Free Mistress of Redemption by Joey W. Hill Page B

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.”
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    Joey W. Hill
    “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