Page 65 of Bargain with the Demon King
The first blow catches me across the face—Sithara's backhand, claws carefully retracted. My head snaps sideways, copper flooding my mouth. The sound echoes wrong in these ancient corridors, multiplying until it becomes applause.
"You forget your place," she says.
"My place is wherever the fuck I decide to stand." I spit blood at her feet, watch it freeze instantly on the ancient stone. "But please, continue explaining how five ancient demons need committee consensus to handle one mortal woman. This is definitely going in the history books. 'Chapter Four Hundred: When Demon Lords Formed a Support Group for Their Hurt Feelings.'"
The second blow comes from behind—one of the unnamed demons, his fist finding my kidney. I drop to my knees, gasping, and Kaine's boot finds my ribs. The crack echoes through the corridor, followed by my laugh.
They beat me with a precise cruelty after that—nothing fatal, everything painful. Violence designed to break without killing. Vex's shadows hold me still while the others take turns. My face swells, left eye closing completely. The unnamed demon with purple marks knows exactly where to hit to make ribs scream without puncturing lungs. Kaine's ice-touched punches leave frost patterns on my skin that burn worse than fire.
"Proper pet?" I wheeze through the blood. "Like what—kneeling quietly while you bore him to death with the same arguments you've been having since before my species learned to write? No wonder he keeps me around. I'm the only interesting thing to happen to this kingdom in a thousand years."
"Your personality is precisely the problem." Sithara grabs my hair, yanking my head back. My vision swims, but I focus on counting her horn spirals. Seven complete rotations. "You speak when not spoken to. You suggest changes to systems that have worked for millennia."
"Worked?" I laugh, blood bubbling on my lips. "Your system is held together by fear and repetition. That's not working, that's stagnation. But hey, at least the stagnation isconsistent. Very on-brand for demons who need five-to-one odds to feel brave."
"You know what the upside is?" I gasp between blows. "This is a very exclusive experience. 'Beaten by five demon lords' probably has great story value. I should charge admission for the retelling."
"You won't be telling anyone anything." Sithara's claws finally extend, tracing lines across my shoulders that well with blood. "You'll be too broken to speak."
"Broken?" I laugh through a mouthful of blood. "Honey, I was broken when I got here. This is just adding texture. Very artistic. The bruising really brings out my eyes—well, eye. The other one's swollen shut, but we work with what we have."
They drag me through more corridors, my blood leaving a trail on stones that haven't seen mortal blood in centuries. The soul-stones here pulse in response, hungry for the vitality I'm leaking. Everything blurs—Vex's shadows arguing with each other in whispers, Kaine leaving frost footprints, Sithara muttering about proper order being restored.
The throne room materializes through my damaged vision. Empty except for more shadows that might be demons or might be my brain struggling. They throw me at the base of Azzaron's throne. The impact drives what's left of my breath out. Something in my chest shifts wrong—definitely broken ribs.
"Chain her." Kaine's voice sounds distant, filtered through ringing ears. "Let him find his pet properly displayed."
Cold metal locks around my wrists, my ankles. The chains are short, keeping me on my knees at the throne's base. Blood drips onto pristine stone, and I watch it pool. My blood is very red here. Mortal red against demon black floors. It spreads in patterns that look almost like letters, spelling out words I can't read.
"You think this proves something?" My voice slurs through my swollen mouth. "That you're strong? That you're necessary?"
"It proves you're breakable." Sithara circles me, predator savoring victory. "When he sees you like this, he'll remember what you are. Mortal. Weak. Temporary."
"Temporary is relative." I lift my head despite the spinning room. "I've been here—what, a few weeks? And already changed more than you have in centuries. That's efficiency."
"You've changed nothing," Vex insists, but his shadows keep splitting and reforming—nervous tics for nervous demons.
"No? Then why are you here at midnight, beating his property?" I meet each of their eyes through my one functioning eye. "If I'm so insignificant, why the committee meeting? Why the careful violence designed not to kill? Why are you all standing there, waiting to see what happens next?"
They exchange glances—uncertain despite their bravado. Good. Let them wonder. Let them question whether beating the King's pet was worth the risk.
"He won't come for his toy." Kaine's voice lacks conviction. Ice spreads from where he stands, nervous energy manifesting.
"No?" I laugh, more blood bubbling. "Then why are you all still here? If you're so certain he won't care, why wait to watch?"
"To ensure you understand your place," Sithara says, but she keeps glancing at the door.
"My place." I shift, chains clanking. "Let me tell you about my place. I sit beside his throne. I share his meals. I carry his blood in my veins from where he healed me. I've tasted his cock and made him lose control. My place is wherever I choose to claim it, and right now, even chained and bleeding, I'm still more relevant to him than any of you have ever been."
"Delusions," Vex mutters, but all three of his shadows face different directions—watching for threats.
"Is it? When's the last time any of you made him feel anything besides boredom? When's the last time his beast emerged for you?" I grin through the blood. "Oh wait, that was for me. In front of everyone. Because someone dared suggest I was just decoration."
The air doesn't just turn heavy; it solidifies, the pressure making my ears pop. A low thrum vibrates up from the stone floor, a bass note of rage that is felt more than heard. Through the massive throne room doors, the darkness beyond is no longer empty; it has a pulse.
"He's coming," Vex whispers, all three of his shadows pulling tight against his body.
"Impossible," Sithara insists, but she backs away from the doors. "For a mortal pet? He wouldn't—"
