Page 49 of Immortal Throne

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t fall out. I swallowed and tried to tell him about the trial again. Nothing.

The spell of the portals prevented me from sharing details about the trials.

I took a deep breath and tried again. “I can’t speak demon.”

There. I said something without violating the portal’s stupid magic restrictions, and Chupey could fill in the blanks.

“Sloane, everyone can speak demon. It’s in your blood.”

“I think I’d know if I could spit out a different language.” I stomped past him, careful not to knock him over, and turned the corner. “I can barely speak English sometimes.”

Zane and Ryker stood outside the door to my room and broke off what looked like an intense staring match to turn toward me. I stopped abruptly and Chupey ran into the back of my legs. My knees buckled.

I stumbled forward, my face heating.

Chupey coughed and slunk around me without an apology. Traitor.

Ryker leaned on the wall, one leg bent. He must’ve gone straight to his room and showered. Water still dripped from his hair, but he wore fresh clothes and didn’t look like he’d just stepped out of a flooding death trap like I did.

Though he politely refrained from saying anything about my near face-plant, I wasn’t ready to deal with him. I turned away from my competitor to face my other visitor.

Zane pressed his lips together, but the corners lifted up as he fought a laugh. He held a green bottle with dark liquid inside, wearing a skintight leather bodysuit that should’ve looked cheap or scandalous but somehow suited him. There’s no way he would blend in the mortal realm.

“Please tell me that’s alcohol.” I nodded at the bottle.

He lifted it and waggled his eyebrows. “Absolutely.”

“Perfect,” I said. “You can stay.”

Ryker’s scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his impressive chest.

I finally turned to him. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed off the wall and let his arms fall to his side. “I came to discuss your many shortcomings today.”

My scalp prickled. If it weren’t for me, he’d have died in that escape room.

And if it weren’t for him, I would’ve died as well.

Bastard.

“My coming is none of your business, whether it’s short or otherwise.”

He smirked and stalked down the hallway toward me. Stopping short of touching, proving he had better control than my own familiar, he leaned down close, his minty fresh breath fanning my ear and neck. “Get Chupey to teach you how to embrace the demon.”

“You really need to keep your kinks to yourself.”

He huffed out something between a laugh and a chuckle, shook his head, and walked away.

“Why would you help me?” I spun to yell at his back. “I thought you were trying to win the throne?”

“I am.” He spoke without turning, still walking away from me.

I frowned. That made no sense, unless his suggestion would somehow sabotage my chances.

He turned then, showing me his flashing gaze and smug smile. “I will win, Sloane. And when I do, we’ll revisit this little conversation aboutcoming. But winning is not nearly as rewarding if the fight isn’t fair. Fix it.”

---