Page 15 of The Demon Prince's Accidental Mate
What was wrong with the guy? Between all the awkward silences and weird looks, I had to wonder if maybe he was insane. Had Old Andie perhaps blabbed to someone about what happened, and word got to him?
“Well, Belial, I don’t want your offer, whatever it is, okay? Thank you for the offer, but I’m closed for the day now. You can go.”
“You don’t dismiss me,” he said, his body language acting like it was a command, but the words making it sound like a request.
“Please leave,” I said with a sigh, my fear for my well-being fading.
When Belial had first come storming into the bakery, I could’ve sworn he had violence on his mind. That changed the longer he stuck around, but I really didn’t care. Since I didn’t feel threatened, I was more willing to stick up for myself. My day had already gone on for long enough. The last thing I needed was to put up with more. Whatever it may be. Belial certainly didn’t seem to have it figured out.
Had he even known what he would do when he opened the door?
“If I leave,” he said, suddenly sounding more confident, my blood chilling as his body language changed, “your shop will fail.”
“Is that a threat?” Did he plan to destroy it or burn it down just to spite me for accidentally touching his mind? Whowashe?
“A promise,” he said, oozing wickedness. “I won’t even have to lift a finger. You’ll run yourself into the ground trying to save it, but in the end, it will fail anyway.Youwill fail.”
I glared at him, but the fire in my eyes slid off him without effort. He took my best and laughed at it with his gaze. Laughed at it and winked at me.
Shaking my head, I pointed past him at the door. “I don’t need your help,” I said hoarsely, throat dry, lips sticking together. “Please leave.”
Belial reached up and took my hand. I yanked it free, but not before his fingers seared my skin. I looked down at my hand in shock … but there were no marks. Glancing at him, then back at my fingers, I tried to understand. I’dfeltthe heat. It shot up my arm, an unmistakable shock. So, why wasn’t I hurt? What had I felt?
“It’s not an optional offer,” he rumbled, leaning forward until my nostrils filled with leather and campfire, a potent smoky combo that sent my mind reeling, filling it with thoughts not at all appropriate to the situation.
But he smelled sogood.
“So, what happens if I say no?” I squeaked.
“I’ll convince you,” he growled, coming a little closer. “I can beveryconvincing.”
I took a step back. He came with me. Following me, filling my nostrils with his pheromones, my eyes with his body. Trying to overwhelm me.
“Y-you’ll have to be more convincing than that,” I stammered.
“I’ve been inside your head,” he reminded me, eyes all but glowing as he came closer. “Don’t forget that. I know what’s in there. Iknowhow badly things are going for you, Lilith.”
The shiver that ran down my spine from hearing him say my name was so close to an orgasm that I gasped, my lips parting in a tiny circle.
“I know how close you are to having to live back there,” he said, tilting his head beyond the wall to the kitchen out back. “Not very sanitary, that.”
My muscles stiffened. “Are you threatening me with turning me in?”
Belial’s smile just grew wider and wickeder.
“Do as I say, or you’ll ensure I fail, is that it?” How original.
Unfortunately, he was right. Iwasclose to moving out of the apartment and living at the bakery. It would save me a lot every month. Money I could use for food. Or perhaps to hire someone.
“Trust me,” Belial said in a tone that set off nuclear warning bells in my mind, alerting me that I should do anythingbuttrust him. “With my help, you will be okay.”
“Your help.” I grimaced. What choice did I have, though?
“Yes. I know many people,” he said. “Many in … the community. Perhaps they could be enticed to start coming here. Buying things from you.”
The community. He had to mean those in the magical world, a world I only knew about from the fringes. I paused to think about that. If he started bringing people to the bakery, people who knew more about magic and his world than I did, perhaps someone could help me find a way to talk to my father. There had to be people who could do such things with more success than Old Andie. I wasn’t sure I trusted her to try again. Given that the fallout from the first attempt was standing in front of me, arms nearly ripping free of his shirt, the simple smell of him making me drool from more than one place in a wild set of contradictory emotions.
“I …” What else could I say?
