her emotions. And he was using them against her. He was using them to break her.
“Yes, you most definitely need more time to think about what you’ve done.” Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Everything inside Luna built and built, the feeling so foreign, she didn’t know what it was, how to describe it, but it twisted and coiled together into one jagged ball of pain.
Physically, she could no longer scream.
So her soul did it for her.
Chapter 4
Hell
Tobias sneered at the demon’s back as it walked out of his cell. The fucker was sweating and out of breath from trying to make Tobias scream. That wasn’t going to happen. The torture was nothing compared to the pain he’d suffered before Lucifer sent him here, nothing compared to the pain he’d already been through.
And all the torture he’d received since he’d arrived in Hell was nothing less than he deserved. The things he’d done, the people he’d hurt… What he’d tried to do to his own brothers—
His throat worked.
He didn’t deserve their forgiveness or their love, but he’d seen both in each one of them, in their broken gazes, before he was dragged down to Hell. He wouldn’t let them down again.
He was here for a reason. Lucifer had been cagey with the details, but Tobias would do whatever he was sent here to do, no matter what it was, if it helped his brothers.
But there’d been more. Lucifer had offered him a reward for his sacrifice…there was a catch, of course, being chained to this wall, enduring months of torture was part of that. Tobias had been about to tell Lucifer he’d take the torture, he’d earned it, but he sure as fuck didn’t deserve a reward, not after the pain he’d caused.
Then Lucifer told him what it was.
Something he never dreamed possible.
He dragged in a rough breath, his nerve endings lighting up. He didn’t know the time, time didn’t seem to exist down here. Hours in Hell translated to days on Earth. But he knew when she was coming, felt her before he saw her, an internal alarm bellowing as she drew closer.
He stilled as the door opened, slow, hesitant.
She peered around the door, not meeting his eyes as she moved into the cell. She never did. Her wild red hair was braided down her back, reaching her waist, and her strong fighter’s body was covered in a drab, brown shapeless dress that reached almost to her ankles, a long cloak over that. She clutched the small bowl she always carried and moved closer.
He swallowed repeatedly. She was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen, would ever see.
Fisting his hands, he dragged in her scent as she drew near. Christ, that scent. He’d dreamed about it, even when he was nothing more than a bloodthirsty demon. There was no mistaking it. And as she finally closed the space between them, he had to bite back his moan. It was agony and pure joy combined.
His female, his beloved Scarlet, was living and breathing, right here.
And she had no idea who he was. None.
Her hand trembled as she wrung liquid out of the rag floating in the bowl, as she reached out and began cleaning the blood from his skin, gently moving it over the gouges and cuts and burns, healing him so he would have lots of nice unmarred flesh to cut to ribbons all over again tomorrow.
She never spoke to him, and today, like every day since he’d been down here—maybe months?—he tried again to get her to acknowledge him.
“What is your name, female?” he asked as gently as he could. It was hard when his heart thundered in his chest and blood rushed through his ears whenever she was near.
Her hand stilled for a split second, then she carried on cleaning his wounds. Every day he asked, hoping she would tell him, that she would remember him, every day she said nothing, gave him nothing.
“Can you speak?” he asked.
Again, she ignored him, carrying on with what she was doing. Always focused on the task she’d been given. A tendril of her beautiful auburn hair had escaped her braid, glossy and vibrant. If his hands weren’t chained to the wall, he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist touching it.
“Your hair, it’s…beautiful. S-so beautiful. Did you know that?” he said, his voice breaking because again, she gave him nothing. And because, fuck, he loved her hair. Always had.