Page 55 of Bargain with the Demon King
"What would you call it?"
"Foreplay." The word hangs between us, heavy with promise. "You discovering power. Me watching you wield it. Both of us pretending we don't know where this leads."
"Where does it lead?"
His hand slides to my throat, not gripping, just resting there. Possessive. "To you conducting every bargain from now on. To you standing beside my throne not as decoration but as threat. To you becoming the monster Chad created when he shoved you toward that sword."
"I'm not a monster."
"No. You're worse. You're a monster who knows how to smile." He releases me, steps back, and the absence of his touchfeels like loss. "Get your dinner. Come back. We have more to discuss about tomorrow's bargains."
I retrieve my plate with hands that shake for new reasons. Not fear. Not rage. Something hungrier. When I return, he's waiting, wine poured, watching me with those impossible black-gold eyes.
"Three more summonings tomorrow," he says as I sit. "A mother selling her soul for her child's health. A warrior trading for victory. A young woman desperate for beauty."
"The mother gets kind terms. The others can rot."
"Already deciding who deserves mercy?" He raises his goblet, a mock toast. "Careful. That's how gods think."
"Gods create. I just want to destroy things that deserve it."
"Even better." He drinks, and I watch his throat work, watch the way his horns catch the light. "Tell me—what would you do to Chad if you could?"
The question should hurt. Instead, it ignites something vicious in my chest. "Nothing quick. Nothing clean. Maybe tell him his dick is adequate while making it clear I've had better. Maybe mention how his mother told everyone he wet the bed until he was twelve. Maybe just laugh at him until he understands exactly how small he's always been."
"No violence?"
"Violence would be mercy. Chad deserves to live a long life knowing exactly what he is—forgettable flesh taking up space until death makes him useful as fertilizer."
Azzaron's eyes burn brighter. "Say that again."
"Which part?"
"All of it. But slower. And look at me while you do."
I meet his gaze, hold it, let him see exactly what I'm becoming. "Chad is forgettable flesh. Taking up space. Until death makes him useful. As fertilizer."
"Fuck." The word escapes him rough, raw. "You're going to be the end of me."
"Promises, promises."
We stare at each other across the table, the air between us charged with something that has nothing to do with souls or bargains and everything to do with the way he's looking at me. Like I'm something he wants to devour. Like I'm dangerous. Like I'm exactly where I belong.
"Tomorrow," he says finally. "You'll conduct all three bargains. Alone."
"What if I can't complete the extraction?"
"I'll be there. Watching. Finishing what you start." His smile shows fangs. "I find I enjoy watching you work."
"You enjoy watching me be cruel."
"I enjoy watching you become what you were always meant to be." He stands, comes around the table, stops behind my chair. His hands rest on my shoulders, claws pricking through fabric. "Powerful. Dangerous. Mine."
"I'm not yours."
"No?" He leans down, breath hot against my ear. "Then why do you come to my chambers every night? Why do you wear my gift against your throat? Why do you look for my approval when you destroy someone?"
"Because I'm broken and you're convenient."
