Page 5 of Bargain with the Demon King

The demons notice his shadow. Freeze. The arm thuds forgotten.

The largest bolts. Azzaron catches his throat one-handed, lifts him clean off the ground. Claws puncture flesh, black blood welling.

"You forgot my law." Soft voice that carries anyway. "Humans under my protection are not prey."

Gurgling response.

"Excuses? From you?"

The execution is efficient art. Claws through chest, downward tear. Black blood sizzles on crystal dirt. Body drops, twitching.

I should be horrified. I am horrified. But I can't stop watching the absolute control, the economy of movement. No hesitation. No panic. A deep, unwelcome pulse starts between my legs, a rhythm of violence and power that has nothing to do with desire and everything to do with awe.

Two demons hit their knees, babbling.

"You have five seconds to give me a reason not to paint this village with your entrails."

They can't. Fear stole their words.

He kills them with the same efficiency. Three corpses leak black into crystal earth. Humans watch from doorways—still terrified, but protected.

He returns to the carriage spotless despite the carnage. Expression calm. But his eyes burn brighter, and when he enters, he sits beside me instead of across.

"You killed them. Without hesitation."

"They broke my law."

"But they were your subjects."

"Which makes their betrayal worse." His thigh brands mine through fabric. "Order requires enforcement. Mercy is weakness here."

"Can I see the village? Talk to the humans?"

"No."

"But they're—"

"Under my protection. Not yours." His hand claims my knee, claws careful through fabric. "You don't have freedom here, Adraya. You have what I allow."

The contact scorches through me. My dress has ridden up, his thumb finding bare skin above my knee. Neither of us mentions it.

"That's not fair."

"Nothing here is fair. Fair is a mortal concept, and you're not in the mortal world anymore." His thumb draws small circles on my skin. "You're in mine."

Silence except for my pulse thundering. His hand remains on my knee, then travels higher to mid-thigh, pressure light but inescapable.

The Shadowsteeds pull us through impossible landscape, synchronized movement hypnotic.

The absence of normal travel rhythm makes me hyperaware of his touch, of how I'm not pulling away.

"Why protect the humans at all?"

"They're useful. They grow things, make things, provide services demons won't lower themselves to perform." His thumb traces patterns now. He must feel my muscles tensing. "And they chose to stay. That interests me."

"Why?"

"Most mortals flee the moment their contracts end. These didn't. They looked at my realm and decided it was better than wherever they came from." His eyes lock with mine, gold threads pulsing. "Rather like you."

"I didn't choose this."

"Didn't you?" He leans in. His scent fills my head—char and copper and dark intent. "You called for anyone. You offered anything. You got exactly what you asked for."

"To save Chad."

"Yes, the magnificent Chad." Sarcasm drips from the name. His grip tightens on my thigh. "Tell me, does he know you're here? Does he know what you paid for his worthless life?"

"It's not worthless."

"One day, you'll see how wrong you are." His hand climbs higher, stops where thigh meets hip. "And when you do, I'll be there to watch you break."

"I won't break."

"Everyone breaks here." He withdraws his hand. The absence of heat makes me lean toward him before catching myself. His smirk says he noticed. "Some just take longer than others."

The fortress looms—twisted beauty, implied threat. Home now. My new home.

"What happens tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow you continue learning what it means to belong to me."

"And if I refuse?"

He laughs, dark and rich. "Then tomorrow will be significantly more entertaining."

The carriage stops. He exits first, offers his hand. His claws drag across my palm, calculated scratches that spark up my arm. He holds my hand too long, thumb pressing my pulse.

"Your dinner will be brought to your chambers. Eat. Rest. Try not to make so much noise tonight. Your tossing and turning was quite... distracting."

My pulse stutters. "You were listening?"

"Every shift of your body against those sheets.

Every little sigh when you thought of him.

That particularly interesting sound you made around midnight.

" He leans down, breath hot against my ear while his horns brush my hair.

"Did you touch yourself thinking of your precious Chad?

Or was it something else keeping you restless? "

I can't breathe. Can't think.

"I didn't—"

"No? Then perhaps tonight you will." He straightens, runs one claw along my jaw, stopping just short of drawing blood. "The walls are thin, little mortal. I hear everything. Every. Single. Sound."

He leaves me standing in the courtyard with demons watching and Shadowsteeds breathing their impossible breath. The hollow in my chest throbs, reminder of what I've lost.

But worse is the ache between my thighs, the ghost of his claw on my skin, the knowledge that tonight he'll be listening to every sound I make.

And the darkest truth: part of me wants him to hear.