Unease skitters over my skin, and I can tell by the manic twinkle in her eyes that she has a plan.
Oh goodie...not.
“Lennox Osseous,” Dyad calls, and I look up at the collection of demons by the dais. “In order to confirm your claim, Julius will test your magic,” he tells me, gesturing to the praying mantis demon. “Once that’s established, the twins will then review your contract for the souls.”
“Fine with me,” I tell him, and he studies me as though he’s looking for how I’m tricking them right now.
Jokes on you, bud, no tricks up my oversized sleeves.
Julius scurries closer to me, and I try not to flinch away from him as he does. He indicates for me to extend my arm, and when I do, he gives me a small scratch. He collects a small amount of blood and then scrapes it into a vial where he promptly starts to shake it, and then all eyes are on him as he analyzes it with nothing more than his own two eyes.
“Rogan Kendrick, you will let me out of this cage right now, do you hear me?” Sorrel suddenly snaps out of nowhere, and fury instantly boils in my blood.
I hear Rogan scoffnext to me like he finds her efforts amusing, but I don’t find anything funny about it. This bitch hired a fucking demon to torture secrets out of her own children, and now she wants to order one around like she has any right to play the mom card.
I whirl on her. “If you know what is good for you, you will never speak to him again. Don’t say his name, in fact don’t even look at him. I don’t have to make your death painless, let’s be very fucking clear about that,” I growl at her.
She glares at me but doesn’t say another word to him.
“The claim is valid,” Julius announces, and then just like that, he disappears.
The High Demons all look at me again like I’m some sort of freak of nature. They’re not wrong, but still it’s rude. Sorrel and Bordow start to argue venomously, but I’m distracted from their catfight when a leather reclining chair appears behind me out of nowhere. I squeal in surprise when there’s suddenly a giant yellow tarsier monkey in my face, pushing me down into the chair. My feet go flying up with a shriek when someone pulls the reclining lever without warning, and Rogan chuckles but doesn’t leave my side. I wrangle in my fight-or-flight instinct and barely stop myself from giving the man I love the bird for laughing at my expense, damn handsy monkeys. The yellow tarsier demons stare at my feet intently, and I try very hard not to fidget.
“Uhhh, what are you doing?” I ask them after a couple of minutes of weird ass staring at my marks.
“We’re reading your contract, Countess,” one of the demons squeaks.
Countess?
I’m taken aback by the title, but I suppose it makes sense. I look over to Rogan and wag my eyebrows at him. “I think I found a cutesy couple pet name that doesn’t make me cringe,” I inform him, and he chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“Does that mean I’ll have to go by the Count?” he asks, appalled.
“Please,” I scoff. “You haven’t earned that title. Go get your own demon magic,” I challenge, and he cracks up. “You think I have a castle somewhere in the UK that comes with this title?” I ask thoughtfully.
“No, but I have a stinky dog and a stinkless skunk back home who will be happy to see you, if that entices you to move into my place,” he counters, and I crack up.
“Throw in coffee and orgasms whenever I want them, and you, sir, have yourself a deal,” I tell him, and his smile melts my damn heart.
“Done,” he agrees, and what do you know, our smiles match.
“I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel demands. “I have reason to believe that this witch is tricking you, and if you’ll just give me a moment, I can prove it.”
“The contracts are valid,” the twins squeak, and I’m suddenly flung forward out of the chair and back on to my feet.
Fucking hell, why do I feel like a demon-led NASCAR pit crew just came at me?
Rogan catches me and keeps me from face planting, and I offer him a grateful smile.
“I said I want to speak to the High Demons alone,” Sorrel screeches, and the High Demons all look at me for a response. “Don’t look at her, I’m speaking to you. I’m the fucking High Priestess of—”
“You’re the fucking High Priestess of nothing,” I bellow at her, and she flinches with shock. “What do you not understand about the fact that I own your useless soul? I watched a psychopath, that you created by the way, torture your son, and he whined a hell of a lot less than you. Shut the hell up and die with some dignity, you fucking coward,” I snap, fed up with the entitled commands and delusional rants.
“Countess, would you like us to silence the cage?” one of the yellow twins asks me.
“Oh, I can do that?” I ask, surprised and a little embarrassed.
I didn’t know I could choose the mute option.
