Page 23 of Dating the Dealing Demon

“Prior deal?” Her voice comes out slightly strained, and I ease off even though it denies me the soft press of her curves. “Oh, the contract at the not-so-haunted house. Your mom offered way better than a sad imitation of a kink club menu. So basic. Was that really the best you could come up with?”

Well, fuck me. I don’t have to fake the near stumble that has me shifting weight onto her for a moment. I thought I’d been fairly extensive in listing the possible hard limits a match might have. But apparently my mate has a few secrets that I’ll need her to share. So much for stopping my one-track mind. “What do you know of kink clubs and their menus?”

“Ugh, you’re heavy,” she protests. Her soul guardian headbutts my back where my wings would be if I didn’t have my human glamour in place. Having Montejanus shove me forward has me adjusting my weight. She grips my waist tighter. “We did an episode where my older sister and I interviewed members of a club in Los Angeles. The producers rented the entire dungeon— or studio as the owners called it—so we could host a big party. The whole thing made me shudder.”

“Kink did?” Because here I’d been imagining her bound in bright ribbons, tied to my bed, begging for my touch.

“No, the show. The way it mocked kink.” She ducks her head and shoves me toward the bed as though she has revealed too much.

I’m not letting her leave now without more explanation. “And you don’t agree with that?”

“What I don’t agree with is shaming people for legal, consensual fun.” My bold, unapologetic mate is back. While I normally go for quiet, easy conquests, she’d be a beautiful one to break. Except the thought of breaking her leaves me unsettled.

She releases me, striding away as though she has said all she plans to say on the topic. I don’t want her to go.

Having her consent to be my mate isn’t a game for me. It’sthegame. The win I need or I’ll lose everything. Playing my next move like a high-stakes bet at family poker night, I strategize on how to make her stay. I’ll need to give her something that’ll keep her from walking out the door. “If you’ll stay to help me heal, we can talk about reconnecting you with your friends.”

Val stops, glaring at me from over her shoulder. Montejanus swoops toward the bed as if defending a woman whose sharp tongue and even sharper blades prove she can take care of herself.

I raise the bet. “Shadowvale, show us the minotaur’s match.”

An image shimmers across the stone walls, glittering into view like the castle wants to impress Val as much as I need to. The redhead sits in a goddess-worthy dress with flowers woven into her hair. While there’s no sound, it’s obvious she’s laughing as she clutches a small carving in her hand and looking to someone past the limited picture of the mirror view.

“Meg.” Val comes closer. Without looking away from the image, she asks, “Does she know we can see her? Can she hear us?”

“No and no,” I explain. “It’s a recording of when I did a welfare check on her earlier today. She too has a soul guardian.”

“Like Monty?” The little asshole shifts from dragon to his furry form so she can hug him to her. Dreadful little beast. I’m the one breaking client confidentiality to win Val over, and he’s the one she pulls close.

“Hers is a cat. Not whateverthatis.”

“He’s a mongoose.” Val uses her most judgmental tone.

“He’s a menace.”

She glances back to the projection of her friend. “Can you show me Rosemarie?”

Of course she gives me an impossible task from the start. “No.” When she twists her face into a scowl, I hold up a hand before she can argue. “Not because I don’t want to. The gargoyles have strict rules over their realm since it’s the place in between life and death where humans pass to the After Worlds. Your friend Rosemarie will become queen of the Bridge of Souls, guiding the dead in their transition across.”

“She worked for the hospice unit back home. She’d be perfect for that.”

“Her soul guardian is the owl you saw at the house before her gargoyle mates took her to safety. With them protecting her, every dimension in existence would have to fall before she was ever in danger.”

“And Ava?” Val takes a step closer, stroking her fingertips over Monty’s fur.

“She wound up with her fated mate aboard a pirate ship.”

“She hates the water.”

“Her kraken mate sails with an honorable enough crew, but I’ll track them as best I can and retrieve her when they come to port since she didn’t sign a matching contract.”

“You’ll let me see her when you find her?” She holds up a finger. “And by see, I mean anin personvisit where I can talk toher. Not like this with Meg,” she finishes, gesturing toward the image.

“I promise, and promises are something dealing demons take very seriously.”

She stares at me, a challenge in her eyes. At least she doesn’t reach for the jeweled dagger strapped to her thigh. I can only assume Shadowvale conjured the holster for her, and I highly approve of the look, if not the death threat associated with it.

“I’ll hold you to that promise.” She tips her head toward Meg’s face as the display fades. “What do you expect in exchange for keeping me updated on my friends?”

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