Kiss of the Damned (Fallen Cities: Elisium Book 1) by Elena Lawson

Author:Elena Lawson [Lawson, Elena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thorn House Publishing
Published: 2020-07-07T05:00:00+00:00

17

Here lies Paige Marie St. Clare.

The biggest idiot of all time.

That’s what my headstone will say. After this demon kills me.

I eye Kincaid sitting across from me at the table. Neither of us spoke after he chucked the staff into the front seat next to his chauffeur and herded me into the backseat.

We didn’t speak when we arrived back at the house.

Not when I gathered up all my shopping bags and rushed upstairs to the room he assigned me.

He didn’t come up when I had my second shower-bath of the day. Or when I stayed up there for over an hour numbly getting dressed, uncovering ornate furniture, and putting away the clothes he bought for me.

I only left the room at all because I was hungry.

Now here we are.

Me, with a plate of buttered and salted noodles I scavenged from the grand galley kitchen. The demon slouches in a high-backed chair at the other end of the table, a silver goblet dangling from his fingers. He swirls the liquid inside, watching me with a predator’s gaze.

The pasta sits heavily in my stomach, and I find I’m nearly full after only a couple of bites.

“I suppose you have questions,” he says, finishing off the last dregs of his drink and refilling the goblet from a carafe atop the table. His yellow eyes burn into me. His head tilts to one side.

I clear my throat, shoving the plate away.

“Are you really—”

“One of the seven lords of Hell?” he interrupts. “Yes. Anything else?”

My body goes cold at the stark, humorless admission. My mouth is sandpaper dry.

“Okay,” I manage, folding my fingers together in my lap.

“Okay?” he presses, a curious lilt to the word.

I nod, pressing my lips together.

I mean, it makes sense now. Why all the whispering at the demon market. Why everyone seemed to let him do whatever the hell he wanted. Why no one wanted to get in his way.

Except Tori.

“Tori, what was she?” I ask, more out of curiosity than anything. I wonder if she is also a being of great power. She didn’t back down from Kincaid. She didn’t cower like the rest.

I envy her that.

Kincaid seems taken by surprise at the direction of my questions. “A gargoyle,” he replies without elaborating.

“A gargoyle? Like the creepy statue things on churches?”

“They have a more ancient name, but they adopted the moniker a couple hundred years ago. It was fitting.”

“Fitting how?”

He narrows his eyes. I can tell he’s more than a little annoyed to have to be answering my questions, but I can’t seem to help myself. I want to know.

I want to know everything.

All of it.

“Have you never heard of her kind? I assumed all mortals on the other side of The Hinge would be well versed in all things Diablim by now.”

I swallow. “Not me.”

Though I may have heard the name before, I likely dismissed it. After all, a gargoyle was a made-up thing. A monstrous beast thought to scare away evil spirits from places of worship. They aren’t real.

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