It’s tempting to flip this desk the same way I flipped the one in the keep. My own office is destroyed, and no doubt once I’ve calmed down, I’ll feel a deep shame about that. It feels like I’ve been acting on instinct since meeting Briar, and it’s caused no end of missteps. “Is Briar okay?”
Azazel raises his brows and sits back. “That little hellcat nearly took my face off.”
I stop short. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I did, but…” But at no point during my acquaintance with Briar would I call her a hellcat. Those beasts haunt Rusalka’s territory, and even I would hesitate to go up against one. Briar can be impulsive at times, and I refuse to think about what we get up to in bedroom games while in the presence of Azazel, but she’s nowhere near the ferocity of a hellcat. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“That’s what she keeps saying.” Azazel presses his claws to his temples. “Sit down.”
I don’t want to. I shouldn’t have energy after making the trip here in such a condensed timeline, but the fact remains that I’m fighting not to pace about the study. I reluctantly sink onto the backless chair sitting in front of the desk. “I understand I signed a particular contract with you, but I didn’t realize you were so interested in expanding the bargainer demon territory.”
Azazel stares at me for a long moment, expression unreadable. “You have something to say. Say it.”
“I had some time to think while traveling.” Without Briar to focus on, several things became rather clear. “Several years ago, you said you wanted peace between the territories. I didn’t believe you. None of us did.”
He doesn’t move. “I fail to see what influence your belief—or lack thereof—has to do with me or our current circumstances.”
I ignore that. “It made sense that you’d set up a spiderweb with four neat little traps that will put you in charge of the entire realm. I didn’t question it.” I lean forward. “But you don’t want my territory, do you? You don’t want any of ours.”
Azazel holds my gaze for a long moment. “You wouldn’t believe the gift without the strings attached. So I made them hefty ones.” He shrugs. “Even if I took all four territories, I wouldn’t hold them indefinitely. Your respective peoples are too powerful and too stubborn. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
I’d begun to suspect as much, but the confirmation leaves me a bit rudderless. “Then why take Briar?”
“That, I was not fucking around with.” Just like that, his relative ease is gone, replaced by menace. “I realize the rest of you think we keep the humans here as our playthings and see them as little more than toys to be used and discarded when the deals are up. That’s not how it works. A contract is sacred.”
Something akin to guilt flares. He’s right. I thought the worst of him and his people. Worse in some ways, I utilized their presence for my own pleasure while thinking that. “I owe you an apology.”
“I truly couldn’t care less what you think of me.” He leans forward, matching my posture. “But you harmed one of mine, and that I will not forgive.”
“Briar is not yours. She’s my wife.”
“Your wife by my leave.”
The door swings open behind me, and I leap out of my chair, fully expecting an attack. Except it’s not an assassin slipping through the door. It’s Briar. She’s more put together than the last time I saw her, her hair pulled back into a complicated twist and wearing a deep-gray dress that looks absolutely devastating on her.
She catches sight of me and stops short. “Sol?”
I have so much to say, it all gets tangled in my throat. The only thing that emerges is her name. “Briar.”
She starts to move toward me, but Azazel flings out a hand. “I swear to the Goddess, if you throw yourself into his arms right now, I will send you back to the human realm.”
I hiss, but the sound dies in my throat as Briar spins on him. She gives a truly impressive snarl. “You’re so high-handed, it’s no wonder Eve doesn’t want you!”
Azazel, leader of the bargainer demon territory, flinches.
Far from being deterred by landing an obvious hint, Briar strides to the desk and plants her hands on it, sending two mounds of paperwork cascading to the floor. I wince in sympathy before I remember I’m as furious at Azazel as she is.
“You’re out of line,” he rumbles.
“I’m not the only one.” She leans forward, showing not an ounce of fear. “Am I pregnant, Azazel?”
His expression goes flat. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It is not irrelevant, and you know it, or you wouldn’t be dodging the question. Am. I. Pregnant?”
He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. Not a vast retreat, but a retreat nonetheless. “You know you’re not. I can smell your cycle from here.”