When the Dark Wins

Pearl didn’t want pain, she’d known enough in her life. She didn’t want terror, but it was staring her in the face. Swallowing, certain she was going to be ill, she reached for the door handle at her back, and found it frozen.

It would not be moved.

If he was keen to the scrambling of her fingers at her back he said nothing, the gloriously beautiful devil seemingly patient.

Brick it shut, he’d said. She remembered the sounds, the human trying to claw his way out. She remembered what this room truly was.

A crypt to be buried in.

There was no way out.

God did not hear her prayers.

Her tongue tripped, and out of her mouth came the only slice of salvation she could reach. “I’m sorry for my rudeness.”

“And?”

He may have been handsome, but she remembered the monster who’d spoken to her from the throne. It was almost impossible to lean forward and press a kiss to the man’s cheek, certain he would stink like a rotting corpse.

Instead, he smelled of sandalwood and fresh blood.

Something about it made her mouth water and brought a tingle to empty tooth sockets. The tingle became a sharp pinch, two small teeth descending to burst through the gum-line and end as useless points too short to be of any use.

Chuckling, the demon drove her back until her head hit the impenetrable door and his tongue was deep in her mouth. He licked each smear of blood, toying with her stumped fangs as if she’d performed some cute act.

It was less a kiss and more a scouring, the whole time red glowing eyes staring straight into hers.

With one final tongue curled lick, he pulled away, teasing, “Hungry, are you?”

Yes? No. She wasn’t ravenous, not in the ways she remembered. But under the terror, she was hungry for something—something sweet and filling that healed the soul and fattened the flesh.

Something that made it all better.

She wanted that delicious succor as one would pine for a drug. Breaking eye contact, she looked to the stranger’s neck, whining low in her throat and completely lost in unfamiliar need.

Stretching forward, Pearl caught herself inches from setting her useless teeth to the devil’s flesh when it gave a warning tut.

He took her chin, tapping her nose as he counseled. “It is a good thing you stopped yourself this time. Never take what isn’t offered. Though I never allow your mind to cling to the memory, I promise you, it is the worst of punishments I can offer.”

Again her blood went cold. “You make it sound as if I have been here a long time.”

Rolling words full of smoke and brimstone, he asked, “What did I tell you about time? The only time of any worth in your life are the moments you spend with me.”

“How many moments have there been?”

“Not nearly enough.”

What had he done to her in the days she’d lost in this place? What would he do? “And you punish me?”

“When I feel so inclined. But I’m not eager to harm your sweet body tonight.” Turning his back and walking across the room to settle his mass on the edge of the overly large, ornate bed, he said, “This evening I have come to my pet for pleasure. If you please me, I will let you drink your fill. Disappoint my appetites, and I will bring you great pain. For I have no patience for an insolent treasure. Save yourself the torment.” He crooked a finger, calling her forward. “Come here.”

She knew nothing about pleasing men. The men who had used her, had done only that—leaving her sullied and shamed as they’d tucked their cocks away and abandoned her where she’d bled.

It was to be one pain or another.

Pearl could submit now and spare the girl who would wake tomorrow to some unforeseen horror. Or she could refuse, earn the demon’s wrath and know suffering immediately.

She was in hell.