Page 41 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

B?k: One Night of Humanity

T he bonfire flames were soft and distorted.

It occurred to me as I squinted at them—trying to fix my vision—that I had never actually been drunk before.

Sure, I’d had my share of mead. It was a staple among the Fated. At most, it smoothed the more irritating edges of the world down. But whatever quality the drink had that caused humans to act like fools? It’d never penetrated my defenses.

Until that night.

In my ill-advised bid to accept the companionship of my factionmates, I allowed the barbarian to lead.

For every drink he consumed, he dictated that Nigel and Brü would also consume one—and I would consume three.

I should note that from the outset, I read Hammond’s desire to cheat at this already-skewed game.

But I didn’t care. If this was how the humans wanted to celebrate their holiday, why not ?

And then the stars climbed into my skin. The Fates no longer whispered from the outside. I breathed with Astrada’s breath. I dripped down Lord Austvix’s neck in so many beads of sweat. We rode hard and with intention. We would arrive by early morning—and I knew that because I was everywhere.

“Another!” Hammond cried.

Nigel filled Hammond’s tankard and my three. Brü’s already lie forgotten on the ground. Nigel’s was suspiciously absent.

Nevertheless, I drank, curious if I’d just found a new way to access the Fates fully that did not involve burying my cock in a bard.

Indeed, the sparkling night brightened and expanded as the additional spirits went down.

I was the Huntress, with two men servicing me simultaneously while I screamed my pleasure.

I was Hadrian Sai, rallying the Obsidian Alliance troops with promises that the Fates had smiled upon us. I was?—

“There you are,” Tavish said.

I blinked at all three of him. Behind them, three sets of irate emerald eyes glittered down at me like poisoned suns. The flavor of Ero’s stormy rage interrupted the jolly air. It rippled with discontent.

Haz’s sweaty tits. Hadn’t I fucked the existential crisis out of her already? I knew the temple would ruin things.

“Fucking Haz,” I grumbled.

Tavish and Ero exchanged a look. I noted her hand on his arm.

I sat up straighter, flames already dancing on my fingertips.

Tavish quickly put a solid two paces of space between them.

I blinked—not about to let him off that easily.

The flames bounced on my fingers. I wasn’t going to—to do what?

I looked again at Ero, frowning. What had I just been thinking about?

“Are you…drunk?” she asked .

I tapped my fingers together, extinguishing the flames. “No?”

Hammond, Brü, and Nigel burst into laughter.

Those alluring green eyes rolled, and I heard sarcastic words muttered in a vanishingly low tone. Something about my fucking legacy.

Whatever. I caught her arms and pulled her to me. No thought, only desire. I wanted to feel her. I wanted to taste her. Why, in the end, should humans even try to face the irritations of the world without fucking about it? My cock was definitely up for the job.

“I want you,” I breathed against her ear.

A shiver ran through her. Over her shoulder, I caught Brü’s expression—a rabbit frozen in a hunter’s sights, watching me.

Ero’s dueling desires clouded the air. Oddly, the primary desire still seemed to be my demise.

Sure, she’d grown wet at my touch, and wetter at my words—but something kept her from relaxing into it.

Frowning, I released her.

I tried to use the Fates to prod around, curious what my latest transgression had been, or—more likely—what ideas Haz had stirred in his devotee. But the Fates quickly clarified that they were in control.

For a good thirty seconds, I was paralyzed by a vision of Marcellus Vesper and Naeve Andarnus—the warlords who led the Order of the Sword and the Scholars’ Collective—shaking hands.

Neither looked happy. Naeve looked positively disgusted.

I was quite certain that I should pay more attention to the circumstances, the details, the general warnings inherent in that vision. But I was also, again, quite drunk.

“Is your bard going to play for us?” a silky voice asked, interrupting my wobbly attempt to hold the vision .

I blinked. We had an audience. Quite an audience, in fact.

The fire ring had filled out at some point—never mind the thunder growing louder by the minute.

The intrusive voice came from a woman whose name I didn’t know, but I could see from her necklace that she belonged to the little troupe of players Hammond had been boasting to all night of our bard’s talent.

And this was why people shouldn’t talk.

I reluctantly stumbled back, leaving Ero’s immediate bubble.

For once, she seemed to have no desire to wield her lute.

Her gray cloud of internal conflict stood firm.

But Hammond and Nigel and even Brü tugged her forward, cajoling and fawning like mischievous children.

Their encouragement eventually won her. She cast a look at me that was not exactly permission-seeking, but certainly held some basic awareness of the potential disaster inherent in accepting the bid to play.

I sighed. I’d fully given in to the festivities for everyone else, so fuck me, I supposed.

I made a private show of plugging my ears with two ribbons of shadow.

A flash of amusement appeared in Ero’s eyes. It was gone as quickly as it’d come. I didn’t love how the shared moment warmed me. It warmed me in a way that said, “danger.” I was feeling too many things, especially where the bard was concerned. But she danced away, and the problem was mine alone.

I sank to the soft ground, leaning back against a stump. Watching her.

Eyes tugged at her—all around, wanting. Whether it was sex or song or a drop of attention, they collectively yearned for her. Something slithery urged me to rip the leather from her thigh and let them all see who she belonged to .

And that was before her fingers strummed the chords.

It was foolish to imagine her music’s effect could be stopped by blocking sound.

The vibrations drew goosebumps to my skin.

The hot, raw desire her voice fostered in her audience teased the alcohol from my skin into the air and dragged everyone around us into my haze.

I didn’t even realize it was happening. Several soldiers near me passed out cold.

Even as Ero’s glistening lips curved around the lyrics of her song—something that typically made her near giddy with joy—her newfound darkness continued to swirl.

I won’t lie. I was positively transfixed.

In fact, my attention was so thoroughly captured that I didn’t hear Brü the first several times he said my name.

Only when Ero paused to adjust a lute string and Brü stepped in to block my view of her did I finally take notice.

“Are you capable of handling this?” he asked.

I tilted my head. Lost. But the shape of Brü’s desire filled in the blank.

He feared what my drunken state would mean for Ero.

I was equally grateful and irritated. It was none of his business—and it was good to know how much he cared.

The bard had a propensity for getting into dangerous situations.

She needed as many friends who cared as she could get.

And yet.

“Fuck off,” I said.

“Then swear an oath not to compel her until you’re sober.”

I narrowed my eyes—partly because Brü’s face kept doubling, and partly to do some light intimidation work—but he didn’t look away. And then I sensed Aelith’s approach. I blame that for my quick fold.

“Fine. Hurry,” I groused.

His knife came out in a flash. A dot of blood from each of our fingers and a few words later, I’d annoyingly agreed to check my power over the collar until I was fully sober once more. On pain of madness, etc., etc.

Everyone around the fire clapped and stomped to a beat. I knew this was Ero’s exit song. She did this when she wanted to slip away. Started a popular, high-energy tune that everyone knew so they would naturally take over and she could escape.

The first droplets of rain plocked around us. It wouldn’t be long before everyone else had to leave too. I stumbled out of the fire ring, positioning myself in the path to block Ero’s way back to the camp.

I needn’t have bothered. When she ducked out of the spotlight, she came straight to me.

“Start walking,” she ordered.

I barely repressed a smirk. I didn’t need the collar to make her regret that tone. I could already taste her neck. One bite, and I’d have her. Turn that turmoil into?—

She gripped my elbow, steadying me. I looked down. My feet were off the path, tangled in foliage. I blinked up at her.

“Haz’s fucking tits,” she growled.

“I’ll fuck your—” I started, seeing the perfect opportunity for the most hilarious joke I’d ever conceived of.

Cold water hit me full in the face.

And then it hit again, extinguishing the resulting flames.

I opened my mouth with compulsion coiled on my tongue, but the pinprick on my finger pulsed just in time to remind me about the minor blood vow I’d made to Brü.

Still. My fury was apparent.

“Can we just go?” my kitten hissed.

The contents of her waterskin dripped down my blazing cheeks. The Fates pulsed inside me. A fresh warning. I was going to lose her anyway, but if I didn’t tread carefully, it would happen sooner—and much less cleanly .

I sagged, the momentary fury dying as quickly as it’d come. As she looped an arm around my waist and guided my swerving footsteps back to the path, I looked down at her and asked what I probably should have asked a while ago. “What happened?”

Ero didn’t respond right away. I could see her conflict in neon swirls. She wanted to confront me. She didn’t want to waste her time if I was too far gone.