Page 15 of The Demon's Tongue

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. The crystals dig deeper into my skin, as well.

Sylas steps further into the room, his presence filling the space. "You have your first customer, my dear. Aren't you excited?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stumble back, shaking my head. "No. No, I won't do it."

He laughs, the sound harsh and grating. "Oh, but you will. You don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," I spit, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady.

Sylas' eyes narrow. "Not for you. Not anymore." He reaches out, fingers grazing my cheek. I flinch away, but he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You're mine now, remember? And I say you have a customer waiting."

I wrench away from his grip, my skin crawling. "I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged," he says, his voice dangerously soft. "But I think you'll find life much more... pleasant if you cooperate."

My mind races, searching for a way out. The crystals hidden in my palm seem to burn against my skin, a reminder of the deal I made. But how can I use them? I don't even know how they work.

"Please," I whisper, hating the desperation in my voice. "Don't make me do this."

Sylas' face softens, but his eyes remain cold. "My dear, this is what you were bought for. It's time you earn your keep."

He turns to leave, and panic claws at my throat. "Wait!" I call out. "I... I can't. I don't know how to..."

He pauses at the door, looking back with a cruel smile. "Don't worry. Your customer will teach you everything you need to know."

The door closes behind him with a final click, leaving me alone with my fear and the sickening realization of what's about to happen.

8

GENEVA

Ipace the room, my heart pounding against my ribs. The silky fabric of this ridiculous dress swishes with each step, a constant reminder of my horrible predicament. I glance at the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment.

"This can't be happening," I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. "There's got to be a way out."

My gaze darts around the room, searching for anything that might help. A window catches my eye, but it's too small to squeeze through. Besides, we're probably several stories up. And I'm not sure I want to die just yet.

I clench my fists, feeling the hard edges of the crystals digging into my palm. "Come on, Geneva. Think."

The memory of Sylas' cold eyes and cruel smile makes my skin crawl. No way am I letting him or any other dark elf lay a hand on me.

"Okay. Options," I say to myself, trying to keep my voice steady. "I could try to fight my way out. But against a bunch of dark elves? Not likely."

I pause by the mirror, barely recognizing the scared girl staring back at me. The dress hugs my figure in all the wrongways, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. Seeing myself like this, in this clothing, is nothing short of nauseating.

"Screw this," I growl, yanking at the fabric. "I'm not playing dress-up for anyone."

I rummage through drawers and wardrobes, searching for something, anything else to wear. But it's all the same—revealing outfits designed to please someone else's eye.

"Fine," I huff, slamming a drawer shut. "If I can't change my clothes, I'll change my attitude."

I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders. The girl in the mirror looks a little less scared now, a little more defiant.

"No dark elf is going to hurt me," I say, meeting my own gaze. "I won't let them."

I open my palm, staring at the crystals. They glint in the dim light, holding the promise of freedom. If only I knew how to use them. For now, I put them into one of my pockets. I'm sure I'll need them soon.

"Come on, Calix," I whisper, closing my eyes. "I could really use some demonic advice right about now."

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