way, forked tongues tasting the air. They bared their venomous fangs in a hiss.
If a door covered in deadly vipers wasn’t a sign to run, Haven didn’t know what was.
The demonai whispered a word in Serakki, the demon language, and the snakes settled back into the door as the lock clicked open.
The demonai turned the iron knob, shaped like a viper’s head, and jerked his pointed chin beyond.
Even he knew better than to go inside.
As Haven slipped over the threshold and the door slammed shut, a wave of fear rolled over her. She had just willingly entered the private chambers of a ravenous Demon Lord armed only with a dagger, a half-full jar of potion, and her wits.
48
The room was veiled in shadows. Haven breathed through her panic as she worked to still her thundering heart. That would only drive the Demon Lord into a frenzy. She needed him interested, but just enough to distract him from the blade with his name on it.
Her eyes picked through the darkness as they adjusted. The room was large, probably for the times Lord Malik decided to share his prey, lounge furniture strewn across an enormous fur rug. A huge fireplace crackled to her left. Despite the flames licking into the air, the room was freezing.
There was no bed, which meant this probably wasn’t the Demon Lord’s chamber. She turned in a slow circle as disappointment pinched in her chest. The potion would only work for an hour, two at most. In a castle this size, everything hinged on the Keeper’s quarters being nearby.
She went to catalog the rest of the room when something caught her eye. A translucent webbing draped over a navy settee.
Curiosity became alarm as she finally understood what the webbing was: snakeskin.
The size of a large man. Or a Demon Lord.
The sensation of being watched fell over her like an icy wind, the hairs on her body lifting one by one. Sticky dread clumped beneath her sternum, making it hard to breathe. Sweat slithered down her shoulder blades.
A soft laugh came from behind her.
Instinct begged her to whip around to face the threat. But that would only provoke his savagery. Her mind screamed as she turned to face Lord Malik using careful, slow movements.
It took every ounce of her willpower not to grab the dagger at her thigh.
Or worse, run.
His features were even more disturbing up close. Inky shadows collected in the deep recesses of his eye sockets, and his mouth twisted in a malicious smile.
The Demon Lord’s head ticked to the side, the quick predatory movement sending her heart into a tailspin. “Are you afraid, little mouse?”
There was no reason to lie. “Yes.”
His throat dipped, those yellow eyes dropping to her neck. “I cannot decide what I would enjoy more. Letting you try to run first while I hunt you, or taking you immediately. What do you think, little mouse?”
She took a step back, her hand inching toward her thigh. “Why put off pleasure that can be had now?”
“Pleasure?” He bared two curved fangs the length of her pinky. “I apologize if you have been misinformed. Only one of us will be feeling that. You, on the other hand, are going to scream. Loudly. Can you do that, little mouse?”
She held his stare, refusing to flinch. To give him the fear he craved. “You have no idea what I can do.”
He was closer—when did that happen? Her heart slammed into her throat as she blinked and he was only a few feet away.
“Then show me.”
He became a blur and then disappeared from view. Where is he?
Her hand closed around the dagger as he grabbed her by the shoulders from behind. His grip was tight enough to crush bone. White hot agony flared where his fingers jammed into her flesh.
“This is going to hurt,” he promised, breath hot on her neck. “A lot.”
“So will this.” Blade sweaty and cool in her palm, she slammed it backward, bracing for the impact of metal meeting flesh and bone.
Pain exploded in her wrist. She was jerked around. The Demon Lord’s hand crushed her wrist in a vise-grip, twisting her arm as he brought the knife up to examine. “Oh, you’re not a mouse at all, are you?”
She lashed out, striking him in the face with a fist. He didn’t so much as flinch. Something cracked as he twisted her arm even farther. Fire lanced up her forearm. The dagger clattered to the marble floor.
She tried to hit him again but he caught