Pain ripped through me like sharp teeth. I sucked in a breath, but surprisingly, even as though it made me lightheaded, it wasn’t as agonizing as the last time I’d entered it.

Either it was easier to enter with Samael’s arms around me, or I was leveling up. I had a suspicion it was a little of both.

Samael took to the sky again. The sky was a rust-orange in this realm, and the sound of water crashing over rocks would have been soothing if it didn’t mean that we were flying in the direction of Samael’s dragon.

I froze. Was he planning to feed me to the beast?

The last time I was here, I’d snuck through the ward guarding his hoard. To get into the cave, I’d used a look-away spell to hide myself— and my scent— from the dragon. But the moment I’d picked up Misty, that spell had disappeared until the sentient dagger decided it had a better chance of getting out into the world if I was alive.

I had no doubt that the dragon would have memorized my scent.

“Listen,” I yelled over the wind. “I know you and I have had our differences, but surely we can talk about this.”

No reply. I could have a dagger at his throat in a couple of seconds, but he’d probably drop me in retaliation.

The cave entrance loomed, and my mouth went dry. Samael landed outside the cave and strolled through his ward. I slid my Nim Cub out of the lanyard around my neck— yes, I was wearing Samael’s gift, and yes it did look ridiculous with my t-shirt. By the time Samael let me down, I had my knife in my hand and my eyes were adjusting to the dim light.

I had no desire to hurt a dragon, but if it thought I’d be a tasty snack, it was game on.

Samael let out a low growl and I jumped, shooting him a look. He shook his head at me. “You don’t need to be armed, little witch. This is a date.”

I raised one eyebrow. “I think your definition of the word ‘date’ could use some work.”

He ignored that, striding past the welcoming collection of old bones on the right side of the cave. I kept my feet planted and gazed up toward the massive stalactites hanging from the high ceiling. It was dark up there.

“Hello, Scylla,” Samael murmured in a low, caressing tone. I was almost jealous of the dragon, hearing him murmur to her so intimately.

“Wait, she has a name?” I forgot my terror enough to take a few steps toward him, and he smiled over his shoulder at me.

“Of course.”