Rayne

I pressed a finger to my forehead, trying to ward off the thrum of an impending migraine. The morning had started with Illya's call, his voice urgent, insisting I return to my court. An imp had supposedly spotted the pregnant half-demon sheltering in a cave near the fields of shadow blight in the fifth circle of hell.

It was the kind of lead that could not be ignored.

Of course, the outcome had been predictable chaos. I'd called upon five legions to scour the rotting fields, tearing through every cave, hovel, and shadow-infested corner we could find. The imps who worked the fields, punishing the condemned souls by forcing them to tend eternally to the withered, blackened crops, had been less than pleased with my intrusion.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" a particularly bold white imp screeched, its glowing red eyes narrowed in fury. It waved its clawed hands at me, its voice grating like nails on a chalkboard. "The punishment schedule is in complete disarray! I'll be speaking with Prince Loki about this—you can't just come in here, tearing up our fields, disrupting the punishment of the wicked!"

I half-listened, the words fading into a dull hum as my thoughts strayed. The fifth circle was a bleak and fetid place, stinking of rot and despair. It should have been impossible to think of anything pleasant here, but my mind betrayed me. I imagined Skyler walking through the forest, her hair a cascade of fire against the green, her hands brushing the bark of trees as she gathered berries or mushrooms. The thought was jarringly out of place, yet it refused to leave me.

Flexing my hand, I watched as faint sparks of energy crackled between my fingers. This was taking too long. I wanted this over. I wanted to go back to her.

"His Vilness has full permission from Prince Loki to search these fields," Illya interjected sharply, stepping forward to shield me from the imp's wrath. His tone carried the weight of authority, and for a moment, the imp faltered.

"But—" the imp began, only to be cut off by Illya's glare.

"Enough," Illya snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Would you like me to summon Prince Loki himself? I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear you question his orders."

The imp's defiance crumbled, and it retreated with a muttered curse, its grumbling fading into the distance.

"Are we done here?" I asked, my voice low and bored.

Illya turned to me, his lips pressing into a tight line. "The lead was a dead end, Your Vilness. The half-demon isn't here."

I let out a slow breath, standing and brushing imaginary dust from my sleeves. "Then we leave. I won't waste another moment in this pit."

llya hesitated, his gaze lingering on me, searching. "You seem... distracted."

I arched an imperious brow, barely masking my irritation. "Of course, I'm distracted. I've been tasked with stopping the end of the known world. Wouldn't you be, if you were in my shoes?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, as though weighing his next words. Then, almost too quietly, he muttered, "You're starting to remind me of Alyd, just before—"

A ball of white-hot plasma crackled to life in my palm. Illya's eyes snapped to it, and wisely, he shut his mouth.

"I am not like my brother," I said coldly. "And if we're done here, I have more important matters to attend to."

Illya inclined his head in a respectful bow, though his silence carried an unspoken challenge. I ignored it. Without another word, I shimmered out of hell and back into the mortal realm.

When I reappeared outside the cottage, the sight of an unfamiliar car's tail lights vanishing up the driveway barely registered. Visitors were rare here, but I didn't linger on it. My thoughts were elsewhere—on her.

I shimmered into the house, appearing silently behind Skyler at the kitchen sink. She was humming softly, rinsing the fruits she'd foraged earlier. The sound, the sight of her so at ease in her own world, stirred something unfamiliar within me. Peace. Contentment. For a fleeting moment, it was enough to silence the restless hum that had followed me from Hell.

"Busy morning?" I purred into her ear, letting my voice brush against her like silk.

She startled slightly, her shoulders giving the barest twitch before she spun to face me. A delicate blush spread across her cheeks, her hands still dripping from the water.

"Rayne... I... I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, wiping her wet hands on her apron. Her voice was soft, her tone laced with surprise, and those vivid green eyes flicked up to meet mine for just a moment before skittering away.

I smiled, savouring the way her cheeks turned that familiar, captivating shade of pink. There was something about her shyness, her inability to hold my gaze for long, that fascinated me endlessly. She was so strong in some ways, yet in moments like this, so vulnerable. And the way she smelled—forest air, wildflowers, sunshine—it wrapped around me, settling the constant restlessness that seemed to churn beneath my skin.

"I concluded my business early and rushed back here, to be with you," I said smoothly, the words slipping from my mouth without much thought. My focus was solely on her, the delicate way she moved, the light in her eyes when she spoke. "How has your morning been?"

She fidgeted slightly, her hands twisting the edge of her apron, and my chest tightened. Her nervousness around me was like a balm and a challenge all at once.

"Nothing much," she murmured, her voice so soft it felt like it was meant for only me. She glanced back down at the sink, her fingers brushing over the foraged fruit she'd collected. "I just went foraging near the creek. There are a lot of persimmons out this year and—"

Her voice hitched, and my hand moved before I even thought about it, catching a stray lock of her hair and tucking it gently behind her ear. My fingers brushed against her skin, soft and warm, and she froze. Her breath hitched audibly, and I was lost in the way her lips parted slightly, the way her pulse quickened against the curve of her neck.

I should have stopped. I should have pulled back. But instead, I lingered, my fingers ghosting over her temple for a moment longer than necessary. The quiet hum of her magic thrummed faintly between us, and I couldn't help but marvel at it, how it felt like a thread binding her to me.

Then her words hit me.

"—Grandma's supplier's son paid us a visit. He was really nice, and he wanted me to visit him."

The world seemed to tilt, her voice dragging me out of whatever spell her presence had cast. My hands moved on their own accord, both palms bracing against the kitchen counter, caging her in. The motion was sudden, sharp, and left her wide-eyed and frozen.

"Who is this?" I asked, my voice calm, even pleasant, though my veins burned with white-hot jealousy.

She blinked up at me, startled. "Um... Greg," she said hesitantly. "He's a new manager at one of the stores we supply to."

Greg. I repeated the name in my head, my fingernails biting into the counter's edge. Who the fuck was Greg?

"And why does Greg want you to visit him?" I pressed, keeping my expression relaxed despite the sharpness in my voice.

Skyler shifted uncomfortably, her brows furrowing. "He just mentioned he's looking for someone to work part-time at the shop. He thought I'd be a good fit."

I forced a smile, though the effort made my jaw ache. "How thoughtful of him," I drawled, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "But surely you're too busy here to entertain such an offer."

Her gaze flicked to the sink, her eyes avoiding mine, and the tension in the air thickened. "It's just a few days a week," she murmured, almost like she was convincing herself. "And Grandma seemed to think it was a good idea."

"Did she now?" I kept my tone light, but inside, every muscle in my body coiled tighter, a predator waiting to pounce. "So, are you planning on visiting him?"

Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her apron, a nervous habit I couldn't help but notice. "I was—I mean, he's one of our key suppliers. It would be rude not to."

Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her apron, a nervous habit I couldn't help but notice. "I was—I mean, he's one of our key suppliers. It would be rude not to."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I slid it from my coat pocket and glanced down.

Loki: Heard you fled the fifth circle in quite the hurry. Tell me, brother—are you growing fond of the witch?

The words sank in like a blade, cruel and precise.

I looked up at Skyler—flushed cheeks, downcast lashes, hands stained from fruit picking. Soft. Mortal. A tool, not a temptation. I exhaled slowly, forcing the fire in my chest to cool. I wasn't jealous. That would be... ridiculous.

I smoothed my shirt, stepping back from her. "We should pay..." I paused, letting the name slide from my tongue like poison, "Greg a visit. He sounds... charming."

Skyler raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "We can go tomorrow. Pine Point isn't far. Afterwards, we can swing by town—there are some books I ordered."

I managed a smile. "Wonderful."

And it was. Because tomorrow, I'd meet the man who thought he could win her. And then I'd remind him—and myself—exactly who she belonged to.