“And made me part of them,” she fired back. “The coins.”

Shame burned him, bitter and acidic. “Yes.”

“You knew how much I wanted to please you, and you used that. Used me.”

Only barely did he keep his head from dropping in remorse. “I did. Whatever advantage I could seize, I did so gladly.”

“I was your advantage. Your aristo wife.” Her words were knives, cutting him to pieces as he stood. It surprised him that his blood did not splash upon the gaudily painted columns, bright red against the blue.

“So you were. But not anymore.”

She stared at him. The anger tightening her face warred with the sorrow in her eyes, the profound agony of betrayal. “What am I now? An inconvenience. An obstacle on your determined path.”

He drew still closer, until a distance of a few feet separated them. “You are my wife.” Within his chest, his heart hammered, forging words he must speak. He drew a breath. “I love you.”

Briefly, far too briefly, wonderment blazed in her gaze, but she banked it, and turned away. Her voice was a wintry rasp. “Damn you.”

“I am damned,” he said. “But not from the loss of my soul.”

She gave him her profile. “There’s no profit in plying me with honeyed words, Leo. You have magic. You have wealth and power. Everything you want is yours.”

“I don’t have you.”

“An acquisition.”

“My wife. The woman I love.”

Her hands flew up to cover her ears. “Stop it! I knew you were ruthless, but I never suspected you to be cruel.”

He stepped around her until they faced each other. Gently, he pulled her hands down, and he felt the wild rush of her pulse beneath his fingers, the fact of her body was both a poem and torture—this living woman, this mortal creature who made him love and made him fearful, who made him strong and made him vulnerable.

“Not cruelty,” he said. “The truth.”

“There is nothing you can say that I will believe.” She tugged her hands away. “You made certain of that.”

He winced inwardly. “Hear this. Whether you choose to believe it or not. The power given to me by the Devil, the wealth created by it, everything I’ve gained since I made that bargain ...” He steadied himself. “I renounce the lot.”

For a moment, she only stared at him. “Renounce.”

“All of it.” His words grew bolder as he spoke, as conviction strengthened. “It means nothing to me. Only one thing, one person, I want. You.”

Her eyes widened. “You would give it all up ... for me.”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

Yet she shook her head. “How badly I want to believe you.”

“If it means spending the rest of my life destitute, performing penance, I’ll do it.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “When there’s something I want, I’m a tenacious bastard.”

She did not return his smile. If anything, she looked more agonized, a woman on the rack. “I wish I did not love you.”

Savage primal pleasure coursed through him, even as he burned. She loved him. In all his life, he never expected it, never thought it could be his. Yet to have her love him, her out of all women ... such wealth he could not fathom. And he would seize it, for he was greedy for her.

“But you do,” he said. “Just as I love you.” He needed her mouth, her taste.

She saw his intent as he stepped closer. Want and fear mingled in her eyes. She tried to dart around him, making for the way out, but he moved quickly. His hand shot out to grip hers.

His fingers brushed against her ring. Images suddenly besieged him—creatures of foul shape, with leathery wings, jagged long teeth, curved claws, and yellow eyes. He could smell the rot of their flesh, hear their shrieks of hatred.

“Stay.” He shook his head to clear away the images.

She pulled hard on her hand, trying to free herself. “Is this how it’s to be? Using force to keep me?”

“Hate me if you have to. But don’t go outside.” He drew one of his pistols.

She froze in place. “Why? What’s out there?”

Then the shrieks sounded, not merely in a vision, but here. And now.

Two creatures darted into the building. For a moment, Anne could only stare, for these were the beasts of a fever dream—grotesque fiends that had vaguely human shapes, with monstrous faces and horns. Serrated teeth crowded their mouths, and instead of hands and feet, they had claw-tipped talons. Ash-colored skin, sticky yellow eyes alive with rage.

Demons. She looked upon actual demons.

And they wanted her and Leo dead.

The demons rushed toward them, their claws scraping at the painted floor. Fear tightened her throat. She looked around wildly for something to use as a weapon.

“Behind me.” Leo roughly shoved her back, putting himself between her and the advancing creatures. Fluidly, he drew his pistols, aimed. Fired. The powder exploded in a flash, filling the pavilion with two loud booms.

One of the beasts immediately crumpled to the ground, a hole in the center of its forehead. The other screamed and stumbled, then lurched to its knees. It clawed at the wound on its shoulder, black blood pouring down its arm.

Leo flipped the pistol in his left hand, holding it by its barrel. He rushed forward. His arm swung out as he clubbed the demon with the heavy butt of the gun. The creature toppled back, lashing out with its talons.

Anne winced as the demon’s claws caught Leo across the thigh, but he made no sound of pain, did not hesitate in his movements. He swung the pistol again. It slammed into the beast’s head, and the demon shrieked in outrage. Claws striking out, it tried to fend off Leo’s attack, but Leo was relentless, wielding the pistol like a brutal club. He bared his teeth, savage, as he struck the demon. Again and again.

She had no love for the creature, but she turned away as its thick blood splattered on the ground and Leo’s clothes and face. Its screams came fainter, wetter, subsiding into a gurgle. Then it fell quiet.

Turning back, she saw Leo standing over the body, his face dark with fury. Blood everywhere. He looked wild and fierce, terrifying and unquestionably male. Her heart seized, partly in fear, partly in amazement. She barely recognized the man she had married. And yet this seemed his truest self, standing over his fallen enemy.

His gaze rose and met hers. She saw it in the savagery of his storm gray eyes: he had just killed for her. This wasn’t the first time, and it would not be the last.

He holstered his pistols, then held out a hand for her. Despite, or perhaps because of, what she had just seen, she hesitated.

“There will be more.” His voice was chipped obsidian. “We must leave.”

“Why have they come?”

His face became a hard mask. “Because I’ve turned my back on the Devil. I’m no longer his bondsman, but his enemy.”

Anne gaped at him. She did not know what to think. Could he be telling the truth? He had woven so many lies, choking them both in the shroud of deceit. Burying them alive.

Instinct forced her to move. If physical safety could be found anywhere, at this moment, nowhere was as safe as being at Leo’s side. She hurried forward and took his hand, knowing full well that she could trust him with the safety of her body but not her heart.

He looked down at their joined hands. His jaw tightened, his expression enigmatic. And then they were hurrying outside.

Inhuman screams sounded in the night, the noise of giant, leathery wings beating the air. Anne pressed back as four winged demons swooped down. She clapped her hands over her mouth to silence her reflexive gasp. Only once had she seen beasts like this—in a medieval painting depicting the terrors of Hell. She had shuddered delicately at the painting, grateful that such monsters were not real.

But they were. And they now dove down to attack.

Leo released her hand. In a blur of movement, he took the musket that hung on his back, and aimed it at one of the demons. He fired. The demon screeched, then fell to earth. It lay still upon the ground as its blood coated the gravel path.