The Demon’s Queen (A Deal With A Demon)

I take in the scene with a single sweep. Three strangers. Ramanu doing their best to shield Eve. It won’t work. There are too many, and Ramanu isn’t trained as a bodyguard. I catch their eye and nod. The moment I got their signal—a little magical panic button that all my people carry when out in the world—I rushed here. I’m only glad I’m not too late.

Time to even the odds.

I barrel into the pair closest to me. The bigger one with wings dodges my swipe, but I catch the other in the throat and close my fingers around their neck. It would take nothing at all to change my grip, to rip out their fucking throat for daring to threaten what’s mine. Only the knowledge that we need whatever information they have on Brosh stays my hand.

That . . . and the desire for Eve not to view me as more of a monster than she already does.

Instead, I toss them through the doors and into the castle. “Dungeon!”

The doors slams shut for a brief moment. When they open again, only the empty hallway remains. Good. Now for the other two.

The one behind Ramanu and Eve rushes them, pulling a blade from their robes. Fear lodges itself in my chest. “Knife!” I roar.

“I see,” Ramanu snaps. They grab Eve’s arm and send her barreling behind them as they move to meet the attacker. I don’t have cause to see them fight often, but gods, they’re vicious and brutal. They break the bargainer’s wrist, snatch the knife, and plunge it into their enemy’s stomach. Then they twist it for good measure.

Eve’s shriek brings me back around. The winged bargainer has their arms around her and is tensing to launch into the air.

“No!”

I lunge just as they take off, getting a hand around their calf, but the panicked batting of their wings makes them lurch higher, sending my grip sliding down to their ankle.

I can take them out of the sky, but not without endangering Eve. “Ramanu!” I hold out my free hand, bracing as well as I can. “Get Eve!”

My second-in-command sprints to us and steps into my offered palm without missing a beat, and I use all my strength to toss them up. Their momentum works well, as does our enemy’s desperation. Ramanu snatches Eve right out of their arms as they fly over the bargainer’s head. The second they’re clear, I grab the unknown bargainer’s leg with both hands and slam them down on the ground hard enough to shatter the cobblestones beneath my feet. The crunch of their bones is so loud that I know they won’t be getting up again.

Ramanu lands lightly behind me, Eve safely in their arms. “That was eventful.”

I survey the two dead bodies. “You didn’t have to twist the knife.”

“You already have one captive. No need to waste resources with more.” They set Eve carefully on her feet. “Besides, you needed my assistance.”

But I’m not listening any longer. I go to Eve, staring at the bloodshed with wide eyes, her face gone too pale. She’s safe now, but she won’t believe it. Not yet. I sweep her into my arms. “Get this cleaned up,” I call over my shoulder.

“Of course.”

My tension doesn’t leave as I step through the doorway and back into the relative safety of the castle. Eve is shaking, her eyes too wide and her hand convulsively gripping my shirt. “You’re safe,” I say softly. “Eve, you’re safe.”

“You said you would stop lying.”

The castle understands my urgency, because there’s only a single staircase and a short hallway before I’m pushing through the door into Eve’s suite. “I’m not lying. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I walk past the bed and into the bathroom. I don’t think she’s noticed the blood on her shirt, and I want to get it off before she does. She’s not quite panicking, but there’s no reason to traumatize her further. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. I misjudged their boldness, or I wouldn’t have let you and Ramanu out of here without an escort.”

“Azazel.” She presses her hand to my chest, her brown eyes serious. The earlier shakiness seems to be easing, tucking itself away where she can deal with it privately. I wish she trusted me enough to let me share that burden with her, but I’ve done little to deserve her trust at this point. She drops her hand. “I am so angry with you that I can barely put it into words. But there’s no way you could have known we’d be in danger in what amounts to your front yard. Stop flogging yourself.”

“You could flog me instead.” Damn it, I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t mean to do a lot of things around Eve.

Her eyes flash. “Absolutely not. There are lines, and I don’t trust myself not to cross them with how I’m feeling these days.”

We did very little kink on the nights I contracted with her. I didn’t have the patience for it, couldn’t think past the frenzy she inspires in me. My desire is still there, barely tempered beneath the surface. I’m still not certain how I managed to keep from fucking her the other night on the dining room table. My need was—is—a live thing inside me, chanting a single word over and over again. Eve. No one else will do.

In the past, I’ve laughed at the dragons for being so stringent with their rituals of courtship and marriage. I think I understand it better now. I want Eve as mine. My ring on her finger if that human ritual is what she needs. Her standing before my people as co-ruler . . .

But that’s a fool’s dream.

She may not have faked her orgasms with me, but as she’s so keen to remind me, everything else was a job to her. She doesn’t share the emotional attachment I have, and I’m a fool for developing one in the first place.

None of that matters right now. “Let me take care of you.” I keep my voice low and even. “Just until you feel steadier on your feet. Please, Eve.”

She opens her mouth, obviously intent on denying us both, but finally sighs. “It means nothing.”

“I know.” I set her down on the stool next to the tub and reach past her to get the water going. There’s nothing else to say. I need to question the single enemy left alive. If I can find where Brosh is hiding, can figure out exactly how extensive the network of betrayal is . . .

But that’s a problem for later. Right now, there’s a woman who will never be mine in truth who has agreed to accept my care.

The tub fills fast. I reach for her shirt, but pause. “May I?”

Something flickers across her face that’s almost humor. “Azazel, you’ve seen me naked more times than I care to count. Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.”

There are dozens of answers to that, none of them good enough to speak. Instead, I carefully pull her shirt over her head—and freeze at the sight of the bruise already darkening across her ribs. I drift my fingers through the air above the purple-and-green mark from where the bargainer held her as they tried to escape. “I have something that will help this if you’ll allow it.”

“Considering it hurts enough to make breathing difficult, I wouldn’t say no to medical care.”

“Don’t move.” I walk to the cabinet and dig through the drawers until I come up with the balm that was designed . . . Well, best not to think of that right now. No matter its intended use, it’s still good for surface-level injuries of all varieties, and while it won’t get to the deeper parts of the bruise right away, it will help her pain levels.

I return to where Eve sits and crouch in front of her. It puts her breasts at face level, which would be easier to ignore if the bruise didn’t stretch across her ribs just beneath her gloriously full . . . Stop. “Can you lift your arms over your head?”

In response, she does exactly that, then rests her forearms on the top of her head. My gaze catches on her rosy nipples, and I have to inhale carefully. Damn it, this was a terrible idea. I could have just given her the balm and allowed her to put it on herself. Backing out now isn’t an option, though. No matter how ill-advised this is.

I dip my fingers into the balm and carefully drag them over the middle of the bruise. She sucks in a surprised breath. “It tingles.”

“I know.” I do my very damnedest to not think about the other ways that tingle can be used to amplify pleasure, to . . . Fuck. I massage the balm into her skin gently, ensuring I don’t put too much pressure on the injury.

It takes an eternity. It takes no time at all.

“There.” I sit back on my heels and put the lid back on. “Put another coat on it in the morning, and you should be good as new.”

“Thanks.”

I need to move, to stand, to put some distance between us—not measure the steady rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes. Staying here a moment longer is both the greatest and worst idea in the world. I want to tug off her pants, to scour her body for any further scrapes or bruises. To . . . kiss her better.

As if she could possibly view my touch as anything other than punishment.

I jerk to my feet. “I think you have it from here. I need to question the . . .” Surviving attacker. Saying that will only remind her of my capacity for violence. I never wanted her to see that. I’m not ashamed of the things I’ve done to protect this territory, this realm, this woman, but I do regret that it only further confirms her negative vision of me.

In keeping her safe, I’ve lost her forever.

As long as she’s still breathing, still fighting, then it’s a price worth paying. Even if she hates me. Even if she ends up searching out the company of another.

Eve doesn’t call me back as I leave the bathroom. I linger outside that door for a few extra beats in hope that she will. But she doesn’t.

I swallow my sigh and leave her room, tugging the door gently shut behind me. I pause there. “Go easy on her. It’s not her fault that she’s upset about being here. She’s entitled to feel the way she does about me. And the rest of us can work to be more welcoming.”

The castle gives no response, but I don’t truly expect one. I head down the hall and then descend a narrow set of stairs to the dungeon. Ramanu is already there, their mouth drawn into a tight line. “We have a problem.”

I follow their motion to see a body laid out on the floor. The cause of death is clear enough from the red-flecked foam at their mouth. Poison. “This seems extreme, even for Brosh.”

“I agree.” They cross their arms over their chest and shift from foot to foot. “I don’t like leaving you and the others. I can postpone⁠—”

“It will be fine,” I say with a confidence I don’t quite feel. I know how much the murderous little witch intrigues Ramanu, and they’ve put their interests on hold time and time again to help me. The witch has been gathering supplies to summon them, so it’s only a matter of time before she does. I can’t hold them back from that, no matter how inconvenient the timing.

They hesitate but finally nod. “How is Eve?”

“Shaken up and bruised, but otherwise fine.” Fine. Such a neat little word that means absolutely nothing at all. She’s not fine. She may never be again. Because of my choices, my selfishness. If I’d taken care of Brosh when I realized he was a problem . . . If I’d demonstrated enough control to stay away from Eve . . .

It’s too late to go back now.

I hate that I’m grateful for that fact. I hate that I don’t know if I’d make different decisions even if I had the choice to change things. She may hate me, but she’s here.

I truly am the monster she thinks.