Page 6 of Snowed in with the Demon Lord
He waved that off. “Lack of knowledge is not failure or stupidity. You lack education in our technology, so I offered it in simple terms. That is not an insult.”
Which annoyed me on many levels, mostly because he was right. I tried to put it aside and ask more focused questions.
“So, you’re looking for souls? Are you hoping you’ll get mine?”
He blinked and sat silently for a moment. “Why would I want your soul, human? My greatest desire is for you to leave, but the storm makes that impossible. I am stuck with you for a while longer, and you with me. We shall have to make the best of it.”
“Yeah? What are you up to that you want me gone?”
The pause was tiny, almost unnoticeable. “I simply value my privacy, human.”
He’s lying.I knew that as soon as he spoke, but I didn’t know how to press him. A demon lord hiding in the hills, doing something mysterious with no witnesses? That sounded bad, but being the sole witness he’d have to get rid of afterward sounded worse.
Freezing to death wouldn’t be any better, leaving me stuck here while the blizzard passed. Fuck.
I didn’t want to think about being that, and asking questions wasn’t going well, so I looked for a distraction. Somethingother thanthe demon lord whose body made me weak at the knees. Fortunately, another appetite made itself known.
“I need something to eat,” I announced, and my stomach rumbled in agreement. The kitchen area was small but well supplied, and I decided it was breakfast time. “You don’t mind me making myself breakfast?”
Abaddon nodded, watching as I got myself set up. Then he turned his attention back to his folder of papers covered instrange symbols. A weird demon language? Or odd scientific notation? I had no way of knowing, and I didn’t want to risk prying. He didn’t want to share his secrets, and I remembered what curiosity did to the cat.
I didn’t have nine lives to risk.
Eggs. Milk. Cinnamon and vanilla. All the makings of French toast were there, and I decided I deserved some comfort food. Mixing up the batter also gave me a chance to spend some nervous energy, and I sawed thick slices off the loaf of bread I found. There’d be enough for both of us, and I hoped that would ease my guilt at imposing on Abaddon.
Guilt might be the wrong word for that emotion. I didn’t want to owe a debt to a demon, and if making him a meal would pay back some of what I owed him, I’d take it.
As the bread slices soaked in the batter, I grinned to myself, certain that this was about to be delicious. I poured oil into the skillet and turned on the stove to heat it.
With awhoosh,blackfire erupted around the pan, and I screamed, jumping backward. Everything moved in slow motion as the skillet slipped from my fingers and struck the edge of the stove. Oil splattered, black flames caught, and I had neither time nor space to dodge.
A wall of red muscle appeared between me and the stove. I didn’t see Abaddon arrive, he was justthereas if by magic. Maybe itwasmagic. I don’t know.
The demon lord snatched the skillet out of the air, blocked the oil with his bare chest, and switched off the heat, all in one smooth motion before I knew what was happening.
Time snapped back to normal as his tail grabbed hold of my wrist, controlling my jump-turned-fall and lowering me to sit on his kitchen floor. His attention stayed on the fire, but he spared enough time to save me from a bruised butt.
Shame he couldn’t do anything about the bruised ego.
“Fuck.” Hardly an elegant response, but the only thing that came to mind.
Abaddon ignored my profanity, dropped the skillet back on the stove, and pulled a fire blanket out to throw over the flames. Only after the fire was out did he turn to look down at me, his burning eyes fixed on mine and his godlike body splashed with burning oil.
I had, in previous kitchen misadventures, splashed myself with a few drops of hot oil. The memoryhurt,and I couldn’t imagine how sore the big splashes must be. Eyes wide, I stared up at him. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, shit, do you need first aid?”
“Huh.” It took me a moment to identify that sound. Not anger, not pain. A chuckle.
“Are you laughing at me?” It wouldn’t be the first time my kitchen-curse amused someone, though this would be the first time that someone should have needed medical attention.
“Holly. I am a demon lord, come to your world from the city of Dis.” As he spoke, Abaddon lifted a dishcloth to wipe the mess from his abs. I saw no sign of the burn I’d expected. “If you think a cooking fire gets hot enough to harm me, then you have yet to grasp the situation.”
5
ABADDON
Smoke filled my kitchen, and I suspected my skillet was no more. That vexed me, but my reaction to the burst of flame was worse. Without an instant’s thought, I’d put myself between Holly and danger. I hadn’t even considered the risk to myself.
Which is not how a Lord of Dis reacts to a mortal placing herself in peril. She had made her own mess, and I had no obligation to save her from it. Yet my instincts had taken over.
