Page 19 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

B EE L ZE B U B

The soft sound of a whimper broke through the silence surrounding me, drawing me from sleep slowly.

I groaned as I fought to go back to sleep, curling my wings in closer around me like a cocoon.

When the noise repeated, I slowly peeled open my eyes to stare at the leather of my wings blocking my view.

Everything in me stilled, keeping surprise as my ally as I waited to assess the situation now that my attempt to sleep was forgotten.

The next whimper was higher pitched, the distinct sound of pain making me throw back my wings.

Margot sat with her knees curled into her chest in the chair. Her stunning face was pinched with fear or pain or both, whatever nightmare consumed her making its way into the waking world. She whimpered again, the sound sinking beneath my skin in a way that felt like an unwanted intrusion.

I groaned, rolling onto my back even though it was awkward with my wings beneath me, and rubbed my hands over my face.

The witch was having a nightmare, probably because she’d been too stubborn to just sleep in the bed where she might have gotten a better night’s sleep than sitting in a chair that was too small for how long her limbs were.

Turning my back to her, I resolved to let her sleep and hoped that she’d find her own way through the nightmare.

What the fuck did I care that one witch had a bad dream? They’d been the cause of so much suffering and abandonment of those of us Lucifer had left behind, maybe she deserved to know a hint of that pain and loneliness.

“Stop,” she pleaded, her soft, breathy voice torn apart by a sob that caught in her throat. I felt it within me, striking against me like the bang of a drum. The goddamn spell she placed on me had put me in her thrall, made it impossible to ignore her pain.

That only made me all the more determined to fight the pull to help her, to let her suffer alone since she’d made me care in a way I wouldn’t have on my own. I would never hurt her for Lucifer. I would protect her and see her reunited with her Coven for Him.

But I would not let her pull my strings with delicate cries that should have meant nothing to me.

She groaned again, the sound so full of pain that I couldn’t help but remember her concern that she might have hurt me when she stitched my wing the night before.

“Source be fucking damned!” I hissed, throwing my wings wide and moving to her side of the bed.

I twisted my body and placed my feet on the floor, moving to stand and crossing the short distance between Margot and the bed.

I tapped her shoulder where her shirt covered her skin, carefully avoiding touching her physically.

The contact we’d had the day before had been necessary for survival, but this wasn’t.

“Wake up,” I said, poking her gently at first and then with increasing pressure.

Her body swayed but her eyes did not open, her head thrashing from side to side as if she could fight off the images of whatever was attempting to harm her in her dreams.

“Wake up,” I said, my voice getting louder. I wrapped two fingers around the top of her shoulder, shaking her slightly in an attempt to wake her. To do it, I leaned into her space, hating the way her sweet scent filled my lungs.

I hated it.

I hated everything about her. The way she made me want to understand every thought inside her pretty head, the way her reactions and the intensity of her emotions fascinated me.

I hated the way her scent and the feel of her skin on mine sank deep into the numbness I’d felt for centuries, making me feel interested for the first time in as long as I could remember.

Everything before her had been a bland activity to pass the time, a duty and a job that needed to be achieved or an itch that needed to be scratched through one sin or another.

I hated that she felt different, and that I couldn’t even believe any of it was real because it was all just a consequence of her magic.

I had possessed countless humans to wander the earth over my centuries of life, had tormented them with obsessions that were horrible for their health to speed their journey to Hell simply because it amused me.

But never had I understood the inability to control one’s own body and escape those vices… until Margot.

She made me feel weaker than I would ever admit I was.

She made me feel human.

She whimpered, and watching a single tear streak down her cheek was the final straw for me.

My grip on her shoulder softened, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Wake up for me, songbird,” I said, forcing my own magic into the words.

The compulsion slithered over her skin where my breath touched her temple, dancing along the surface of her face before it sank into her.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly, a startled scream tearing up her throat. I jolted at the horrific sound, covering her mouth with my hand more harshly than I’d intended when it burrowed into my ears and made my brain feel like it was being stabbed.

Margot planted her hands against my chest, the contact immediately sending a surge of warmth through me as her magic reached out to dance with mine.

Her perfectly manicured nails grew and shifted into something black and gleaming as they elongated.

I stared down at them in surprise, quirking a brow as Margot dug them into my skin and attempted to push me away.

She had practically bent herself backward over the chair in her effort to get away, making me release her mouth finally as those fingernails dug deeper into my skin and drew blood.

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice breathless with fear. She struggled in the chair even though I barely touched her, nearly catapulting herself over the edge of the chair. I caught her, feeling like I held a feral animal in my arms.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” I said, covering her hands with one of my own.

I shifted my other hand back from her shoulder to cup them gently, running my thumbs over those claws as her eyes bled to black before my eyes.

Blood welled in the marks she’d left in my arm, and her nostrils flared as if she could scent it in the air.

“Let go!” she shrieked, shoving me back hard enough that I stumbled.

My wings bumped against the bed, a tiny twinge of pain accompanying the collision.

Margot launched herself from the chair, standing on shaky feet as she curled over herself and gripped her stomach.

Her mouth curled into a grimace as if she was in pain, and I moved slowly to help her.

I didn’t know everything about the Red witches, but I knew that her reaction to this was strange. This wasn’t something that happened to her every day.

She held out a hand, making me freeze in place as she peered up at me from beneath her lashes.

Her mahogany eyes were devoid of all warmth, in them a cool-toned darkness that had me nodding my agreement.

I would give her the space she needed to get her magic under control, to rein it back within herself.

There was a flash of something moving over her skin at her temples as she closed her eyes with the struggle, drawing in deep breaths as she attempted to calm herself.

Her nails retracted, her eyes filled with the life I’d grown used to all over again.

What kind of magic had Lucifer given the Red witches, exactly?

I suddenly wished that I’d shown more interest in the workings of Margot’s Coven, beyond a particular disdain for Lucifer’s wife and the ways she’d altered all our best-laid plans.

Perhaps I’d stand a better chance of understanding the way her mind worked, of getting into all the nooks and crannies that made her who she was, if I understood how she’d been raised.

“It’s okay, songbird,” I said, attempting to reassure her in the only way I knew.

I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t cross the distance between us and help her lose herself in the physical way I would usually distract a struggling female.

I knew Margot had been hurt, but I hadn’t known the extent of the trauma it had left her with to this day.

I hated that I wanted to touch her. Loathed the fact that I wanted to do it to bring her comfort. There was a depth to her call that was so far beyond the physical that I struggled to wrap my mind around it. But the worst part was having the desire to soothe her, and not being allowed to.

So what did that leave me with?

“How is any of this okay?” she asked, her face twisting as she glared at me. Her voice dropped lower, the husky note that seemed ever present fading into something dark and menacing. “We are in Hell, Beelzebub! The seal is closed and I’m fucking stuck here with you!”

Her words were said with the utmost disdain, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of me being near her.

And yet all I could do was think of the way my name sounded on her lips, of how pretty her mouth looked as it formed the syllables.

I stared transfixed at the plump flesh at the perfect bow at the top of her mouth and only looked away when her nostrils flared with anger.

Ugh.

“Neither of us want to be stuck here together, that I can promise you. I waited centuries to escape this place only to plummet down into the depths to try to save a fucking witch of all people,” I growled.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said back, her voice soft and sad and melancholy in a way that pulled at the space where my heart would have been if I’d been human.

I wanted to cheer her up, and for that, I knew I had to make it so much worse.

We both needed the reminder of exactly what this was, for both our sakes.

“Didn’t you?” I asked, flinching in time with her.

“We both know I wouldn’t have been so willing to jump through that gate if it hadn’t been for your song. ”