He banged his fists against wood that echoed. A box? Then his questing fingers encountered a smooth surface, slithered across it, and a tentative rap of his knuckles rang like a crystal bell. Glass?

His mind reeled. Was Sitri playing a game, trying to scare him into full submission? Perhaps he had pissed Sitri off so much he had sent him to another demon prince to serve? To Belial, even, as he had threatened?

He pressed his forehead against the glass, tried to make out the space around him. The ceiling was low, the decor poor and not gothic enough for a demon prince's castle. Just an old, blackened fireplace, with a couple of logs and thin flames jumping inside, a scratched desk at the wall, and a threadbare, green armchair.

"This is weird. I said, this is weird! Come out, whoever you are."

Silence.

He couldn't take any more. All the tension and fear from the past weeks tore through him like a spear. "Leave me the fuck alone! Stop fucking with my mind, do you hear?" He banged the wooden frame, pummeling it with his fists. "Show yourself!"

Movement caught his eye, and he dropped his hands. A tall figure stepped into his field of vision. A man.

Hot damn! Mador's jaw sagged, and his groin tightened in appreciation.

The man wore soft black pants and a golden chain with a round amulet around his neck. Tousled chestnut hair hung down to strong shoulders. Copper strands framed an austere face with eyes so dark they tugged at Mador's mind and body like a sinful promise. Soft lips opened a fraction, and a corded hand gripped a wicked-looking knife.

Was this a demon? He was almost too handsome to be one. Mador forced his slack jaw into working order and closed his mouth.

But something nagged at him. Tearing his gaze from the hot guy's body, he tried to work it out. It was the whole situation, the setting, the man himself. He reminded him of someone. Who? Mador narrowed his eyes. His senses reached out for the familiar fiery signature of a demon.

Nothing.

Not a demon? A mortal man?

Mador struggled in his narrow confines and felt space sway. "Where the hell am I? Who are you?"

The man raised the knife higher, his hand trembling. "Stay where you are, demon. Don't try to break free."

"Break free of what?" Mador stilled. "Dammit, what's going on?"

The man pointed the slim knife at him, dark brows furrowing over his eyes. "I summoned you."

"Summoned me?" Mador struggled not to snicker. This had to be a joke of Sitri's. He had never been summoned before. "Whatever for?"

"I need your help, Demon Madorael. I'm in grave danger. I need a protector, a warrior demon, to fight on my behalf."

"My help?" Mador let out a bark of laughter. "Nah, I knew there'd been a mistake, babe. I mean, I'd love to get to know you better, if you catch my drift, but I'm honestly not the one you need. Check out the lists of the big, bad demons." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you give me a call when things calm down? We could have some great fun together."

"Look." The man's dark brows knitted more, his knife gleamed, and the muscles played on his chest, wreaking havoc with Mador's concentration. "I've spent three days and nights summoning you, and I'm running out of time. You can't leave."

Mador licked his lips. Damn, the man was delicious. If he could break free of this frame, he would fuck him in a heartbeat. "Sorry for your troubles, really. Breaks my heart, and all that jazz. But you got the wrong demon."

The man rubbed the furrow between his eyes and winced. "What do you mean?"

"I don't fight anymore."

"But you did once, and you know how." The knife came closer, twinkling in the half-light. "I read that you fought in the great war in Heaven, that you know all about combating other demons."

Oh, yeah. That war. "That was too long ago."

The mortal gripped the knife with both hands, pointing at Mador. Was the guy trying to scare him or something? Mador snorted.

The man leaned closer. His gaze was clear and earnest. "Another demon is after me. I was given three days and nights before he comes for me, and that's tonight. There's no way I can fight this demon. You've got to help me."

Mador stared. Staying was tempting, and not just because of the mortal's beauty. Mador was at last out of Hell, far from Sitri's shifting moods, far from torture and despair--free, even if it was just for a while.

Then common sense slammed back in. Who was he kidding? Sitri would be furious, and when he got his hands on Mador once more, there would be literally Hell to pay. When Prince Onoel of the Third Hell had once borrowed Mador without asking, the punishment Mador received earned him nightmares to last a goddamn eternity. "Nah, man, can't do. No way."

The man's deep voice wavered. "I implore you, demon."