I wanted to sit alone and ponder how everything was going to shit. But I knew that the only thing I’d be able to think about was how beautiful she’d looked, coming undone on me. Using my body to seek her pleasure.

And I’d begged her to do it.

Because I wanted her.

No … it was more than that.

For badness’ sake, I was …

“What happened to your clothes, Boss?” Beezle interrupted my whirling thoughts.

“Yeah, what kept you last night, anyway?”

I violently flung the ruined clothes into the corner of the room, and then I violently flung myself onto my bed. “Temporary insanity! That’s what kept me.”

The Soul Token pulsed in my palm.

Wonderful. I was making her miserable, even from the depths of Hell.

Twin thumps on my mattress, and the hot breath of two Hell Hounds scorched my face. I winced, clutching the Token tighter. I suddenly felt very reluctant to show it to anyone. That was her soul in there. They were her emotions fuelling it.

Nausea raked at my stomach.

“Okay, Boss, talk to us!” Beezle whined. “Tell the B Team what’s eating you.”

I cracked open one eye to glare at him. “The B Team?”

“Oh, yeah, he doesn’t know!” Bub panted, trying to roll onto his back. “We got bored last night waiting for you to come home, so we made it up. Boss, Beezle and Bub—The B Team!”

I groaned. “I do not have the capacity to deal with your tomfoolery today, you two! I just need to think⁠—”

“Well, there’s your first problem right off the bat!” Bub crowed as if he’d solved some wickedly difficult riddle. “Thinking is always bad. Aaaaallways.”

“Will you shut up!” I snapped, surging off the bed to pace. “From the start of this, I’ve been having … thoughts … about Jemma. Bliss. Jemma Bliss. But …” I reached the wall and spun, tail lashing.

The Hounds watched me, eyes glittering, drool sliding from their mouths. I reached the other wall and pressed my forehead to the stone. My horns grated against the rock, setting my teeth on edge.

Good. I needed some pain. Maybe it would help me get some clarity.

“But …?” Beezle prompted.

“But now I’m having … feelings, too.”

There it was. I’d said it out loud. And it still felt nowhere near the truth of what was going on in my tumultuous brain. And in that thrumming behind my ribs.

“What sort of feelings are we talking here, though, Boss?” Bub asked, jumping off the bed, his claws clicking on the floor as he approached. “Like … feeling like this FiendPay stuff is gonna be a resounding success and save all our backsides? Or …”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Or.”

Bub’s head tilted, and then his eyes widened in realisation. “Oh, you mean … those kinds of⁠—”