Blue stands and closes the distance between us in a flash. “What did you do to her?”
My mind buzzes. Is this right? Should I tell Aspen the deal’s off?
I look at her again, and she nods. It’s like she knows what’s going through my head and is trying to assure me it’s all right. I pull in a long breath. “I didn’t do anything, Blue. Everything is fine.”
“Bullshit. I’m tired of all the secrets.” He points at Valery. “You carry some” —he jabs a finger into my chest— “and you carry some. And Kraven holds the rest. I’m tired of it. All of you say no more secrets, but there are always more.”
I’ve never seen Blue’s face so red. His head looks like an oversized strawberry. I move to squeeze his shoulder, but he bats my hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarls. “You make everyone’s life worse, Dante. You infect everyone around you, and I don’t want your disease.” Blue stomps toward the hallway as I try to breathe again. Because what he just said hurt worse than any siren’s blow.
As he edges through the doorway, he passes Annabelle, Max, and Charlie coming in. Charlie takes one look at my face and rushes forward.
“Are you all right?” She wraps an arm around my waist, lets her fingers slide just beneath my waistband. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I’m fine.” I press my lips against the top of her head.
Annabelle sits across from Aspen, and Max gawks at Valery’s chest. “Hey, babe,” he says to her. “I didn’t know where you went.”
A blush creeps over her cheeks. “You can’t call me that.”
“What, babe?”
She tries to look serious but can’t help smiling when he waggles his eyebrows at her.
“What’s going on with you two?” Annabelle asks.
“Everything,” Max answers, moving toward Red.
“Nothing,” Valery says, stepping back.
Annabelle crosses her legs and combs her fingers through her chin-length hair. “Looks to me like Valery’s playing hard to get. Better not play too hard, or Max may go hunting elsewhere.”
Valery’s head jerks toward Anna. “What the hell do you know, Annabelle? You’re lucky you’re even here. I would’ve left you in Peachville if Dante hadn’t insisted you come.”
Annabelle gets up and acts like she’s cranking something next to her hand. Her middle finger reels upward with each crank.
I’d laugh if there weren’t so many hurt feelings rolling around here today. It’s like we’re a walking advertisement for anger management.
As Annabelle exits the room, waving her middle finger over her head like a flag, Charlie starts to go after her. I reach out and tug her back against me.
“Don’t go,” I say. “Please.”
Charlie’s brow furrows like she’s not sure what to do. So I make the decision easier. Cupping the back of her head, I yank her closer until our mouths connect. Her lips move slowly at first, like her mind is elsewhere—probably with Annabelle. But soon enough she collapses against me, her fingers climbing up my back.
“Ew,” Max says. “I wouldn’t want to kiss that mouth. Who knows where it’s been?”
Charlie breaks away like she’s forgotten there was anyone else here. “I’ll have you know I brush twice a day.”
Max laughs at that, then looks at Valery. Red is working her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s already wondering how to fix things with Annabelle. She sits across from Aspen, who’s lost in thought again.
“She’ll come back and I’ll talk to her,” Valery says, as if we asked.
A couple of hours later, Charlie is spooning tomato basil soup into my mouth, though I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. Every once in a while she looks at the door. I know she’s hoping Annabelle will come back like Blue finally did.
Blue stays in the lounge area out of sight, and I’m fine with that. I don’t want to see him any more than he wants to see me. Charlie tries twice to go after Annabelle, but Aspen talks her out of it. She insists we’ve been in close quarters for too long. That we could all do with a little space. Each time, Charlie caves. But I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist searching for her best friend.
My knee jerks nervously beneath the covers. Three days, three nights, and then we descend into hell. In the back of my mind, I hear a low whistling noise, the distinct sound only a demon makes. It’s a noise Aspen and I will have to avoid hearing at all costs.
Charlie lays a hand on my knee. “You’re going to spill your soup.”
What I don’t say is that I don’t want soup. Who even eats soup for dinner? Senior citizens and runway models, maybe. But me? I need a good slab of steak and a baked potato. Hold the vegetables. Hold the garnish. Just bring me the rib-sticking shit.
The next time Charlie airplanes another spoonful of tomato grossness my way, I turn my head. Then I take the bowl from her and set it aside. The chatter from the lounge area dies until I’m certain everyone has crept off to bed.
Three days.
Three nights.
I wish I could spend every second of both with her.
There’s only one thing I know of that will take my mind off what I’m going to do for Charlie, and that’s Charlie herself. Every last part of her. I tug off the covers, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and guide her so that she stands between my knees.
My gaze meets her wide blue eyes, and I tell her, “I want you. Now.”
33 
Crimson Angel
I lift the hem of Charlie’s shirt and press my lips to her bare stomach. Her head falls back, and her hair tickles my hands. I trail my way up her torso, slowly rising to my feet. When I’m standing over her, I stop and cup her face in my hands.
The last time Charlie and I were together, she was the one who took the lead. She showed me where she wanted to be kissed, how she wanted to be touched. But the thought of leaving Charlie, of knowing I may never make it back, makes me crave control.
I push my body against Charlie’s until she’s forced to walk backward. She releases a cry of surprise when her back hits the wall. I silence her with a kiss that borders on forceful. I listen for any sound that tells me she doesn’t want it this way, but there’s nothing to be heard.
My hands find her wrists. I pin them over her head and slide my other hand lower. Leaning forward, I kiss her neck. Then I bite the delicate skin there, soft at first, then much harder. Beneath my lips, I feel her throat vibrate with a small whimper.
“Tell me you want me,” I say, my voice deep with lust.
Charlie is quick to respond. “I want you.”
I spin her around so that her stomach pushes against the wall. My hand releases her wrists, and she reaches back to grab onto my thighs. I press against her harder, my hips connecting with her soft frame. My body swallows hers so easily.
“Take off your shirt,” I command.
I give her only a few seconds before I make my next request. “Your jeans.”
She does as I ask, her breath coming faster.
When she’s stepped out of her jeans, she tries to turn and face me, but I keep her pinned there, my abs pressed against her back. My hands twitch, waiting to be released, and when I can’t stand it another moment, I give them what they want. My fingers slide across every surface of her body until we’re both aching to be together.
I step away and wrap my arm around her upper waist. My other arm circles beneath her legs, and I’m carrying her to the bed.
My lips never stray from her skin.
…
When I wake in the middle of the night, my chest is damp with sweat. I’d been dreaming about hell, about a blade biting into the flesh on my left arm and the clicking of demon nails. And about the devil’s favorite torture devices, most of which include ice.