Page 14 of Bargain with the Demon King
"Chad's face when he first said he loved me." The memory warms me from within. "We were by the river, and the sunset hit his eyes just right, and he looked at me like I was his whole world. Like nothing else would ever matter as much as that moment."
"How nauseatingly sweet."
"How perfectly romantic." I correct, taking another sip of wine and watching the way his throat moves when he swallows his own drink. "You've really never been in love? In all your centuries?"
"Love is a mortal weakness."
"Love is a universal strength." I push a strange purple vegetable around my plate. "It makes people brave. Makes them sacrifice everything for someone else's happiness. That's not weakness—that's the ultimate power."
"Is that what you tell yourself? That trading your soul for his life was power?"
"It was. I had the power to save him, and I used it." I meet his gaze steadily. "No regret in that."
His claws drum against the table. "What if he's not worth it?"
"Everyone's worth saving to someone." I smile, soft and sure. "Chad brings me wildflowers, remembers my favorite tea, holds me during thunderstorms even though he pretends not to be scared too. He's worth a thousand souls."
"You've assigned an interesting exchange rate to mediocrity."
"You've assigned an interesting level of cynicism to everything beautiful." I counter. "When was the last time you danced?"
"Demons don't dance."
"Everyone dances. Maybe not formally, but everyone moves to some rhythm." I study him, noting the controlled grace in every gesture. "I bet you'd be an excellent dancer. All that coordinated violence probably translates."
"Are you suggesting I waltz through executions?"
"I'm suggesting you have rhythm in your bones and refuse to let it out." The wine makes me bold, or maybe it's his almost-smile. "What's your favorite color?"
He blinks at the subject change. "My what?"
"Color. Everyone has a favorite color. Even demon kings."
"Colors here exist in spectrums your eyes can't process."
"So pick one I can see."
He's quiet for a moment, firelight playing across his sharp features. "Gold."
"Gold? Like treasure?"
"No." He reaches across the table, one claw hovering near my hair. "Like mortal warmth. The color of hope before it learns better."
My breath catches. His claw almost touches a strand of my hair, and every nerve in my body leans toward that almost-contact.
"You're not as cold as you pretend to be." The words come out soft, wondering.
"You're not as naive as you appear to be." He withdraws his hand slowly.
"I'm exactly as naive as I appear. I just choose to see the best in everything." I stand, gathering my plate with reluctance. "Thank you for letting me stay."
"Adraya."
I freeze at the door. My name on his tongue sounds different—weightier.
"Tomorrow night, bring your plate again."
"Is that an invitation?" I turn, unable to hide my delight. "The Demon King actually wants company?"
