His tall frame sat in an even taller chair. It might have passed for a throne, had it not been for the heavy desk that eclipsed it. His hair was dark as night, wild and untamed, racing down his face to become the stubble on his jaw. His well-defined features only heightened the piercing intensity of his eyes. They gleamed like silver mirrors. Invoked images of my former mentor’s, which shone with a similar metallic quality. And then there was his smile, wide and impossibly toothy. Something only a villain could wear.
Sitri clad himself in strange armor made of hide and hard-tanned leather. Lean muscles rippled where it failed to cover him. He carried raw power in his body, but despite his toned physique, he moved with grace. Finesse. An impossible blend of strength and precision that no human possessed.
Using one hand, Sitri propped up his head. The other held the match he’d used to light the candle. The demon Prince brought it to his face and blew out the tiny flame. If he wanted to snuff me out, it would be an equally trivial affair.
“Well?” he prompted. “Go on now. I do hate to be left waiting.”
I drew a breath. Sitri’s overwhelming presence served as a reminder; the words I said next would determine my fate.
“Prince Sitri, I wish to bargain with you. I’m in need of protection—”
The Prince raised his hand to silence me. My voice died.
“This is how you ask for help, human?” Mischief gleamed in Sitri’s eyes. His wicked grin and playful tone sent fear into my marrow.
“Come in, have a seat. Take a load off. Make yourself at home. You’ve made it to the lion’s den, darling, and it’s about time we find out if you can escape my claws.”
