“I don't know what I did,” I admitted in a small voice. “Demon matings take days. There's rituals, an orgy, and a Scribe to oversee it all. It doesn’t just happen.”
“Remi is your mate?” Warren's eyebrows arched in question. “What about Hugo?”
“Him too,” I admitted.
“Hugo informed me that a Soulbond is a very private and intricate thing,” Davenport said lightly. “There are almost no instances of a Soulbond forming on their own.”
I lifted a shoulder and let it drop in a half-assed shrug.
“You’re now a temporary member of Team P,” Davenport said, changing the subject. “It will allow us to keep a closer eye on you.”
I pasted a smile on my face. “Yay to not being killed.”
Davenport gave me a look.
“Right.” I rearranged my face into a stern and stoic expression. “This is my professional face.”
Davenport rolled his eyes and motioned for me to follow. I rose but snapped out my foot using the element of surprise to kick Warren behind the knee. He grunted in pain and whirled around. His eyes wide with shock. It was cute. He was like a hurt puppy, unused to being the victim.
“What was that for?” He barked as he straightened to his towering 6 foot 1 height.
I shrugged, eying the silver collar in his hand with disdain.
“I’m a Demon. You didn’t make a bargain. You issue orders and assumed I would follow them.” I told him. “I don’t have to pretend to be Fae anymore.”
Davenport looked like he didn’t know if he wanted to rip my head off or bend me over his knee. He would have probably enjoyed both equally.
“You want to make a bargain?” Davenport asked delicately.
I nodded earnestly.
“You believe that you hold enough power to enforce a bargain?” He scoffed.
All amusement drained from my face and was replaced with a dead mask. “It seems that I have the backing of your Higher-ups.” I reminded him.
I didn’t know who his bosses were, but I would hazard a guess that The Balance had greased the wheels.
I held out my hand and called up the innate connection to Hell that I often squashed. All Demons could bargain. They seldom did it because it was tedious, and there wasn’t much that was interesting enough to trade for. The Devil used contracts to broker souls. I had never called one forth, but a length of vellum unfurled in my hand like a skin-colored dahlia.
Davenport watched the display with suspicion.
“Do you have a pen?” I gave him my best fuck you smile.
Yeah. He definitely wanted to spank me—and judging by the rigid set of his gritted teeth, he hated himself for that.
I didn’t put the collar on until the contract was to my satisfaction.
I was to be released from the collar and from any obligations, penalties, or punishments that the Hunters may want to bestow on me the second that I found the Ifrit and its Summoner.
Davenport had tried to include a tidy monetary bonus for taking care of the problem, but I was realistic about my abilities.
I could challenge the Ifrit and break the Summoner's hold on it, no problem. Handling someone that could trap a Demon? Not so easy when you didn’t know what to expect. So, I made no promises. They were Hunters. I didn’t feel bad for warning Davenport that I was going to scram if the going got tough.
I wasn't big on the whole sacrifice thing.
Yes, I thought about my kin's death, every single day, and prayed that I could have saved them—but at the end of the day, I knew that I couldn’t. I was just a tiny cog in the machine of Hell. The problem of the Bhakshi and the Shayati had been taken care of by the Queen of Wrath, which proved my point.
I might be mated to two Hunters, but I would drag them away from the battle with me rather than putting myself in danger.
Almost dying was a flavor that I did not like. Davenport's flame world had assured me of that.
I was put in a new suite in the officer's building. Between Hugo's room and down the corridor from Hart. Remi shared a connecting suite with Hugo, and Davenport was on the end. I had never asked why Hugo bedded down in the executive suite, but it made sense. The rooms were more separated than the other dorms, and Incubi did tend to project into dreams.
Maybe Davenport was trying to hoard all the erotic night time fun for himself.
I thought about asking him just to see the look on his face.
I scrubbed my skin until it turned pink, and then scrubbed some more. Someone delivered food to my new room when I was in the shower, and I ignored the silverware to scoop fistfuls of hot mash potatoes into my mouth. My cheeks bulged like a hamster, and I covered myself in gravy in my haste—which resulted in the need for another shower—but I did not care.
The brief lack of sensation, coupled with being dragged through an unknown fire landscape and being trapped with Hunters, meant that I was desperate to eat, sleep, and live.
A hard, impatient rap broke me from my internal ramblings. I whipped my hair back like a dog and pulled on a robe. I debated flinging open the door in all my nude glory, but I was exhausted and emotionally spent. I could barely bring myself to care about my own wellbeing, let alone sating my mischievous desires to make people uncomfortable.
“Remington Weber.” I stepped back and studied his sodden form. It must have been raining outside. I hadn’t noticed.
Remi looked better than he had in days. The dark circles were gone from beneath his eyes, and he was no longer writhing in pain—which was a good thing when it came to humans.
“Can I talk to you?” He sounded devoid of life. I was concerned which was strange to me.
I stepped back to allow him to come into my room. He hesitated for a second before disappearing inside. Remi did not take a seat, he began to pace.
“I don't like that,” I told him. “You’re making me nervous.”
Remi stopped as if he had been caught in quicksand. He fisted his large hands and forced them down to his side.
“Warren said that you are aware of my engagement,” Remi stated blandly. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I took a deep breath, fingering the silver band around my neck. “You looked tired. I gave you some blood.”
“You gave me some blood.” Remi echoed back.
“Demon blood heals humans. It feels better than heroin, apparently.” I winced at the analogy. “I wanted to help.”
Remi stared at me. His expression was inscrutable. “You weren’t enthralled by Hugo. You mated yourself to him.”
“Not on purpose.” I pointed out.
“And this mating thing? It's permanent?”
I rolled my lip between my teeth.
“Mara...” Remi chided when I did not answer.
“I’m just trying to figure out how much to tell you.” My voice was quiet. “I never wanted a mate. Let alone two.”
“Mara,” Remi repeated my name to get my full attention. ”It’s me. You can tell me.”
“It’s not you!” I waved my hand in his direction, snapping. “You’re acting all strange!”
Remi sighed, finally perching on the end of my bed. He folded in half, putting his head in his hands.
“My family has signed documents.” The sound was muffled by his hands. “This marriage will bring prestige to the Weber family after my father ruined our reputation when he knocked up my mum. I can't do this.”
“Do you want to marry Alicia?” I asked tentatively.
“I want to save my family.” He replied.
I nodded. I could respect that. “We can't break the Soulbond, but we can ignore it. Distance helps.”