"Come on, little witch. You're only prolonging the inevitable. We're going to have you one way... or the other..."
***
There are some rules you don't break
when it comes to the supernatural.
1. Don't be an idiot.
2. Don't make deals with Demons...
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The Trickster
I now stood with the others. Malachi paced back and forth with his finger between his teeth. The man was stressed. I couldn't blame him.
This witch had him on the ropes.
"I need her to give my heart back," he said, keeping his voice low.
"The good news is that it wasn't lost in the fire," I sighed. "I think with the right push, we could get her to open up."
Malachi narrowed his eyes. "What did you have in mind," he asked grimly.
I laughed quietly. "It's obvious," I smirked. "You have to give her a grand romantic gesture."
Samael choked on a laugh and Des just gave a low whistle.
Malachi's face flattened. "You've got to be shitting me," he deadpanned. "I'm not in the business of grand romantic gestures."
It seemed like cutting out his own heart and sending it in a pretty box wasn't a romantic gesture to him.
"Well better start," I shrugged. "No time like the present."
I had never seen Mal's face get so red and I wasn't entirely sure it was rage. His only tell that this was indeed a blush was the way he averted his gaze just ever so slightly.
He was bred for power and absolute control over his domain— not for sweeping women off their feet.
Though he was popular among the succubi back in the Seventh, and definitely drew some female eyes up here, Malachi was used to simply flashing a smile and watching panties drop.
He could've gotten away with anything with a single glance. I knew he thought that shit would slide with the witch.
Nope.
I almost wanted to high five the girl. Somebody had to keep this asshole in check. As his second, that was technically my job. But after years of telling him to knock it off and take it down a notch, the bastard became nearly immune to any and all of my attempts to reign in his ego.
Malachi smoothed back his hair with a heavy sigh.
"I was able to push back the fire some," he said finally. "Her room was the only one untouched."
I didn't even want to bother mentioning how pissed I was that he had stayed behind. Forgive me for being a killjoy, but no object was worth the life of the one who had given me purpose.
"Why don't we move her in," I shrugged. "Properly."
He thought about it for a moment.
"Fine. I'll—"
"No," I said, cutting him off again. "We'll go to the house and gather her things. We're also going to keep tabs on the boyfriend."
Sam perked. "Hell yea," he said with a low deviant laugh.
