that hand. Instead of anger, his eyes burned with wicked delight. “And you said you didn’t want to play.”
“No, I said I didn’t want to delay the pleasure of ramming that knife through your skull.”
She jerked her knee up but he twisted out of reach.
His cruel laugh reverberated over the high marble walls. “Did you really think you could hurt me?”
Enraged, she flung her head foreword, headbutting him in his hideous face. A satisfying crack followed.
She jerked her head back and flashed a ferocious smile. “Yes.”
“You really shouldn’t have done that.” The pressure released from her wrists, and then he bared his venomous fangs. “Run, little mouse. Run so that I can find you.”
The dagger. She scoured the marble floor—
Too far—it was too far away, resting beneath an ivory ottoman. She would never make it in time. Running wasn’t an option.
Horror swept through her as his illusion shed like the snakeskin on the settee. When he was finished, only his eyes remained the same. His mouth was a long scar that reached ear-to-ear, his broad nose now two raised holes, and his pale skin had transformed into onyx and green scales.
A forked tongue darted out, flickering over her face and neck.
Running was what he wanted her to do. What he expected.
She cringed from his real face, making sure her eyes stretched wide in fear and her breathing became labored. His diamond-shaped head began to slide back and forth, his reptilian gaze locked onto her.
She let a tremor rock her otherwise frozen body, as if she was too petrified to do anything but tremble in fear.
Her fear was like a drug washing over him. He drank it in, relishing her abject terror, savoring it as he prepared to strike.
All he needed now was one final push . . .
Eyes glassy, she forced a high-pitched cry from her throat, like a rabbit caught in a trap.
He had no idea she was the bait.
The Demon Lord’s mouth snapped wide as his too-long fangs plunged straight for her neck.
Just like she wanted him to. She took the half-full jar of potion, which she’d grabbed while Lord Malik was distracted by her act, and hurtled the bottle into his open mouth.
He hissed and stumbled back, coughing, clawing at his throat. “What did you . . .”
Translucent eyelids snapped over his eyes as he blinked, and then his expression softened, his focus blurring.
“That took longer than planned,” a male voice murmured from the right.
She whipped around to glare at Stolas. “You were here the entire time?”
“As I said I would be.”
“So you could have grabbed the knife, you could have—could have stopped this at any time!”
“Yes,” he answered as he strolled up to the Demon Lord and waved a hand in his face. “But I thought after what he called you, you would want to prove him wrong . . . little mouse.”
All the pent up terror and rage exploded. The things the Demon Lord planned to do to her . . . the things he had already done to countless females—
The glint of the dagger caught her eye. She picked up the weapon, stalked toward the Demon Lord, and slammed the blade hilt-deep into his heart.
Lord Malik let out a low moan.
Stolas looked to her. “Done?”
She yanked the blade free, dark syrupy blood flinging through the air, and chose the opposite side of Lord Malik’s chest to bury the weapon.
Pain rippled inside the Demon Lord’s eyes, but he didn’t move. The gaping wound visible beneath the hole in his shirt was already mending together, which seemed unfair considering what he had planned for her. The pain and torment.
She grasped the dagger, twisting, before rehoming it in his thigh. A muffled grunt slipped from Lord Malik’s snake-like mouth, his eyes tracking her.
“Finished,” she declared.
“You sure?”
She exhaled. “Yes.”
“A shame. The hideous coward deserves so much more.” Stolas lifted the Demon Lord’s lip and ran a curious finger over one of his fangs. “Interesting. I would guess the venom in his fangs acts as a paralytic to keep his victims from fighting back.”
Fury swept through her. She took no small pleasure in the way Lord Malik’s eyes peeled wide as she took the weapon, twirling it viciously in front of him. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”
She drove the blade under his sternum.
He gasped, choking on the pain.
“Who’s the little mouse now?”
Stolas arched a brow.
“Now I’m done.”
“Are you sure? Because your violence is almost as sexy as that dance you performed earlier. Tell me. Was that for