Page 124 of Knight’s Retribution

Kyler went cold. In his twisted mind, he truly believed she could love him. He’d tortured and abused her, taken her from her life and trapped her in this room. He repulsed her. He terrified her. Diemos would never get her heart. God, she hated him with everything in her.

She would never give any part of herself to him freely. Never. This place would freeze over before that ever happened.

“Answer me,” he said, some of that steel back in his voice. His fingers curled around her throat, and he applied pressure. His skin was cold, always so cold.

“Yes, Diemos.” If she didn’t want to spend the day being punished, she had to tell him what he wanted to hear.

He smiled, flashing his pointed teeth, and the hardness slipped from his gaze. “That’s right.” His grip loosened, and he slid his fingers along her jaw. “This may be Hell, my darling, but it doesn’t have to be that for you.” He smiled again, genuine, actual sincerity in his gaze, or at least that’s what he wanted her to see—he looked maniacal. “I think… I think you could grow to love me, Kyler. The way you did that knight. I’ve been gentle with you, and I will continue to do so, but you have to try.” He gripped her face in both hands, the hold tight, desperate. “Will you try, my darling? I want to give you everything. You’ll be my queen, but…” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You need to forget your old life, you need to forget him,” he said, the last word a snarl.

“I promise…I’m trying,” she said, again telling him what he wanted, needed to hear. Lying through her teeth. Because she would never forget Rocco. Never.

He sucked in a ragged breath, his fingers sliding around her throat again. “That’s all I ask. Now, I have business to attend to, but Taren will be just beyond the door. Remember, there is nowhere in Hell that I cannot reach.” Then with another firm squeeze of her throat, a silent warning not to cross him, he released her and climbed out of bed.

His gaze stayed on her as he dressed, then finally left, leaving her in his chambers alone to stare at the walls—walls that glistened with the blood of tortured souls.

Kyler scrambled out of bed as soon as she heard the lock clicking into place and walked to the end of the room and back on shaky legs, her muscles weak from lack of use. She kept it up, walking back and forth, trying to work her muscles the best she could in the limited space, the limited time. It had been at least a week since she’d been allowed out of bed, and she was paying for it now. She’d always been naturally sturdy, strong, and she hated this fragile feeling. It wasn’t her.

Her thigh muscles felt warmer, and she attempted a squat…and stumbled sideways, tripping over. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself back up and did it again, using a table as a support, and could barely get back to a standing position.

Why the hell are you bothering? No one is coming for you, no one can help you.

She didn’t know how long she’d been in Hell, but no one besides Scarlet had offered her help. And as much as she wanted to take up the other female’s offer, there was no use. Diemos would find them both, and he would drag Kyler back. Scarlet would pay with her life.

The door opened, and she spun around and almost toppled over a second time. She grabbed for the table again, catching herself before her legs could give out.

Taren, Diemos’s lieutenant, walked in, his black eyes skimming her naked body. “Food,” he bit out and dumped a tray onto the table she was grasping. When she said nothing, he stepped closer, invading her space. “What do you say?”

She wanted to claw the fucker’s face off. Instead, she lowered her gaze. “Thank you.”

“Who are you thanking?” he asked huskily.

“Thank you, Taren,” she forced past dry lips.

His fingers were cool like Diemos’s as they grazed her shoulder and grabbed a hunk of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “I haven’t seen you upright in a while.” He lifted her hair, sniffing it. “Mmm, I like the way you smell—a little bit demon, a little bit human.” He licked his lips and his gaze dipped to the apex of her thighs. “Good enough to eat.” He gave her hair another tug. “All this dark hair…perfect to wrap around my fist when I hold you down. It’s grown since I brought you here.”

Kyler said nothing, and she also refused to cover her body. He wanted her to feel small, vulnerable, and she wouldn’t give him that.

“Do you think of that day?” he asked. “Do you remember the look on the knight’s face when I had hold of you. You know Rocco can’t save you, don’t you? You know knights can’t enter Hell and live, don’t you, Kyler?”

Yes, she knew. Taren told her regularly, took pleasure in it. Rocco wasn’t a construction worker like he’d told her. He was a Knight of Hell, a demon hunter. And Taren, the asshole, fed off her pain at the mention of him.

“Do you think he’s pining for you, too? Or do you think he’s gone back to fucking anything that moves?”

She didn’t answer. It would only anger him more. God, the mention of Rocco cut her to the quick. Especially after the way Diemos had been toying with her, again. It’d felt real. It always felt so real. Like he truly was right there with her.

But the only time she really felt him was while she slept. In her dreams. Then she’d wake and Diemos would be wearing his face, and it would all get twisted in her mind, in her heart. And every time it happened, she broke just a little more.

Taren pulled something from his pocket, a stone, a wide, flat slab of glossy onyx.

He waved it in front of her face. “Would you like to see him, Kyler? Your love? I can show him to you.”

She was desperate for even the smallest glimpse of him, but it was a trick or there was a catch. There had to be. “No,” she said, shaking her head and stepping back.

He grabbed her arm, not letting her escape, and held the stone out. The surface rippled, and he muttered several words in a language she didn’t understand—

A picture appeared on the stone’s surface. The bar where she used to work, where she’d met Rocco the first time.

She sucked in a breath.