SEVEN

Azeroth

I hate this.

Just not for the reasons I thought I would. My memories of being summoned are all of exploiting humans who wanted wealth or power, or who were just plain cruel. Elodie is different. This is the first time I've given a human the speech about not being able to reverse the magic and had it stop them.

It proves I'm right about her.

I need to make sure Mordicus stays the fuck away from her. If he got a whiff of how goddamn pure her soul is, he'd be sniffing around until there was nothing left. She's a whole treasure trove ready for reaping, but rather than delight, I feel nothing but sick about the thought of taking any part of her soul.

She's still worse for wear after her escapade last night. After I shoo her into the shower, I order breakfast. I'm starving. When she emerges from her room fully dressed, I'm setting the last croissant on the spotless table and feeling quite proud of myself. I pour the orange juice while she stares at me from the doorway.

"You... you got breakfast?" She approaches the table slowly like it might be a trick. "You cleaned?" She winces.

"Yes." She doesn't need to know my cleaning involved me shoving all the heaps of shit in her house into one huge pile in the laundry and shutting the door on it. I pull out a seat and stuff half a pastry into my mouth. I'm famished.

"You didn't have to get breakfast."

"No. You're wrong. I did. I hate skipping a meal." I take another huge bite.

Elodie sits at the table and watches me eat. I should probably have some manners and slow down, or stop eating at a supernatural pace, but I'm running on about three hours sleep and I can't be assed. After a while, though, when she keeps staring at me, my curiosity gets the better of me. "What?"

"I kinda thought demons would be carnivores." She laughs. "All red meat and blood, you know?"

"Ha! Fair. Not me, though. Sweet tooth."

She watches me devour another five pastries. Reluctantly, I push the bag containing the last fruit danish toward her.

She sniffs it.

"What? You don't like it?" I'm all set to snatch it back.

She grimaces. "I'm trying to decide if eating will make me vomit, or if it will be a good thing."

That makes me pause.

She takes a sip of juice.

"I take it you're not usually a big drinker?"

The look that comes across her face tells me I'm skating on thin ice here. The last thing I want to do is make her upset again. I set down my breakfast and listen when she begins to talk.

"My friend persuaded me to come dancing." After a pause, she says, "It was a mistake."

"Mmm. Overcrowded club? That always makes me eager to down half a bottle of gin and bust some balls."

The corner of her mouth quirks in a half smile.

"We ran into my ex. And his fiance." She spits the word and I have to admire the level of venom injected into it. Still out for revenge, then. I should be pleased. It makes her more susceptible to a bad deal.

Instead, my instincts war with each other. Even though I can smell the opportunity to snag more soul than she might intend to sign away, I also hate the barely contained sadness radiating from her.

"Well, did you at least get the satisfaction of throwing a drink in his face?"

She sighs. "No. I ran out like a coward instead of saying anything to them and proceeded to make a stack of bad decisions when I got home. As you see." She gestures between us.

I'm not sure how I feel about being labeled as her bad decision. Which is ridiculous. I'm probably the worst decision she ever made.

"What would make you feel better now?" I pop the last bite of chocolate croissant into my mouth and lick my fingers, eyeing the fruit danish she still hasn't eaten. "A nasty case of crabs? I could have him stub his toe on everything he walks past today."

Elodie's grip on her orange juice tightens until I'm scared she's going to break the glass. "None of that seems big enough." She sighs. "But I take your point about not being able to reverse it. I wish I could make him feel what it's like. You know, jealousy? The not being worth enough."

I nod. I wish there was something I could say to make her actually feel better, but what she said feels so real. I can't just dismiss it.

Elodie pokes at the danish. "I'd have a hot rebound fling with someone gorgeous and rich, and he'd have to stew on that. If he even cared."

I snort. "He'll care. He'd be an idiot not to. So what's stopping you?" I like this angle. Much less likely to do permanent damage to her soul. Much more difficult to arrange, though, from my perspective. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

She flushes and looks away. "No. Not really. He should just be hot and rich and, you know, perfect." I catch a glimpse from her mind of her thoughts and the first genuine smile I've smiled since Mordicus appeared in my bedroom creeps onto my face.

I lean back in my chair and watch her. I can't magic someone into falling in love with her. I certainly could pay someone to fake it, but why pay when the solution is now forefront in both our minds. "Let's say that could be arranged. Do you have any criteria?"

She blinks. "Like what?"

"Age range? Human? Monster? How rich are we talking?"

She considers. "I don't know. Anyone really, as long as he's attractive and can take me out on a fancy date or something. Why? Can you really do that?"

"I can. In fact I think I have the perfect solution."

"You do?" She looks a little flustered.

"Me."

Her mouth drops open. She stares at me for a full five seconds without saying anything, then she licks her lips. "You?"

I shrug. "Why not? I'm rich. I'm handsome—" I play innocent, pretending I can't see the flashes of heat-filled images that appear in her mind the second I suggest it. Her hands running down my chest. My weight on top of her. Oh, she wants this. Will she admit it?

"Modest, too," she interrupts.

I snort. "Ah, but that wasn't one of your criteria, was it?"

Now she laughs. I like the way some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "Yeah, OK. You got me there. Is that... is that allowed?"

"According to the laws of summoning, or HR?"

"Both!"

"It's been done before when a human summoned a demon. As for HR, well, after all, I am the boss and rules were meant to be broken. Though you might have to fill in a waiver."

I expect her to say no. It's probably the sensible thing to do. I should probably put the brakes on here. Not a motherfucking chance I'm doing that, though, not after the dirty little fantasy I just caught. Asking a demon not to indulge in something sinful is like asking a cat not to be smug.

Instead she smiles. "So we fake date for a while and you let me tell everyone we're together?"

Fake? I scowl. I'm trying not to imagine what her skin tastes like—or her cunt. I don't think those things are involved in fake dating.

I take a deep breath in and let it out. "Right. Whatever you want. I am here to go all out and to extravagant lengths to make sure he gets the message that you can—and have done better than him."

That's too bad. But probably a good thing. I tend to get carried away when I find something I like. It would be just like me to get absorbed in hedonistic pleasure and forget this is a job. In more ways than one, since she's already my employee. Best not to make things messier than they already are.

At least now I have a strategy. I can help her get revenge and maybe avoid any lasting damage to her soul altogether.

Too bad I'm about to take my levels of frustration and dial them up to one hundred. But what's life without a little something to make it interesting?