knew it as surely as I knew she was my atma.
The desire to know what it was ate at me like a blood-sucking parasite buried beneath the skin. My lips tightened into a thin line. I sat up, dropping the six-hundred-pound bar I’d been bench pressing. I felt her sleeping.
She may have detested me, but her mind always sought my own during that time. I simply entered her dreams and allowed it. My atma might be cold, and even cruel in her own way, but she was also mine.
And she needed me. Not that she seemed to realize it.
That stubborn woman would drink poison before asking for my help. That quality almost made me admire her more—if she weren’t so willfully blind to her own needs.
I stood up and walked out of the home gym. The sounds of the city were more muted from here, but not gone entirely. I listened to them as I padded silently to the bathroom for a shower.
I flipped the water to cold, and then stepped in.
It helped cool my blood and urges where Piper was concerned.
Damned woman made me want to strangle her and fuck her in equal measure in the short time I’d been here.
Mentally, I reached out to my errand boy. My mind touched his, only the briefest of connections so I could tell him, “Get in touch with your friend. I need to know where Piper is.”
“I’ll try.”
“If you can’t reach her, then get me a location on Lucifer. It’s past time I paid him a visit.”
With that, I retreated from the boy’s mind and turned all thoughts to Piper. Despite the cold water running down my body, my cock hardened at the memory of her ocean blue eyes, the way they narrowed at me in rage. Her full lips pursed in indignation. Her cheeks flushed with anger.
Yes, she hated me. I’d come to grips with that. Some might even say I liked it. Embraced it.
I was an old demon. One from an era long gone. I’d waited so long for her that I actually enjoyed this game we were playing. I enjoyed her hate. Her rage.
Because her surrender when she gave it up would be all the sweeter.
20
My eyes opened before I could ask him anything further. The void disappeared, replaced by low ambient lighting. I turned my head to see a man’s back. He faced the other way, looking out a window that spanned the length of the wall, floor to ceiling. He wore white, and his hands clasped behind his back.
Lucifer.
I blinked twice, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, then I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. How long had I been asleep?
“There’s water on the end table. Drink it.” His lilting voice washed over me. It poked and prodded, looking for my weak spots. I resisted it through sheer force of will, but I sat up all the same. My back was sore, and my head scrambled. Everything was foggy, as if my mind had been filled with cotton.
I took a sweeping glance of the space and found we were alone in a darkened room. Music played softly, only sounds without words. A grand piano sat untouched at the other side of the room. Its black wood polished and shining beneath the spotlights. I was seated on a long white modern couch. Two matching chairs sat at either end, facing inward. The couch faced the window, but from this vantage point I couldn’t see much.
I reached for the water. The glass was cool against my fingers. I had to resist pressing it against my forehead and instead swallowed it down, hoping it wasn’t poisoned or drugged. It wasn’t like I had many other options. Ronan would either find me, or he wouldn’t.
“How are you feeling?” Lucifer asked, still facing away from me. I found it odd given the madness I’d seen. He didn’t strike me as the type of person to give a shit about others.
“I’ve been worse,” I said, testing my voice. It was hoarse, but the water had helped. “Where am I?” I asked, setting the glass back down.
“We’re still in New Chicago,” Lucifer answered.
I leaned forward, testing my muscles. They felt fine, if not a bit sore. I stood up and walked toward the window. My breath caught in my chest.
“The Underworld?” I said. Below us, stands rose up on all sides. A sandpit sat in the middle of the arena. The walls were stained reddish-brown with blood. More of the substance