When Yakim’s gaze lifts to my face, a small, sated smile curls his mouth. “Is this your pet? She is lovely.”
“She is.” Tightening his hand around my thigh, Zephyrus drags it higher so his fingers catch the fabric, displaying his most recent acquisition. “Poor thing was being traumatized by a horde of nymphs before I found her. Not sure how she got here.” He grins, his teeth growing points before my eyes. “Lucky me.”
“Indeed.” Yakim settles into a vacant armchair and places his briefcase at his feet. “Have you claimed her?”
“I have.” If I’m not mistaken, his canines elongate further. “It was almost too easy.”
“You always did love a pretty face.” He runs his skeletal fingers over the polished surface of the side table. “It has been some time. I almost didn’t recognize you across the room. The look suits you.” He gestures to Zephyrus’ nose, though it is smaller than it was weeks ago. “A better reflection of your personality, to be certain.”
Zephyrus inclines his head. “I appreciate that.” He flags the bartender, who delivers him a glass of wine, as well as a glass of blood for Yakim. The demon smacks his lips heartily and sets the drink on the table.
With my hands folded over my lap, I do my best to remain unobtrusive, but every so often I lift my hand to the West Wind’s chest, presenting the image of one enamored by her captor. His arousal still pokes at my rear. My mind never strays from it for long.
Swirling the wine, Zephyrus takes a swallow, then deposits his glass on the table. “Thank you for not killing me at the first opportunity.”
“Well.” The demon smiles briefly, and to my surprise, his teeth are white, like small, dazzling pearls tucked among pink gums. “I’d like to believe I’ve mellowed over the last century or so. What’s done is done. After all,” he adds, a bit of malice hardening his tone, “it’s just business, right?”
Slowly, Zephyrus tugs me nearer, his chest warming my spine, almost like a shield against the obvious threat Yakim poses. “No hard feelings I hope,” he purrs. “You of all people understand the stakes of a gamble.”
“It was no gamble,” Yakim snarls, blood outlining his shining white teeth. “You double-crossed me.”
“And you’re saying you weren’t planning on doing the same?” He snorts. “Face it. You’re just angry I fooled you first.”
Before Yakim can respond, the West Wind plants both hands on my legs and pulls, spreading them wide. My instinct is to stiffen, wrench myself free, but beneath his touch, I soften, my head falling back against his shoulder. Yakim’s attention drops to where the fabric hangs between my thighs.
“As much as I appreciate tedious small talk,” the demon drawls,eventually shifting his attention to Zephyrus, “it is no coincidence you’re here. Let’s not pretend this meeting wasn’t premeditated.”
“Now that you mention it,” Zephyrus says, “I am here to make a deal.” Gently, he nudges my legs closed. The pose apparently served its purpose.
The demon laughs, and the conversation at the adjacent table cuts out, for it is a chilling sound, thin and cruel. “How utterly unsurprising you are.” He steeples his fingers together, peering over the point. “Very well. Seeing as you went to all this trouble, I will hear your case.”
“I’m in the market for a powerful antidote, something able to reverse the effects of nightshade.” Yakim’s dark eyebrows quirk. “Do you have something in your collection?”
“An antidote for nightshade.” He speaks deliberately, a jagged fingernail scraping the arm of his chair. “Interesting.”
“Yes, yes, it’s all quite interesting.” Zephyrus waves a hand. “What is the cost of the antidote? Assuming you have one at your disposal.”
“To start, twenty thousand gold coins. Ten thousand for the antidote itself, ten thousand for the trouble of an unscheduled meeting.”
My heart begins to thunder, because I have never seen a single coin on Zephyrus’ person. Debts and unfulfilled promises are the West Wind’s currency of choice.
“Twenty thousand seems a steep price to pay.”
“The antidote contains the grounds of a bezoar stone from a goat born in the seventh hour on the seventh day of the seventh month,” Yakim says. “You will find nothing more potent, no other guarantee to stop the venom. Granted, it can only be taken at sunrise.”
My attention snaps to the window as the fingers at my hip flex. It’s still dark. But we don’t have long before Under’s enchanted sun rises, if it decides to rise at all.
“I see,” Zephyrus mutters.
A cold smile blooms, lips thinning beneath Yakim’s sharp nose. “If you do not have the payment, well, thatisa shame.”
The demon cannot know how near to paralysis Zephyrus is. Even now, another wave of numbness recedes beneath his skin, a faint trembling the only indication.
“I only have twelve thousand at the moment,” he says to Yakim. “Will you accept a trade instead?”
Yakim leans back in his armchair, viciously pleased. “Throw in your pet, and you’ve got a deal.”
That slaps me awake. “Excuse me?”
