Demon Angel

with a hint of uncertainty.
    She eyed his flaccid penis, then leaned forward and collected' a long, slender branch from the floor of the temple, where she'd dropped it after a similar encounter a sennight earlier. It had left satisfactory stripes across his arse, she remembered. "Have you finished bellowing?"
    A poke to his testicles sent the heavy sac swinging. He gasped in pain—but not too much, she noted, as his cock began to fatten. "Marie?"
    That ridiculous name. She lifted the tip of his burgeoning penis with the switch, balanced its length along the wooden shaft. Studied the blind little eye.
    And because there was no one to see, she let herself be Lilith. Her constricting clothing vanished. The shift from human to demon form was instantaneous, a shiver of newly crimson skin and a ripple of muscle. Black, membranous wings sprouted from her back; she stretched them wide, debating whether to push the transformation further. No one would appreciate the effect of fangs, forked tongue and claws, so she grew them for her own pleasure and imagined William's reaction if he saw her this way.
    His screams would be as music to her pointed ears.
    But she'd made a bargain with Hugh, and so she must create a different tune. She had to fulfill the terms of her agreement; as with human free will, it must be honored. She was unused to bargaining—her slip with the name, allowing Hugh to ask for her real name instead of what she was 'called'—had been a mistake, but not an irreparable one. Bargaining wasn't usually part of her repertoire when tormenting murderers and rapists, but a skill she still had to learn. In a hundred years, she'd be a master—but for now, she would do what she could.
    Lowering the stick, she fastidiously wiped the tip on the ground. She didn't need pain to get her point across.
    Her tongue would do quite nicely.
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CHAPTER 2
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    The celebratory mood that swept over the castle slowly faded as the day wore on, and though Hugh was greeted with exclamations and felicitations for his successful return, these were soon replaced by the duties life demanded, conversations became shorter, men more ready to excuse themselves from Hugh's recounting of the journey.
    Robert had claimed his wife and kept her by his side throughout the day, her ladies-in-waiting settled themselves and set about their work, and Hugh found himself in the bailey, standing beside Georges and watching the squires' fencing practice. Though Hugh knew many of the squires well and was of the same age, he couldn't ignore the separation that seemed between them now. More than two years, it was the separation of rank and position—one that, judging by the glances he'd received, many of them felt he had not deserved.
    "When do you return to Anjou?"
    "A fortnight, perhaps; the court should like me to report that the lady is settled well," Georges said. "The boy should plant his feet less firmly."
    Hugh nodded as a squire failed to give against his opponent's blow and was knocked to the ground. Beyond the field, a figure rode through the gate, and Hugh stiffened. Mandeville.
    Lilith did not seem to be with him—but no, likely they'd have arranged to return as if separately.
    "The lady in crimson," Georges said softly. He was looking in the opposite direction, and Hugh turned to see Lilith striding across the bailey. She saw him at the same moment and smiled boldly, redirecting her steps on line with him and Georges.
    Georges rested his hands on the hilt of his sword, as if casually, but Hugh had known him long enough to sense the tension and readiness within the older man. He had barely a moment to wonder at it before Lilith reached them.
    "Sir Hugh." He bowed, and as he rose noticed her sudden rigidity. Her hand clenched at her side. Her smile was brittle. "And—?"
    Realizing that she stared at Georges, he quickly made the introduction. "Sir Georges mentored me during my time in the Angevin court," he added.
    Her head tilted, her eyes narrowed. "Indeed."
    "Indeed," Georges echoed.
    Awkwardly, unsure of how to explain her when he knew only her Christian name and nothing of her connections, Hugh continued, "And this is the lady, Lil—"
    "I am Marie de Lille," she said smoothly. "Recently come from Rochester Castle."
    Hugh nodded; likely, she'd been a part of the household before the siege and had been shuffled between distant relatives after the castle had changed hands. Unmarried, brash, unremarkable in face and