Chapter 3
Malphyr
“Can you hurry the fuck up, Mal? Unlike some people, I don’t have all eternity to wait for you to make a decision. Do you want to hear more or not?”
“Hm? What?” I look up from the depths of the amber liquid swirling in my glass. I glance over the slim, slightly hunched figure trembling before me. In the flashing lights of my club, the purplish undertone of his skin has the effect of making his skin look bruised.
What had he been saying? Something about backdoor deals or political pocket-lining? Some other utterly boring bullshit?
The lithe-but-deadly Amazonian princess beside me throws her hands up in exasperation before turning back to the gargoyle. He’s wringing his hands, eyes darting back and forth between Vespina and me. For a stone creature, he’s pretty twitchy which makes me wary of trading or dealing with him.
“Blackstone here says he’s seen movement from the Twin Tusks MC clubhouse. A flurry of activity from two nights ago when several members rode into the night, toward the city.”
I wave a hand in the air dismissively.
“What do I care about what business the Orcs have in the city? They might be on a run for more party supplies.”
Vespina stares hard at me, then snatches away my drink.
“Hey!”
“You’ve had too much tonight. What Mal means,” she says, turning back to the sickly purple gargoyle, “is that we don’t concern ourselves with matters of the city. It’s what they’re doing here in Fable Forest that interests us.”
My tail flicks out behind me in annoyance.
“I don’t pay you to babysit me, Vespina.”
“Then don’t make me do it.”
I glare at her while lifting a hand to signal the bartender for another round.
“You swore you’d re-engage once your plan was in motion, remember?” She motions with eyes toward the looming gargoyle, and I rub at my temples.
“Look, I’ve been trying to mitigate the fallout of that fucking mirror for half an age, V. It’s starting to feel pretty futile.”
“This isn’t just another petty turf war. If you’d been listening, you would’ve caught it.”
I doubt it, but I look at the gargoyle anyway. His shifty gaze ping-pongs between us while he shuffles in place, held back by the two discreetly armed guards positioned before my private area.
“Trouble in paradise, huh? A lover’s spat. We’ve all been there,” he chuckles nervously. “But you know what they say. Happy wife, happy life.”
My fingers curl around the edge of my throne — it’s the only name I have for the ornately carved monstrosity that sits on a dais above the club floor, cushioned in crushed blood-red velvet — and my claws dig into the smooth, worn wood.
“What did you say to me?”
“Happy wife, happy life?” He looks over at Vespina, who scrubs at her face with both hands and then drags them down her cheeks, pulling her flawless skin taut.
“We’re not together,” she groans.
“Careful,” I warn, “I’m engaged to be married.”
To a woman who obviously couldn’t stomach the sight of me, or who was so repulsed by the idea of bearing a demon baby she signed a deal with zero intention of holding up her end of the bargain.
But the gargoyle doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, really? I thought that was o…” He catches the look on my face, then lets his voice die out into a soft cough.
Vespina shoots me a look. Another warning to watch what I say, even if the corner of her mouth softens with something like pity.
I scowl and force myself to sit back in my seat. The drink I signaled for appears at my side, and I swallow it down before Vespina can take it again.
Sighing, she turns back to Blackstone. “Was there anything else unusual about the club’s movements that night? Anything that relates to, you know, the town?”
“The town? Oh, yes. They said something about an incoming frost, which I thought was strange considering the leaves are only just turning. We’re really only at the start of the season, when you think ab--”
“A coming what?” I straighten. Once again, my hands curl around the arms of my chair and my tail goes very still. I can’t have heard him right.
“A coming frost from the east. Something like that. The weather reports have nothing to say, but...”
“Pay the man and see him out,” I say, launching from my seat and stalking toward the railing with my chest tight and my tail flicking restlessly behind me.
Vespina joins me in looking down over the gathered crowd—a mix of humans and creatures writhe together out there.
The Playground is at capacity, just as it is most nights.
Full of people coming from all over to indulge in a variety of desires, legal or maybe not, but nothing heinous.
Everyone knows I won’t tolerate that, and the folks who need space for that go elsewhere.
“They weren’t talking about the weather.” My voice trembles, just slightly, and I clear my throat.
“No, they weren’t.” Vespina leans her hip into the railing and crosses her arms. “But you took your sweet time plotting this one out. There’s no way you didn’t see this coming.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.” My lips curve upward as I take another sip of my drink.
She laughs, gesturing to the packed house. “And when his vices called to him?”
I stare into my cup, slosh the liquid around. “Well, I can’t keep everyone clean.”
“So, you did the next best thing.”
“I did the next best thing.”
Her eyebrows lift along with one shoulder. “Yeah, but is she going to see it that way?”
I peer out into the mixed crowd below. Their bodies a rainbow, their ecstasy, lust, needs, and pleasure combining like the fragrance of a flower to my flared nostrils. It’s so potent, I can practically taste their satisfaction.
It’s the flavor of sweet, sweet victory. So tempting, so alluring that I can’t resist slipping the tip of my forked tongue to the air once the club doors open.
And it’s there.
A faint, creeping chill blown in on the wind.
My runaway bride is coming home.
When the dawn peeks up over the trees of Fable Forest, burning away the mist clinging to the branches, I head home.
After another long week of never-ending negotiating, careful maneuvering, and endless dealmaking, all I want is a scorching hot shower and a tumble into bed. In another twelve hours or so, I’ll do it again. And again. And again.
Ad fucking nauseam.
I push open the door to my penthouse suite, chuckling to myself. The whole reason I got chucked into the portal that landed me here is because I wasn’t a fan of the tedium of being a demon.
Turns out the human experience is also full of tedium. Who knew?
The air’s colder here than usual, so I snap my fingers, and all the fireplaces around me roar to life.
Then, I shrug out of my suit jacket and stretch my aching wings.
Even after centuries, I don’t get how humans can stand being trussed up in layers and scrunched together like sardines for hours on end. Most days, I’d rather be naked and free, but folks around here frown on that.
I just hate having to be so careful not to knock someone out with a wing or trip someone up with my tail. It’s exhausting, but it’s an improvement over the past when I had to hide my demon entirely.
I shred the expensive linen shirt off my body and fling it in the fire. I’m ready to do the same with my trousers when my eyes fall on a pair of shiny, red high-heeled pumps.
“Don’t stop on my account,” says an edgy female voice, iced over with frost. “A girl should get to see the goods before she gives over her body, don’t you think?”
Sheer pleasure ripples through me at the sound.
Her voice is slightly sharper now. More cultured and worldly than the eighteen-year-old she’d been when she signed our contract. But under her rigid control, there’s still an electric spark that called to me from the moment she first walked into my lair and demanded I strike a deal with her.
I turn, unprepared for the impact of seeing my future bride barefoot and lounging over the plush, black sofa. My greedy eyes devour the sight of her at once.
Her long, white-blond hair swept over one shoulder. Wine glass twirling between two elegant fingers. The glint of red wine matching the hue of the silken dress wrapped around her soft curves.
And my ring still wrapped around her finger.
Still mine. Always mine.
She crosses a leg over the other and the skirt rides up her creamy thighs. The sight is enough to make a demon burn with thirst.
If I didn’t know better, I’d never peg her as a woman in an hour of need.
Every movement is calculated, practiced. But there’s no trace of the repulsion I thought drove her from this place.
From me.
How curious.
Instead, there’s faint interest flickering in her eyes and nerves vibrating under her deliberately idle movement.
Fuck, I’m going to love shredding every ounce of that carefully held control.
“If you wanted to see the goods, all you had to do was ask.” I grin, tail itching to wag like I’m a hellhound who’s caught the scent of dinner. “Hi, honey, you’re home. How’d you get in?”
“I still have some street skills,” she says, draining the rest of her wine before setting the glass down with a clink. “But I didn’t come for you.”
“No? Gosh, and here I thought maybe you were finally going to hold up your end of our bargain.”
A blush stains her cheeks even as she lifts her chin. “Plenty of time for me to make good on my end of the deal.”
“Hmm, yeah. But I’m fairly sure you’re in your prime now.” I sniff and draw closer.
Her scent perfumes the air — cool, crisp, clean. But there’s more to it, a layer of arousal she’s fighting not to feel. It makes my cock hard, and I make no move to hide it.
Her icy blue eyes run from the tips of my curved horns, over my broad shoulders and sculpted body until they land on my bulge.
Then she flicks her gaze back to mine. There’s interest there but a flash of fear, too, as she draws her knees under her body and pins me in place with a look.
“I told you I didn’t come for you. I shouldn’t have to remind you about the terms of our deal.”
“No, Queenie, I don’t need reminding. Every word is committed to memory.” I nudge aside the chess set and drop onto the coffee table directly in front of her. Bracing my elbows on my knees, I lean in. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here then?”
“My brother’s in trouble. He needs me.” She directs her gaze to the roaring fire, and I watch how the light plays over her skin and reflects in her pupils.
The way she talks about Kaiden is softer. Her loyalty and affection for her family were something I found appealing in her ten years ago, but now? It stirs up the embers of that initial flame and stokes an internal need to make this beauty mine.
I can’t quite tamp down the temptation to touch her, so I reach over and use the pad of my finger to push her hair out of her heart-shaped face.
“If he needs you, why are you here in my house?”
“You helped me once. I think I might need your help again,” she sighs, plucking at invisible lint on her dress and not meeting my eyes. “I thought he just needed a favor, or some money, or… I don’t know. But it’s bigger than that. They trashed his place, and they’ve taken him for ransom.”
“They who, darling?”
“Who else? The same people my dad fell in with. That damn motorcycle club.”
I raise a brow. “You know this how?”
She unlocks her phone and jabs the play button.
A distorted, voice-modulated recording filters through the speakers.
“Quinn Frost, if you ever want to see your brother alive again, you’ll need to pay us what he owes. One point two million. Get it together. We’ll contact you again in three days.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears when she looks at me, and it makes my heart stutter.
“Help me get him back, Malphyr.”
Lips pursed into a thin, sympathetic smile, I suck air through my teeth. “Oh, darling, I’d love to help. But you know, my help comes with a price.”
Her head snaps up, weighing my words as I twist to tinker with the chess set I’d nudged aside.
“What do you want?”
“A revision to our existing contract.”
“What revision?”
Suspicion slows her speech, and I feel more than see her narrowed gaze as I slide the chess pieces around the board.
Capturing the queen, I palm the piece and press it into her hand.
“Marry me now.”