Rage and Ruin(30)

“I don’t need to see it to know it has WTF written all over it,” I told him.

Roth leaned toward me. I tensed, and I thought he noticed based on the way his smile grew. “It’s almost like you forgot who I am.”

“I haven’t.” The muscles in my back became rigid.

“You sure about that?” One dark eyebrow rose. “A lot of people forget what I am—who I am, in the core of my very being.”

“Is that so?” I murmured.

He nodded. “They mistake my love for Layla as a kernel of goodness that will take root inside me like a seed, eventually blossoming into a flower of purity and light.”

“I didn’t think that for one second.”

“But a lot do, probably even Stony,” Roth replied. “As do a lot of other demons. Faye and her coven think that. Do you know how I know that?”

“A super secret, extra special demon ability?”

He laughed, and the hair on my arms rose, because the sound settled over me like smoke and ash. “Because they had to believe I’m a demon changed into something soft and good to even briefly consider betraying me like they did.”

“Oh,” I murmured. Was his...skin getting thinner?

“But I’m going to let you in on a little secret, my half-angel friend, because you also don’t truly understand who I am.” His finger landed on the tip of my nose. I flinched, not having seen him move his hand. “Every cell and molecule of who I am desires, needs and covets Layla. Humans call that love. I call it obsession. Same thing, I suppose, but I am a demon, Trinity. I’m brutally selfish and there are very few things I truly care about. While I may randomly commit acts of perceived kindness, I do them only so that Layla is happy. Because when she’s not happy, it makes me want to do really, really bad things to whatever or whoever has upset her.”

All of that was kind of romantic. Also super disturbing.

I pulled away from his hand. “Okay. Thanks for the sharefest, but—”

“But at the end of the day, I’m the Crown Prince of Hell. You do not want to mess with me.”

My jaw locked as I felt the grace flare within me. “And at the end of the day, I’m still a Trueborn who can reduce you to a pile of ash, so you don’t want to mess with me.”

“True, but something else I know?” He leaned back and draped an arm over the steering wheel. “You might have a whole lot of angelic blood kicking around in you, but you’re as far from holy as I am.”

“What does that mean?” I demanded, ignoring the spark of power deep in my stomach.

He stared at me. “Angels were forbidden to do the nasty with humans a long, long time ago, by you know who.” He pointed at the roof of his car, referencing God. “You might have been created to help fight some big bad that’s decided to have a playdate with Earth, but just in case you begin to go the route all Wardens have and think you’re somehow above a demon, don’t forget where you came from. You were created out of an act of pure sin.”

“No offense, but Wardens are sort of above demons on the whole good-versus-evil scale.”

Roth tilted his head as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he laughed, a deep belly laugh as he shook his head. “You, too, huh?”

“Me, too, what?” Annoyance flared.

“You have no idea how Wardens came into creation, do you? Do you think God created them to fight the demon plague upon Earth?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Well, no,” he retorted, thrusting a hand through his messy black hair. He snickered. “Even Layla had no clue.”

“No clue about what?” I gripped my knees, beyond the point of impatience. “You know what, never mind. Story time is great and all, and I’m a hundred percent convinced that you’re the most evil demon to ever walk this Earth and all should quake and scream when they see you, but none of this has anything to do with you asking me to kill a bunch of witches. I get I owe you a favor, but I didn’t think that meant—”

“Not knowing what the favor was doesn’t matter. You still made the deal, Angel Face.”

“I don’t even know why you need my help with this.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but the deal for Bambi was brokered through Cayman. If I go back on the deal, Cayman dies. I like Cayman, but Layla really likes him. If he dies, she’ll cry. We’ve already established what happens when Layla is upset. Luckily, the coven hasn’t left the city yet, but word has it, they will soon. We need to act now.”

“You expect me to wipe out everyone while you play Candy Crush on your phone?”

“Not Candy Crush. I’d probably be playing Wordsy.”

“Wordsy?”

“I like putting words together, but yes. That’s what I expect.”

“I don’t kill people, Roth.”

“I didn’t think you did. I thought you killed demons who attack you and beings who wish you and others harm. Sometimes that includes humans. Sometimes it includes Wardens and...ex-best friends.”

My entire body recoiled. “You know, I was starting to like you, but you’re an asshole.”

He lifted a shoulder. “And sometimes you’ll kill witches who betrayed you. Or have you forgotten that Faye told Aym we’d been to see her, setting into motion a series of events that nearly killed the Warden you love?”

I gaped at him. “I don’t love Zayne.”

He quirked a brow. “My bad.”

“I don’t,” I repeated, heart thundering for some reason. “I care about him. That’s all.”

Roth shrugged. “Still. The question remains. Have you forgotten what this coven did?”

The breath I took went nowhere as I curled my hands into fists. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then I’m sure you also haven’t forgotten that because of that, Layla was injured, and Zayne, the Warden you’re not in love with but care about, nearly died.”

“Of course not.” My heart rate kicked up as the image of an injured Zayne formed in my mind. I would never forget the smell of his charred flesh.

“And how did Zayne not die?” he asked.

“He didn’t tell you?” I didn’t know how much Roth and Layla knew about Zayne’s new super status.

“It was your father, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer.

A beat of silence passed as Roth stared out the windshield. “Zayne’s your Protector now, isn’t he? Bonded and true.”

I had no idea if that was just a good or an obvious guess, or if Roth knew something I didn’t, but my palms grew sweaty against my knees. “He is,” I said. “It was...meant to be.”

“Was it?”

I let go of my knees. I didn’t want to tell him what my father had said and what Matthew had confirmed about Layla and I.

“It was,” I repeated.

Roth’s gaze flicked to mine. “If your father hadn’t decided to bond Zayne to you, he would be dead right now. Layla would be devastated, and I’m damn sure you would feel just as torn up or even worse.” A pause. “Even though you only care about him.”

I ignored that, because I was lost in the moment of imagining losing both Zayne and Misha. I wasn’t sure I could have recovered.

“They betrayed us, Trinity, and they betrayed us knowing what the consequences would be. Yes, I want my familiar back, but I also want them to pay,” he continued. “And I know you do, too. I can smell the rage in you. It reminds me of cayenne pepper. You want to make them pay, too, and, Angel Face, sometimes an eye for an eye is the right thing to do.”

Dragging my gaze from his, I looked out the window. I saw nothing but a blur of gray across the street, but even if my vision had been crystal clear, I doubted I’d have seen anything at that moment. I tried to push down the anger the demon could smell, but it was no use. The rage tangled with my grace, burning me from the inside out, demanding to be used...or fed.

It wanted out, that rage. It hadn’t ended with putting Misha down. It had started there.

Roth was correct. I wanted revenge, because Faye and whoever else had taken part deserved to die.

Layla had been hurt.

Zayne had almost died. I had no idea whether, if they hadn’t sold us out, that night would’ve gone any differently, but they’d played a major role in what had happened and they deserved to suffer lasting consequences from that night.

Faye deserved whatever was coming to her, but...seeking revenge wasn’t right.

I’d learned that when I was six years old and I’d pushed a boy at the park who’d knocked me over to get to the swing set. Mom had taught me that. She’d sat me down and explained that two wrongs never made anything right. Thierry had reinforced it numerous times when Misha and I were younger and I’d retaliated whenever he bested me in training by hiding his shoes or taking his favorite chips or cookies and eating them or throwing them away.

Man, I had been a little terror.

But anyway, killing Faye and her coven wasn’t the same thing as hiding Misha’s shoes or throwing away his favorite chips. It was more like what I’d done to Ryker after he’d murdered my mother.

I’d killed him.

Immediately and without regret.

No one had punished me for that. I’d never thought twice about the fact that I’d killed him. What I’d done didn’t seem to matter in comparison to what he had done.