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too, and his gut told him that if a new identity didn’t satisfy her, Madelyn would eventually come for him and try to reclaim everything he’d taken from her.
    So he’d prepared. He’d kept watch over the properties that she’d once called hers. That diligence had paid off three weeks ago, when someone had entered the house using Madelyn’s old security code. He’d known it had to be her—probably returning to look at the items that she wanted to possess again. He’d been waiting for her to come back . . . and she had.
    Finally, after almost six years of searching, Nicholas had her—and soon, he’d send her back to the burning pit in Hell where she belonged.
    Except he didn’t feel the elation he should have. He was only sorry the demon crumpled on the floor wasn’t the woman she’d appeared to be.
    Stupid, that he’d almost fallen for her trick. By taking Rachel’s face, the demon had known exactly how to shove him off-balance. He should have known, dammit. He should have been prepared.
    No doubt she’d try to get to him again as soon as she woke up. He should kill her now—chop off her head, cut through her heart.
    He couldn’t slay her yet, though. He had to make certain this truly was Madelyn, not some demon lackey running an errand for her. Even if it was Madelyn, Nicholas wouldn’t kill her until he had answers. Unlike in the movies, a demon’s spirit didn’t take possession of a human’s; a demon shape-shifted its corporeal form and physically took the human’s place. When Nicholas had been eight, Madelyn had transformed herself into a duplicate of his mother—which meant that his mother must be out there, somewhere. He didn’t have any hope that his mother was still alive, but he needed to know what had happened to her.
    And he needed to know what had happened to Rachel’s body after her lifeless form had vanished from his arms. At the very least, she deserved that for saving his life. For loving him.
    Nicholas only wished he’d loved her back. She’d deserved that, too.
    He’d continue to let this demon think he had loved Rachel, though. Growing up with Madelyn for a mother had taught him that emotion could—and would—be used against him. He’d pretend to have once loved Rachel and let the demon try to manipulate an emotion he’d never felt, rather than let her rip him open with the guilt he did feel.
    He’d lock away that guilt, just as he locked away almost every emotion. If he thanked Madelyn for anything, it was that she’d given him the ability to conceal his feelings and to think like she did. Now he’d use that against her.
    He tossed the crossbow to the foot of the bed. The weapon would be useful later, but first he had to make certain she didn’t try to run—and a demon could run fast enough that he wouldn’t have time to blink before she’d gone. He bent to haul her onto the mattress. Beneath his hands, her wings felt like old leather left out in the hot sun. Roughly, he pushed them aside and gripped her shoulders, dragging her up. Her head rocked forward, as if weighted by the horns.
    No need to worry about waking her; she couldn’t hurt him without breaking the Rules. When he held her, she couldn’t even try to loosen his grasp.
    He let her flop back onto the bed and shoved her legs up. She didn’t stir, but he couldn’t have much time left. With one hand locked around her left wrist, he opened the nightstand’s top drawer, scanning the weapons there.
    She wouldn’t give him a chance to shock her with the Taser again. His pistol was useless against a demon. She could easily break the handcuffs. The darts filled with hellhound venom would paralyze her, but he needed her to talk. And though he could prevent her escape by holding on to her wrist, Nicholas preferred not to touch her.
    The collar, then. A quarter-inch thick and constructed of steel, she wouldn’t be able to rip it from her neck. Its heavy battery pack could be activated by remote to deliver