Bargain with the Devil, page 17
“Wouldn’t your dad help? This kid could become even more powerful than him!”
“If I were a worthy second–in–command, I’m sure he would. As it stands, I haven’t proven my worth yet. A possibility that the child could be powerful is not enough to go to war against a House.”
“Ok sure, I guess that makes sense. But your dad’s magic must be on the same level as a god. So, wouldn’t that make you a demi–god? Couldn’t you fight the House by yourself?”
He smiles wide. “You give me far too much credit, Sloane. I may be powerful, I may frighten the Lords, but I am not powerful enough to take on an entire House on my own. Half the reason why the Lords fear me is due to my association with Zagon Primis. No one ever thought one of his children would survive as long as I have. They’re afraid of upsetting him.”
“Right. You said his kids die before they’re...?”
“Before me, I believe there was one who made it to twenty years old.”
“I know you answered this already but when did Zagon find you?”
“Five years ago.”
Right. When he was thirty years old. A solid decade older than the previous successor.
“He must’ve shit bricks learning how old you were.”
Balthazar chuckles and I love how it lights up his face. His delight is obvious as it crinkles the edges of his eyes and his laugh reverberates through his chest.
“Perhaps he did. To find me alive and well when the rest of his children were dead... Zagon was furious that my existence had been kept from him. As punishment, he impaled my mother at the entrance of our village.”
Gone is the amusement from him. His voice turns monotonous. There isn’t even a hint of anger in his tone, but he curls his fingers into a tight fist. That’s the only tell that shows he’s angry about his mother’s murder. I want to reach out to touch him, to comfort him, but I miss the opportunity as he continues to talk.
“However, that was the first and only time Zagon Primis ever paid attention to me. I may be the only child of his who has lived the longest, but where my strength currently stands, I’m not worth his time. According to him, I still have a long way to go before I’m worthy of standing by his side.”
“Do you want that?” I ask and he blinks at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. I repeat my question because he honestly looks a little confused by it. “Do you want to stand by his side?”
“It isn’t my decision to make.”
“Alright, I get that. You’re a Primis and he’s the ruler of Jeznia. Daddy decides your future and all, but still... Do you want to stand by his side?”
“No,” he answers. I expect him to say he wants nothing to do with Zagon but instead he says, “I’d rather stand in front.”
“So do it,” I instantly reply and his eyes flash almost white. “It’ll take time and you’ll definitely need to train or something, but it’s not impossible. He’s not infallible. Is he invincible? ‘Cause that would make it a lot harder to achieve.”
Balthazar’s head tilts back as a deep, loud laugh expels out of him. It’s different from the other ones he’s had today. This one is rich and heavy, washing over the entire patio in a seductive timbre. I immediately notice a shift in everyone as their eyes are drawn to Balthazar while he laughs. He looks so free, open, and inviting. A perfect lure for unsuspecting prey.
“All Jeznians can be killed,” he answers as his laughter settles down, but his voice is thick with amusement. “Zagon Primis included.”
“What if I...” I trail off as I contemplate my words. I honestly don’t think I’d waste my wish on killing Balthazar’s father, but I am curious if it’s possible. “Could I wish him dead?”
Balthazar stares at me for a long time. A warm, gentle summer breeze blows through the patio as idle chatter floats around us. He sits in his chair posed for relaxation as the wind caresses his thick hair, daring to toss a few strands free. Our gazes stay locked onto each other and I can’t stop the thought, He’s so handsome. Too handsome. Out–of–my–league handsome.
The expression on his face is hard and unrelenting. His sharp jaw clenches as his eyes narrow in deep consideration. The silence drags on to the point where I think he won’t answer me. Maybe I should say something, anything, to move on from the heavy silence. But then he finally answers.
“My magic would have to be more powerful than his in order to achieve that. Currently, wishing Zagon Primis dead would only get the both of us killed.”
But it is possible, I think. So long as there’s someone more powerful than him.
“That’s enough conversation for today,” he says as he pushes back from the table. “We have lives to ruin.”
XV
O WE HAVE a deal?”
Balthazar is staring into the face of a sixty–something year old man who has been diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer and isn’t ready to die yet. He doesn’t look incredibly sick so I imagine he’s only just begun treatment. That is if he started it at all.
Guilt eats away at me as I listen to this man beg. It’s the first person I’ve met who hasn’t wished for money. His desperation is a stark difference to the other men who begged for money. This man has more to lose than any of them did.
I glance away from him to distract my mind and take in the appearance of his home. It isn’t anything extravagant. A typical middle class household in the suburbs. Pictures of his family are scattered throughout. We’re seated in the living room where the walls are painted a neutral beige and Live, laugh, love decor runs rampant, courtesy of his wife I presume.
Tears stream down his face as he clutches his chest. His gaze keeps shifting to me like he’s looking for reassurance and I try to avoid his eyes as best I can. My lips pull into a frown as my arms tightly hold my stomach. It never crossed my mind that a situation like this could occur. I always imagined people who summoned the devil would wish for fame and fortune or force someone to fall in love with them. I never contemplated someone selling their soul to stay alive. It’s heartbreaking.
“You should really think about what you’re doing,” I warn because I can’t hold it back. Seeing him weep about his impending death strikes a chord in me. He reminds me of how desperate I had been to not die; that the desperation to live caused me not to think about the after of selling my soul. “Think about the consequences of what you’re asking.”
The man’s lower lip trembles as he stares at me before a sob escapes his mouth. Balthazar snaps his fingers while throwing me a dirty look.
“What you’re doing is attempting to save your life,” Balthazar states as he directs his attention back to the man. “You’ll have seven long years to prepare for your death, to get your little duckies in a row, and make sure the people you care about in life are cared for. Is that not worth our deal?”
The man glances at me again and I attempt to open my mouth but can’t. So that’s what Balthazar’s little finger snap did. Hot rage boils through me. Asshole.
The man glances away from me just as I grab a pillow off the couch I’m sitting on. I chuck it as hard as I can at Balthazar sitting in the only solo chair in the entire living room and it hits him in the face.
He whips his head around, his face pulled into a menacing glare, but I glare right back at him as I angrily point at my mouth. His glare is immediately replaced by an approving smirk. Piece of shit is happy I can’t talk.
Balthazar raises his hand up like he’s going to snap his fingers and then very purposefully misses snapping them together. I strut over to him and hit him on the shoulder as hard as I can. He laughs before curling his arm around my waist and pulling me down into his lap.
“Forgive my wife,” he says as he looks at the man, “sometimes she gets a little too invested in our play sessions and forgets where we are.”
My eyes go wide while I try as hard as I can to open my mouth to object to what he’s said but my lips physically cannot open. So I do the only thing I can think of and slap him on the forehead. Normally, I’d aim for the cheek but I can’t get a good swing in while sitting in his lap. The force of how hard I hit him leaves a quickly fading pink mark on his olive skin.
The entire room shifts as the temperature drops a couple of degrees. If I weren’t so angry at him for making me mute, I’d be about ready to pee my pants in fear. He’s genuinely pissed I hit him.
Balthazar slowly turns his attention back towards me, the amusement gone from his eyes, but I hold my ground. No matter how worried I might be about how he’ll retaliate, I have the real power. I point my finger at my mouth again and glare at him in defiance. He works his jaw back and forth as he holds me tight against him.
“We’ll be back in a moment, Derick,” Balthazar says, but keeps his eyes on me.
We transport out of the room before appearing in the middle of the sidewalk. People walk around us as if we hadn’t just manifested out of thin air. It’s a little disorienting.
A moment later, Balthazar snaps his fingers and my mouth immediately opens.
“You do that again, Balthazar, and I swear–”
“That you’ll kill me,” he interjects in a bored tone as he still holds me against his firm body.
“No, I’ll stab you. In the dick. And I’ll make it hurt. Do not ever take away my ability to speak. Do you understand me?”
He stares down at me with an unreadable expression on his face and his temples rapidly pulse as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. As the silence drags on, worry ebbs its way down my spine. Did I go too far threatening to stab him in the dick? Is he contemplating all the ways he could hurt me without doing too much damage?
No, he wouldn’t. He said I was too brilliant to harm. I guess now is the moment where I find out just how much he means what he said. If he doesn’t retaliate against me, then I’ll know with certainty that he won’t hurt me no matter what I do. I find myself oddly nervous to find out the truth. What’ll it mean to me if he does nothing?
Balthazar shifts forward, muddling my thoughts, and my breath hitches in my throat. He dips his head down, pressing his smooth cheek against mine. That intoxicating, smokey smell invades my senses, enveloping me completely. I refuse to pull away. Pulling away shows fear. I boldly meet him head on, turning my face towards his. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I wait with bated breath. Will he retaliate?
“Threaten me again, Sloane,” he whispers against my ear, his cold fingers tightly gripping my waist.
I wait for the rest of his warning, but it doesn’t come. He’s... telling me to threaten him? Why would he–
Suddenly, the image of us in the kitchen, my hand gripping his hair as I hold his head back, flashes through my mind. He willingly gave me dominance when he didn’t have to. He let me threaten him and did nothing about it. Absolutely nothing. In all actuality, it seemed like he enjoyed it a little too much. Now, here we are in a very similar situation.
That addictive sense of power slams into me as his words repeat in my head. Threaten me again. He wants to submit and the realization is enough to dampen my underwear. He wants to submit to me.
A sensual chuckle escapes my mouth as something dark and sinister in me grabs hold of my control. I haven’t the slightest clue what I’m doing, but it’s second nature to me as my hand slowly slides up his chest, up his neck, to his soft and silky hair. My fingers grip tightly on the thick strands and I yank his head back the same way I did in the kitchen.
I’m still angry at him for making me mute without my consent and I use that as fuel as I glare up into his greedy red speckled eyes. There’s defiance there as he glowers at me; we both know he could get out of my hold if he really wanted to but he won’t. He’ll stay put.
“I’ll stab you in the dick if you ever take away my ability to speak again,” I repeat in a low, husky voice. I shift forward so that my chest presses against him. “Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes,” he breathes out without hesitation and my entire body ignites in desire.
“Good boy,” instinctively comes out of my mouth, similar to the way I’d compliment a misbehaving dog when it finally listens to me.
His eyes flash white as his other hand comes to grip my hip possessively. He pulls me tight against him and his head tugs against my hold as he tries to bend his head forward towards me. My grip remains tight on his hair and he doesn’t force his way out of it, instead complying to stay where I keep him in place.
“Shouldn’t I get a reward?” he asks, the timbre of his voice so deep and sensual it sends tingles down my spine.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I want to feast on him right here on the sidewalk. Ravage him and punish him for daring to use his magic on me without my consent.
My hand releases his hair and his head drops forward at the sudden loss of tension. His hands come up to grab my face, but I swat them away as I force myself to take a step back from him. He takes that step with me, instinctively following after me, but I shake my head no. My right palm lies flat against his chest and I firmly push him back.
“You don’t get a reward for acknowledging a command,” I tell him and a low growl rumbles in his chest.
I feel it vibrate against my hand and it almost smashes through my will power to resist him.
“Show me you know how to listen,” I say as I lift my hand off his chest, “and I’ll give you a reward.”
“A reward of my choosing.”
I smirk as I reply, “No. Something we mutually agree on.”
He glares dark and angry as he takes a step towards me. I take a step back as I raise my finger and wag it at him.
“Uh–uh. You don’t get to do something to me without my consent. It’ll be a reward we mutually agree on. Now… tell me you understand.”
He’s clenching his jaw again as his hands curl into tight fists. He hates this. He hates how much he loves this. My smirk turns sly as I hold his gaze.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Lord Balthazar. Tell me you understand.”
He huffs an angry breath of air, but he finally loosens his jaw. “A mutually agreed upon reward.”
My grin widens as an euphoric high rampages through me, making my knees go weak. My heart feels like it’s about to leap from my chest. Lord Balthazar, heir to High King Zagon Primis, the devil who strikes fear into the six other Houses, is complying to me. I don’t think there’s anything else in this world that will ever make me feel as powerful as I do right now.
He watches me closely, waiting for some sort of reply to his acknowledgement. I step to him, placing my palms against his chest as I lean up towards his face.
“A show of good faith,” I whisper before kissing him.
It’s quick, not lasting more than a second before I pull away. He trails after me to deepen the kiss, but I push against him and he abruptly stops. Before either one of us can say or do anything else, Umbra appears to the left of me. She’s dressed in the same outfit from before and only briefly glances at me before settling her golden eyes on Balthazar.
“Lord Balthazar, Derick is contemplating rescinding his proposition.”
He groans as he runs a hand through his hair.
The action is so simple, yet enticing as he effortlessly avoids the horns on his head. His sexiness is incredibly distracting. It takes me a moment to remember who Derick is. Stage IV pancreatic cancer.
“I don’t think you should take the deal,” I say as Derick’s sobs echo through my head. “It doesn’t seem right taking his soul for eternity just so he can live an extra seven years.”
Balthazar arches up an eyebrow as he stares down at me with what looks like slight irritation. “I know I’ve mentioned this before, Sloane, but I’ll repeat it again. Our business is through word of mouth.”
“I’m aware,” I say, not quite following what he’s trying to say.
“That means Derick is friends with people who willingly sold their souls. You spent all day with me the past several days. What are the kinds of people we interacted with?”
Ooooh. Now I get it. It’s in our nature to sympathize with someone who’s sick and dying. Most people, me included, fear dying. That’s why I made the bargain with Balthazar in the first place.
However, I made the deal with Balthazar because he showed up in my life unannounced and unprompted. What Balthazar’s saying is that Derick summoned him. That means Derick knows exactly how the system works. The only way Derick would know that is by being friends with people who have already made deals. People like Johnathon. Assholes who assault and frame people.
Balthazar grabs my chin as he tilts my head up towards him. “Don’t let your human heart cloud what’s in front of you.”
“Lord Balthazar,” Umbra cuts in. “If you don’t show up now, he won’t make the deal.”
Balthazar’s eyes dart back and forth between mine before he suddenly vanishes from sight. I look at Umbra and I’m not the least bit surprised she’s already looking at me. We stare at each other in silence. She’s completely still. Like a statue bolted to the ground. I can’t get a read on her and it makes me uneasy.
I know that as long as she’s loyal to Balthazar, she won’t harm me, but there are other ways to get around that. She could ally herself with Taron and use him to get to me. Or any other House since none of them like me and want me dead. She technically wouldn’t be betraying Balthazar if she was doing it for him.
I should try to get to know her. If she hates me a little less than she currently does, hopefully she’ll feel less inclined to work with another House.
“Balthazar said you had to complete a trial to become his Shadow Seer. Was the trial difficult?” I ask curiously.
She doesn’t answer. Perhaps another question?
“How long have you known Balthazar?”
