Page 7

Chapter 6

First Date with a New Soul

SJ

“H ellish shit!” I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face, staring up at the swirling portal in the ceiling of my chambers. “It worked!”

“Of course it worked, Boss!” Bub yipped, his tail slapping against my leg. “It was such a good plan!”

“Yeah, our great, smart, ingenious plan!” Beezle added.

I did not even bother to argue with them. My stomach was a frisson of nerves. She was on her way here. To Hell. Via a portal.

I looked down at my devilish self. “Should I … do you think I should switch to my human form?” I asked my beasts.

“Naw!” Bub barked. “Check Boss out, getting all worked up over which skin suit to wear for his first date with a new soul!”

I sighed. “She’ll be here any minute, hurry up and help me!”

They cocked their heads to the side in unison. Bub’s tongue lolled out of his mouth.

“Well, on one hand … you’ll frighten her way worse if you’re a big, burly devil …” Beezle began thoughtfully.

“But,” Bub added. “The look on her face when she arrives in Hell and sees the ‘douchey, smirking gargantuan’ who stole her donuts …”

Beezle panted excitedly. “Ooh yeah! Do that, do that!”

The tightness in my chest eased in abundant gratitude that my hounds had made that decision for me. If I’d been the one to decide to change into my human skin, on my own, they would no doubt have teased me endlessly that I wanted to be in the form she thought of as a ‘gorgeous blond beast’.

Yes.

We’d heard every word she’d drunkenly ranted to herself the night before in her awful little home.

And the old stomach had gotten extra fluttery.

I closed my eyes, shedding my devil skin. Horns and tail retracted and disappeared altogether. Red skin became paler. My body shrank—not much—but enough that I was a believable human size.

A long, frightened shriek echoed somewhere above us … getting closer.

“Hurry, Boss!” the Hounds bayed in unison. “She’s almost here!”

I swiftly donned the shirt I’d been wearing the day before. There was no time to remove my slightly too-loose leather breeches and replace them with human denims as the swirling portal above us sparked with lightning. Her cries were so clear now.

And she tumbled out.

“Good work on the soft landing, Boss,” Beezle huffed.

I stared at the small, pale figure splayed out on the pile of cushions I’d placed directly under the portal. Her vibrant hair was a riotous mess, tangled over her face.

Her toenails were purple. Her legs were bare. Smooth.

Lickable.

For badness’ sake, SJ, act casual!

As she scrambled to her feet, her hair still tangled so thoroughly it was impossible for her to see anything. That red, lacy undergarment peeked out from underneath her T-shirt. The shirt had a picture of some very strange-looking women on the front, the words ‘Spice Girls’ emblazoned across it.

“What the … holy Hell, what just … where am I?” she panted, finally managing to clear her mass of hair from her face. She was white as a ghost, her freckles standing out in stark contrast. Her eyes were wide and very blue as she glanced around the black stone walls of my lair.

“Welcome, Jemma Bliss,” I greeted. My voice shook.

Finally her eyes darted to me, where I leaned against the wall. She blinked. Adjusted her glasses. Squinted at me.

“You!” she snarled. Her arms folded crossly, pulling the fabric of those spicy girls taut over her chest. The fabric was indecently thin, and her peaked nipples sat smack in the middle of two of them.

I inhaled in a silent plea for my sanity. Thankfully my hands were in my pockets, masking the very intense reaction my groin was having to her perky human breasts.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, tapping one bare foot against the lava-stone floor.

“I live here,” I replied, waving my elbows awkwardly to gesture around the space without having to remove my hands from my pockets. “Perhaps you should be asking yourself … why are you here?”

“Where the hell is here?” she shrieked. Two spots of colour appeared high on her cheekbones. She chewed frantically on her bottom lip before uncrossing her arms and pinching her shirt, shaking it away from her body. “And why the hell is it so hot in here?”

Beezle and Bub burst into yipping snorts of mirth at her words. Her eyes darted to them, eyebrows shooting up over the tops of her glasses.

“And what the hell are they?”

I shrugged. “They’re Hellhounds. Because this is Hell.”

Her eyes flashed back to mine, her jaw falling open. She froze like that for a long moment before closing her mouth with a snap and turning to pace the floor.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, her glasses slipping up onto her forehead. “No, I’m dreaming. I’m having some bizarre wine-induced hallucination.”

She lifted her head, eyes finding mine. I smirked at her, finally taking one hand out of my pocket to wave condescendingly in her direction.

This was fun.

“He’s still here. Shit.” She resumed her pacing. “I drank too much after having a shitty day yesterday, and my brain has concocted some weird fantasy with donut dude dragging me to Hell. This is just a dream, and I’ll wake up, with a godawful hangover, in the living room in three … two … one …”

She pinched her arm. Hard.

“Ow!” she hissed, rubbing at the spot. I stepped away from the wall, closer to her, my stomach knotting up.

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” she snarled, backing away. “Holy shit, it’s hot in here!”

I forced myself to stay where I was. “That’s the lava lake. It runs under the palace. It is similar to your … central heating.”

She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders shook with rapidly panting breaths. “It’s not a dream …”

I shook my head, that knot in my gut tightening.

“Why did you bring me here … are you, like, the Devil? Oh God, you’re Satan, aren’t you?” she squawked.

“Satan Junior,” I corrected. “Crown Prince of Hell.”

A horrified laugh barked out of her. “This is … crazy! This can’t be real. God doesn’t exist … Heaven and Hell don’t exist …”

“It’s very, very real,” I assured her, sauntering closer again. “And all of those things you just mentioned do, in fact, exist.”

She backed away until she tripped on one of the portal cushions and fell on her backside into the pile. Beezle and Bub cackled. She glared at them, her fingers clawing into the pillows.

“The donuts …” she mumbled.

I nodded, smirking down at her. “Yes, you’re getting warmer.”

Suddenly she was searching frantically through the pillows.

“There was a … a card. It said …” She snatched something from a crevice between two cushions, brandishing it at me triumphantly.

“FriendPay! That’s got nothing to do with you! I ordered those donuts from FriendPay!” She grinned fiercely, pushing herself to her feet.

I wanted to laugh. Beezle and Bub did not even bother to keep their mirth at bay.

“May I?” I asked, gesturing to the card she held.

She sneered up at me. “Good manners don’t suit the Devil!”

I raised an eyebrow. “ Son of the Devil.” I plucked the card from her fingers. “Ah, I see where the issue lies.” I struggled to keep a straight face. “You see, you misread the logo. My profound apologies if it has caused some confusion for you.”

I turned the card so the logo faced her, tapping at the words. “I think you may have added a letter that was never there.”

Jemma Bliss scowled up at me, then turned her gaze to the card. She leaned closer. Squinted. Tilted her head to the side. Took off her glasses, lifting her shirt to polish the lenses (I did not lean back just enough to catch a glimpse of the infamous red undergarment … alright, perhaps I did …)

She replaced her glasses, pondered the card a moment longer, and sucked in a scandalised breath.

“FiendPay? Not FriendPay?” Her words were disbelieving. “No way, you changed it to mess with me!”

I shook my head. “Did you not receive some messages on your telephone device last night?”

She opened her mouth angrily, then shut it again.

“Yes … but they were from FRIENDPay.”

I smiled indulgently at her. “I suggest you take another look at those messages when you return to your home.”

“I will!” she snapped. Then blinked. “ When I return home? You’re not … you don’t intend to keep me here?”

“Not imminently.” I gestured towards a black table, two stone stools resting opposite one another. “Shall we sit down while we discuss the business of your soul?”

“My … my soul?” A tremor crept through her words.

“It’s nothing serious. Just a matter of four repayments,” I replied. My voice sounded so deviously reassuring that her face relaxed slightly, and she followed me to the table.

The knot in my stomach twisted once more. There was nothing reassuring about FiendPay. It was a foregone conclusion that her soul would belong to Hell. The repayments were just a method of drawing out the torture.

“Okay, four repayments. That sounds doable,” she muttered to herself as she took a seat opposite me.

“Indeed,” I lied, conjuring up a larger print version of the ‘terms and conditions’ that she had found impossible to read on her phone device last night. I slid them across the table to her.

“Please peruse these at your leisure.”

She snorted, pushed her glasses defiantly up her nose, and read.

**FiendPay is a direct subsidiary of Beezle-Bub Enterprises (herein referred to as ‘BBE’).

The customer (herein referred to as ‘the Soul’) acknowledges that by placing their order, they have entered into a contract with BBE.

When entering into a contract with BBE, the Soul agrees that upon delivery of their order, they are required to repay in full the value of the order (as determined by BBE) in four (4) instalments. The nature of the 4 instalments is at BBE’s discretion and may differ from Soul to Soul.

The Soul acknowledges that they are willing and able to undertake these repayments as requested by BBE in any form required of them.

Timeframes for payments will vary at the discretion of BBE. Should the Soul be unable to fulfil their 4 agreed instalments as determined by BBE, they hereby forfeit their immortal soul into the ownership of BBE for all eternity.

Jemma Bliss glared up at me, slamming the paper down on the table and leaping to her feet.

“She’s so feisty—I think I love her,” Beezle yipped.

“I’ll show you feisty!” she growled, turning her head towards the Hound. His long pointed black ears went flat against his skull.

“You can … you heard him?” I asked, shock robbing my voice of volume.

“Your odd little mutts aren’t the issue here. This!” She stabbed a finger at the paper. “This is an issue! You’re telling me that without me knowing what I’m expected to repay, or when … or flipping how … if I don’t make all four payments, you’re going to own my soul?”

My stomach knots were … knotting.

“Well, technically, BBE will own your soul,” I managed.

“And what are you, like the CEO of BBE or something?”

I shrugged, forcing a crooked grin to my face. “I prefer to go by Grand Poobah.”

“Ugh!” she groaned. “You are the absolute worst! And can someone turn the lava down in here before I treat you and your Hell mutts to a one-woman wet T-shirt competition?”

I scraped a hand down my face, my eyes instantly going to the two spiced girls her perky breasts were lurking behind.

“Unfortunately, the lava has a mind of its own,” I rasped, unable to look away from that particularly tantalising part of her.

“Mind of its own!” she grumbled, lifting the hem of her shirt to swipe a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

Pale, smooth, soft skin around her navel. And the swell of her breasts. Another inch, and her nipples would have been exposed.

I clenched my jaw. She eyed me defiantly, tucking the bottom of her shirt through the neckline and tugging it back down. The fabric cupped her breasts obscenely.

There was a long silence, during which I watched the rise and fall of the spicy breast girls. And lower, to the red undergarment that had enticed me yesterday in those fleeting glimpses. There it was. It was made of some sort of flimsy fabric. Skin peeked through a pattern of petals and vines.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?” I grated.

She lifted one shoulder and flounced away from the table. “I needed more air on my skin. It’s not my fault that you have no control over your ‘central heating’.”

I tore my gaze away. Was she toying with me?

If so, it was working. Infuriating human!

Well, two could play at that game. I closed my eyes, let go of my human form. Heat bloomed across my skin, my muscles burgeoning. A tickle at the base of my spine, and two in my scalp, heralded the appearance of tail and horns.

When I opened my eyes again, she was gaping up at me, her eyes so wide the whites showed all the way around. Her mouth was a perfect O shape.

Shock. Excellent. I had the upper hand now. I stalked after her as she backed away until, with a squeak, she collided with the wall.

“You are so much smaller like this, Mouse,” I mocked. My voice in this form was lower, gravellier.

She remained frozen, staring.

“Cat got your tongue? Maybe while you’re finally silent, I can explain some hard facts to you. You have two choices, little human. You can relinquish your immortal soul to me now—no tasks, no payment, no uncertainty, the contract you made with FiendPay burned to ashes. You can go back to living your human life, with the understanding that upon your death, your soul will return here, the property of Hell, for all eternity.”

She continued to gawk, her mouth moving, but no words emerging.

“Or,” I continued, “you can agree to the terms of the FiendPay contract. You can attempt your four payments, and you’ll have the chance to earn the rights to your soul back from me … from us … from FiendPay.”

I silently cursed myself. I’d been doing so well, only to stumble at the end.

Finally, Jemma Bliss found her voice.

“Four tasks,” she sneered, the derisive tone of her words somewhat ruined by the tremor in her voice. “Pfft, I can do that with my eyes closed! My soul will never belong to you!”

I chuckled, leaning closer. Her eyes followed the movement of my black horns, shiny and curling backwards from my temples.

“You find my horns intimidating?” I teased. “They are certainly larger than the average.” I ran a fingertip along one, narrowly suppressing a shudder at how sensitive they were this morning.

Jemma Bliss rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone is overcompensating for other parts of the anatomy where he falls … short … of the average.” She glanced down at my groin.

She was an utter terror!

I snatched the back of her neck, tugging her against me. “Your soul already belongs to me, human girl!” I growled. I snatched the Soul Token from my pocket, holding it up in front of her face.

“I prepared this earlier, just for you, Mouse,” I murmured and pressed it to her sternum. It warmed, glowing pink.

It was working! The Soul Token was working!

Of course her soul would be pink.

She struggled, but I clasped her neck tighter. My thumb skated up and down along her delicate throat. Her fingers gripped at my arm, clawing desperately.

“What are you … is that my soul?” she demanded shrilly.

I shook my head. “A mere smidgeon of it. Just enough that I will always be able to find you, Mouse. Always. You cannot run from me. You cannot hide from me. I will collect your debt, one way or another. If you succeed, I will return this piece of your soul to you.”

She swallowed, her throat bobbing against my thumb. A low rumble burst unbidden from my throat. It sounded suspiciously like a … purr.

“And if I fail?” she asked, her voice soft. I met her brilliant blue gaze with my own dark one.

“Then I keep this piece … and take the rest.”

The Token began to vibrate under my fingers. I released her, the Token disappearing inside my palm.

“You are free to return to your home now,” I told her, stepping back. My traitorous gaze roved hungrily over the exposed skin of her belly and that tiny scrap of red. I bit the inside of my cheek. “I will contact you as soon as I see fit, in order to determine your first payment.”

A thrill of anticipation lit up my insides at the thought. I had unfettered access to Jemma Bliss, and I owned a portion of her soul … with the rest no doubt coming to me in short order.

She regained her composure, raising an eyebrow at me. “What if I said I wanted to relinquish my soul to you now?” she asked.

I flinched, quickly masking it with a sneer. “You expect me to believe that you’ll hand over your soul so easily? You seem a stubborn little thing.”

“I think you desperately want me to try the tasks,” she retorted. “What’s your angle?”

I shrugged in what I hoped appeared to be a nonchalant gesture. “I enjoy making bargains with humans.” I’d never made one before, but she didn’t need to know that. “It’s … fascinating, to watch your attempts to win back what now belongs to me.”

Her withering glare told me she didn’t believe that for a second. Why was she not afraid of me? I was over seven feet tall, red-skinned, horned and tailed and … enormous in every aspect.

Nothing about me was average, despite her little barb. And yet, beyond that first look of shock and awe, she didn’t seem to find me dreadfully fearsome.

Perhaps I needed to try harder?

I loomed over her, my devil form dwarfing her petite human frame. “However, if you would prefer not to have to deal with me for four tasks, I care little either way. It would be simpler … and much less frightening … for you to hand your soul to me now.”

I had never hoped more fervently for someone to disagree with me.

She met my gaze … and laughed heartily in my face. “If you think that big, red, muscly body is going to intimidate me, you really chose the wrong girl to pick on.”

She let her eyes graze over my bare chest, my snug leather breeches.

Tingling … everywhere.

“Tell me, what special orgasm-giving quirk does Satan’s cock have?”

My mouth fell open. That was absolutely the last thing I’d expected her to say.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” she murmured, reaching up and patting me on the cheek. “Should I assume you’ve got no special ‘extras’ down there? Such a pity. Do you even really count as a monster if you don’t have a trick dick?”

With that, she slipped out from under my arm and strutted back towards the pillow mound. My eyes fell to the perfect, round globes of her backside. They jiggled as she moved.

I swallowed back a moan, fighting to keep my expression neutral when she turned around, smirking at me.

“You can send me back now. I guess I’ll be seeing you when you’re ready to … nut out … that first payment with me.”

Wordlessly, I opened a portal right behind her. I scowled when she offered me a cheeky salute, then turned and strolled back through the portal as if she’d been travelling that way every day of her life.

“Go after her, Boss!” Beezle insisted, galloping up to the edge of the portal. “You can’t let her go with the last word!”

“Yeah!” Bub agreed. “You need to scare the bejesus out of her! Knock her down a peg or two, the feisty little wench!”

But I could do nothing. I was stuck behind the table, my leathers tented so obscenely that even Beezle and Bub would notice. My dick—the one she claimed had no tricks up its sleeve—throbbed violently.

“I need a bubble bath,” I muttered, dropping my head into my hands. The Token sat nestled inside my palm, its warmth almost comforting.

I was beginning to fear that I might have bitten off more than I could chew with Jemma Bliss.