“Centuries of bad blood run between the two kingdoms,” I explained gruffly, putting my hand over hers to still the teasing innocence of her fingers. “And in recent decades, the deviousness of Her little war games has … weakened us.”

She blinked, her eyes, big and guileless, fixed on mine. “Well, the last thing anyone would want would be for Hell to be weak.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” I asked, my thumb finding the pulse point in her wrist. Her blood fluttered under my touch.

“I wonder why…” Her tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of distrust. Which I had unequivocally earned from her from the very first time we met.

I was beginning to realise that I wanted more than just distrust from her.

How stupid of me.

But I did feel a niggling sense of needing to defend my kingdom. Humans were woefully undereducated when it came to the history between the realms of Heaven and Hell.

“You must understand, Mouse, that there is an all-important balance. Without darkness, there is no light.” I hesitated to continue, but in the interests of honesty … “Without evil, there can be no good. That balance affects the Human Realm most of all.

“The fear of Hell has historically been an excellent deterrent for humans who are morally … lacking. The ones who would do any number of vile, depraved things, without the threat of eternal damnation.”

She wrinkled her nose, which made my chest ache to kiss her there. I refrained, just. “Don’t they all get automatic entry to Hell, anyway? Like … murderers, and … and paedophiles, and evil dictators?”

I gripped her fingers tighter, shaking my head. In the red glow from my skin, I watched as her face paled.

“They did, until … She … got wind of religions here in the Human Realm, offering salvation for those who repented for their sins. Since then, our supply of souls has been dwindling—do you know how many death-row prisoners, how many humans serving life sentences for their crimes, suddenly find God at the eleventh hour?”

She frowned. “So then … what happens to them?” she asked, her voice a tremor. But the stark wideness of her eyes told me she had already guessed.

“They are accepted into Heaven.” The words felt heavy on my tongue. “It is why for many years my … my father used to come up here, disguised as a human, to reap—to trick desperate humans into a contract for their eternal soul, in return for the thing they so desperately needed.”

She gnawed on her lip, her eyes darting between mine, and then dipping down, staring at where I had her hand captured against my chest. “And then you came up here with your FiendPay and your tasks. But why?” she lifted her face to mine, and my breath caught in my throat.

So beautiful. So brave. So inquisitive.

Inquisitiveness killed the imp …

“Why what?” I rumbled.