Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(17)

I drank in the sight, tracing the strange lines of his clothes, the shine of his armor, and his reddish-toffee skin. I should’ve been afraid, but his danger had been stripped, his weapons disarmed. He was a tiger at the zoo, a wild specimen safely behind bars, exotic and mesmerizing.

His gaze slid to the dessert. “What do you want this time?”

“I want your name.”

“Which one?”

I waved my hand. “Not your summoning name. Your personal name.”

A corner of his mouth curled—that mocking smile—and he swung into a sitting position. As he faced me, a flick of motion drew my eyes—something long and thin sweeping across the floor behind him.

My expression froze. “You—you have a tail?”

He looked over his shoulder. The long, whip-like appendage swept across the floor again, and as it stilled, I spotted two curved barbs on the end.

“You do not?” he retorted, facing me again. “How do you balance?”

“I balance just fine.”

“Because hh’ainun are slow.”

I lifted the first piece of cake off the plate and set it beside the silver inlay. I’d prepared each one on a napkin so I could move them easily. “Your name.”

“Ch.”

I leveled him with a stare, shocked by my own boldness. Where had my shy timidity disappeared to? Maybe the key to my confidence issues was conducting all interactions through an impenetrable barrier.

He considered me. “Zylas.”

“That’s your name? Zylas?”

“Not zeeeellahhs.” He mimicked my attempt in an exaggerated tone. “Zuh-yee-las. Try again.”

“Zee-las.”

“Zuh-yee-las. Three sounds, not two.”

“Zyee-las.”

“Close enough,” he muttered.

“I’m trying my best here,” I complained. “My name is much easier to say. Robin.”

“Robin?”

Surprise fluttered through me. In his strange accent, my name sounded almost as exotic as his. Grinning, I pushed the napkin’s corner across the circle. He pulled it in, scooped the cake up, and devoured it in three bites. Still no chewing.

“You never said if you like it,” I prompted.

“Your name?”

“The cake.” But now I was wondering what he thought of my name.

He eyed the remaining pieces. “What else do you want?”

I thought for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Ih?”

“Huh?”

We stared at each other, stymied by the language breakdown. His age was hard to judge. If he’d been human, I would’ve pegged him as early twenties—but who knew how aging and maturity worked for demons?

I tried again. “How many years have you been alive?”

His face scrunched in bewilderment. “You count this?”

“Yes, of course. I’m twenty.”

“Twenty?” He scanned me from the top of my head down to my jeans-clad knees. “I learned your numbers wrong. Twenty is wrong.”

I held up one finger. “One.” I spread my fingers and thumb. “Five.” I added my other hand. “Ten.” I opened and closed my fingers twice. “Twenty.”

“How long is a year?”

“Uh … three hundred and sixty-five days, so …”

He rubbed his hand over his face in a gesture so human I did a double take. “Dilēran. I do not know this. I have no numbers.”

Disappointed, I slid him another slice of cake.

He shoveled it down. “What else?”

“What do you keep calling me? Payilas?”

“Pah-yil-las,” he sounded out bossily. “It means small female.”

So … “girl.” I scrunched my nose.

He flicked his fingers at the cake in a “give me that” gesture, but I scoffed.

“You don’t get a piece for that little answer. Hmm, what else …” I studied his irritated scowl. Black hair tangled across his forehead. If not for the crimson eyes and small horns, his face could’ve belonged to a human. It was disconcerting. “Why did you show yourself to me this time? You didn’t have to.”

“To see you properly. Wasted question, payilas.”

“See me? You mean you can’t see me through the darkness in there?”

“No eyes can see without light,” he replied dismissively. “I can see in a different way but it is … not details.”

I leaned forward curiously. “What sort of different way?”

“I can see … hot and cold. Shapes of heat.”

“No way! You have infrared vision? Like a snake?”

He frowned. “I do not know those words.”

“Infrared is a spectrum of light and a snake is an animal. A reptile—long and skinny with scales and—wait.” I pushed to my feet. “Hold on.”

I hastened toward the encyclopedias I’d examined on my first late-night visit. A set of handsome zoology texts with matching spines sat on a high shelf. I pulled one down and flipped through it.

“Here!” Rushing back to the circle, I dropped to my knees and held the open book up, the right-hand page filled with a glossy full-color photo of a viper. “This is a snake.”