The largest of them has wings, and I catch myself wondering if this was the same person I saw flying on my first day here. Surely not. That would be too large of a coincidence. They’re even larger than Azazel—apparently the metric I judge everyone by these days—and wear only a kilt around their thick waist.
The other is closer to Ramanu’s size, lean like a blade, with curving ram’s horns that bracket their long straight dark hair. They grin, revealing too-sharp teeth. “Hand her over or this gets messy.”
Ramanu laughs, loud and pretty. “I think not.”
“We have no issue with you, Ramanu,” the larger one says. “Stand aside.”
There’s a faint shtck sound like a blade being drawn. My heart leaps into my throat when I realize what it is. Ramanu’s claws. They were petite and black, but now they’re curved and look vicious enough to disembowel someone.
Any hope I had of this being all posturing and bullshit disappears. Ramanu may be dramatic, but they’ve shown no signs of being unnecessarily violent. They wouldn’t issue this unspoken threat if they didn’t mean it.
As if sensing my growing fear, they turn their head enough to speak to me over their shoulder. “Don’t run. They’ll have a third waiting to snatch you if you do. Stay close.”
I don’t know if they mean to reassure me, but I am very much not reassured. “You can’t take three of them on,” I hiss. “We have to run.”
“I have no intention of taking three of them on,” they murmur. “I’m stalling.”
“Stall—” The word dies in my throat as the double doors to the castle slam open with a violence that seems to shake the entire square we stand in. People hadn’t seemed to register the growing possibility of a fight before, but they scatter now, rushing away from us or taking refuge in the stores on either side. In seconds, the square is empty but for the two—three—attackers, Ramanu, and I.
A huge form fills the doorway, and I let out a sound of pure relief at the familiar sight of wide shoulders and horns as he steps into the fading light.
Azazel is here.
CHAPTER 8
AZAZEL
Itake in the scene with a single sweep. Three strangers. Ramanu doing their best to shield Eve. It won’t work. There are too many, and Ramanu isn’t trained as a bodyguard. I catch their eye and nod. The moment I got their signal—a little magical panic button that all my people carry when out in the world—I rushed here. I’m only glad I’m not too late.
Time to even the odds.
I barrel into the pair closest to me. The bigger one with wings dodges my swipe, but I catch the other in the throat and close my fingers around their neck. It would take nothing at all to change my grip, to rip out their fucking throat for daring to threaten what’s mine. Only the knowledge that we need whatever information they have on Brosh stays my hand.
That . . . and the desire for Eve not to view me as more of a monster than she already does.
Instead, I toss them through the doors and into the castle. “Dungeon!”
The doors slams shut for a brief moment. When they open again, only the empty hallway remains. Good. Now for the other two.
The one behind Ramanu and Eve rushes them, pulling a blade from their robes. Fear lodges itself in my chest. “Knife!” I roar.
“I see,” Ramanu snaps. They grab Eve’s arm and send her barreling behind them as they move to meet the attacker. I don’t have cause to see them fight often, but gods, they’re vicious and brutal. They break the bargainer’s wrist, snatch the knife, and plunge it into their enemy’s stomach. Then they twist it for good measure.
Eve’s shriek brings me back around. The winged bargainer has their arms around her and is tensing to launch into the air.
“No!”
I lunge just as they take off, getting a hand around their calf, but the panicked batting of their wings makes them lurch higher, sending my grip sliding down to their ankle.
I can take them out of the sky, but not without endangering Eve. “Ramanu!” I hold out my free hand, bracing as well as I can. “Get Eve!”
My second-in-command sprints to us and steps into my offered palm without missing a beat, and I use all my strength to toss them up. Their momentum works well, as does our enemy’s desperation. Ramanu snatches Eve right out of their arms as they fly over the bargainer’s head. The second they’re clear, I grab the unknown bargainer’s leg with both hands and slam them down on the ground hard enough to shatter the cobblestones beneath my feet. The crunch of their bones is so loud that I know they won’t be getting up again.
Ramanu lands lightly behind me, Eve safely in their arms. “That was eventful.”
I survey the two dead bodies. “You didn’t have to twist the knife.”
“You already have one captive. No need to waste resources with more.” They set Eve carefully on her feet. “Besides, you needed my assistance.”
But I’m not listening any longer. I go to Eve, staring at the bloodshed with wide eyes, her face gone too pale. She’s safe now, but she won’t believe it. Not yet. I sweep her into my arms. “Get this cleaned up,” I call over my shoulder.
“Of course.”
My tension doesn’t leave as I step through the doorway and back into the relative safety of the castle. Eve is shaking, her eyes too wide and her hand convulsively gripping my shirt. “You’re safe,” I say softly. “Eve, you’re safe.”
“You said you would stop lying.”
The castle understands my urgency, because there’s only a single staircase and a short hallway before I’m pushing through the door into Eve’s suite. “I’m not lying. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I walk past the bed and into the bathroom. I don’t think she’s noticed the blood on her shirt, and I want to get it off before she does. She’s not quite panicking, but there’s no reason to traumatize her further. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. I misjudged their boldness, or I wouldn’t have let you and Ramanu out of here without an escort.”
“Azazel.” She presses her hand to my chest, her brown eyes serious. The earlier shakiness seems to be easing, tucking itself away where she can deal with it privately. I wish she trusted me enough to let me share that burden with her, but I’ve done little to deserve her trust at this point. She drops her hand. “I am so angry with you that I can barely put it into words. But there’s no way you could have known we’d be in danger in what amounts to your front yard. Stop flogging yourself.”
“You could flog me instead.” Damn it, I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t mean to do a lot of things around Eve.
Her eyes flash. “Absolutely not. There are lines, and I don’t trust myself not to cross them with how I’m feeling these days.”
We did very little kink on the nights I contracted with her. I didn’t have the patience for it, couldn’t think past the frenzy she inspires in me. My desire is still there, barely tempered beneath the surface. I’m still not certain how I managed to keep from fucking her the other night on the dining room table. My need was—is—a live thing inside me, chanting a single word over and over again. Eve. No one else will do.
In the past, I’ve laughed at the dragons for being so stringent with their rituals of courtship and marriage. I think I understand it better now. I want Eve as mine. My ring on her finger if that human ritual is what she needs. Her standing before my people as co-ruler . . .