Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(31)

Behind me, Karlson and his cronies murmured as they waited, conversing like gentlemen at a party, cocktails in hand. Travis had retreated and hovered halfway to the door.

In front of me, a foot away, the circle’s silver inlay gleamed faintly. I lifted my gaze to the darkness within.

And looked into Zylas’s black eyes.





Chapter Thirteen





I stared into the demon’s obsidian eyes.

Scarcely two feet away, Zylas crouched at the circle’s edge. The darkness inside swirled and eddied, revealing his shape in faint glimpses and flashes of reddish-toffee skin. The barrier rippled as he pressed against it, his dark gaze fixed on my face.

Behind me, Karlson said something and his two associates laughed. They laughed. Too busy chatting, they hadn’t noticed that Zylas’s shadowy form was so close, pushing against the barrier, straining to reach me.

Bloodlust rolled off the demon. I could taste it in the air, as potent as the coppery tang of my blood. Crouched in his prison, he silently, lustfully watched me die from inches away. If he’d spoken, if he’d said something to the men, could he have saved my life? Did he even want to?

A monster before me. Three different monsters behind me. I was dying, and one of them would be my executioner. But which?

Karlson and the others were trading my life for a demon contract. But was my blood enough to break Zylas’s resolve? Would he stay silent and hidden while I died in front of him, or would he give in so he could take my life himself?

My arm trembled as I slid my hand across the hardwood, leaving a smear of blood in its wake. The barrier rippled more violently as Zylas pressed against it. The conversation behind me stuttered.

My fingertips brushed the silver inlay.

“What’s she doing? Stop her!”

Footsteps erupted, vibrating the floor as the men scrambled toward me. Hands grabbed my ankles to tear me away from the circle. Zylas’s black eyes bored into mine.

I wouldn’t give those bastards the chance to win. I would laugh at them as I died.

I thrust my fingers through the barrier, my human flesh passing effortlessly into Zylas’s prison. His hand clamped around my wrist, cold and steely. His gaze held mine without faltering.

He wrenched me into the circle.

His strength tore my legs from the men’s grasping hands. I flew into the hellish night within the dome, my vision darkening, frigid air sweeping over me. Scents filled my nose—earthy leather, the tang of metal, and something smoky and aromatic, almost like hickory.

I tumbled to a stop, my limbs splayed. An object jangled and clanked, the sound of metal hitting the floor. Hazily, my brain identified the orientation of my body—half sitting, half slumped, something supporting my back, solidity against my side.

Zylas’s arm supported my back. Zylas’s chest pressed against my side.

His cool hand closed around my sliced arm and squeezed. Pain flared hot and deep. A sob shuddered out of me.

“Zylas,” I choked out, praying that somewhere in his demonic psyche he could find a shred of mercy. “Please kill me quickly.”

“Is that what you want, payilas?” His husky whisper brushed across my cheek. His face was close, but I couldn’t see anything in the freezing darkness. Outside the circle, male voices buzzed angrily, the words jumbling in my ears.

“I did what I could to help you,” I whimpered. “Please don’t make me suffer.”

“What do you want?”

My arm was on fire, blazing with agony, and I didn’t understand his question. My crumbling composure gave way.

“I don’t want to die,” I sobbed, shaking and gasping.

His hand squeezed harder and fresh torment cascaded through my nerves. “What do you want from me?”

I couldn’t think. I didn’t know. One need, one primal urge dominated my mind—survival. I wanted to live. I wanted to keep breathing. I wanted to live and—and—

And … what?

Did I want to escape this circle? Did I want to face those men again? Did I want to survive them, only to face Uncle Jack’s fury? Did I want to fail to get the grimoire, to fail my parents?

Tears flooded my cheeks. What I truly wanted was an ally. I didn’t want to struggle alone anymore, to fight alone with no one at my side, no one at my back. No one to step in front of me and shield me, as my parents once had.

“Payilas.” His whisper demanded my answer.

“Protect me.”

I didn’t arrive at those words. They simply fell from my mouth, called out by his demand.

His breath cooled the tears on my cheeks. “What will you give me?”

My head was spinning. I didn’t know if I was staring into the featureless darkness or if my eyes were closed. My heart thundered with growing desperation.

He was waiting, and through the overwhelming pain and fear, only one thing came to mind. “Cookies. I made you cookies before.”

“Cookies?” His arm pulled me closer and his mouth pressed against my ear, his whispered command shuddering down to my bones. “Promise me your soul, payilas.”

My soul? The floor rolled and tilted under me. “No … I can’t give you …”

“Would you rather die?”

“I … but I can’t …”

“I need your soul, payilas.”