Page 25 of Bargain with the Demon King

"Most aren't. Genuine value is rare." We materialize in his chambers rather than mine. He releases me slowly, hands dragging across my waist, claws catching fabric. "You, however, handled that with impressive cruelty."

"You helped. The crying during sex was a nice touch."

"Truth usually is." He moves to his desk, pulling out a ledger, but his eyes stay on me. "You wanted to tear his soul out yourself. I felt it."

"I wanted to crush it. Watch it crumble." The admission should horrify me. Instead it just sits there, honest and sharp. "Is that wrong?"

"That's evolution." He sets down his pen, turns to face me fully. "You're growing teeth. Learning to bite. The question is what you'll devour first."

"Maybe merchants who grab at my ankles."

"You already did. His fingers will ache for weeks." He approaches, movements liquid and predatory. "The way you applied just enough pressure to cause pain, but not enough to break bone. You measured his suffering down to the ounce."

"You have a thing for women stepping on people?"

"I have a thing for you taking control." He stops just close enough that I feel his heat. "For you discovering how good power tastes. For the way your eyes went dark when he reached for you."

"They did not."

"They did. Almost black. Like you were deciding whether to break his wrist or his dignity first." His hand rises, fingers ghosting along my jaw without quite touching. "You chose dignity. More lasting damage."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Speaking from observation." His thumb hovers over my bottom lip. "You're becoming something dangerous."

"I'm becoming something cruel."

"Same thing, prettier word." He leans closer, and I smell ash and power and that dark spice that makes rational thought difficult. "Cruelty suits you. Makes your eyes bright. Makes you stand straighter. Makes you look like you could devour the world and laugh while it burns."

"That's not who I am."

"That's exactly who you're becoming." His fingers finally touch, trailing from my jaw to my throat, pausing at the twilight necklace. "And I find it fucking magnificent."

The profanity from him—rare, deliberate—sends heat straight between my legs. "Azzaron—"

"Dinner?" But he doesn't step back, stays close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes. "Here. Unless you need distance to process your newfound bloodlust."

"It's not bloodlust. It's just... appreciation for justice."

"Justice." He smirks, fangs visible. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"What would you call it?"

"Foreplay." The word hangs between us, heavy with promise. "You discovering power. Me watching you wield it. Both of us pretending we don't know where this leads."

"Where does it lead?"

His hand slides to my throat, not gripping, just resting there. Possessive. "To you conducting every bargain from now on. To you standing beside my throne not as decoration but as threat. To you becoming the monster Chad created when he shoved you toward that sword."

"I'm not a monster."

"No. You're worse. You're a monster who knows how to smile." He releases me, steps back, and the absence of his touch feels like loss. "Get your dinner. Come back. We have more to discuss about tomorrow's bargains."

I retrieve my plate with hands that shake for new reasons. Not fear. Not rage. Something hungrier. When I return, he's waiting, wine poured, watching me with those impossible black-gold eyes.

"Three more summonings tomorrow," he says as I sit. "A mother selling her soul for her child's health. A warrior trading for victory. A young woman desperate for beauty."

"The mother gets kind terms. The others can rot."

"Already deciding who deserves mercy?" He raises his goblet, a mock toast. "Careful. That's how gods think."

"Gods create. I just want to destroy things that deserve it."

"Even better." He drinks, and I watch his throat work, watch the way his horns catch the light. "Tell me—what would you do to Chad if you could?"

The question should hurt. Instead, it ignites something vicious in my chest. "Nothing quick.

Nothing clean. Maybe tell him his dick is adequate while making it clear I've had better.

Maybe mention how his mother told everyone he wet the bed until he was twelve.

Maybe just laugh at him until he understands exactly how small he's always been. "

"No violence?"

"Violence would be mercy. Chad deserves to live a long life knowing exactly what he is—forgettable flesh taking up space until death makes him useful as fertilizer."

Azzaron's eyes burn brighter. "Say that again."

"Which part?"

"All of it. But slower. And look at me while you do."

I meet his gaze, hold it, let him see exactly what I'm becoming. "Chad is forgettable flesh. Taking up space. Until death makes him useful. As fertilizer."

"Fuck." The word escapes him rough, raw. "You're going to be the end of me."

"Promises, promises."

We stare at each other across the table, the air between us charged with something that has nothing to do with souls or bargains and everything to do with the way he's looking at me. Like I'm something he wants to devour. Like I'm dangerous. Like I'm exactly where I belong.

"Tomorrow," he says finally. "You'll conduct all three bargains. Alone."

"What if I can't complete the extraction?"

"I'll be there. Watching. Finishing what you start." His smile shows fangs. "I find I enjoy watching you work."

"You enjoy watching me be cruel."

"I enjoy watching you become what you were always meant to be." He stands, comes around the table, stops behind my chair. His hands rest on my shoulders, claws pricking through fabric. "Powerful. Dangerous. Mine."

"I'm not yours."

"No?" He leans down, breath hot against my ear. "Then why do you come to my chambers every night? Why do you wear my gift against your throat? Why do you look for my approval when you destroy someone?"

"Because I'm broken and you're convenient."

"Because you're becoming something magnificent and I'm the a only one who sees it.

" His hands slide from my shoulders to my upper arms, his grip firm, proprietary, as if testing the strength of the weapon he's forging.

"Chad created a monster when he betrayed you.

But I'm the one who's going to teach her how to hunt. "

I turn my head, finding him closer than expected. Our faces are inches apart, his mouth close enough that I feel his breath on my lips. "And what happens when I'm done learning?"

"Then you become something even demons fear." His eyes drop to my mouth. "Something even I might fear."

"You don't fear anything."

"I'm starting to fear how much I want to watch you destroy things." His thumb strokes my arm through the dress. "Starting to fear how beautiful you look when you're cruel. Starting to fear what I'd do to keep you exactly like this—sharp and vicious and perfect."

"I'm not perfect. I'm broken."

"Broken things cut deepest." He straightens, steps back, and I hate how cold I feel without his proximity. "Tomorrow. Dawn. Wear something that makes you feel powerful."

"Everything makes me feel powerful now."

"Good." He moves toward his bedroom. "That's exactly how you should feel."

I return to my chambers, but I don't read. Can't focus on fiction when reality has become so sharp. Instead, I replay the merchant's desperate grab. The power flooding through me. Azzaron's approval burning in his eyes. His hands on my shoulders, possessive and proud.

Through the wall, I hear him pacing. Restless. Hungry.

Good. Let him hunger. Let him want. Let him wonder what kind of monster he's creating.

Because tomorrow I'll conduct three bargains. Tomorrow I'll taste more desperate souls. Tomorrow I'll stand beside him and show exactly what Chad's betrayal built—not a broken girl crying over lost love, but something with teeth and appetite and absolutely no mercy left.

Chad created a monster. He just won't live long enough to meet her.

But Azzaron will. Azzaron gets to watch her grow, feed her dark appetites, teach her exactly how satisfying it feels to bite.

The thought makes me smile—sharp and predatory and nothing like the girl who sold her soul for love.

That girl's dead.

This one has teeth.

And tomorrow, she hunts.