He takes a step towards me, ignoring the gun poised at his head. "You're a tiny creature just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Get back," I hiss, taking a shaky step backward. I'm usually not so nervous upon confrontation with my enemies, but then again, they usually don't come quipped with wicked grins and a death wish.

Sinclair cocks his head, noting the way my hand trembles slightly with eyes flickering with amusement. "Come, little one. I'll make this fast for you."

I manage to roll my eyes even with the nerves festering wildly in my belly. "Oh, fuck off. Do you not see the gun pointed at your head right now?"

He clucks his tongue, eyes raking down my body again. His gaze is slow this time, taking its time over the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts over the low neckline of my dress. I shiver, my skin tingling where his eyes brush as if phantom fingers follow in their wake.

"You're definitely not what I expected," he murmurs, ignoring the glare I shoot him. Instead, he takes into an easy stride towards me, unconcerned with the fact that his death is nearly within my grasp.

So I shoot. Even with trembling hands my aim is true, hitting him in the center of his chest.

He stills, body shuddering with the impact of the bullet embedding itself in his flesh. Slowly, his arm rises as he presses a tentative finger to the flesh wound, watching with a strange blankness as dark liquid comes off on his skin.

My lips part as he stays standing, another dose of terror filling my veins as his head slowly raises to meet my gaze. Cold fury settles over his features, the inked serpent twitching over the flesh of his forearm.

Goosebumps prickle on my arms. Terror tightens my stomach, bile biting the back of my throat. My back hits the wall as I take another step back, icy fear overcoming my body in all the most unpleasant ways. It's a terrible thing, knowing you're about to die.

"What the fuck are you?" I manage to whisper past my tight throat.

He doesn't respond as he starts towards me again. I fire off a few more panicked shots, the sharp pops making my ears ring. Sinclair doesn't stop as they embed inside of him, body rocking back slightly under the blows until he approaches me close enough to snatch the weapon from my fingers.

My fist whips out but he catches it with the ease of swatting away a fly. Slowly, he raises the gun to my temple.

I close my eyes and wait for death. I have no family and apparently no true friends. I came into this world unwanted and will leave just the same. The thought sends an ache into my heart.

I crack an eye when nothing comes. His dark brows are knitted, gaze trained on my arm. I still, already knowing what's to come before my eyes meet the exposed skin.

There it is—my sleeve pushed down, revealing the ink marking me as divine blood. By the savage curiosity on his face, I know this won't end well for me.

His fingers creep up to push the fabric down some more, studying the large cross smeared with his friend's blood.

"What's this?" he murmurs, another grin curling over his lips. Something close to excitement sparks in his eyes. "You're one of them."

I don't say anything, jaw clenching so tightly that my teeth ache.

"What's your name, angel?" He pushes the gun further into my temple, causing a dull ache to throb through my head.

I grit my teeth, pulse pounding at my neck. "Calli."

"Calli," he breathes, looking thoughtful. "You're more trouble than what I bargained for."

I grunt, hating how my stomach squeezes as I anticipate him finishing the deed. The waiting game is always my least favorite part of my job. "You gonna pull the trigger?"

He snorts, mouth curling with amusement. "You have a death wish, little monster?"

I scoff. That's rich coming from a literal creature of Hell. "No. But what's the point in getting to know me if I'm just going to be a splatter of blood on your shoe in a few minutes?"

He leans down until his face is parallel with mine, the span of his warm breath brushing against my lips. "Maybe I intend to keep you."

"I'd rather die."

His lips curl into a wicked grin. "That settles it then, angel."

The breath stills in my throat. "What?"

He leans forward, a strand of his dark hair tickling my cheek. "You're mine now," he murmurs in my ear.

I rub the gooseflesh that scatter over my arms, staring blankly at him as he pulls back and takes a small foldable blade out of his pocket. Sinclair raises it to his forearm and I watch in morbid fascination as he cuts a line across his tattooed arm. The inked creature shifts over his skin as if trying to avoid the sharpened tip.

"Why?" I don't bother trying to run. The barrel of his gun hangs at his side and I know he could raise it at any second, but something tells me he wouldn't even need to do that much to subdue me. So I just sit there, skin crawling as the dried blood cakes to my arms and chest, wondering why he doesn't just end me.

He takes a step forward, squatting down until his face is parallel with mine and the warmth of his breath spans over my lips. His stormy eyes spark, mouth curling in a wicked grin. "Because I'm going to ruin you."

He takes my hand in his, giving it a sharp squeeze as I instinctively try and jerk it away.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, sucking in a breath as he raises the blade and makes a shallow cut along my palm. Without responding, he presses my bloodied hand to the open wound against his forearm.

I don't get the chance to ponder how horrifying the entire ordeal is. He's already murmuring a rhythmic chant that causes the air between us to buzz with invisible power.

"Sanguine ad sanguinem quod meum est tuum usque putavit esse."

I try and jerk my hand away as the serpent moves against his skin, curling itself around where my flesh meets his as if it wants to crawl onto my skin.

He gives me another warning squeeze. I wince as the motion causes more blood to trickle from my open wound.

"Blood to blood, what's mine is yours until deemed be."

A choked cry escapes my throat as something wiggles under my skin. It's red hot, a wriggling pain that emerges from my bones and travels through muscle and sinew as if trying to tear its way out of my body. Gradually, black markings rise to the top of my skin—a small, slender snake that winds herself around my forearm.

He lets me snatch my arm away, looking on as I watch in horror as the serpentine blinks one flattened eye at me in greeting.

"Shit," I claw at my skin, panic making my breaths short in my throat. She writhes around my nails as if the action pains her. "What did you do to me?"

"Made you mine," he says easily.

I stare at him, wondering if he'll catch my fists as easily as before if I try and take another swing at him.

"What?"

He doesn't respond, watching me with an intent expression that reveals I'm nothing more to him than a pet for his amusement. Even as my lip curls and I spit at his feet, his mouth tugs upward like the hate that's scrawled plainly across my face is entertaining to him.

Perhaps the weakness has gone to my brain or it's the cold fury brewing in my veins, but my gun looks especially tempting at his side. Without thinking, I'm reaching to pull it out of his grip.

It's a slow and lazy effort but he lets me take it from him nonetheless. He snorts, looking bored as he stares into the barrel like he's daring me to pull the trigger.

"Even if that worked, it wouldn't do you any good now, angel."

I still, gun trembling in my hand. Something glimmers in his eyes. A wry satisfaction that he holds something over my head—something that's going to fuck me over ten times sideways.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can let your self-righteous brethren know that if I die, so do you."

I have to remind myself to take a breath. Somehow I feel like I'm going to vomit and pass out all at once when it dawns on me—the aura of power, the sense of commandment he holds over others.

The ritual wasn't just a load of cursing and demonic bullshit to scare me. No, it's something that I hadn't even thought was in his power. Something only a demon created directly by the hand of Lucifer could be capable of.

I can't tell what's worse: the fact that Sinclair Black has just bound my life to his or that I don't think my 'family' will care when deciding his fate.