Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,17
it was even more terrifying, if that was even possible.
And yet … no matter what version of that winged demon I imagined, it didn’t match the soft, husky voice that slid from the darkness of this circle.
I peered down at the plate. A strawberry was slowly slipping off the cake. “I made this for you. In exchange for your name. But … but I want to ask for something else instead.”
The demon waited. A patient hunter.
“I want to … would you … can I see what you look like?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I deflated, but I wasn’t sure if it was from relief or disappointment. “Okay.”
I set the plate down and slid the cake, resting on a napkin, onto the floor. Wary as always of getting too close to the protective barrier, I prodded a corner of the napkin into the darkness. It was probably better I didn’t see the demon. Did I really want to add more fuel to my nightmares?
Sitting back on my heels, I squinted toward the coffee table where the Demonica book waited. Demon summoning. My family’s legacy. An ancient grimoire. Secrets. So many secrets. Had my parents been summoners like Uncle Jack or had they eschewed magic as they’d taught me to do? What had they been hiding from me? Could Amalia be wrong?
If demon summoning did run in the family, and the ancient grimoire had been passed from summoner to summoner for generations, Uncle Jack would never, ever let me have it. I had to get it first.
“Payilas.”
I glanced at the dark dome. Both napkins sat untouched on the silver inlay.
“What do you want?” the demon asked.
The grimoire. The truth. My parents alive again. “I want to see your face.”
“Ch. Stubborn payilas.”
I assumed that was a refusal. I was already turning away when the darkness inside the circle swirled—then disappeared.
He sat at the edge of the circle, with one arm propped behind him, a knee raised, and his forearm resting on it. At my shocked gasp, he canted his head, the motion cocky and challenging, and his crimson eyes locked on mine. A faint magma glow emanated from his stare.
He was definitely a demon, but he was so different from the one under the greenhouse that they could’ve been different species. He had no wings, for starters. In fact, he looked … he looked …
He looked almost human.
His smooth skin was the color of toffee with a reddish undertone. Black hair, short in the back but longer in the front, was rumpled above his dark eyebrows and wild as though a brush had never touched it. The sharp line of his jaw smoothed to softer cheekbones, and his ears had pointed tips. Like the other demon, four dark horns poked out of his hair, two rising above each temple, but they were minuscule—only a couple of inches long.
My pulse thundered in my ears. I realized I was leaning forward where I sat, straining to get a closer look without actually moving.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
Those husky, swirling tones. Seeing his mouth move and hearing the sounds falling from his lips … how could I have imagined that winged monster speaking in his voice?
If I’d heard his remark from out of the darkness, I would’ve detected only a flat question, but now, watching his face, the angle of his head, the slight narrowing of his crimson eyes—dry sarcasm, irritation, and perhaps a hint of displeasure at my ogling him.
“I—I—” I couldn’t speak. I was too stunned. “Try the cake.”
His gaze dropped to the angel food cake. He sat forward, movements smooth and swift, and pinched the napkin sticking into the circle. He dragged the slice across the inlay, then scooped it onto one palm.
As he lifted it, his gleaming crimson eyes turned to mine. “Payilas mailēshta. Stop staring.”
My mouth fell open. I forced it closed. “Sorry.”
He waited a moment. “Still staring.”
I forced my gaze to the floor. For about ten seconds, I resisted looking, then like a magnet drawn to steel, my eyes rose again—in time to catch him stuffing the final bite of cake into his mouth.
“You ate it already?” I gasped.
He swallowed, then licked a dollop of whipped cream off his thumb. Had he even chewed it?
I scanned his alien face, trying to read his expression. “Did … did you like it?”
He ignored my question and slid the cookies—classic chocolate chip—into the circle. He snapped one in half and shoved both pieces into his mouth. Swallowed. Picked up the next cookie.