Page 22 of Bargain with the Demon King
I'm on him before he finishes, claws at his throat, not quite puncturing but close enough that he feels every point. "She is MINE. My claim. My property. My choice. And you thought you could taste what belongs to me?"
"Please—"
"Run." I release him, watch him scramble to his feet, black blood dripping from where my claws scratched. "If I see you again before the new moon, I'll peel your skin off in strips and use it to bind my next ledger."
He flees, leaving puddles of blood in his wake. I turn to Adraya, letting my form settle back to mostly human. She'spressed against the wall still, eyes wide, but not running. Never running from me, even when she should.
"Are you hurt?"
She shakes her head, then finds her voice. "You came."
"You're mine. Of course I came." I examine her for injuries, noting the tear in her dress that shows too much skin, the faint scratches where Malphas gripped too hard. Rage flickers again, and I have to focus to keep my form stable. "This can't happen again."
"I didn't—I was just walking—"
"I know." I shrug off my coat, wrapping it around her to cover the torn dress. My scent will cling to her now—smoke and ash and power. "It's not your fault. But the court sees you as either weakness or toy. We need to change that perception."
"How?"
"There's a formal dinner tonight. High demons only, plus their... entertainment." The word tastes foul, but it's accurate. "You'll attend with me."
"As what? Your secretary?" She tries for humor, but her voice shakes. My coat drowns her, making her look smaller, more fragile. More mine.
"As my consort." I guide her back toward our chambers, hand firm on her lower back. "You'll need to perform the role completely. Act as though your mind bends to my pleasure, that you exist only for my satisfaction. Make them believe you're mine in every way that matters."
She stops walking. "You want me to pretend to be your sex toy?"
"I want you to survive." I turn to face her fully, watching how my coat parts to show the tear in her dress, the smooth skin beneath. "If they think you're merely decorative, they'll test boundaries like Malphas did. If they think you're my obsession, my chosen pleasure, they become too frightened to touch you."
"But everyone will think—"
"Let them think." I resume walking, feeling her reluctance as she follows. "Their assumptions protect you better than any guard."
"This is insane."
"This is necessary." We reach our chambers, and I open her door first. "The dinner begins at full dark. Wear something that leaves no doubt about your role."
She enters her room, then turns back. "Azzaron?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For stopping him." Her eyes hold that impossible warmth, even after everything. "You didn't have to react so strongly."
"Yes. I did." I move closer, watching her pulse jump at her throat. "No one touches what belongs to me. No one."
"I don't belong to anyone."
"You belong to me in every way that matters here." I trace one claw along her jaw, not quite touching, watching her lean into the almost-contact. "And tonight, you'll make sure everyone knows it."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then tomorrow I'll be executing more lords for thinking you're available." I let that sink in, watch her process the reality. "Your moral objections, or their lives. Choose."
Her breath catches. "That's not fair."
"Nothing here is fair. But it is simple—play my devoted consort for one evening, or watch me slaughter anyone who looks at you wrong." I lean down, close enough that my breath stirs her hair. "Though I suspect part of you enjoys it. The violence. The protection. The proof that someone would kill for you without hesitation."
She shivers, and not from fear. "You're wrong."
