Page 89 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“You already said I’d be poisoned anyway. I’m fine with this. I want a bat, Lucifer, not excuses.”

“If I provide a bat, will you marry me?”

I narrowed my eyes at the proposal, weighed the traditional on bent knee with a ring versus no bent knee, a baseball bat, and carnage, and I found the ring to be rather overrated, although I’d figure out how to get the bastard on his knees at a later time. “Very well. If you provide a baseball bat, I will consent to your general proposal, but I’ll get you on your knees one way or another, even if I have to break your legs with my new bat to make it happen. Make it a good bat, and should I break my new bat on one of their skulls, you’ll have to fix it. It’ll also need space in my trophy room when I’m finished with it, but it must be accessible so I can use it again if needed.”

“I will have a stand installed for your new bat by your desk so it is easily reached, should you need it.” The Devil held out his hand, and bat fashioned of a pale wood materialized and hung in the air until he took hold of it. “As I have conjured a bat for you, you are now secured as my future wife. I will be very upset with you should you get even a single bruise in this venture, so walk lightly and hit hard.”

I took the bat, and the wood’s weight startled me, although I somehow kept my hold on it. The heft would go a long way to making sure I inflicted lethal damage. “What kind of wood is this?”

“The kind that won’t break when you smash it against that fucking asshole’s head. After taking a few moments to consider the situation, I’m rather turned on by your approach to handling this situation. That, plus you’ve given your word you’ll marry me in exchange for that bat. Also, that is what we consider to be a bargain, Mrs. Lucifer.”

“I haven’t married you yet.”

“Ah, but you bargained with me for that bat. Now you have to marry me. It’s a done deal. I just caught you at the ideal moment. But, as a consolation for you having been tricked into bargaining with me, later tonight, I will give you the contents of the box you were drooling over when the waiter brought my receipt.”

I licked my lips. “That was a carry out box, the kind they usually use for desserts. And the desserts were delicious. That box must contain good things. There wasn’t anything bad there. I liked everything.”

The Devil chuckled. “You can enjoy the contents of the box for having been cruelly deceived into marrying me. But should you suffer a single bruise, I will be forced to punish you.”

As I’d already come to the conclusion the Devil’s idea of punishment involved extending my enjoyment of his bed and attention, I debated if I wanted to get a bruise to enjoy being punished or if I would be better rewarded for emerging unscathed.

“This shouldn’t be difficult, my darling.”

I shrugged. “It’s your fault. You talk about punishing me, and the only thing I can think of as a punishment just means I get to enjoy more of you, and well, I have zero evidence you’d actually punish me, because you’ll make me like it. I’m not sure if I’m rewarded better for being bruised or emerging unscathed. This is a real problem.”

The Devil’s brows furrowed, and after a moment, he also shrugged. “You’re right. That was really an unfair choice to give you. Your punishment, should you become bruised, will involve being taken to bed, tucked in, and I will restrain myself from enjoying your person for at least a few days as a reminder of why you should take care and avoid becoming bruised. How long does it take for you to heal a bruise? Obviously, I’ll have to withhold any strenuous activities until your bruise heals.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “That’s not a punishment. That’s just cruel.”

“Well, I am the Devil. I have an entire arsenal of cruel and unusual ways to punish people. And, of course, because I am who I am, I will very much enjoy your general frustrations, knowing I am the object of your desire. Absolutely delicious. I’ll be examining you closely for bruises, so do be careful. It would be absolutely a shame if I needed to pamper you until you heal. I might even have to do so while forgetting to put my shirt on.”

His commentary didn’t help me come to a decision about whether I wanted to be rewarded or punished. I firmed my grip on my bat, whirled out of his hold, and marched in the direction of my unknowing prey, as I needed to unload a great deal of hurt in as little time as possible so I could get to the reward or punishment stage of my day.

What could I say? I was a simple woman with simple needs.

I caught the quartet by surprise, and I went for the general source of my frustration with a hiss, my tail fluffed and my ears turned back. As dead men couldn’t bruise me, I went for Gallo like I meant it, wound up like my daddy had taught me as a little girl, and treated his head like a ball. To my disappointment, I lacked the physical strength required to knock his asshole head clear off, but he dropped like a rock, sprayed a satisfying amount of blood, and twitched and convulsed on the ground.

One down, two to go, and the jury was still out on the last one of the lot.

One of Gallo’s buddies threw a glass vial in my face, which broke on my hard head and covered me with white powder.

“And that would be the poison,” the Devil announced, striding up without a care in the world.

What an asshole, but he was a very handsome asshole, and I would view him as my reward for doing a good deed in a rather evil way. “Thank you, but I had that figured out on my own.” As I interpreted poison to the face as a damned good excuse to continue my murder spree, I held my bat in my right hand, flexed my left hand, and transformed enough to give myself a nice set of sharp claws, perfect for tearing apart idiots who thought they could interfere with my family.

I made it half a step before the Devil caught me around the waist, picked me up, and pinned me against him. I howled my fury over his intervention, and as I couldn’t reach the fuckers to beat the life out of them, I kicked my shoes off in their general direction, missing with both of them. When that failed to rid the poor Earth of their filth, I flung my bat, which they also dodged.

“You have a piece of glass sticking out of your head, my darling. And while I do quite love unicorns, I do not wish for my wife to imitate them using broken glass. I’m afraid this goes beyond mere bruising.”

“If it doesn’t bruise it doesn’t count.”

“It will bruise spectacularly. You have the broken ruins of a glass vial sticking out of your forehead. You’re also doused in poison.”

“Look, we already talked about this. They were going to kill my brother.”

“Yes, yes, my darling, they were. Your brother is fine. You’re not fine. You’re imitating a unicorn when you should not be imitating a unicorn.”

“Why are you stopping me from murdering them? You’re being an asshole. Let me down so I can finish what I started.”