Admittedly, I was expecting someone a bit more bloodthirsty. He possesses a full head of long, sable hair tied in a low tail, only a few shades darker than his stippled skin. Yakim could be forty or seventy. It is difficult to say.
As he crosses the room, my attention falls to the long, thin tail trailing his heels. Once Yakim reaches the bar, he folds himself onto one of the three vacant stools.
“Yakim is a demon,” Zephyrus murmurs into my ear. “Blood is necessary for his survival.” He watches the newest arrival carefully, as does every other patron in the room. “Normally, he would acquire blood through a pet, but when he is unable to procure one, he must purchase it.”
Yakim does not ask for a drink. One simply appears. Wrapping his fingers around the glass, he lifts it to his mouth as Zephyrus says, “He must drink every four hours to keep the madness at bay.”
The tumbler hits the countertop with a dullthunk. Eventually, patrons return to their conversations, their dinner, their gambling, though the tension in the room lingers. “What do you meanmadness?”
As Yakim’s gaze passes over Zephyrus, he does a double-take, frowning.
“Switch places with me,” whispers the West Wind.
“What?”
He’s already drawing me upright. “Here. Sit on my lap.”
I’m standing without knowing how it happened. He tugs me onto his lap, and my legs sprawl across his thighs, the emerald fabric tumbling like falling water, his face unnervingly close. I shove against his chest to put space between us when Yakim rises from the bar, eyes locked on the West Wind.
“He’s coming over,” I hiss.
“Calm, darling.” He squeezes my hip to comfort me, though he continues to survey the approaching demon. “Keep your eyes on me.”
I try, I really do, but my apprehension morphs into an ugly, deep-seeded fear. Why did I agree to this? Why did I leave Miles Cross, abandon my peers, sacrifice the certain for the uncertain?
As I shift into a more comfortable position, Zephyrus lets out a strained moan. Firm thighs, the cradle of a man’s hips, a solid chest at my back, and this: a long, hard ridge pressing into my backside.
My muscles lock. I may be a virgin, but I know what happens when a woman lies with a man.
“Give me a moment,” he says.
“Sh-should I move?”
“No.” His hand spasms around my hip. “That will only exacerbate the issue.”
“Right.” The word squeaks out.
He blows out a breath, then laughs, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades. “This is not going to plan.”
We had a plan? I’m wound too tightly to remember. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. Those loitering in the demon’s path scuttle out of range. “What if I say the wrong thing? What if he kills you?”
Hooking his thumb at the edge of my jaw, Zephyrus turns my head to face him.
My breath catches. Our surroundings fade, and I imagine fabric enveloping our private corner, muting sight and sound but for the West Wind, a vision of bright clarity. The bones of his face appear more defined, whetted by shadow and light.
“Whatever happens, remember this: it is not real. Understand?” The pads of his fingers slip beneath the neckline of my dress with frightening ease. “These are the parts we must play until the deal is done.”
We discussed this, Zephyrus, Ailith, and I. The West Wind is my master, and I am his pet.
He studies me a moment longer. “Try to stay in character. If you feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, settle back and I’ll take over. All right?” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
A wave of longing sweeps through me so fiercely I do not even consider how many times he’s touched me without barriers in the last hour. Sitting sideways on his lap, I watch the demon close the remaining distance, the curled end of his tail wrapped around his left leg. Zephyrus’ hand slides to my thigh and settles there. My mouth goes dry.
Yakim halts a few paces away, peering down his nose at the West Wind. Flecks of silver glitter within his black eyes. “Zephyrus.” The coarseness of his voice reminds me of crushed rock.
Zephyrus inclines his head in response. “Yakim.” The demon’s gaze skips to me and draws a leisurely path from my bared ankles to my chest.
A pet signals status,Ailith had told me.It is an object representing ownership and power. A pet,she added, eyes alight,is the ultimate form of possession.
