“A curse that requires you to feed off sex.”

He sighed and threw himself onto his bed. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the canopy of the four-poster bed. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. Now, if you want to get naked and into my bed, then that’s an offer I’ll take. Otherwise, I’m no longer on Fee duty.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. That much was obvious, and I didn’t need my special ability to pick up that he was in pain right now.

“Look, I know we bitch at each other all the time, but … I’m here for you, Mal. If you want to talk about … anything.”

He closed his eyes. I guess I was dismissed.

I left him to his thoughts and his curse and headed back to my room. Tomorrow was more training, and I’d have to face Kiara, and then there was my weekly trip to Deadside. Okay, that was a bright spot because Aunt Lara would be there. If only Azazel wasn’t my escort.

My hand went to the mark on my chest. Hurry up and fade already, dammit.

Chapter Eight

Azazel was already in the training room, punching the shit out of a bag when I got there. My eyes almost bugged out of my head at his shirtless torso. Mother of caramel-centered chocolate bites, the man was a fucking tank. A hot, muscled, tight-assed tank with silver flowing hair and … Shit, his silver eyes were fixed on me.

Yeah, today was an I-see-you-normally day, and he didn’t look too pleased.

“You look like shit,” he said.

And you look epic was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the words. “Is that any way to speak to a lady?”

He snorted as if to say, you’re no lady. But I let it slide. This was Azazel, and banter was not his forte. Beating shit up and glaring were his go-to modes.

I wrapped my knuckles with bandages and bounced on my toes to limber up. “I am so ready today.”

“You look tired.”

“I didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

“Why?”

“Bad dreams.”

He was silent for a long time. “Eliana tea helps.”

My ears perked up. “Is that an herb?”

He grunted. “Hand-to-hand.”

“Seriously? Again? Can’t we work on dagger stuff?”

We’d done a week on how to use my dagger, and the rest of the time, he’d had me running laps, doing pull-ups and push-ups, lugging weights, leaping around the room, or hand-to-hand.

“Hand-to-hand,” he growled. “Can’t always rely on weapons.”

“Fine.”

I fell into a defensive stance, and he sighed heavily. “I’m bigger and heavier than you; if you wait for me to attack you, you will fall.”

“So … You want me to attack you?” I stared at him incredulously.

“No, Fee. I want you to run.”

“Away from you?” Okay, that sounded a little cowardly but also practical.

He crossed his arms under his glorious pectorals. “Look around you. Know your surroundings. Know what you can use to your advantage. When faced with a larger, stronger opponent, the goal is to survive. Maim if possible, kill if you have a clear shot, but survive first.”

His words clicked in my mind. I scanned the room, the beams, and the mats, the ropes dangling from the ceiling, and the weights piled in the corner on a rack. Everything came together in my mind.

Azazel charged, and I ran. I grabbed the nearest rope and used it to propel myself onto the beam. I ran along it, then leaped for the other rope and swung in an arc, back around toward him, bringing my leg out to connect with his head.

He staggered back a step.

“Yes!”

He grabbed my ankle and pulled.

Thank God for the bandages on my hands. Otherwise, the rope would have skinned my palms, and then I was slamming into his chest. He threw me onto the nearest mat.

The breath catapulted out of my lungs. “Father of fleas.” I wheezed and coughed. “I almost had you.”

“Almost isn’t good enough.”

He stood over me, looking down his aquiline nose at me, and I swear there was a hint of smugness in the slight curl to the corner of his mouth. I was tempted to drop my shields and read him, but Azazel was the master of shielding. Besides, what if he dropped his shields too and read me? What if he picked up on the mark somehow?

His chest heaved, and he held out a hand to help me up. In that moment, his body was relaxed and unguarded. I bit back my smirk as I took his hand and yanked. Hard.

I expected him to stumble a little, lose the smug look on his face or something, but I’d underestimated my strength and how unguarded he was because he fell right on top of me.

He braced himself in time to avoid squishing me under his massive frame, but not enough to prevent our legs from tangling. His thigh was between mine, thick, muscular, and all too intimate. I met his stormy silver gaze, catching my reflection in his dilating pupils.

For a moment, our bodies were locked; he was raised on elbows either side of me while our breath mingled. The mark on my chest tingled, and heat rushed from the tips of my toes to my head, exiting in a soft exhale that kissed his lips. His lips. I couldn’t tear my gaze from his lips.

He shifted, so his thigh brushed against my crotch, and then something hard as steel rubbed against me.

He was aroused.

Holy mother of orgasms.

I was instantly wet. His nostrils flared, and then he was off me so fast I honestly thought I’d imagined the whole encounter.

He looked down at me with an expression that was almost murderous. “We leave for Deadside at midday.”

And then he was gone.

Way to rub up a girl and leave.

I zipped up my boots, tucked a tiny blade into the special sheath built into them, and then shrugged on my coat, ready for the flight with Azazel.

Azazel … My hand went to the spot on my chest where the soul mark was back in full force again. What the fuck was going on? It had been fading, and now it was getting darker.

“Is today the day?” Cyril asked.

My stomach bubbled with excitement and anxiety. “Yep. I’ll be collecting and delivering.”

“As well as staying the night,” Cora said from the window seat. She closed the book she was reading.

“It’s got to be done.”

She hadn’t asked to come with me; after all, it was Deadside, where ghosts went to pass over for good. Deadside needed its Dominus. I wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but we were connected now, and Dayna explained that the more time I spent in my house there, the stronger that connection would become.

I could do with some extra strength right now. Heroes got trained too fast in the movies, going from unable to throw a punch to martial arts experts with katanas in the blink of an eye. Yeah, real life wasn’t like that. It was sore muscles, bruises, and torn ligaments. Over the past month, I’d had them all, and there were probably a whole lot more in my future, but there was no denying that it was getting easier. That my body was becoming more powerful. The scythe came easily now, the dagger fit snugly in my hand, and I didn’t need to think as hard before making a move. Instinct was kicking in. An instinct that came with being a Dominus, with being a demon.

“The Beyond.” Cora shuddered, pulling me back to the conversation. “Nope. Hard pass for me.”

Being here in the Underealm was good for her. She was able to take solid form more often just by siphoning energy from the air, and I knew how much that meant to her. It would never be the same as being alive, but it was better than being incorporeal all the time.

Still, this wasn’t a life. This wasn’t even the afterlife, and I wanted more for her. “Would it be so bad to move on?”

She looked up at me sharply. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Now that you have your Dominus gig and your new friends. Are you going to hang out with Dayna tonight?”

She wasn’t playing, there was real hurt and a little venom in her tone. For the first time since I’d known her, a frisson of fear shot through me. I’d heard of spirits that turned nasty when they didn’t get what they wanted, that grew bitter and angry for being earthbound, but this was Cora. She was a good person. My best friend. And being here was her choice.

“Cor, you know that’s not true. I fucking love you. I just want you to be happy. I want what’s best for you.”

“And being here with you is what’s best,” Cor said. She ducked her head, and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what happens if I leave.”

I didn’t have an answer because all we did was deliver the souls. The rest was conjecture. The Beyond was a mystery. Cor had never undertaken the assessment for placement at Soul Savers. I’d gotten her a job, and that had been that.

“Fine. I won’t bring it up again.” I tucked my braid into the back of my coat. “We’ll do something fun when I get back. Ooh, we can take a trip to the market to that tavern you’re always telling me about.”

“Really?” She perked up. “Oh, God, you’re going to love it. It’s like something out of one of those medieval shows.”

“We can take Cyril.”

“Will there be ratssss?” he asked. “I’m beginning to tire of Iza’s diet of dead mice. No fun if they’re not squirming.”

“They have rats!” Cora said with a grin. “Huge fucking rats.”

“Count me in,” Cyril said.

“Awesome. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” they echoed.

I headed out into the corridor, mind on the prize. Azazel would be waiting. The Dominus was punctual to a fault. My stomach trembled because I was going to meet my reapers—the demons who collected the souls I’d now take to the Beyond. But that wasn’t the only reason for my tummy flutters. The other reason was waiting for me at the pinnacle. He didn’t carry me like Mal. He cradled me to his chest like a gentle lover, although there was nothing lover-like about Azazel. The demon was a cold monolith of muscle.