“That smells incredible,” Mac says, and his stomach growls in agreement.
I pull out one of the empty chairs and start to wave for him to go ahead, but he pulls out a different one farther down the table and takes a seat. I bristle a little. Did I pick the wrong chair for him, or did he not understand the gesture? And why does he want to sit so far from me? I abandon the chair I pulled out and sit down next to him.
Across the table, Roman’s nostrils flare and he cocks his head at me with a curious look. I bare my teeth to tell the wolf to mind his business.
“So, what’s your name, fresh meat?” Roman asks in his low, gravelly voice, picking up a slab of raw meat and sniffing it before biting into it and tearing it with his canine teeth.
Mac shifts in his seat and reaches for a cooked steak.
“Mac.” He sticks his hand out and Roman just eyes it.
Cassius leans across the table and takes it in a polite shake before Mac can retract the rejected offer.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just grouchy because he has a bad case of mange,” Cassius murmurs conspiratorially. I eye the way hisfingers snake up to Mac’s wrist to brush over his pulse point, and I let out a low growl.
An amused smirk twists on the vampire’s lips, and he withdraws his hand after a too-long handshake.
“I don’t have mange, I’m just tired of pretending like we’re all best pals just because our shit luck brought us all here,” Roman grumbles.
“It’s not so bad.” Atlas shrugs his massive shoulders, shoveling a forkful of sprouts into his mouth. “It’s actually pretty fun most of the time.”
Cassius sputters a laugh and Roman gives him a disgruntled look as he tears off another bite of raw meat.
“So, um, how did you all end up making a deal with Auri?” Mac asks.
An awkward silence falls over the table.
“Most of us don’t like to talk about it,” I say when no one else jumps to volunteer their own tragic tale of what made them desperate enough to sell themselves to a demon. “But I did it for status. Believe me, there are far worse jobs a demon like me could have taken than this one.”
Mac nods like he understands.
“What about you, dragon?” Atlas asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters.
“Fair enough.” Cassius holds up a wineglass filled with thick, crimson blood. “Here’s to indefinite, indentured servitude.”
“Fucking great,” Mac mutters, lifting his glass and tapping it against Cassius’s before taking a drink.
FOUR
MAC
Dinner was legit.I want to know why and how the food in the underworld is so damn good. Who’s the chef? Where did they get it? So many unanswered questions. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my full belly and eyeing the men around the table. The others are obviously more familiar with each other as they chat comfortably, but I don’t feel ignored. There’s a strange air of acceptance, like I’ve always been one of them, and even though I wouldn’t call any of them friendly, no one rattles my dragon either.
Then there’s Drax. Gorgeously naked, gazing at me with curious eyes, he seems to have a sweet nature. He’s attached himself to me, which is probably a good thing since I have no idea what the literal hell I’m doing or what it’s going to take to get out of this situation. Making a deal with a demon isn’t one of my better ideas, but I shudder to think what would’ve happened to me if I hadn’t.
A flurry of shadows descend on the table, startling me, and as I watch with wide eyes, they make quick work of cleaning up the remains of our dinner. Obviously, everyone else is used to this, but I turn to Drax for an explanation.
“What are those?”
“Servants.” He smiles. “The lowest level of demons who have signed on to be part of Auri’s household for the perks.”
“Perks?”
“Wouldn’t you rather manage the household of a demon than stir the fiery lakes for eternity?”
I shudder. “I guess so.”
