by Raquel Dove
“I have been doing research,” he said, again hoping his friend would let the subject die. The half-smile on Jackson’s face told Paris he still wasn’t buying it. Luckily, the Grand Elder decided to take that moment to enter the room, effectively drawing the attention away from him and his unusual behavior.
The Grand Elder was the supreme authority for all demons. He was immensely powerful, but his body was getting old. He was little more than a wrinkled husk of a man now, requiring assistance for even the slightest movement. He was helped up the steps of a small dais at the far end of the meeting hall where his kind had gathered for centuries. The room was in the massive palace of the Grand Elder, in a dimension separate from the human’s world. He sat on the throne with the Council seated just slightly behind on either side of him. There were five Demon Lords on the council, and together with the Grand Elder, they were the ruling body in the demon community. They made the laws, they enforced them, and they were constantly fighting amongst themselves.
A time of uncertainty was coming. The Grand Elder had no sons, and only one daughter that was quite possibly the ugliest thing Paris had ever seen. Only a son could become the next Grand Elder, and it was becoming painfully obvious that no demon was willing to mate his daughter, even if it meant becoming the most powerful demon in existence. If he passed on with no son in law to take his place, the entire kingdom would erupt into a chaotic power struggle.
“While you were doing research,” Jackson whispered, a smirk on his face that severely unnerved him, “father came by the store to talk.”
Jackson’s father was on the Council. Paris, although not outwardly noticeable, began to get very nervous. There was something big going on. For the Council to be assembled together with the Grand Elder was unusual. Paris could tell by the grin on Jackson’s face he would regret spending the past week chasing his own curiosity and neglecting his responsibilities.
“Well,” Jackson continued, “he actually came by to talk to you. But since you were out…”
His friend let his words trail off, unfinished, but still telling Paris that Jackson knew what was about to happen. The Grand Elder’s daughter, Salem, entered the room and took a seat beside her father. There was another chair on the other side of the Grand Elder that was left empty. Paris became increasingly unsettled.
The Grand Elder stood, achingly slow, his every joint crackling as he struggled to hold himself on wobbly knees. He smacked his lips a couple of times, looking around the room of demonic royalty that had gathered, preparing to speak.
“My beautiful subjects,” he spoke, using an unusual amount of affection towards them. His hand reached out for his daughter, her pudgy fingers grabbing onto his as she stood up next to him. She was shorter than him, even as he hunched over. Her round face held beady little eyes that darted around the room, one of them slightly askew. Her nose sat flattened into her face with a constant scrunch, and she scratched absently at a cluster of warts that had formed just under her chin. Paris had to fight the urge to cringe at the sight of her.
“My time is nearing an end,” the Grand Elder continued, his voice chalky and breaking, “and as you all know I have no sons to carry on my lineage. However, I do have a daughter. And she has chosen a mate, who will take my place once I go.”
He turned to his daughter with a smile and small nod. Every demon in the room held his breath, praying he was not the unlucky chosen one. But Paris knew. He could see his friend out of the corner of his eye, trying his best to keep his smile hidden. He apparently found this situation hilarious.
“I chose,” the demon princess spoke, revealing crooked, badly yellowed teeth, drawing out her words in a high pitched whine, “Lord Paris.”
#
This demon was upper-class. Zoe recognized one of his outfits. She had seen it through the glass of a very high end clothing boutique downtown. There were really only a handful of people that could afford things from that store, and they were all very much upper-class. She could find him there, she just knew it. But finding him would be fruitless unless she had some ammunition. This demon was not to be trifled with, and the next time she met him, she wanted to be prepared.
The stack of books she was carrying went tumbling across the small library table as she set them down. Everything she could find on demons and the occult. There had to be something in here that would help her.
Chapter Seven
Paris tried as best he could to maintain his composure while the spoiled demon princess clung to his arm. Even her scent was reviling. It wasn’t that becoming the Grand Elder wasn’t worth a few sacrifices. On the contrary, that is precisely what every demon wanted, and Paris was no different. But he had many centuries left in his life, with many opportunities to otherwise gain that power. He did not think putting up with Salem was a fair price to pay.
“I want a big mating ceremony,” she said, a wide smile on her face that only served to make her look even more hideous. She was completely oblivious to the fact that everyone around her despised her. It wasn’t that she was too ugly to like. It wasn’t even the fact that she was little more than a spoiled brat. Salem was just one of those people that nobody liked. Her aura exuded a sense of disagreeability. Her physical aspects only added to her social downfall.
It wasn’t a surprise that she would pick Paris to be her mate. He was by far the most eligible demon bachelor. His dashing good looks, combined with his aloof poise, made him the fantasy of every Demon Lady. Many of the ladies he had obliged, further propagating his lascivious reputation. He was, in short, god’s gift to demonesses.
“And I want it to be soon,” Salem continued. “I don’t want to wait long for the mating rituals.”
She wiggled her bushy brown eyebrows as she looked up suggestively at Paris. He wanted to hurl. His mind was going ten different ways. First, there was no way he was actually going to go through with this. He would have to think very carefully about how to wiggle his way out of this one. Second, he was going to kill Jackson. The one demon he actually counted as a friend, who was currently trying to contain his amusement, could have warned him about this. Third, he knew he had enemies that were waiting for the right moment to strike. Many of them were embittered mates, whose females had found more comfort in Paris’ arms than theirs. Some of them were childhood enemies, made from one slight or another. Still others were blood feuds. Rivalries that ran through family lines. Paris’ parents were no longer alive. He had been an only child, and had no other family members to speak of. That left the bad blood of generations squarely upon his broad shoulders. And his family had a lot of bad blood. The sum total of all the enemies he had made at court was just about every single person in attendance. He could hear the whispers going on all around him as the crowd adjusted to what had just happened.
“Are you listening to me?” Salem said angrily, poking a fat finger into his rib a couple of times. “Why are you so quiet?”
“I heard you,” Paris said, looking down into her tubby face. He wanted to push the creature as far away from his person as he could, but he knew he had to be careful. The Grand Elder was old, but he still held all the power of the ancestors and that is something no one dared challenge. He would have to play this very carefully. And if there was one thing Paris knew, it was how to manipulate a situation. He forced his most charming smile, swallowing the rising bile. “My dear, you shall have whatever you like.”
#
It had taken her hours of reading, but she had finally found something. That sneaky little bastard was going down. At first, Zoe had thought to find a loophole in her contract, something that she could use to get out of it, or something in it that she could use against him. But when she unrolled the scroll to read it, she realized it was in Spanish. That sneaky bastard. She should have figured he had more tricks up his sleeve to toy with her, but she eventually found the perfect thing anyway. It was in the oddest little book, no bigger than an index card. She found it crammed between two giant textbooks on religious history
and philosophy. There was no title, or markings of any kind on the book, only a worn out light green cover with a couple of dog-eared pages. She almost didn’t even look at it, but as soon as she opened the little book, a smile lit her face. This was the key, not only to her freedom, but to gaining the upper hand on him. A ritual that would reverse the terms of the contract.
Zoe pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began to feverishly copy a list of items. Most of them were peculiar, but nothing that she would have too much trouble finding. There was only one thing she needed that would present a bit of a problem. A personal belonging of the demon. Fortunately, she knew exactly how she was going to go about getting it.
Chapter Eight
Zoe had never felt more out of place. Her torn jeans and worn out black tank top contrasted with the fine clothing that surrounded her. She had never been in this store, though she had passed it many times. It had looked stuffy from the outside, despite the ultra-modern décor, and now that she was inside her suspicions had been confirmed. She picked up the price tag on a plain white, men’s dress shirt, turning it over to check the price. She had to count the zeros in the number before gently setting the tag down and backing away from the table of obscenely priced shirts. It was more money than she made in a month.
“That is handpicked Egyptian cotton,” a drawn out voice said behind her. She jumped at the sudden presence, whirling around. Intense blue eyes met her from behind a handsome mask of smugness. There was something about the way that he was looking at her that put her completely on edge. She had never met him before, she would remember him if she did, but there was an odd sense of recognition on his face.
“You look lost,” he said, a thin smile on his lips.
“I…um,” Zoe searched her mind for an answer. She had momentarily forgotten why she had come in here in the first place. His presence was overwhelming. It reminded her of the demon. “I’m looking for someone, actually. A customer maybe.”
“Is that so?” the man, dressed in a crisp white suit, said. His smile broadened, making Zoe even more uncomfortable. “What is this person’s name?”
“Well, I don’t actually know,” Zoe said, her cheeks heating in embarrassment as she realized how silly she must look to this person. She just knew he was judging her. It was obvious she couldn’t afford to be in this store, and it was unlikely she actually knew someone that could.
“Paris,” the man said, gaining a very confused look from the girl.
“Tall, dark, and handsome?” he continued, his brows raised in assumed correctness. “Very sneaky?”
“That’s sounds like him,” Zoe said.
“I see this a lot,” the man said, turning away from her. He walked to the check counter, grabbing a business card from behind the desk. “I should apologize for my associate’s lack of manners. He can be rather elusive.”
“Your associate?” Zoe said cautiously. Could this person be a demon as well? He didn’t look like one, but then again, she only had one example to judge by.
“Partner, to be more precise,” the man said, gesturing to the store. He held the card out for Zoe to take. “You can find him at this address.”
“Thank you,” she said as she took the card. This was perfect, just what she needed. A business card should qualify as something belonging to him. She turned to leave the store, happy to get out of there.
“I should warn you though,” the man called after her, “he is rather busy, what with his new fiancé and all.”
Chapter Nine
It was hard for Paris to decide if he was happy or not when he felt her summoning him. On the one hand he was thoroughly intrigued that she had figured this one out so quickly. It also gave him an excuse to get away from the barnacle that had attached herself to him. But it was also extremely risky. If Salem decided to get curious it could cause some serious problems for him. Regardless, he was being summoned, and there was no way for him to get around it.
“My dear,” he said, cutting Salem’s rambling. He forced himself to act disappointed. “I’m afraid business calls.”
“No,” she said, puffing her already fat lips in a pout that did nothing for her. “I want to talk more about our mating plans. There is so much to do. And I want to pick a cake today. I want to buy a new dress for the engagement party too…”
“My princess,” he said, forcing back his utter irritation, “you know I cannot ignore the call.”
“Fine,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Go. But come back quickly.”
“As fast as I can,” Paris said, flashing a handsome smirk before disappearing.
#
“Why isn’t this working?” Zoe said as she waved the bundle of burning herbs in the air. “I followed the directions.”
She stuck her nose in the small book that she had found the ritual in. She scanned the pages of instructions, confirming that she hadn’t forgotten anything. A scowl formed on her face. She had followed it word for word.
“Damn it,” she huffed, dropping the book on the table. Her eyes fell upon the rather amused looking demon that had haunted her thoughts of late.
“You have to give it a moment,” Paris said with a playful smirk. “After all, I was on the other side of the city.”
She noticed something was different about him. A subtle difference. His ears were no longer gently pointed, but rounded instead. His canines were no longer elongated. He looked human. She was so busy gawking at him in surprise that she almost forgot to finish the ritual. She quickly scooped the book back up, and began reading as best as she could from the Latin that was written on the page.
Paris watched her rather pathetic attempt with his arms crossed over his chest. He was debating on whether to have fun with her or just go ahead and itemize all the things she had done incorrectly here. She was attempting a spell to change the terms of the contract. Even an experienced darks arts practitioner would have difficulty pulling this one off. It was completely illegal, and probably the stupidest thing she had done thus far, but he had to give her a measure of credit for trying. Had she actually done it correctly, he would be in a fair amount of hot water.
“You really are an intriguing little thing,” he said, interrupting her mid-sentence of what sounded like a chicken garbling. She shrugged off his comment and tried to continue, her face set with determination.
“Accurate pronunciation is vital,” he said, cutting once again into her misguided attempts. “You have already failed.”
“The contract is in Spanish,” Zoe said with a huff, giving up on the ritual and narrowing her eyes at him. “You are not playing fair.”
“I never said I was going to, Zoe,” he said, the sound of her name dripping so seductively off his lips made her heart flutter.
“I have a right to read it,” she said, trying to gather her thoughts. It was so hard to concentrate around him when suddenly all she could remember was the way his lips felt against hers. Hot and firm, demanding her compliance. “It’s all in Spanish.”
“Oops,” Paris said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I write those things in so many languages, it’s sometimes hard to keep them straight.”
“You did that on purpose,” Zoe said, shaking a manicured index finger at him. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Paris said, his shapely brow arching. He stepped closer to her, enjoying the way her heart rate increased as he drew closer. He could hear it pounding against her ribcage as she tried to be strong before him. “Shall we discuss what it is you are doing here?”
“I’m…” she stumbled over her words, realizing that he had her stuck, again.
“I see you found that little book,” Paris said. The smirk that spread across his handsome jaw let her know he had something to do with it.
“You!” she shrieked, balling her fist up and striking out at him. He easily dodged her with a chuckle echoing in his chest. He appeared directly behind her.
“Zoe,” he said, and again she could feel herself getting hot with just her name sp
oken. “I’ve been doing this a very long time.”
His nose twitched as he picked up the faint but unmistakable musk of her arousal. His ego inflated to momentous proportions with the fact that speaking her name was enough to make her want him. He moved, appearing just before her, leaving barely a space between them. She sucked in a sharp breath as his rapid movements. Her eyes searched his face with apprehension, waiting for his next move.
Paris hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked on the delicious little mounds of flesh he so badly wanted to assault. He lifted a hand, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, reveling in the softness of it, as he leaned in towards her.
“You are engaged,” she said abruptly, snapping them both out of the haze of their attraction. He dropped his hand to his side, pulling back slightly disappointed.
“What is this?” a nasally whine echoed behind Zoe, and she whirled around to see who it was. She cringed reflexively as she caught a glimpse of Salem. “Is this the business you had to attend to?”
This was bad. He had underestimated Salem’s impatience. The girl was in serious trouble now, thanks to this ill-timed little stunt of hers. It was perfectly alright for a human to summon a demon. But trying to break a contract with means such as this was a serious offense. And because so many tried to do it, there were clauses built into the contracts to rectify such unfavorable behavior. Paris had only thought to have fun with the girl, to make her squirm a little. But now Salem was involved. The girl was about to face rather severe consequences. He couldn’t figure out exactly why that bothered him so much, but it did. He had to do something about this, and fast.