She didn’t mind the smell of sulfur anymore, any more than she minded the smell of death, rotting flesh, or sounds of pain. Those things were pure in their intent here.

While she did not presume to know a tenth of the mysteries that governed the Being before her, she knew He never lied to her. Even when she wanted Him to do so.

“You serve me well here.” He inclined His head. “You’ve taken at least a thousand souls through Redemption, delivered them to the Hall of Souls for their return to Purgatory. Perhaps somehow that’s made you believe you belong here. I’ve watched you be stimulated by your skill with them, the way an artist is enthralled by how her hand moves a paintbrush on blank canvas. Out of all those thousand souls, you’ve not once been stimulated by the creation itself. Until now.” Unbidden, she saw Nathan in her mind. The smooth firmness of his lips, his broad palms. It was not difficult to imagine his long fingers stroking her skin. Penetrating her body as he watched her with eyes that were so blue the lagoon and the sky couldn’t match their intensity. His body was sleek lines of muscle, tough and hard where she was soft. Where she ached for hardness.

When Nathan had shoved Fiona from her, she’d been glad he’d fallen to his knees and bowed his head. He was far too intuitive and it wouldn’t have taken much intuition to see the tremor in her hand, the pulse pounding high in her throat. She hadn’t seen his possessive reaction coming. It had been a long time since anything had surprised her.

That brief brush of his firm lips against hers had been like the barest hint of a rich chocolate, taken away before it could be fully sampled. His body so close, the heat of that hard muscular body, the aroused cock close enough to brush her skin…

Great Lucifer, the way he’d crouched, thighs taut and ready, eyes focused and dangerous, his lip curled back to snarl at the leopard.

At that moment, she realized she’d assumed he was a coward, like so many others in his life had. There apparently was an important difference between being opportunistic and craven. The man had courage. Where there was courage, there could be integrity.

She told herself that it was good she’d broken the kiss before things had gotten out of hand. Even though her body wasn’t so sure of that, even now.

If it was just physical, she would welcome the images. Like a candy bar she could consume, enjoy and discard the wrapper. But those firm lips could smile. Those blue eyes could be angry, tender, puzzled, intrigued. Thousands of expressions and she wanted to see every one of them. Every pain he’d suffered bludgeoned her heart. Every crime he’d committed tore at her soul. If he genuinely smiled, teased her without malice, she knew she’d do anything to rescue him from himself.

For a moment she hated the Being in front of her, though she knew she might as well hate herself, since all He was showing her was what was in her own heart. She bowed her forehead to the ground, found some reassurance in the position, almost a fetal crouch of self-comfort. “I don’t want it to be true, my Lord,” she whispered. “I don’t want a soul mate.”

The fire crackled. His foot was close. When she pressed her cheek to the heated stone next to it, she studied the illusion of toenails, bone. If she closed her hand on the flesh, it would feel solid, real, even though it was just a form Lucifer assumed to give her a point of reference. Nathan was like that. Everything he appeared to be wasn’t real.

It was her job to tear away an illusion that he’d adhered to himself like skin, rip it all away, leave the raw nerves exposed and let the screams of agony from his soul guide him back to the man he was supposed to be.

“If I could have spared you the pain, I would have, child. You know that.”

“I know that. You gave me the choice.”

Lucifer had called her to Him much like this, almost a month ago. He’d told her Jonathan Powell would be entering their domain soon.

Over five years ago, she’d assumed a corporeal form to spend time at The Zone, a fetish club on the mortal plane. Her purpose had been to monitor a murderess who would soon enter Lucifer’s domain. Hell’s version of administrative work. Nathan had been involved with the woman. That relationship had sent him to prison and lead to the fatal knife fight, so close to the end of his five-year sentence. The fight which had brought him to the illusion of a dusty ribbon of asphalt, waiting for his Mistress of Redemption to retrieve him.

During the time she’d been doing the survey work on the S&M Killer, she couldn’t stop watching him, being absorbed by everything about him. She didn’t want to feel that way, couldn’t understand how she knew his real name was Nathan and why she was certain he belonged to her, though they were divided by the plane between life and death.

Lucifer wasn’t in the habit of calling her into His presence to notify her personally of arrivals, but His reasons became clear when He gave a name to the connection between her and the mortal who looked like a blond Norse god.

You feel this way for him because he is your soul mate. You will feel him the moment he enters our world, which is why I am telling you he is coming. He is a difficult case. The best thing for him is Hell. I will let the fires and torments purify his soul, erase all that he is. Then he can begin his life cycles over again from the beginning, as it must be with those who have gotten so lost.

Her response to that hadn’t been a conscious decision. Her heart screaming in protest at the idea, she opened her mouth before she even knew herself what she was going to say.

I can redeem him. I know I can do it. Let me do my job.

Dona closed her eyes, remembering the conversation. “I’ll do my job,” she said.

“That’s what concerns me.” She felt His heat as He bent over her, His voice a quiet rumble. “Even when you lived as a mortal years ago, you sought this man, though your conscious mind didn’t know it. Your fetish clubs considered you somewhat of a dangerous Mistress because you pushed your submissives so hard. You were practicing. Waiting for him. Anticipating his need. The true bad boy, the one so far gone down the dark path you’d have to risk your own soul to bring him back. I shouldn’t have been swayed by your desire.”

“You knew there was a chance I could do it, my Lord. Else you wouldn’t have permitted it.”

There was a significant pause. The pressure in the room increased, sending a surge of terror through her. Why had she not guarded her tongue? She was not concerned for herself, but for Nathan. She had to finish. Had to succeed.

“I can’t let him go to Hell without trying my best, my Lord. If I let him go to save myself anguish, I’ve sentenced him without a fair trial.”

“Dona, you do not sentence souls. I do. If I send him into Hell, it is because his soul deserves purification—”

“I am sentencing him, if I let him go that way. I can’t—” His voice cut across hers. “Whether or not he can be redeemed is irrelevant. You believe he can be because there is no other choice for a soul mate. You have faith in him, even when he is undeserving of it.”

“My lord, I have the objectivity to do this. When I saw him at The Zone, when I was there at your bidding, I never touched him. Never approached him.”

“I don’t know if that makes you the most disciplined minion I have, or the loneliest.” Before she could say anything further, He reached down and touched her.

The sulfur, the fire and all the trappings just vanished. It was only her soul, tired and afraid, surrounded by the warmth and power of His essence, the white light of divinity that connected Him to the All moving around her, embracing her, giving her His pity and forgiveness. She felt the irresistible tug of it, the screaming desire it created to go to the Hall of Souls, the privilege she’d earned but could not face. Hell could cleanse a woman’s soul, but it couldn’t heal the fears of a shattered heart, no matter how many years had passed.

The touch gave her something else she didn’t want. It forced her to experience her connection to Nathan in its full power, a link she’d only been able to face in small, controlled pieces on her own. The energy rolled over her and tore her shields away, letting her feel her soul mate’s proximity, every touch she’d shared with him, hear every word he’d uttered. It was like having her skin ripped away a strip at a time. In his presence she felt alive, passionate. She wasn’t lonely. She hadn’t felt that way in so long.

Hadn’t wanted to feel that way, not even now.

Even Nathan, trapped in the evil he’d allowed to take him over, had felt it. She saw it in his eyes, his confusion warring with the frightened rage that stoked his desire to hurt her if she showed a moment of weakness. She cursed the so-called gift of soul mates that allowed her to see the man behind all of it, the man she loved with everything she was.

She touched the energy, weeping. When it withdrew, it did so slowly, not unkindly, leaving her back in the study with Lucifer.

“Yes, he senses it too. But he does not have what he needs to truly understand why he responds to you this way, why he wants so badly to serve you. It’s not your time to be together. He’s got much further to go.”

“I can help him get on the right path.” She tasted her tears on the seam of her lips.

“Professional pride, my Lord. I started the task. Please…” She swallowed. “I beg you.

Let me finish it.”

“I’m afraid it will finish you.”

She opened her mouth, but He waved her away. “I gave you my word. Go back and see what you can do with him. Just remember, when you’re done, he’s gone.” His brows drew down. “So are you. It’s time for you to return to living. Your debt is paid and your place is no longer here.”

“I have a choice—”

“So do I. To fire you.” His lips curved without humor. “That leaves you nowhere to go but the Hall of Souls.”

Even she knew when not to argue with the Devil, though her heart seethed with frustration. She nodded, rose to her feet and backed out of the chamber, quelling a very childish urge to slam the heavy oak door, illusion though it was.