Текст книги "The demons queen"

Автор книги: Katee Robert

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

CHAPTER 7

EVE

I’m ashamed to say I hide for days after that disastrous dinner. Azazel comes to my door several times and knocks as politely as if he were a suitor instead of my captor. And he just as politely leaves when he receives no answer.

There’s no reason for that to upset me further. I should be grateful for the reprieve. Should be pleased that no matter what else is true, he doesn’t intend to take advantage of the power dynamic.

No, that’s all on me. I’m the one who climbed in his lap and demanded something I knew would hurt us both. And the bastard gave it to me without hesitation—only to leave me wanting more.

By the third day, I’m sick of my own company, my relentlessly spinning thoughts. I pull on a pair of pants, a long shirt that could probably be termed a tunic, and some boots I found tucked in the bottom of the wardrobe.

“I don’t care how long it takes. I’m getting out of this magic trap of a hallway.” I glare at the room around me. “You have to let me out at some point!”

But when I throw open my door, it’s to find Ramanu waiting for me. They’re wearing a boxy cropped top that leaves their stomach bare, a garment that may be pants or may be a skirt, and boots. They grin. “Perfect timing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Perfect timing for what?”

“Azazel is tied up in meetings today, and I figured you could use a change of scenery.” They offer me their arm. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping . . .”

They don’t wait for me to move; they loop their arm through mine and turn us down the hall. “Yes, Eve. Everyone loves shopping. It’s an excellent way to pass the time, and there’s something to be said for seeing the very people Azazel has fought so hard to make a better life for.”

I shoot them a glare. “So we get to the crux of the matter. You’re here to campaign for your boss.”

“I campaign for no one, darling. It sounds like a staggering amount of effort with little fun involved.” We turn a corner, and I could sob in relief at the sight of wide stone stairs leading downward. Ramanu laughs a little. “The castle is wary of strangers. It helps if you’re polite in the first place, rather than cursing at it.”

“You speak as if it’s a person.”

“Not quite.” They shrug. “But magic is a strange thing and it never hurts to be courteous when dealing with borderline sentient objects and places.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I murmur. Up until the moment I woke up here, I assumed magic was fiction. Yes, this world—or my world—is complicated and strange, but hundreds of years ago, they were calling things like antibiotics witchcraft and no one washed their hands. If there’s magic, then it’s just science that we don’t have the technology or knowledge to explain yet.

It’s hard to keep that belief when faced with a castle that seems to shift itself at will.

I don’t think science can explain that.

We walk down the stairs and then down another set and another. I haven’t worked out in a week, and I’d love to believe that my endurance wouldn’t flatline as a result, but my thighs are shaking by the time Ramanu stops and tilts their head to the side. “Castle, please. You’re being difficult for no reason. I’m not absconding with her. We’re going on a nice little walk to let the sun touch her face, and then I’ll return her, safe and sound.” They snort. “You’ve being overprotective.”

“Overprotective of whom?” Surely not Azazel. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

“Ah, here we are.” Ramanu turns me to face the staircase . . . except it’s gone. Instead, there’s a narrow hallway that ends in double doors.

I shudder. “I am never going to get used to that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

I don’t have a chance to come up with a response to that, because we walk out the doors and into another world. One strange and yet familiar at the same time. I’ve traveled widely, and if every city I’ve visited has a different feel, they all share certain things in common—the main of which is a large variety of people moving about their day with a rhythm that feels almost coordinated.

These people aren’t human. They have skin tones that range from a rosy pink to a deep crimson that edges into black. Their horns are different shapes and sizes. Some of them have wings tucked politely against their backs, some have dual sets of horns like Ramanu, and some even have scales like the dragon-man who attended the auction. They’re tall and short, fat and skinny and brawny, and everything in between. Some of them are clothed similarly to me. Some are wearing dresses. Others are wearing pants or kilts and little else.

And there are humans mixed in among them.

I try not to stare as Ramanu leads me down a cobblestone street that seems designated for foot traffic only. I see a willowy Black human with short curls and warm dark-brown skin. There’s a short white human with pale pink skin, a long blond hair, and the kind of curves that make my mouth water. And more. So many more.

And the children. I don’t know why it shocks me to see them walking side by side with people who may be parents or guardians. Or the small group in an open courtyard we walk past, darting about and laughing wildly as they play some game I don’t recognize with two balls. The sound rolls through me, easing something tight in my stomach. These children are happy. They’re safe. Safe enough to be comfortable being loud and rambunctious.

I’m not naive. I understand all too well that this is a small sliver of the population. Surely abuse and neglect exist here just like they do in my world . . . but it’s hard not to slow, wanting to linger in this moment of peace.

“I would like an explanation,” I say softly. “Not for what Azazel did—for how this works. Because it sure seems like your people take advantage of mine.”

Ramanu snorts. “There was a time when that might have been true, but Azazel put a stop to it. We only offer bargains to those who want them, and they’re fair enough deals when all is said and done. Anything within our power to grant in exchange for seven years in this realm with safeguards in place to ensure no one is forced to do anything.”

“The power dynamics⁠—”

They stop short, stopping me alongside them. “In the human world, you would be right. There are power dynamics at play, and they can be abused readily. Not here. The contract is sacred, Eve. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. Both parties sign it, and it’s binding. To violate it is to nullify it.”

Nullify.

I tuck that knowledge away to examine later. If I can force Azazel into breaking the contract, that will nullify the terms and force him to take me home . . . hopefully. Ramanu mentioned something about this when we spoke earlier, but I wasn’t willing to listen then. I am now.

“Seven years is a long time,” I finally say.

“Yes and no.” Ramanu shrugs. “Time moves differently from realm to realm. It’s not an exact science, more like two rivers running next to each other at different speeds. You can jump from one to the other, and it feels like you haven’t moved at all. We bargainers have a little control over where we land, which means we can return our humans to a place and time not too distant from where they left. The magic in this realm also slows aging, so you’re not actually losing time at all. It’s more as if you’ve gained the years—and what you’ve gained, you’ve spent here. Then you return home, none the worse for wear and with whatever you wanted enough to bargain for in the first place. Win-win.”

I suspect they’re intentionally simplifying things and leaving a few key details out. Like the fact that someone would have to be in a desperate situation to think that making a deal with a demon is a legitimate strategy.

Ramanu seems to know everyone, smiling and calling folks by name as I meander the aisles. This, at least, is familiar. I love shopping. Gaining new clothes or necessities was always a burden as a foster kid. I was with a handful of families growing up, and while none of them were the stuff of horror stories, there was never enough to go around. Once I started making the kind of money I do now, I went a little wild with the spending. At least until Pope found out I was getting myself into trouble and sat me down with a financial advisor. The impulse to spend and spend and spend, to surround myself with expensive and beautiful things, never quite went away, but I have better control now.

And a wicked investment portfolio.

Not that any of that matters here.

“Would you like it?”

I jolt and glance at Ramanu. They nod to the bracelet I’ve been fondling. I shake my head and set it back down. “I don’t have money.”

“Eve.”

The censor in their tone irritates me. I glare. “I realize that you offered to take me shopping, and if you were one of my clients, I’d allow you to pay through the nose for whatever I want, but you’re not.”

They sigh. “Neither is Azazel, currently, but we’re shopping with his funds.” Ramanu nudges me with their shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to stick it to him, just a little?”

My pride wants to ignore the offer, but that would only deny me the pretty things in this place—and the chance to make Azazel hurt, even a little. Though I suspect I’d have to buy out every shop in the city for him to feel the pinch. I pick up the bracelet again. It’s an intricate creation with a rainbow of gemstones. Bright and shiny and loud. I love it. “Fine. I suppose I could find a few things.”

“That’s the spirit.”

We walk for hours, visiting shops and chatting easily. I expect to have to carry bags, but Ramanu arranges for my purchases to be delivered directly to the castle. It frees me up to watch the city’s citizens. Again and again, I’m struck by how familiar this all is despite how strange the people appear to me. But they’re just people, aren’t they? Citizens of this city going about their business by shopping, eating, socializing, working.

Despite myself, I can’t help seeing why Azazel would want to protect this. If Ramanu isn’t overstating the direness of the situation before he took over, this wasn’t how people acted before. They’ve benefited from Azazel’s rule.

We’re nibbling on some kind of street food that’s a bit like a kebob with vegetables I don’t recognize when Ramanu straightens. “Damn. Duty calls.”

I know better than to ask if I can keep wandering. I’m not ready to go back to my richly appointed cell yet, but what does that matter? I sigh and take the last bite of my food, then follow Ramanu to a garbage bin to toss the stick into. “Can we do this again sometime?”

They turn their face to me. Not for the first time, I’m struck by the suspicion that they see me just fine despite not having eyes in the traditional manner. “You know, you could ask Azazel to take you. It would get him out of the castle, which would do him some good.”

“I am not interested in what would be good for Azazel,” I say primly.

“He’s not a bad man.” Ramanu guides us through the thickening foot traffic with ease. “Not in the way you think. He’d kill, burn, and maim to protect his people and his humans, but he doesn’t abuse his power. He’s sharing power for the good of the realm. For all its peoples—not just the bargainers. That’s got some folks’ backs up, but it won’t stop his pursuit of the greater good.”

“Folks like Brosh?”

Ramanu almost misses a step. They’ve been so graceful to date, it’s like a record scratch. “I would prefer you don’t say that name outside the castle.”

“Is he like some kind of boogeyman? Speak his name three times and he appears?”

“No. Nothing so dramatic. But he has an irritating number of supporters in the city and beyond. There’s no reason to draw attention to ourselves.” Their tone is breezy, but contains a new tension that makes me think there’s more going on than what they’re saying.

The castle looms large in front of us. It truly is like something out of a fairy tale. I don’t know what kind of rock it’s made of, but the rock almost a cross between granite and opal, strong and gorgeous, gleaming with a dazzling rainbow of colors in the late-afternoon sun. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s home,” Ramanu says simply.

We’re almost within the shadow of the castle when they stop so abruptly, my shoulder wrenches from our still-interlocked arms. “Ow.”

“Get behind me.” They don’t wait for me to comply. With a smooth move, they free themself and shove me behind them. Ramanu is taller than me by about half a foot. And they’re built significantly leaner than Azazel, so I have no problem seeing around their shoulder to where two massive bargainers stand blocking our way.

The largest of them has wings, and I catch myself wondering if this was the same person I saw flying on my first day here. Surely not. That would be too large of a coincidence. They’re even larger than Azazel—apparently the metric I judge everyone by these days—and wear only a kilt around their thick waist.

The other is closer to Ramanu’s size, lean like a blade, with curving ram’s horns that bracket their long straight dark hair. They grin, revealing too-sharp teeth. “Hand her over or this gets messy.”

Ramanu laughs, loud and pretty. “I think not.”

“We have no issue with you, Ramanu,” the larger one says. “Stand aside.”

There’s a faint shtck sound like a blade being drawn. My heart leaps into my throat when I realize what it is. Ramanu’s claws. They were petite and black, but now they’re curved and look vicious enough to disembowel someone.

Any hope I had of this being all posturing and bullshit disappears. Ramanu may be dramatic, but they’ve shown no signs of being unnecessarily violent. They wouldn’t issue this unspoken threat if they didn’t mean it.

As if sensing my growing fear, they turn their head enough to speak to me over their shoulder. “Don’t run. They’ll have a third waiting to snatch you if you do. Stay close.”

I don’t know if they mean to reassure me, but I am very much not reassured. “You can’t take three of them on,” I hiss. “We have to run.”

“I have no intention of taking three of them on,” they murmur. “I’m stalling.”

“Stall—” The word dies in my throat as the double doors to the castle slam open with a violence that seems to shake the entire square we stand in. People hadn’t seemed to register the growing possibility of a fight before, but they scatter now, rushing away from us or taking refuge in the stores on either side. In seconds, the square is empty but for the two—three—attackers, Ramanu, and I.

A huge form fills the doorway, and I let out a sound of pure relief at the familiar sight of wide shoulders and horns as he steps into the fading light.

Azazel is here.

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 8

AZAZEL

Itake 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.

OceanofPDF.com