“Let’s begin.”
I turn around and blink. A massive desk has appeared from nowhere. I didn’t even feel a change in the air to indicate something had happened. Why would the air change, Briar? The rules you’ve used to survive the old world won’t apply in this one. That horrible, hysterical giggle once again threatens to slip free. I press both my hands to my mouth and try to focus on breathing evenly and slowly.
Azazel sinks into a chair that definitely wasn’t there a moment before. “Please sit.”
A chair presses against the back of my thighs, and I jump, but my knees choose that moment to give up the ghost. I land on the seat with a thump that makes my bones rattle. I don’t know if I’m supposed to say something, but I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
The dragon perches on a backless stool that has a half-moon carved out to accommodate his tail. I belatedly realize he’s wearing pants, and I don’t know why that detail nearly does me in, but I have to jerk my gaze to Azazel to keep from laughing. Or sobbing. At this point, it could go either way.
“This agreement will be slightly more unconventional than the others.” Azazel’s looking at me like I’m supposed to know what that means. “As promised in the original contract, you will not be coerced or forced, but you will allow Sol the opportunity to seduce you.”
Seduced by a dragon. Sure. Why not?
The demon seems to be waiting for a response, so I give a jerky nod.
“However, dragon culture is a bit more…” He shoots a dark look at the dragon—at Sol. “Stringent. With that in mind, you’ll be married for the duration of your time in our realm to avoid any unnecessary messiness.”
“What?” It takes both of them staring at me to realize that squeaking word came from me. It should be enough to scare me into silence, but my brain has clicked offline. “I can’t marry him. I’m already married.”
“Ah.” Azazel examines his black-clawed fingertips. “Technically, you’re a widow.”
Because he killed Ethan.
“Then I never want to get married again.” It might be the dream we’re sold as children, to end up standing before the altar with someone who loves you above all others and will be a partner against anything life throws at you, but that hasn’t been my experience at all. Marriage is a bear trap closing around your leg, and the best you can do is cut off the appendage to get free and hope you don’t bleed to death in the aftermath.
Having Ethan as a husband nearly killed me. How much worse will it be being married to a literal monster?
As if divining the direction of my thoughts, Azazel cuts in, “Similar to the contract that you signed with me, this contract will ensure the prescribed behavior on both parties’ behalf. You won’t be harmed.”
I laugh bitterly. “Sure.” There’s no choice, though. Maybe there never was. Before I can talk myself out of it, I scoot forward, grab the pen next to the contract, and sign at the line above my name.
“Azazel—” It’s the first time Sol has spoken since entering the room. I thought his voice would be sibilate, but I suppose dragons and snakes are hardly the same thing. Even so, I don’t expect how deep the word is. He actually reaches out to grab my wrist but stops before making contact.
I stare at his hand; he could close it around my entire upper arm. My thigh. Maybe even my waist.
He’s going to break me.
Sol makes a low hissing noise. “You never said she has a history of damage.”
Damage. That’s one way to put it. It might even be the truth.
“I’m a bargainer demon, dragon. Healthy, well-adjusted humans don’t make bargains with demons. You chose. Deal with it.”
The dragon hesitates for a long moment, clearly debating internally, before he takes the pen. It looks absurd in his scaled hand, but the size difference doesn’t stop him from signing with a flourish. The sizzling feeling from last time surges through me and then disappears before I have a chance to tense. “Payment will be transferred over as soon as I return to the keep.”
“Perfect.” Azazel flicks a glance at me. “Keep in mind the stakes.”
I blink. “You’re speaking English.”
Azazel is the one who answers. “There’s a translation spell in effect for you. Anything spoken in your presence will be automatically translated in your mind.”
Sol makes another of those hissing sounds. “Why doesn’t she know about the spell, Azazel?”
“She was unconscious upon arriving. It was taken care of along with…” He stops short. “It hardly matters. It’s done.”
The dragon looks at me. “It’s inked on your body, but the spell is linked deeper. It cannot be removed, even if the skin is.”