He was silent for a long moment.

“Infernus,” he repeated. “Do we need the infernus?”

“Of course we do.”

“I can pretend to be human. They do not look at me.”

“Last night it was dark and late, and we got lucky. Mythics aren’t as easy to fool as regular humans. All it would take is one of them to realize you’re a demon. We need an infernus so we can pretend you’re contracted. Not only that, but we need it for the mind-reading and the shared magic and—”

“And the command. To make me return to the infernus.”

I forced my jaw to unclench. “That too. It’s useful in a fight.”

He studied me, then pushed up on his hands and knees. As the mattress bounced, I expected him to climb off the bed and stalk away.

His hand flashed out. He grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over—rolled me under him.

I gasped as I landed on my back, his fists braced near my head, his knees on either side of my hips. My heart crashed into my ribs.

His glowing eyes flicked over me, then he dropped onto his elbows and pressed his face against my neck.

“Zylas!” I pushed on his shoulders. “Get off me!”

He didn’t move, his breath hot against my skin. I shoved harder on his shoulders, my lungs heaving as I felt his inconceivable strength. I couldn’t shift him. Couldn’t move him. Couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.

Panic burst through my head, obliterating any remnant of logic. I didn’t have the infernus command. My only slight, temporary power over him was gone, and I was helpless. Trapped. Trapped by a demon.

I hammered my fist into the top of his shoulder. “Zylas!”

He lifted his head—and then he was off me. Off the bed. Standing beside the mattress, towering over me, his expression unreadable. I panted for air, my hands trembling.

“Fear,” he said.

He stretched his hand out. I flinched, but he wasn’t reaching for me. He scooped Socks off the foot of the bed. The small kitten purred happily as he carried her out of the room.

I stared at the empty threshold, his stony expression burned into my mind. Fear, he’d said.

And I remembered his soft, pleased smile from two nights ago. You are not afraid.

I bit hard on the inside of my cheek, tears stinging my eyes and regret heavy in my chest.

Chapter Seventeen

I bounced anxiously from foot to foot. “Amalia, we need to go.”

“I know, I know! It’s just—not—sitting right! Why are you so flexible?”

She shot the accusatory question at Zylas, whom she’d ordered to bend over. He had his hands pressed flat to the floor, and the hem of his jacket had lifted too high, revealing his tail looped around his waist.

The new outfit was an improvement over the baggy sweats and hoodie he’d been wearing before. The loose-fitting pants were stretchy without looking stretchy. His greaves hid beneath them, with one alteration: Zylas had reluctantly sheared the pointed tops off the shin guards so they wouldn’t tear his outer layer. Amalia had even added a loop on the waistband for him to hook the barbs on his tail through.

She tugged fruitlessly at the top’s hem, then allowed him to straighten. The black jacket featured a deep hood and patches of durable leather mixed with angular panels of elastic fabric that wouldn’t hinder his agility.

I pointed at the floor. “You have to put the shoes on.”

He scowled at the pair of brand-new slip-on runners. “They are zh’ūltis.”

“You can kick them off if there’s a fight,” I said impatiently. “We’re already late, so just do it.”

Scowl deepening, he dropped to sit on the floor and picked up a shoe like it was decomposing garbage I’d fished out of a dumpster for him to wear.

Amalia fussily adjusted his hood, then wrung her hands together. “You have the phone?”

I tugged it from my pocket and held it up. My outfit was simpler than Zylas’s—sturdy jeans, sneakers, and my leather jacket over a tank top and sweater. Someday, I would get a full combat outfit.

“I should’ve bought two phones,” Amalia fretted. “How will I know what’s going on? I just have to sit here and hope you two don’t die.”

“We’ll be fine,” I assured her, pretending I wasn’t worried. “We’ll be with Zora.”

Zylas stood up. Amalia fished a pair of reflective sunglasses out of the shopping bags scattered across the sofa and passed them to him. He slid them on his face, hiding his eyes, then tucked his hands in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders.

“Do I look human?” he asked.

I stared at him, my mouth dry. The fitted garments looked surprisingly good, and the reflective sunglasses and hood lent him a vaguely dangerous air. But most shockingly, he really did look human. Against the dark clothing, the reddish tone of his skin had almost disappeared, leaving it a warm russet brown instead.

“The clothes aren’t actually black,” Amalia said, watching my reaction. “The fabrics are a very dark scarlet. Since the color is more saturated than his skin, it tricks the eye into seeing black and brown.”

“Oh,” I stammered. “Wow.”

“Yeah, worked pretty well. Now get going before Zora busts the cult without you.”

I gulped at the reminder of our mission.

Instead of risking a crowded bus, Zylas and I took a cab downtown. Darkness had fallen, but traffic zoomed along the streets. Zylas watched out the window, stiff in his seat. He didn’t seem to like the lurch and heave of the moving vehicle.

As towering skyscrapers surrounded us, I peeked at the text Zora had sent early this evening.

Meet in alley behind Lennox Pub @10pm. Dress to blend in but be prepared for combat.

Amalia and I had begun immediate preparations—mainly, preparing Zylas for exposure to humans. It’d been so much easier when I could carry him around in the infernus.

My gaze flicked to his profile, his eyes hidden behind those reflective sunglasses. Now that he was free of the infernus, he didn’t want me to have power over him again, even such a small power as the recall command.

Fear.

I squashed the memory of his flat voice. This wasn’t the time to worry about the gaping chasm that was yawning wider between us with every passing hour.

The cab dropped us off in front of the Lennox Pub, a narrow restaurant tucked into a building otherwise dominated by a two-story shoe store. For once, we weren’t traipsing through a disreputable neighborhood—and there were pedestrians everywhere, mostly young twenty-somethings celebrating the end of the workweek.

Zylas’s sunglasses got a few strange looks as we followed the sidewalk alongside the pub. The alley was just ahead, and I sped up, drawing in front of Zylas as I mentally prepared an explanation for Zora about why my demon was out of his infernus and dressed like a human. Luckily, she already knew his contract was nonstandard.

I swung around the corner. In the alley, a group of people stood beneath the security light above the pub’s rear door, and I peered past them, expecting Zora to have found a more private spot to wait for me.

Or that’s what I thought until she stepped out of the group, her short blond hair pinned off her face and a long black case slung over her shoulder.