Page 56 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

“More important,” I continue, trying to sweeten my voice into a purr. “It’s a favor. The mage being brought here is the strongest of his kind. He’s the only mage bonded to a dragon.”

I grin wickedly as Arella perks up.

“He is extremely powerful. You wouldn’t be able to take him down. I have. And I’m offering to keep him in line…in return for information.”

She hesitates, unsure if I’m telling the truth.

But she’s tempted.

I don’t actually believe I can contain Cage once he wakes up. His tantrum will level this room. Hopefully I’ll have what I need before he explodes. Because I can already hear it now.

You stabbed me, tried to force a bond on me, now you knock me out and try to give me away for slave work ...

Gods, men are so dramatic. I internally roll my eyes.

The doors open and her enthralled guards march in, dragging an unconscious Cage between them.

Shit. Guess I hit him harder than I thought. Good.

I meander over, flicking my hand in a dramatic wave above his limp form.

“He is very handsome, right? And yes, strong.”

Arella rises, finally lifting her feet from the kneeling man beneath her. She descends her steps like a queen, fixing her eyes on Cage like he’s a jewel.

I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it up, revealing the arcane marks on his chest. “They run up his neck, and down his arms.”

Arella licks her lips at the greed gleaming in her eyes. “How marvelous.”

She reaches for him just as he stirs.

Showtime.

I drop his shirt and step back.

Cage’s eyes flicker open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the light in the room and the sight of a woman standing over him like he’s prey.

“What the fuck…?” he mutters, disoriented.

Arella doesn’t waste a breath. I sense her magic surge; it’s subtlety and insidiousness creeping toward him.

Cage drops his gaze instantly, avoiding hers. His magic answers with a roar. The air shifts, dominating the space.

“See? Told you. He’s moody,” I say with a grin, completely unconcerned by the spike in danger. “If I were you, I’d tag me in now. Let’s make ourselves a deal before he kills everyone.”

Checkmate, bitch.

Cage explodes into motion, hurling both guards who hold his arms across the room. They crash into the sofas, sending furniture screeching and tumbling across the floor.

“Get him! Hold him!” Arella shrieks.

More of her enthralled men rush forward. Several of her girls rise, their gazes sharpened on Cage in an attempt to force compulsion.

This is going to take a minute.

I claim a sofa and stretch out, arms crossed beneath my head. These lounge chairs? Worth It. I kick up my feet and settle in to enjoy the chaos.

Men go flying across the room and the shadows grow denser and darker.

“Listen, bitch,” Cage growls, his voice echoing across the room. “I don’t know what the fuck the plan is here, but if you try to compel me again, I’ll kill everyone in this room.”

The temperature shifts. Whispers ripple through the girls who now grow thick with unease.

Arella finally looks at me. “You weren’t joking...he is strong.” A pause. Then, more softly, “Fine. Help me, and I’ll help you.”

If the daggers in Cage’s glare were real, I’d be bleeding out and like a sieve. I grin and stroll toward him.

“Surprise!”

“You knocked me out to give me over as a fucking slave ?” he snaps, rubbing his neck.

“Maybe,” I shrug, daring to step closer.

“Wouldn’t you be the better option?” he smirks. “You’d make a perfect whore.”

My eyes narrow. His smirk. That smug tone. My original plan, it all evaporates as anger, per usual, gets the best of me.

I slam my knee into his crotch.

As he folds forward, I grab a fist full of his hair and yank his head back.

Arella, already poised, doesn’t miss the opening. I watch fascinated as Cage’s eyes flick white, the compulsion slips over him like frost despite his attempts to resist.

He won’t be carving out my heart anytime soon.

“What…interesting methods to get him exposed,” Arella mutters.

“Hey, gets the job done. Now, my part of the payment?”

“Of course.” Her smile is as fake as it is perfect.

She guides me to a sofa. Cage follows her like a trained dog. She makes him kneel, remove her shoes, and begin massaging her feet.

For just a moment I picture Felix and I can’t help but think he’d find this hilarious. He always threatened Cage would end up rubbing my feet if I skipped meals.

I glance back at Arella, offering the widest saccharine-filled smile I can muster. Hollow meets hollow.

“I’m curious,” I begin, “if a witch of your caliber is capable of using this curse.”

Reaching down beneath my bust I pull out a rolled cloth, yellowed with age. I unfurl it across the table.

The inked design Iris drew, both elegant and threatening, comes into view.

Arella leans in, studying the curse. Her eyes trace the design’s sharp angles and dips.

“We are not curse users,” her brow furrows. “Even those of us who dabble couldn’t manage something like this; it’s too dark.”

“Have you seen it before? Any idea what it does?” I press, watching her face for the slightest twitch.

The collar chafes at my throat. A reminder that I’m playing this game restrained.

I hate it.

They’re beneath me.

Sheep for slaughter.

The Nightmother’s melody whispers in my ear, honeyed and hungry. My eyes flick to Arella’s exposed throat.

I could tear it out. Just like that. She would bleed so easily it would make me—

Stronger.

The voice that finishes my thought isn’t mine.

I clench my fist, nails biting into my palm until pain stings me back to clarity. No, I can’t lose control right now. I try not to let any panic rise. It will only strengthen her. I breathe out a slow steady breath, my anxious emotions fleeting with it.

A flash of silver at the edges of my vision makes me glance sideways. I swear I saw Cage—watching me?

No. He’s under compulsion.

I’m going insane. The realization lands softly, not disturbing me as much as it should have.

Arella shifts her attention, now locked onto Cage. He continues to rub one foot, then the other. He clearly enamors her.

She’ll use him, I know it. Intimately.

Good. Let her ruin him. Let her take everything, down to the scraps of his soul.

I almost pray to the Nightmother that Arella’s a soul-feasting parasite. Let her devour whatever’s left.

“I haven’t seen this before,” Arella finally says. “Look at the line work. The markings are rough. Ink rises from the page. This isn’t something made for kindness. No curse is.”

Her laugh is fake and thin.

“I have a theory,” I say, tapping the scroll, “that someone—maybe a manipulator—is transporting something with this into people. High-status targets are turning on their allies with little regard for reason. They die and end up in terrible situations they’d never choose.”

“That would be a curse user. One embedding this into an object, and someone with compulsion guided them into place. If you’re looking for that here,” she flicks her hand, “they’re not here. I haven’t seen a curse user in years.”

She picks at her nails. Bored already.

“I can get you more men just like that one,” I say, dripping my voice with smugness. “I have access to the castle grounds where the strongest mages live. I can bring them to you. One by one.”

That gets her full attention now. Her eyes flare with intrigue and she bites her bottom lip, pausing before she responds.

“I’ll see if the girls know anything. Wait here.”

She glances back at Cage. “Cage, is it? Rub her feet now, like a good little boy.”

She clicks away, each step makes obnoxiously loud clacks from her heels until she disappears behind the curtain.

Arrogant woman. Of course she would have no care to leave me alone.

She doesn’t know what I possess inside me and this is her sanctuary filled with her minions.

She feels safe and in charge. Who am I to shatter her illusion?

“Oh gods, don’t touch me,” I mutter, watching Cage as he moves to kneel.

My protest, naturally, is ignored—compulsion trumps opinion. Still, I can’t help myself.

“I do approve of kneeling though.”

I grin, Proud of my own wit. I’m funny.

He slips off the heel of my shoe and begins to knead the sore muscles in my foot. I squirm, clutching the cushions beside me as his fingers hit the perfect combination of relief and the unbearable tickle at my toes.

“I hope you’re in there,” I murmur, “You’re rubbing my feet.”

I nudge his knee with my other foot. He lifts it, pulls off the second heel, and sets off to work.

“I am aware.”

I blink. His voice is calm.

“You can talk?”

“Just now noticed? Witch, your intellect disappoints.”

My jaw drops. He’s still a smug asshole, even under compulsion.

“I’ve never even heard someone speak under compulsion! Of course, you’d figure out how to be a prick through sheer spite.”

I shove my foot into his palm hoping to jam one of his fingers. “Keep rubbing, boy.”

He says nothing more and obediently resumes rubbing while I stew.

Eventually the annoyance fades. And once again, I’m waiting on Arella.

Cage’s hand slides up my calf, thumb working in slow, deep strokes into the muscle.

Goosebumps rise along my skin as his fingers creep higher, brushing the sensitive crease behind of my knee. He sets to work kneading my muscles with expert precision.

I glance sideways. His eyes are still clouded in milky haze.

The door opens. Not Arella.

Then hot breath ghosts over my foot. I look down.

Cage presses a kiss to my toe. Then another. He trails kisses up the arch of my foot, slow and languid, dragging his mouth to my shin, then back down.

“Cage?” I ask, uncertain.

No response. A part of me wonders if this is part of the compulsion order; another wants to kick him in the face. Yet, the darker part of me stirs at the sight of him on his knees as he kisses my feet.

Then, suddenly, he bites. Pain spikes through my calf as I jerk my leg away.

“Giving me away as a fucking slave?” he asks aggressively, rising off the floor. His hand snaps forward, grabbing my collar and yanking me upright.

I shove at his chest, kick out hard. “Get the fuck off me!”

“We are going to have a little chit chat. You have been a bad girl.”

“Bad girl? I’m not some dog.” I aim another kick at his crotch, but he deflects me with his knee.

“You have a collar sweetheart. All you’re missing is a tag. Then again, we all know you’re a bitch.”

He rips me off the sofa and my knees slam against the marble floors. They sting as he drags me by the collar across the floor. My brief triumph fleets and humiliation reigns.

I gasp as the collar tightens, cutting off blood flow in pulses. Lightheaded, I struggle to get my footing, but he drags me too fast.

“Cage!” I choke, trying to force out my voice.

Around us, girls summon their enthralled men—none of them dare get close.

Arella bursts through the doors and her face twists with rage and disbelief. She screams, “ How are you free ?!”

I scream as Cage lifts my body and hurls me across the room. I curl in on myself midair, saving my head from the impact.

I slam into a wall, ribs cracking on impact

That’s it. I am going to kill the bastard.

I sit up slowly, gauging the shallowness of my breath and the ache in my ribs.

The collar—the fucking collar—is slowing my healing. I can feel it.

Great.

I am definitely going to kill him.