was real, if fleeting. A second of amusement flashing through his countenance, followed by simmering focus.
“You have everything a human needs in here. These lodgings are larger than any place you’ve occupied in the last ten years, you have entertainment, exercise equipment, and comfort. I even brought you your belongings from Earth.” Molten heat in his gaze. “Including your tiny masturbation device.”
I closed my eyes, waves of mortification rolling through me. It had been him, not one of his underlings. Unfairly, the sofa didn’t open up and swallow me.
Deflect. I had to change the subject before I was too embarrassed to say anything at all.
“I don’t know where you get your info on humans,” I ventured, my voice just a bit wobbly, “but we need more than all this to really live. We’re social by nature. We need human contact.” I met his eyes briefly, couldn’t hold his intense gaze for longer than a second, and settled on his nose instead. “Or, demon contact, as it were.”
The air between us hummed with power. His nostrils flared.
“Azmodea,” he said into the charged silence, “will suffice.”
I bristled even as I cheered for that bit of concession from him. It was telling that he’d rather send his sister to talk to me than deal with me himself. I was a burden he wanted nothing to do with, an obligation he’d as soon acknowledge as chew off his own arm. An old hurt inside me broke open, leaking bitterness like acid into my veins.
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “She will not.”
His eye twitched. “What more do you want? Considering your position, you should be content with my generous offer.”
Generous offer my ass. He just wanted to shove me off on someone else. And as much as I liked Azmodea and would indeed enjoy her company, the thought that he could simply keep ignoring me pricked me the wrong way. What I wanted—as irrational as it was, given I’d sworn never to depend on a guy—was to have him check on me. Not because I needed him, but because it was his goddamn duty as my husband, and fuck him if he wanted to run from that.
“You’re not generous,” I said, “you’re a coward.”
A sheen of bright silver rolled over his eyes, luminous like a cat’s tapetum lucidum when hit by light in the dark. The faint smell of something burning drifted through the air.
“Am I now?” His voice was deceptively calm, belied only by the intensity with which he regarded me.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Too late to backpedal now. “You’re afraid to deal with me yourself,” I pressed on, ignoring the knot of unease building in my chest. “You’d rather hide and avoid me than face me and truly fulfill the contract. I think it’s because you’re afraid you can’t do it. You don’t know the first thing about really taking care of someone, do you? You’re scared you won’t measure up, so you won’t even try. Instead you run like a chicken.”
My heart skipped a beat. A tiny voice of reason inside me wailed in dismay. I did not just accuse my powerful and temperamental demon husband of being a chicken.
I dared meet his eyes and cringed inwardly. Oh, yes. Yes, I did.
The scent of something smoldering grew stronger. His power drenched the air, pressed against my skin and made it hard to breathe.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this time I’d pushed him too far, and he’d roast me over the fire now. I must have a hidden masochistic streak, some sort of near-death wish.
“Goading me?” he asked after a tense moment. “How cute.”
I chanced a glance at his expression. The hint of a smirk played about his mouth, his eyes glinting with the wrong kind of amusement.
“You should know it won’t work,” he said. “If I let myself be provoked into impulsive action by any artlessly delivered insult, I wouldn’t have survived a day at Lucifer’s court.”
He brushed his thumb over my cheek, down to my mouth, prickles of heat trailing behind.
“But if you crave my company so badly,” he murmured, his voice pleasure dipped in sin, “you could always try begging. I might just relent and come play with you.”
That. Pompous. Ass.
Fire roared through me, my vision turning red. I would never beg for even a scrap of his attention. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped and pushed his hand away from my face. “Given the choice between you and a talking toilet, I’d happily chat up