How had she gotten this far from Graven? He spotted her in the distance. Still alive!

She was running full bore, her feet barely touching the ground, her legs a blur. She headed toward several traps.

“Calliope, STOP!”

She slowed, searching the night for him. She gazed up and turned to face him. Whatever she saw in his appearance made her raise her brows. She tensed to run again.

If he traced after her, he would lose sight of her for a precious instant. By the time he’d reached her last position, she could have already raced away.

“There are traps all around you,” he called. “Bottomless pits and quicksand bogs. If you come with me now, I’ll give you your freedom.”

“Right,” she called back, her sarcasm carrying. “I’m going to believe that.”

“You’ll come with me, or you’ll die out here tonight.”

She smiled at him. “I’ve never felt more alive. And I’ve got things to do.”

He held up his palms. “Calliope, I am asking you to return with me.”

“Are you inviting me?”

“Yes!”

“Consider this my RSVP.” She raised her middle finger.

He had tried to bargain with her. His only other option: threats. “If you don’t stop where you are, I will—”

“Get fucked, Abyssian,” she interrupted.

“Godsdamn it, this isn’t a game!”

“Then why is it so fun?” She blew him a kiss and charged away.

He traced to a point ahead of her on the path, but she’d already blown past him. He pivoted and trailed her through the brush.

How had she escaped? The castle might have helped her. If so, he could never let her out of his sight again—unless he could figure out some way to keep her in hell of her own volition. Sensing a trap ahead, he yelled, “There’s a pitfall!”

A split second later, she teetered along the edge. “Abyssian!” she screamed, her arms pinwheeling. “Help me!”

He traced, diving for her. If I don’t reach her . . . He materialized in midair. Frowned.

She was gone; to the sound of her laughter, he shot headfirst into the pit.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Sucker!” The trickster had fallen for such an old trick?

Somehow sensing exactly where to place her feet, Lila continued on. The flowers and ferns gave way to spindly trees, and she neared a dark wall of some kind.

No, not a wall. Moonrakers: enormous trees often found in demon dimensions.

She raced into the murky forest, gaping at the size of the trunks. They made redwoods look like twigs. Face raised, she spun as she ran. The leaves were silver, the bark as black as Abyssian’s eyes.

Reminded of his pursuit, she increased her pace. Light cascaded from a clearing ahead. What would hell show her next? She burst into the clearing and stopped short.

In a silver-grass glen, a cascade of . . . gold flowed. An illuminated goldfall.

Molten ore—the same shade as her dress—poured from a cliff into a large steaming pool. “My gods.” She wanted to stare at such a scene forever. But he closed in on her; she could hear his breaths.

Abyssian appeared mere feet behind her. He lunged for her, snaring her bag. She twisted, shimmying from the strap, then took off.

He tossed away the bag, yelling, “Enough, female!”

She hurried past the pool—then skidded to a stop. Dead end. The tree trunks were all grown together. The demon had cornered her.

She ran behind the fall of gold, slowing along the pool’s edge.

He scowled at her from the opposite side. When he went to her right, she fled left. He adjusted his course; so did she. They both slowed, gauging what the other would do.

“How did you get the ring off?” he demanded.

“Like it was hard?”

“You could have been killed a dozen times over out here. Is your captivity so unbearable that you’d risk your life? Or are you bent on getting to Sylvan?”

She raised her chin.

“Do you really believe warning your kingdom will save them from me?”

“Instead I should sit in that tower and do nothing? You might not give a shit about the inhabitants of Pandemonia—other than devising ways to punish them—but I care about my fellow fey.”

“You’ve already sliced your cheek open . . .” He trailed off. “Calliope . . . it’s healing. The wound is mending without the ring.”

She reached for her face; the tingle of regeneration was unfamiliar, but pleasant.

He exhaled a gust of breath. “You’re an immortal now.”

It’d finally happened! No wonder she felt so supercharged.

I am supercharged.

“But even an immortal can die out here. Calliope, do you want this to be the last night of your life?” he asked, his gaze stricken.

Oh, yes, his interest in her was about so much more than revenge. Some part of her had hoped Nïx was wrong, that no tie between Lila and Abyssian existed. His expression left no doubt in Lila’s mind.

I’m his mate.

He offered his hand. “I will take you home, and we will discuss this. Can we not be reasonable?”

She straightened. “I’m not going back to that tower.”

Seeming to reach the end of his patience, he clenched his big fists. “I’m king of this realm—you’ll go wherever I bloody tell you to.”

Ha! “You’ll have to catch me first.” As if he could. “And you’re looking worn out there, relic. The old-timer didn’t have his nap today?”

The sculpted muscles of his bare torso tensed. “You’re going to pay for that one, female.”

“Threats, Abyssian? What’re you going to do? Lock me up?”

Voice gone husky, he said, “Maybe I’ll toss you into my bed, and we won’t leave it for years.”

She hated how smug and arrogant and sexy he made those words sound. Her attention shifted down. Whoa. “You’ve got a hard-on. Shocking. You get off on the chase?” She sidled to her left.

He eased that way also, so she edged back to compensate. “If so, I’m not the only one. I can scent how much you enjoyed my pursuit.”

She followed his gaze as it dipped to her bodice. The gold material clung to her breasts, outlining her hard nipples. “Overstimulation.” She was in heat. Couldn’t be helped.