Page 15 of Court of Heathens

“Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter as I push past him. “I better get back and carry on with the spell.”

He follows me, and I hide my smile at the rightness of him being at my side just as a yell comes from the square. “Why in the heavens is there a cage here?”

Oops.

CHAPTER 9

“Ifound it!” I shout, and the demon falls from where he was napping on top of my workbench. Lifting the book, I grin over at Phrixius. “This spell will counter the binding and free you.”

“Good witch.” He grins, and something bubbles up inside me at the praise.

I deflate, though, the more I read. “It’s going to take a while. Some of these ingredients . . . I don’t even know where you would get them anymore.”

“A few days or weeks is nothing to a god,” he says. He’s been the perfect house guest, unlike the demon. Well, he is picky about his food, and he and the demon fight about what film they are watching while I work, but he hasn’t smotten—smitten—smited me? I don’t know. Regardless, he’s not done it, and he’s being surprisingly patient considering I basically kidnapped him.

“The sooner the better,” my demon snaps. “This idiot wants to watch some weird shows.”

“Because I do not want to watch porn all the time?” Phrixius retorts, and I sigh. They bicker like this all the time, and it’s annoying.

“Enough, Perry and Demon,” I warn. I don’t knowwhy, but I’ve taken to calling the god every name under the sun. He seems to find it amusing, and I admit it’s funny watching his reaction to each one.

“I preferred Picasso,” he says as I grin.

“Okay, I’ll start on this spell now and collect the ingredients as we go. Some of it takes at least ten days to brew anyway.” I clap my hands and get to work, but part of me is reluctant.

I might have even become accustomed to Phrixius being here. He’s a god, not a pet, but he’s fun to be around. He tells good stories, and he seems to fit. It’s foolish, I know, so I shake off those feelings and warm the cauldron. I pinch some oak root into the base, adding moon juice and some of the herbs along with volcanic ash since they will take the longest to brew. I leave it there as I scan the list and groan.

“Demon.” I smile sweetly.

“No.” He points at me, no doubt reading my expression.

I pout. “I need a branch from the oldest tree in the world. It will take me forever to go get it.”

“Oh, so now you want my help,” he sneers.

“The quicker we make this, the quicker he’s gone,” I croon, and he waves.

“If you want my help, then you make a deal like everyone else.”

“What do you want?” I sigh, knowing he won’t give in. Demons are stubborn like that.

“A kiss.” He jerks his chin up, grinning. “One kiss and I’ll go and get your stupid branch.”

I stare, grinding my jaw. It could be worse. We’ve never crossed that line, but something about it feels . . . inevitable. I need that branch. “Fine, no tongue,” I reply.

“Oh, sweet witch, you’ll beg for tongue.” He waits, eyebrow arching. “Well?”

Muttering under my breath, I step over, grab his horns, and yank him down, covering his lips with mine. For a moment, he’s unmoving, and I go to pull away when he groans, gripping my ass and hauling me closer, his lips moving against mine harshly.

He tries to pry mine open, and when I gasp for a breath, his tongue slips in, tangling with mine. He tastes of fire and sulphur as his warmhand slides up and across my shoulders. I shudder as he swallows my moan. When I realise I’m leaning into it, I rip away, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand and stepping backward.

The demon looks dazed, his chest heaving as he stares at me.

“Branch,” I remind him, my voice hoarse.

“Branch,” he repeats, staring at me, and then suddenly, he’s gone—no cocky remarks or teasing.

I’m left with my mouth tasting like flames as desire licks at every inch of me.

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