The room was dark, save for my infernal glow. Jemma, still fast asleep, was sprawled across her side of the bed, one leg kicked out of the blankets. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head, and she was, indeed, snoring quite enthusiastically.

The panicked pounding eased as I gazed down at her. She was here. She was safe. She hadn’t died from my attempt to poison her with gluten (I still wasn’t entirely sure what gluten was, but clearly Alessio had been very well versed).

I’d conceded another task to her. Which meant there was only one more for her to win … and then the final one … for her to lose.

The thudding returned with a vengeance. Was this the fork in the road? I could continue with my plan and reap her soul at the end of this … or I could choose to let her win that final task … win her soul back from me. And look like a failure in the eyes of my father, and my sister … and the entire population of Hell …

Ugh. I did not wish to spend this night—likely the only one I would ever spend in a bed with Jemma Bliss—pondering my own folly and the potential doom of one … or maybe both of us. So I eased myself from the bed and tiptoed down the hall and into the living room. My own glow was enough to scan her bookshelf until I finally found the title she had directed me to earlier. What better distraction than the monster pornography she called literature?

Slipping it from the shelf, I crept back to her, sliding under the covers, tucking her in with me. I opened Devirginised By The Devious Devil and began to read.

28. Pesky Feelings

Chapter 28

Pesky Feelings

Jemma

I woke, warm, and comfortable, and rested. Wan sunlight made a valiant attempt to shine through a layer of grey, drizzly clouds. Raindrops pattered against the window, keeping time with the rumbling snore beside me.

Oh.

I snatched my glasses from the bedside table, peering across the bed. There he was. No longer red and glowing, he was back in his human disguise. There was no sign of a pair of horns or the tail that I’d dreamed naughty things about last night.

But unmistakeably, undeniably, Satan Junior was asleep in my bed.

I felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of the devil version of SJ, but even in his human form, he was … sigh … so perfect. With his chiselled abs, and bulging biceps, and … bulging other parts as well.

The sexy bastard.

The thoughtful bastard, who had made light for me when I was frightened in the dark. Who had listened when I wanted to vomit out my trauma. Who, if my hazy memories were correct from our sleepy conversation late last night, felt trapped in his role in all of this. Felt trapped by the expectations of his family.