Queenie’s Daddy Demon (Filthy Fairy-tales #3)

Chapter 1

Malphyr

The shit part about being a demon is that it’s for forever.

Like, literally for-fucking-ever.

Eternity is a long time to be stuck in the Hellhole, moving up the ranks from the grunt work to surface duty.

And I was the odd demon out.

Never found the same sort of pleasure in torturing souls as others and always wanted to know more about this whole human experience thing.

What’s that saying humans have? I was “bit by the bug” when one of my early assignments was to run around the surface flashing this fancy-looking mirror at folks.

It did something funny to them. Unlocked a nasty part of themselves that took over so they couldn’t see any of the beauty around them. Didn’t matter if it was real, physical beauty or the kind that was tucked away in the heart of a person. These people couldn’t see it anymore.

So I did something I wasn’t meant to do.

I broke the rules. When everyone was busy zipping around, yapping about how hilarious it would be to see what it’d do to the Goddess’s Angelic Army, I let the thing fall from my fingers.

It broke into irreparably tiny pieces…

But the poison in that mirror was too potent. Even a microscopic shard was enough to twist a man up.

Me being here? On earth? In Fable Forest?

It’s punishment for that. And unbeknownst to the head honchos back in the Hellhole I come from, I’ve been using my time to make up for it.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when I stare down at the defiant, wide-eyed beauty before me.

Five minutes ago, she burst through the doors of my penthouse apartment, demanding a deal — and just like that, my universe tilts on its axis.

She’s heart-stoppingly beautiful, with an air of innocence around the spiky-edged energy she carries. Her round face is make-up free, and her glittering blue eyes bore into mine, commanding all my attention.

I cannot stop staring.

She’s got her white-blonde hair slicked back into a severe-looking low ponytail, and she looks like she came to bargain hard.

After all, she’s come to me in my home, not to my club, and she’s clad in a suit.

Mine’s fitted. Tailored. Expensive.

Hers shows some fraying at the seams and the fit’s about one or two sizes too small, judging by the way it clings to her curves.

Something stirs in my blood, and it takes me a moment to recognize it as desire.

How very interesting.

Not a single soul on this planet has elicited this reaction from me in ages. And watching her as she stands proud before me, undeterred and unafraid while she pleads her case amuses me.

Something about her father’s enormous debts being linked to money stolen from monster mafia-connected bikers. I know who she means – the glitter-running orc gang – but I don’t hear it all because I’m distracted by my body’s reaction and her pretty, unpainted mouth.

“Who are you?” I ask, interrupting her.

“I’m Quinn Frost. My father—”

“I don’t care about your father. I want to know about you.”

She draws back, thrown slightly off kilter.

“I’m not here for myself.”

My gaze flicks over her, assessing. A strong mind, quick tongue, and killer body. Quinn Frost is special.

I slip my tongue out, let it glide over my lower lip as I taste the air around her.

Fuck, her aura is delicious.

Like the cold burn of peppermint when it first hits my tongue. I’m instantly hooked, instantly intrigued as every instinct in my burning body fires up.

I’m suddenly three thousand degrees hotter than I normally run, my throat tightening and cock springing to life with the need to claim her, breed her, keep her.

This woman is mine.

I snap the pen in my hand and curse as ink spills. Flinging it into the trash, I have a moment to compose myself and fight my raging hard-on while I wipe up the mess.

“You okay?” she asks, concern flitting over her face.

A human mate. It’s fucking ridiculous. I ball up another tissue marked with ink and toss it aside.

“That’ll stain.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“O-kay.”

I glance over at her, and yup. There’s no mistaking the immediate pull I feel toward her or the effect she has on me. I want this cold, caring beauty to be mine—whatever the cost.

“Why have you come to me?”

She lifts her chin. “Everyone in town says you’re honorable.”

“Lies,” I counter.

“Okay, not honorable exactly. But fair enough. Better I deal with a demon that’ll give it to me straight than an orc who’d swindle me.”

“They’re not all bad, orcs.”

Her eyes glitter hard. “These ones are.”

I twirl a pen between my fingers, easing back against my chair as I regard her. She refuses to sit, preferring to stand before me, feet firmly planted in her red ballet flats.

“How old are you, Quinn?”

“Old enough.”

“I asked you a direct question. I expect a direct answer. How old are you?”

She stares me down. “Eighteen. I’m old enough to legally be bound to a contract, human or magical, and if you need me to bleed for it, I will.”

“Oh, I don’t require blood signatures anymore. That practice died out with bloodletting.”

Her mouth drops open. “You’re… you’re that old? You don’t look it.”

I flash her a wicked grin. “Older. That a problem?”

“I don’t care. Why would it be a problem?”

“Because if you want me to pay your father’s debts, you’re going to have to give me something, too.”

She lifts her head again, feet scuffing against the marble floor. “I expected as much. I’ll pay you back, every cent. With interest.”

My smile grows as I push away from the desk and rise to my full height. I watch as she takes in an eyeful of me, her ice blue eyes flaring and mouth parting.

“I don’t want my money back,” I say, rounding my desk to go to her.

Warily, she tracks my movements, but she doesn’t withdraw. She doesn’t tremble. She grows still and meets my gaze with steely resolve, making something strange and intoxicating flicker to life inside my chest.

“Wh-what do you want then?”

I circle around her, wings tucked tight behind me and tail trailing along the floor. Her scent envelops me like cool winter mint, and I want to drown in it.

“You,” I breathe. “Be my bride. Bear me a babe. And you can take whatever money you need. Use it to free your family from their vices.”

To her credit, she doesn’t recoil. She just stares at me, considering.

“Unless you think I’m too old for you.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” she snaps. “I care how you’ll treat me.”

My lips curve. “You’ll be my little queen. I’ll take care of you as such.”

“I’ve never… I mean, I’m not…” She draws a breath. “I’m a virgin.”

“Good. Save yourself for me, darling.” I lick my lips, and this time, she shudders. “I’m worth it.”

“Are you insane?” She folds her arms under her breasts, and I try very hard not to notice the way her shirt outlines her curves.

But I’m a demon, what can I say?

I notice. A lot.

“I’m not going to bind myself to you for life. Not even for the sake of my family. Give me better terms.”

Ooh, a smart one.

“What do you propose?”

“A bride or a baby, which do you want more? Can’t have both.”

I turn my tail to her and head back behind my desk. “No deal, then. Have a good—”

“Wait!” She slaps a hand down on the desk and I have to purse my lips to keep from smiling.

“Um.” Her gaze darts to the side and I can practically see her mind whirling as she runs scenarios in her head. “Fine. I’ll marry you and… whatever, have your baby. But I say when it happens.”

Her words are steel, forged in ice, but there’s a furrow in her brow. A tightness to her mouth that suggests this concession cost her more than she’d like to admit.

She’s choosing her words carefully, ensuring this is just business.

“Well, technically, I don’t think either of us has control over—”

“Over when I will marry you. And,” —she chews on her bottom lip and makes a decision.

When she meets my gaze again, there’s banked fire in her eyes.

“And when I deliver your child, the contract will be paid in full. We’ll dissolve the marriage, but I decide whether or not to remain part of the child’s life. You will not interfere.”

There’s a pang in my chest at the idea of her not being bound to me, but I won’t think of that now. In time, I may be able to convince her to stay, and if having an out built-in to the contract will make her more comfortable signing, then so be it.

“Fine. Deal.”

I wave my hand over my desk, and a sheaf of paper appears. The pages of the contract flip to the signature page, and I scribble my name in red before I offer the pen to her.

“Sign there.” I rap my gnarled knuckle over the dotted line. “And the bargain’s struck.”

“Just like that? My father’s debts will be paid in full. And my part in this contract—” she swallows hard, “—only starts when I say it does?”

I prod my cheek with my tongue. On the surface, the deal is too good to be true. Which, of course, it is.

“It’s all there. Black ink, white paper, Queenie.”

“Quinn,” she snaps. “It’s Quinn.”

My lips curve. Sparky little thing, my future bride.

“Ah, yes, but soon, we’ll be married. That’ll make you my queen, and all this?” I gesture around the penthouse suite, flicking my tail toward the floor-to-ceiling windows where the evening lights of Fable Forest’s township wink. “Will belong to us both.”

“We’ll marry when I’m damn well ready to marry,” she grumbles, scrawling her name in red ink and ending with a tiny flourish.

Mine.

I can’t stop the smile from stretching over my face. I’m engaged.

With the snap of my fingers, I fashion a ring from thin air. It’s simple and elegant, a silver band crowned by a circular blue diamond.

“Oh, I- I don’t need a ring,” she stammers as I take hold of her hand and slip my ring over her finger. “But by the Goddess, it’s beautiful.”

She holds it up to the light, and it dazzles with all the unique beauty of a snowflake, just like her.

“It’s a gift and a reminder of the bargain you’ve signed.”

“But I don’t-” She tugs on it. “It doesn’t come off.”

“It will,” I murmur, “when you make good on your contract.”

Then, with eyes alight and mouth in a flat line, she thrusts the contract at me and stomps out my door.

It’s just too damn bad that she didn’t come back.

And I don’t deal in broken bargains.

I will claim my queen—one way or another.