His mouth twitched, and he leaned down until his hot breath was right at my ear, his hand curling around my hip, burning like a brand through the fabric of my jeans. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mouse.”

I suppressed a quiver, pressing my hand to his stomach. His ab muscles jerked under my palm. I stared up at him with what I hoped was steely determination. “When the prize is my soul, Satan Junior, I’ve got no choice but to play to win.”

“Call me SJ,” he rumbled.

A trio of delighted squeals broke the tension between us, and I tore myself away from him with a sharp exhale.

I’d forgotten, for a moment there, where we were … and the audience we were performing for.

I turned away from him, cheeks flaming, to apologise to the girls.

“What the …?” I gasped, taking in my three budding artists.

They were on their backs on the paint-splattered drop sheet. Two scurrying ferrets were clambering all over them as they giggled. Two black ferrets with odd, reddish tinges to their eyes.

“And he has pet ferrets? You two are made for one another!” Faith cackled.

I turned back to Satan Junior, horror draining the blood from my face. He grinned wickedly down at me.

“Oh … did I forget to mention that I brought the ‘malevolent mustelids’ along with me?”

* * *

“Oh … uh, girls, I don’t think that we should—” I pinched the bridge of my nose, swallowing back the urge to scream as Ellie laid her angry splatter canvas face up on the drop sheet while Faith and Harper held the two suspiciously cooperative ‘ferrets’ on their backs, snatching up brushes loaded with paint and smearing it all over their little mammalian feet.

“We need to have a memento of this awesome day!” Faith argued, rubbing her nose against the Hell Beast’s. It lay passive in her arms.

This was absolutely the calm before the storm. I could feel the pressure building. My body was practically vibrating with the urge to turn around and throttle him for putting me in this position.

But I couldn’t. Because my soul was the collateral in this little game.

“They’re astoundingly docile examples of their species, are they not?” he remarked. I did round on him then, eyes narrowed, trying my darndest to hold onto a smile. I probably looked more like I was trying to hold in explosive diarrhoea.

Satan Junior’s chuckle was so merry I itched to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze.

“These girls are immunocompromised, Simeon.” My voice was thin as I desperately held back the need to roar the words at him. “Animal visits to this ward are very heavily regulated for that reason.”

He leaned back in the chair he’d situated himself in, one ankle balanced jauntily on the other knee, his hands running through that pale blond hair.