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This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
Prologue
From “Gabriel’s Hope”
Suddenly, Past-Death’s words about how Deidre became Gabriel’s mate clicked. Would the reverse also work? If Past-Death was dead again, was Deidre next in line to be Gabriel’s mate?
Deidre faced the door, mind working quickly.
“Wait!” she called. “Your soul. If you can’t do what I did in a week, I get your soul.”
“Fuck off, human.”
“Who’s the coward now?” Deidre demanded. “You’re incapable of loving him the way he deserves, and you know it.”
Past-Death froze at the door. Her face was red, her eyes glittering. “You will wager your soul as well?”
“Yep,” Deidre said. “Deal?” She held out her hand and drew near. “One week. Your soul and mine on the table.”
Past-Death shook her hand. Cold energy shot through Deidre, and she flinched. The door opened, and they both looked towards it.
“Which one of you is mine?” Darkyn’s growl made her blood run cold.
“As I promised. My payment for your services.” Past-Death snatched Deidre’s arm and yanked her to the side for him to see the tattoo.
The demon lord smiled. Past-Death pushed Deidre towards him.
Deidre dug in her heels before she reached him. The heat of her anger vanished, replaced by fear.
“Deal settled,” Darkyn said, stepping aside. “With regards to our arrangement about reviving you…”
“We’ll talk later,” Past-Death said and brushed by him.
Darkyn watched her go. Deidre saw the look on his face, the same one Past-Death gave her when admiring the product she created. His attention returned to Deidre. His fangs were lengthening. She backed away, unable to fathom the idea of being trapped with him in Hell for eternity.
“Rules,” he reminded her and entered the chamber. He closed the door behind him.
“No running. No fighting.”
You must obey him, no matter how much you do not wish to. Your life is not the only one dependent upon this.
She stopped in place as Fate’s words returned her. Unable to quell the panic flying through her, she wasn’t willing to test the waters to discover if demons were restricted from harming their mates like Immortals. In a week, when Past-Death lost her end of the bet, Deidre would be free.
She just had to survive.
Deidre closed her eyes as Darkyn’s arm snaked out to grab her neck. He dragged her against him. Breathing ragged, she tilted her head in submission.
One week.
“Welcome to your new home, love,” the Dark One said a moment before his teeth sank into her neck.