Jill

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“I thought you said your name was Azazel,” I whisper without looking at him. “Surely you must be Lucifer.” He snorts, sounding so like himself that my fear recedes even farther. He may look the part now, but he’s hardly what I would expect of a demon—or devil. “He’s a myth. I’m not.”
The Succubus's Prize (A Deal With a Demon, #4)
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