LUCIUS POV
Stupid. Stupid witch.
She gave her damn soul to the devil.
I should've known it—should've seen it in her eyes when she talked about that "voodoo" ritual with that wicked little smirk. My clever little witch didn't realize that her soul was already claimed—by my demons. By me.
If I'd known her revenge nonsense meant selling herself to Hades, I wouldn't have handed her the vampire. Hell, I wouldn't have let her touch blood again.
When I dropped that half-dead leech at her place, my demons had been restless—growling, twitching under my skin like they wanted out. I thought it was jealousy, their obsession with our mate again, that endless gnawing hunger for her scent, her pulse, her blood. But no. They knew. They felt the shift before I did.
I ignored them. Brushed it off like an idiot.
Then around two in the morning, it hit.
