me—they all vow that—let me just say that I’ve done my research on you. Even if my spell wasn’t preventing you from accessing your abilities, you wouldn’t have been able to call out to your lair members or friends for help—your telepathic range is short.”
True, sadly. Devon didn’t doubt that her godmother could have untangled the spell effortlessly, since she’d possessed more magick than any incantor Devon had ever met. Millicent was so strong, in fact, she’d imprinted protective wards on Devon’s very bones. The wards didn’t make her immune to magick, but they did ensure that any spells placed on Devon would wear off fast. Which was undoubtedly why the energy ropes had begun to weaken—the buzz of power was no longer so strong against her skin.
Luckily, Psycho Stanley didn’t seem to be aware of that. And she’d need to keep him distracted so that he was less likely to notice. “Well, are you going to tell me what delightful person hired you?” she asked, her voice croaky with thirst.
“I’ve no idea who it was.” And he didn’t sound as though he cared. “The deal was done through a broker.”
“Surely you at least know what they want with me.”
“Something about offering your father an exchange—if he freed their friend, Asa, they’d free you.” He shrugged, uninterested. “I suppose this is where you get to find out just how much Daddy loves you.”
Well, considering she’d never heard of an Asa and that the guy she thought of as her dad wouldn’t have the authority to free anybody, this mess had to be related to her biological father, Finn. He was the Prime of a lair in Salt Lake City, and she didn’t have regular contact with him. As such, the person who’d arranged all this would have had better luck if they’d kidnapped one of Finn’s other offspring. It honestly wouldn’t surprise her if Finn refused to make the trade. Which meant she was fucked if she didn’t get out of this cabin fast.
The incantor’s eyes narrowed. “Harper Thorne used to belong to your lair. You’ve been close friends with her since you were kids, from what I uncovered. Girls share just about everything with their BFFs, don’t they? I’ll just bet she told you what breed of demon her mate is.”
Well, he’d lose that bet. Devon had once asked Harper what Knox was, and the female sphinx had responded, “You’re better off not knowing, Dev, and it’s not something I can share anyway.”
By her own admission, Devon was annoyingly curious—it was a hellcat thing—and would badger people for answers. But she also knew when it was best not to push, so she’d let it go.
“What is he?”
Devon arched an imperious brow. “And what incentive do I have to tell you that? You’ve got nothing to offer me except for my freedom, which we both know you won’t give me. You can’t even tell me who hired you.”
His eyes bored into her, empty and cold. “Why would I offer you an incentive when I could torture the information out of you?”
“You’ve been instructed to keep me alive and unharmed, remember.”
“I can put you through a world of hurt without leaving a single mark on you.”
Hmm, was that so? Well, she could return the favor if these damn binds would just fuck right off. He might have done his research on Devon but, like many demons, she deliberately kept some of her abilities quiet. He had no way of knowing that he had, to put it simply, completely fucked up. All she needed was—
She shot forward in her chair as white-hot agony crashed into her gut, twisting it so painfully that stars burst behind her eyes. Holy fuck it felt like someone was taking a blowtorch to her stomach. The scorching heat sizzled its way up her chest, settled in her breastbone and, honest to God, she thought it would melt from the heat or at least crack from the pressure.
She looked down, half-expecting to see her skin blistering and peeling away from her body. There was absolutely no outward sign of the fire that blazed in her—
It stopped.
She sagged in her chair, panting and shaking.
“I think I’ve made my point,” he said. “Now, tell me what I want to know.”
She blinked, licking her dry lips. “What was the question again?”
Devon hissed as the pain returned. Not like a blowtorch this time. No, now it felt more like a jagged, red-hot knife was carving its way up the column of her