cannot afford to dance around each other indefinitely.

“Le strange,” I call out louder, my voice cutting through the stillness as I move around the bench.

No response.

My irritation sharpens. “Quit playing games,” I snap, stepping in front of her.

Then I see it.

Her hands clutch her knees so tightly that her knuckles have turned bone white. Her eyes—normally burning with defiance—are empty voids locked on the darkness ahead.

Expecting to see something, I follow her gaze into the garden.

Nothing.

“Well? What the hell is it, witch?” My impatience flares. Crouching to her height, I snap my fingers in front of her face.

She jerks back, her eyes suddenly sharpening into focus, back to the ice blue I’m familiar with from years ago. A sharp inhale rattles her chest as she gasps for air, like someone resurfacing after being held underwater too long.

Panic.

A raw vulnerability flickers in her eyes, something I didn't think possible before. A crack in the iron fortress that she wears like armor. It’s fleeting, as in the next breath; rage floods in, swallowing the fear as her defenses snap back into place.

Before I can react, she shoves me hard.

I stumble back, landing unceremoniously on my ass.

She points a finger at me and yells, “What the hell!”

Her cheeks are flushed, but whether it’s from anger, embarrassment or something else entirely, I can’t tell.

“I said your name three times!” I snap back angrily. “What the hell was that—spacing out like some crazy bitch.”

Millicent blinks, the last traces of confusion flickering across her face before she wipes it away, masking herself once more. She does this constantly, removing emotions like discarding a worn cloak. It makes me wonder…

What does she really feel?

Nora never felt anything. Is her spawn the same?

“Forget it,” I huff, brushing the grass from my clothes, as I rise.

“There’s been a string of cattle slaughtered.

We need to investigate. Lately, creatures have been stirring up trouble as they have been pushed out from their natural territories.

” It’s admittedly becoming more prevalent and a larger pain in my ass.

The horror scenes these things leave behind are becoming more gruesome and are putting the South more at risk with each passing week.

“Every time, we’ve found something—some magical marker, deformity, or twisted evolutionary trait.

Iris has been cataloging the changes.” My voice lowers slightly, “Whatever the North is doing, it's corrupting nature itself.”

The weight of my words lingers between us.

Millicent slides her feet down from the bench, standing in a single fluid motion. She smooths the skirts of her gown, the moonlight catching on the silver swirls of her witch marks.

“Well then, why are we standing here?” She says decidedly, “Lead the way.”

I let my eyes trail over her attire; it’s practical in some ways.

The black gown clings to her bust before loosening into a flowing fabric that drapes down to her ankles.

My eyes glaze over the slit that exposes her leg, revealing a dagger strapped to her thigh.

Smart girl . My gaze continues upward, assessing critiquing.

Of course, she’d leave her shoulders bare, displaying her markings like a challenge to any passerby.

“My eyes are up here,” she says dryly, throwing my own words from just a few days ago back at me.

I smirk. “Simply noting your dagger,” I reply, matching her tone.

“And the fact you are wearing a dress to combat. If these creatures are hellion in nature—” My voice dips low, daring to take a step closer to her, “—their blood will burn off all this pretty skin of yours. But, by all means, if that is your plan, go ahead. Wear your pretty little dress. I’d be quite entertained. ”

Her expression darkens, suspicion narrowing her eyes.

I lean down a breath away from her face, letting my smile shift.

Then, without warning, she moves.

Her leg hooks under mine, her body slamming into my chest with surprising force.

The world tilts and I hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Before I can recover, cold steel presses against my throat.

She straddles my chest pinning my arms down with her knees, she leans into the blade, warning me.

“You dare talk down to me?” she hisses. Her voice like a venomous whisper dripping onto my skin, “You forget yourself in this golden little castle. This is right where you belong—beneath me.” Her eyes burn with fury, a raw delicious rage. “Actually, I wish you were six feet deeper.”

Her breath is warm against my face. My own fury stirs, like an old hunger whispering at the edges of my mind.

I almost want to smile.

Clever little witch.

She should know better than to think she has the upper hand.

A slow hunger stirs deep within me, whispering demands like an old addiction. If I could just kill this witch and drain her power, I would. I could take more. Be more. The thoughts coil around my mind, its grip tightening with every passing moment.

Aggression hums through my veins; instincts sharpen. My hands move before I can register it, sliding beneath the hem of her gown, trailing up toned legs to thick thighs. I grip hard, digging into her flesh, feeling the heat of her smooth skin. An anchor. A claim.

A challenge.

A slow smirk pulls at my lips. “I appreciate a woman who takes initiative,” I murmur, my voice steady, unwavering, even as her blade kisses my throat. Her eyes burn into mine, unyielding, daring.

This little witch might actually do it.

The steel presses harder, biting into my skin. My smirk spreads wider.

“I will cut your tongue out, mage,” she hisses.

I roll my eyes. “How original.”

Her muscles tighten around me like a silent threat. I am not one to be intimidated. No one has challenged me in years.

She is like a fun little mouse, and I am ever a patient lion.

“Hearing you drone on with empty threats is getting boring.” My voice is flat, unimpressed. She thinks a dagger will keep me at her mercy. Laughable.

We have more pressing matters, and I’ve entertained this delusion of hers long enough.

With a single shift of my weight, I push up, making her gasp.

My grip remains firm on her back as I maneuver her beneath me and press her back against the earth.

Her previous position leaves her legs spread against my chest. Her knees bend, and her legs hang over my shoulders despite keeping the dagger pressed to my skin.

I cage her in, forearms braced beside her head, suffocating the space between us with my presence.

She glares, but I don’t miss the slight heat rising to her cheeks. Interesting .

I lean in, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as I whisper, “I was looking at your dagger.” My voice is deliberately smooth. “It’s exquisite.”

Cruelty pulls at my lips.

“You, on the other hand? What is there to look at?”

I let the words settle, waiting for them to cut.

“You are nothing but an empty husk, surviving off the harm you bring others. Nora’s favorite, I hear.

” My silver eyes narrow as my old hatred stirs.

“You bitches deserve to burn in the pits of hell you were created in. Hell—go lower. You probably are abysmal.” Burning her and Nora, what an eventful show that would be.

I wish to capture their cries and play them back like a sweet melody, soothing me into sweeter dreams and sweeter situations than the one I currently find myself in.

Millicent’s body coils beneath me, her muscles tensing as she prepares to strike.

Such a predictable, murderous little creature.

Before she can act, I grab her arm, twisting before she can drive the blade into my throat. The dagger tumbles from her grasp, and I chuckle darkly.

“Bad girl.” I pin her arm over the other and lean onto her, trapping her, enjoying the fury flickering in her eyes.

My other hand rises, plucking the dagger from the grass.

Slowly, I trace the cold steel over the bare skin of her chest, watching as goosebumps rise in its wake.

Her breath shudders, but her glare never wavers.

The heat from her gaze would surely set me on fire if she had such capabilities, her mind ripping mine into ribbons if a crack in my shields occurs.

I press the flat edge of the blade lower, following the delicate line of her sternum.

“Fuck you, Cage.” Her voice is low, growling from the back of her throat. Rage thrums beneath her skin, and I sense her magic stirring to life. Her eyes flickered like the first embers of a fire. “In the end, I’ll make sure you all burn.”

Well, that will not do.

I continue my path, tracing an idle pattern against her ribs, pausing just over her heart. I could end this little game with a slight push through the fabric. Bury the blade deep and let the devil bleed out beneath me, just as I am sure she has done to hundreds.

“Behave, little witch.” My voice drops low. I click my tongue, the same way I do when correcting a hound that doesn’t know its place. I decide it is time to stop messing with her.

She stiffens.

I am already bored with this.

Sighing that our game is over, I let the dagger slip back into its sheath on her thigh and secure the strap.

My fingers work through the leather, glancing over the inner curve of her leg. I don’t miss the way her breath catches, just for a moment. A small shiver runs through her muscles.

Oh, this was delicious. She fights so hard, as though she revolts at my touch, but her body betrays her. She must loathe herself for this.

A slow smirk curves my lips. Good.

My voice lowers to something thick and taunting, a husky whisper that brushes against the small space between us. “Tell me, Millicent—have you been properly fucked? Or does no one dare? Asking a Mage to, low bar for you, yeah?”

Her face flushes crimson, yet fury still burns in her eyes.

“I don’t want to sleep with you!” Her words snap like a whip. She pushes against me, her thighs flexing against my waist as she struggles, her hands shoving at my chest in a futile attempt to knock me off.

Too easy.

I manage to seize both wrists with one hand, pinning them above her head. Her arms are stretched taut, halting her escape; her body writhes beneath me, cementing her helplessness.

I chuckle, low and dark, leaning in. “Oh, but little witch, you’re fighting too hard for something you claim not to want.”

I drink it in.

“Tell me,” I purr, my hand gliding lower, tracing the inside of her thigh. “If I slide my fingers between these pretty little thighs, will I find you dripping in need?”

Her body reacts before her words, her muscles tensing beneath my touch. My hand slowly slides up her inner thigh.

I continue, like a drunk eager for more.

Her pupils dilate, and she holds her breath, just for a second.

There it is.

Satisfaction curls deep in my chest as my fingers skim the thin fabric of her panties, feeling the wet heat beneath. A sharp inhale escapes her lips.

“Lace,” I smirk. “My favorite. Did you wear this for me?”

“Get the fuck off me.” She squirms viciously, trying to get free, but it is useless.

I slide one finger to the center of the lace, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm.

“Just as I thought,” I taunt. “You are weeping for me to stretch and fill you.”

I hook a finger into the fabric, pulling it down just enough to make her think—just for a second—that I might touch her.

Then I release it.

The fabric snaps back into place, earning a sweet little gasp to breach those full lips of hers she was attempting to keep sealed shut. Her body wants, even if her mind does not.

Before she can lash out and actually begin using her magic, I deliver a quick, teasing slap over her needy mound.

I grin down at her, savoring it.

She can fight. She can spit, curse, and claw all she likes, but cannot lie to me.

“Now go change, unless you plan to let the beasts fuck you. I hear witches are into that.”

I wink and remove my hand from her heart and release her arms.

The slap comes fast and hard, the sting spreading across my cheek before I fully register the impact.

A sharp little thing.

I rub my jaw, amusement curling in my chest even as I rise, finally giving her the space she craves.

“No more games. We need to go.” My tone slips into my calm, collected mask. The demon sneering up at me is only one of the many plaguing these lands.

Millicent’s breathing is ragged, her fingers tremble before clenching them into fists. “If you ever put your hands on me again, agreements be damned…I will incinerate you.”

I don’t chase after her; the truth of her words is settling.

Some great beings remake the world; others burn it.

A split second of dread runs up my spine, chased by an odd sense of knowing.

An instinctual certainty—like how one knows their heart will beat without thought, or their next breath will come.

She will burn it all. She will be the end .

I exhale a low chuckle. “Say that when I can’t still smell you on my fingers.”

Her stride falters—for a moment—before she disappears into the darkness.

Control and dominance come in many forms. She shows her weaknesses so easily, handing them to me like weapons.

I find it comical.

Since she arrived, I’ve been studying her, compiling her traits, learning her character, and tracking her every reaction. She can wield hate, anger, and violence like second nature, but she cannot handle touch, softness, or herself.

Even as the sting of her slap lingers, I know I made my point.

Her words only confirmed what I suspected: she is like Nora. And I will not let another Nora exist.

When all of this is over, she will burn. I will make sure of it.