All Chapters of The Deal With The Devil: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

StefanTake care when fighting the monsters you don't become one.My mom used to tell me that. All the time. It was her favorite fucking quote from Nietzsche.I fought for her too. I fought him. I always lost. I always knew I'd lose, but I did it anyway, and I took the penalties, endured the consequences.I guess I didn't realize when the transformation had happened. When the monster had beaten me. Had taken me over and made me like him. Like my father.I staggered to my feet like a drunken man and went into the house, up to my room, unable to even look at her closed door. I didn't bother to shower. I just pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, got into my car, and drove, not sure where I was even going until I pulled up to the seminary gates. I'd never been here before. It was while I was in prison that Stephen had told me his plans. We hadn't really talked much before that. Stephen and I, we were as opposite as could be. I guess, though, in a way, we were both surviving.My father

VeronicaI gasped, but he swallowed the sound, his hand at the back of my skull holding me in place as his lips moved over mine, slow and soft, tasting me. When his tongue probed, I opened, and he slid inside. I tilted my head, and he pressed against me. When he did, I felt him, his hardness, at my belly.I would have stopped the kiss.I did.But he held me and reclaimed my mouth, and this time, urgency replaced the gentler exploration of moments ago. His kiss was hungry, ravenous almost, and his desire only seemed to wake the same inside me. I raised my hand and laid it against his arm, liking the feel of hard muscle there. Feeling somehow safe for it. My body eased, relaxing into him, and my eyelids fluttered closed.But then he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.His breath came heavy. His hands moved to my hips, holding me."I'm fucked up right now," he said. "You need to go upstairs."I raised my head to look at his face, into his eyes. They told so much he didn'

VeronicaI didn't see Stefan for three days after what happened in the cellar. Maria just said he'd gone out on business. I don't know how I'd missed him leaving the bed that morning. I wondered what time he had left. I hadn't even felt him move when he'd climbed out of bed. All I knew was I'd slept like a rock in the warmth and safety of his arms. This man who would steal me away—he was the one who made me feel safer than I'd felt in years. Ever since my parents had died.I'd been so young, but with Robyn being younger, I'd become her protector, in a way. It wasn't even a conscious thing. It felt good to finally let go. So good, it made me realize how I'd been holding on for so long.But what about Robyn now? What would happen to her, now that I was gone? Who would protect her?This idiocy about feeling safe in Stefan's arms, what was that? Shouldn't I feel the most afraid there?But the image of him that night in the cellar, of his eyes, I couldn't get it out of my head.Stefan Arma

Veronica"This is Civitella in Val di Chiana.""It looks abandoned." It was so dark."It's not. Not completely. There are a few festivals during the summer, then again in September at the harvest, but apart from that, it's quiet."I followed him up through the crumbling stone gate, looking around, reading the signs of the shops—a baker, a butcher, several little cafés. When I stumbled, he caught me and held my hand the rest of the way until we were at the top of the village in an open area, which must have once been part of the house that now lay in ruins. Grass had long covered the ground, and at the very center of the now small field, he stopped and looked up. I followed his gaze and stared in awe at the black sky dotted with diamond stars."No light pollution," he said and sat down.I sat beside him."It's amazing.""My mom used to bring me out here." He lay back. "On the bad nights."I followed, and we both watched the sky."Take care when fighting monsters you don't become one,"

StefanAfter the evening in Civitella in Val di Chiana, I doubted Veronica would appreciate that we'd be married in the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, alongside the resting places of Michelangelo, Galileo and Machiavelli, before the eyes of God and a handful of witnesses and fucking throngs of tourists. Tourists were unavoidable this time of year. I could almost tolerate them.It had taken an exorbitant contribution to book the basilica, but it only concretized my thinking. Money was what everything came down to and that included the church. But I had to admit, this was a magnificent display of devotion and art, even if it was wasted.I stood at the altar, waiting for my bride. The rope did little to keep curious visitors at bay. Beside me stood Eric as witness and another man arranged by my attorney. I didn't know who he was. In the front pew sat Veronica's grandfather, the great Marcus Kingston, his expression unreadable. At his side sat Robyn. Smaller than Veronica but not by