The Demon's Bargain (A Deal With a Demon #4)(15)
That doesn’t mean he’s going to be happy with the change of plans, but there’s a better-than-decent chance he’ll be too preoccupied with Eve…
But then, I’ve never been a particularly lucky person. It’s very likely I’ll be punished when I return, regardless of whether I secure this bargain or not.
“I see,” Lenora says slowly. She shifts and eases off me. “We should get moving.”
“Lenora.” I don’t know why I say her name like that, dark and full of promise. I’ve decided I want her for keeping, but there’s no reason to signal that ahead of time. She’s not the type to run, but I wouldn’t put it past her to try and slit my throat. The thought makes me smile. She’s so fierce and yet so brittle. It makes me want to wrap her up and keep her safe. “He won’t win.”
“I know.” She walks to the bathroom and shuts the door. I’m only mortal. I like that she stumbles a bit when she does.
As soon as the door shuts, the ribbons binding my legs turn to smoke and disappear. I climb off the bed and am in the process of considering how to best clean up the mess we made when a light magic blurs through the air. It takes half a heartbeat to register the flavor. Brownie. It sweeps along the bed, eliminating all evidence of fucking and leaving a light citrus scent in the air. Within a minute, the room feels just like it did when we first walked in.
“Neat trick.” One less thing to worry about, but I dislike how easy it was to remove traces of us. My thighs are completely healed now, not so much as a scar to show for Lenora’s nails. It’s a reminder I should take to heart. There’s no guarantee the little witch will agree to my bargain, and even if she does, seven years isn’t all that long of a time. Regardless of which way one looks at the situation, it’s temporary.
The thought shouldn’t feel like sharp grains of sand beneath my skin. It’s how things work. Even as much as I like what I know of Lenora, that doesn’t change the truth of the situation. Yes, some humans decide to stay at the end of seven years, but it’s a small percentage of them. I’m too smart to bet on such unlikely odds.
I don’t even know what I’m worried about. I’ve had partners and relationships and even love a time or two. It’s always faded. Interest wanders. Ambition rises. Circumstances change. That’s been true 100 percent of the time. It will be true this time, too.
We’ll be sick of each other within a year. She’ll have some fun with anyone who catches her eye. I’ll get back to my climb up the political ladder until I secure the spot of Azazel’s second-in-command. Simpler that way.
So why does the thought bother me so much?
Chapter 7
Lenora
Having sex with the demon who wants me to bargain seven years of my life isn’t exactly a high point in my life. I’d love to say sex is just sex and isn’t enough to make me act foolish, but I’m in this situation to begin with because sex made me act foolish. It’s not a comforting thought.
I shower Ramanu off me and take a few extra minutes to clean the blood from beneath my nails. Even now, little shivers of pleasure keep working their way through me. Damn them, but that was good.
Usually sex is one thing or another. A battle of wills or a soft landing. It’s never been a strange combination of both. Not that there’s anything soft about what happened with Ramanu. But there’s trust to ease the sexy back-and-forth I enjoy so much, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t relish the way they held me afterward. A bonding moment I can’t afford to let muddy my mind but that I craved far more than I should have. I felt cared for, and even if it’s a lie, it makes my chest twinge uncomfortably.
I walk to the bathroom door and wince. They aren’t small, and they weren’t particularly gentle—fine in the moment, but I can hardly be walking funny through the market.
Ramanu is sitting on the bed when I come back into the bedroom. It’s freshly made and perfectly clean. There’s an honest-to-gods gift basket sitting on the dresser. Of course there is. I inhale deeply. “Brownie magic.” It’s got a distinctive scent, though they’re relatively rare these days. The competition to entice them into partnership is fierce.
“Yes.” Ramanu’s mouth turns down. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” It’s an effort to keep my stride relatively smooth as I walk to my bag.
“I should have thought to bring some balm…” Ramanu sniffs. “What do you have there?”
I finish untwisting the cap on the balm I just pulled from my bag and laugh. “Come now. Where do you think bargainer demons get that balm from? We’re the ones who taught you to make it.” Or so the legend goes. I’m sure reality is far less romantic than a witch falling in love with a bargainer demon and dreaming up a healing balm so they could go at it like rabbits, day in and day out.
Either way, it’s a useful tool to have on hand, especially for events where I plan to fuck my way through the next three days. Granted, I packed it mostly out of habit. This Shadow Market is different than the last few. It’s not all fun and games.
I desperately need to get my amulet back.
Ramanu plucks the container from my hand. “Allow me.”
I give them a long look. “I’m more than capable of doing it myself.” Even as I say it, my body thrums with remembered pleasure. It was good with them. Too good. Distractingly good.