Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,62

might still have hope to believe that he hadn’t lost all of his humanity in his fall. His fits of rebellion through the centuries framed themselves in a larger context.

He straightened himself in a split second, listening to footfalls making their way up his desolate corridor with growing curiosity. When he made out the visage of the woman, her profile holding more curves than a one-lane road through the Alps, he didn’t believe it was possible, couldn’t believe it was true.

“Riona?”

The witch, wild-haired, weary-eyed, and breathless, managed a nod. With an utterance of something in Akkadian, she focused her magic on the gate of his cell. The iron-barred lattice groaned like an octogenarian at a Katy Perry concert as it swung open, leaving Jerry both confused, delighted, but more importantly, almost free.

If not for his feet.

“How did you… How did you get here?” Jerry gasped as Riona, without pause, went to work on liquefying the lava rocks surrounding his ankles. “Humans can’t descend into Hell while they’re alive. Unless you’re… Oh, no, Riona! You’re dead?”

“No, still alive.” Her dark eyes flashed up from the floor, brimming with tears. “I figured it out. You came to warn me. Thank God, too. I knew he wouldn’t let what you did go unpunished. I knew I had to free you.” She blushed fervently. “I think… I think I love you.”

Not in his craziest, most deviant nightmares had he thought that someone like Riona Dade would actually think a low-life, humanity-betraying piece of scum like him would be worthy. Holy hell, she loved him. And, God, in his forbidden heaven, he loved her too. More than just telling her, he wanted to show her the moment he was liberated from his rocky podiatric prison.

No sooner did his feet slip free than he took the witch in his arms, crushing her to him with all the joy and anguish his demon heart could muster in the divine damnation that was being in love. Her lips… Nothing in Hell could ever hope to be so heavenly as the feel of Riona’s lips on his. Her hands ran over the bumps that aspired to be horns, where hair would have grown if he’d still been human. He wanted this to be perfect, and didn’t want the ugliness of his cursed, Lucifer-fashioned, hell-bound corpus to disturb her. With an exhale, he reached for his magic, hoping it too was unbarred with his release from the cell, and willed his devilishly handsome glamour to come over him.

It, however, was unwilling.

Without letting her go, his eyes winced. Calling deeper into his being, he again willed the power forth. Again, nothing. A third attempt actually sent a magical migraine piercing a path straight through his brain and down his neck. He pulled his lips back from Riona and hissed.

“Jerry? Jerry, what’s the matter?”

The pain centered right between his eyes. “Can’t pull on a glamour. I don’t get it. You…” Another gasp of air. “The bars block the magic. I’m out. You got me out. I should be able to… Unless…”

The witch’s lips turned up in a devious smile as she backed away from his embrace, leaving him leaning against the bars of his open cage for support. “Unless what, Jerry dear?”

She never did answer the most important question, did she? Human tissue rotted in this place. The flesh boiled. Eyes turned to stone. Riona’s bitchin’ bod was still as bodacious as ever. Meaning, either she was the first human ever to find a path around a perfectly-crafted zombification charm, or…

“You’re not Riona, are you?”

The imposter held up the ruffled edges of a playful miniskirt-tutu and bowed. “No.”

There was only one being who would have the gumption to use him as a ghoulish guinea pig for such a well-constructed and convincing glamour.

“Lucifer.”

This time, she winked. “Yup.” She ran her hands over the delectable hip bone her inspirational model possessed. “Pretty canny knockoff, wouldn’t you say? Can’t blame you for being so attached, Jerry. Riona’s fucking hot, isn’t she? Almost can’t keep my hands off myself, looking like her.”

He felt his lip curl, the fangs of his demon dentures bearing ominously. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” She feigned innocence. “You mean, dare touch myself and see what it’s like to delight this body? Well, I admit, it’s not as good as doing it to the actual witch myself, but...” She huffed, sending her imposter red bangs flying. “You know, you only have yourself to blame for this. I hoped I was going to snag