The inky intonation drove spikes into Halál’s skin. As the prickle deepened, his attention split. One eye on the viper, he pivoted toward the hearth. Fire roared, exploding from the opening. The flamed tongue licked into the room. Ravenous heat rolled into the chamber like venomous swill, filling his lungs so full he couldn’t breathe. Eyes watering, choking on the acrid smell, awareness struck. He recognized the scent. Had encountered it once before . . . years ago when he’d met the High Priestess of Orm and borne witness to her powerful spells.
Black magic. The calling card of evil incarnate.
“The dark one.” Halál coughed, fighting for each breath in the smoky air. “Prince of Shadows.”
“Very good, assassin.”
Stance set, physical discomfort fading, Halál raised his fists. “Show yourself.”
“Unafraid, human?” A menacing hiss spilled out of the fire. “Then I have chosen well.”
Inferno-like heat crept over the hearthstone and across the floor, billowing over the tops of his bare feet. Cinders stirred in the fireplace. Two footprints became visible in the coals. Halál took an involuntary step backward as the blaze twisted into a tornado and . . .
The silhouette of a man appeared in the flames.
Boots planted in the fiery pit, the beast opened his eyes. Twin irises the hue of orange flames, the dark one met his gaze. Shock hit Halál like a mailed fist, causing his muscles to clench as surprise settled into something more. Awe. Fascination. Glory and fear. The powerful emotions mingled, sharpening his senses. Intuition stirred, and the truth struck home. Strange as it seemed, the Prince of Shadows—god of the demon realm—wanted a word. Anticipation streaked through him, making his skin tingle. Halál drew a deep breath. Incredible. His night had just gone from mundane to extraordinary.
Lucky him.
He had so many questions. Had been studying the occult for years. The bookshelves in his library, crammed full of texts on the subject, proved his obsession. Bowing his head, Halál forced his stiff muscles to bend. Pain tore at his knee joints. Ignoring the creak of his old bones, he knelt on the hard floor. “My lord . . . welcome.”
The Prince of Shadows said nothing.
Without mercy, the silence expanded, beating against Halál’s temples. He frowned, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. By all accounts, the dark one lacked patience along with any semblance of peace. Mayhap he shouldn’t be kneeling. Mayhap the malevolent force standing inside Grey Keep wanted him to fight instead. Mayhap he’d just ruined all chance of gaining the Prince of Shadows’ favor by—
“Come,” the dark one said, speaking to the snake as he stepped over the grate and out of the fireplace. His fiery feet touched down on the hearthstone. Power rolled into the chamber on a violent gust of wind. Halál flinched, heart thumping hard. The fire went out and smoke billowed, rising in a wave over the Prince of Shadows’ shoulders. Flame-orange gaze riveted to him, the dark one held out his hand, and with a flick of his fingertips, gestured to the viper coiled beneath Halál’s bed. “Come to me, Beauty.”
The viper obeyed.
Muscles rippling along her sleek sides, she slithered around Halál to reach the devil. Laying her head in his open palm, she accepted the dark one’s touch without coaxing, curling around his forearm, caressing his skin with her scales. The sign of affection rubbed Halál the wrong way. He clenched his teeth. Lucifer save him, the viper was his pet. His love. His to care for, not the devil’s. And yet, she’d betrayed him without a moment’s hesitation. Fisting his hands, he smothered his ire and smoothed his expression. Rebuking the Prince of Shadows was not the smart play to make. Not if he wanted to survive long enough to discover the reason behind his midnight visit.
The dark one stroked the underside of Beauty’s chin. “Jealous, assassin?”
“You come into my house and steal what is mine.” Refusing to show weakness, Halál squared his shoulders and looked the beast in the eye. “’Tis not jealousy I feel.”
“Rage, then.” Approval sparked in the deity’s eyes. “An excellent emotion.”
“If wielded properly.”
The dark one laughed. “True enough, Halál.”
“You know my name?”
“Of course. I know all about you.”
“Then you will understand Beauty’s importance to me.” Family. Comfort. The viper represented both. So nay, her theft—no matter the power of the perpetrator—couldn’t go unchallenged. Bones aching, Halál shifted his weight from one knee to the other, trying to alleviate the pressure. “I would like her returned.”
“Careful, human.” The Prince of Shadow bared his teeth on a snarl. Fire flared in response, roaring out of the hearth toward the ceiling. The large candles sitting on the mantelpiece melted. Wax spilled in rivulets over limestone, splattering the floor as the mantel grew black with soot. Petting the viper, the Prince of Shadows approached Halál, crossing the chamber on silent feet. The flames in his eyes grew wilder, cannibalizing his dark pupils. “Your temper does not impress me.”
“Be that as it may, my lord, I—”
“Call me Armand,” he said, stroking Beauty yet again. “And if you agree to my proposition . . . master.”
A frisson of excitement shot through Halál.
“On your feet, assassin.”
Swallowing past the knot in his throat, he obeyed and, ignoring the pain, pushed to his feet. Armand stepped in close. Halál tensed, but remained unmoving, trying to guess his game. It didn’t help. His opponent gave nothing away. No sign of what he wanted. Even less of what he intended. Halál’s eyes narrowed. The dark one growled, and with a quickness that defied reason, grabbed him by the throat. Armand squeezed. Halál’s windpipe contracted under the pressure. Beauty hissed. Wrapping both hands around the deity’s wrist, he struggled to retreat. But as the call to self-preservation sparked in his mind, his body failed to obey. Immobilized by black magic, he stood helpless in the face of power.
With a hum, Armand tightened his grip. “Agree to serve me, assassin.”
Halál shook his head. “I am my own master.”
“Have it your way.”
Satisfaction in his fiery eyes, Armand murmured a command. Beauty rose, horned head angled with deadly intent. Halál moaned as her fangs sank into the side of his neck. The air left his lungs. Pleasure rose on an ecstasy-filled wave. He’d waited so long . . . too damned long to feel her fangs pierce his flesh. All the months spent in yearning, desperate to savor the bliss of her bite. And as she delivered her venom, delight took him to a place he’d never visited before . . .
Paradise.
“Heaven, is it not?” Armand asked, amusement in each syllable.
Halál shuddered, the murmur adding to the thick rush of euphoria.
“To bed, Beauty.” His fingertips circling the puncture holes on Halál’s throat, Armand lowered his arm and released the viper. She slid to the floor and slithered toward her cage. Once inside, she coiled her long length, pale eyes ever watchful, and laid her horned head on her thick body. The dark one flicked his fingers. The cage door swung closed and locked with a click. “Now, assassin, time to choose. Death by viper venom . . . or life with me.”
Desperate to prolong the pleasure as long as possible, Halál shook his head.
Armand tightened his grip. “Your answer, assassin.”
“Aye . . . with conditions.”
“A worthy opponent. I have indeed chosen well.” Mouth curved, Armand leaned closer. The tip of his nose an inch from Halál’s, he gave life to temptation with a whisper. “Agree, assassin, and I will give you gifts beyond measure. All the things you crave. Strength. The power to command black magic, along with the promise of eternal youth. Imagine all you could accomplish with immortality, Halál. To cheat death . . . how divine.”