Eyes alight with the thrill of violence, Paimon leaned forward, her power stirring the air as she manipulated him through the brands. Beneath all that leather armor, a mark nearly identical to his graced the center of her chest, giving her complete control over him.
His life, his whereabouts, his liberty—even his heartbeat belonged to her.
Oh, how he loathed her. He hated her so much, it made his stagnant blood boil with rage. But it was a useless emotion because there was nothing he could do against her.
He was weak. He was powerless.
Sometimes he truly longed for death rather than to remain her slave for even a moment longer. Now was one of those times. After tasting freedom on Earth and breathing Lily’s scent, he wished to die rather than endure another minute of this cursed life.
An involuntary gasp tore from him as Paimon released control of his heart and it lurched back to life. Coughing, light-headed from the sudden influx of oxygenated blood, he tipped forward onto his hands.
His head hung, his hair falling over his face to hide his murderous expression. His wings draped limply over his back onto the cold stone floor.
“I’ll ask again, Mishetsu. Where have you been?”
Was this it, then? Did she plan to torture him until he told her the truth?
Then she will torture me for all eternity.
No matter what horrors she did unto him, he could not betray Belial and the others because of the blood contract that prevented him from revealing their location or Eva’s existence.
He was glad he had agreed to it now. It meant he could let go of his sanity to survive the agony without fear of violating the agreement.
No matter what happened, he would not break.
“Hunting…” he hissed, his heart still stuttering painfully back to life. “My… targets—”
It seized again.
His spine arched from the pain. His lungs fought to work, his blood burned in his brain, his body felt as though it might rupture.
Again, she released him. And again, he swayed, but he used every ounce of strength he possessed to remain on his hands and knees.
He would not lie prostrate before her until he was fully unconscious. This newfound pride had suddenly become the only thing giving his life meaning, and he clung to it.
Paimon’s power flared, the dark scent tainting the air as she activated the next set of brands. Manacles formed on his wrists, directly over the tattoo-like bands, a heavy length of chain between them.
The manacles were adhered directly to his skin, and there was no way to remove them without her magic. They also bound his ability to turn to mist—there would be no escape that way. He’d tried severing his hands at the forearm before, and though he was freed for a time, as soon as his limbs regenerated, the cuffs reappeared.
The links between the manacles joined a longer chain in the center that led directly to Paimon’s outstretched hands. She gave that length a powerful yank, pulling his arms out from under him, dislodging his balance and forcing him to fall forward.
She smiled as he struggled back to his hands and knees, only to be jerked flat to the ground yet again.
“Keep going, Mishetsu. I can do this for hours.”
She stopped his heart again, his breath rattling out like the wheezes of a dying man, and then restarted it. This time he blacked out, toppling over, only to climb back to his hands and knees as soon as he regained consciousness. His hair hung in his eyes, but he had no strength to brush it aside and welcomed the curtain blocking Paimon from view anyway.
“Tell me where you were, where youreallywere, and this ends now. I’ll let you go right back to hunting like nothing ever happened. All you have to do is tell me the truth.”
“I’m telling… the truth.”
“Did you forget who your mistress is? Do you think I can’t recognize a lie when I hear it? You’d have better luck fighting off my hungry goraths in the Pit. Which is exactly where you’re headed if you don’t start talking.”
So his fate was to be devoured by monsters before an audience, over and over again until Paimon chose to have mercy on him. Which could be never. Because she wasn’t capable of it.
“I’ll pull your half-digested carcass out when I need you to hunt again.” She cocked her head. “Or not.”
* * *
