Page 67 of Dancing With Demons

“I— I mean, I did it because I’m her older sister and guardian—”

“So such things are determined by birth order? An older sibling must be willing to sacrifice their life and well-being for the younger, and if they don’t, they do not love them?”

“No!” I cried. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Of course it’s not like that, and it wouldn’t be like that with me and Dora either, but because our parents died, I had to—”

“Ah, so this love isn’t even a love you chose?” Ronin crowed, his brow reaching for his hairline. “It was forced on you by the death of your parents.”

My head was spinning. “I didn’t say— That’s not—”

“Would you even be here if your parents were still alive, Charlotte Hunter?” The question stabbed my heart. “If little Adora was dragged to hell on their watch and not yours, wouldn’t you have expected them to be the ones risking vampire bites and burning stakes to rescue her, not you? Wouldn’t you reject love’s demands?” He ate the distance, pressing his nose to mine. “Wouldn’t you have said get her yourself, she’s not my problem?”

“No!” I shouted. “I would’ve always been right here, because I would’ve gone with them to rescue my sister together, Ronin, because that’s what family does! They show up for each other. They reach down into the dark and pull you out when everyone else walks away, pretending they don’t see your pain!” Tears flooded my eyes. “My love for my sister may not be something you understand, or something you’d choose, and it doesn’t have to be—because it’s mine.

“I don’t regret a single decision I’ve made in the last four years because I’ve lived and loved according to my conscience.” I conked his forehead, forcibly shoving him back. “But I bet that’s another word you don’t even fucking know.”

He smirked, turning away. “Oh no, my pet, I know what a conscience is. It’s the thing millions upon billions of humans threw away, so they could live down here with me.” His laugh was terrible. “Must not be worth much after all.”

I swallowed through a tight throat, roughly wiping my eyes.

Ronin sighed. “So? Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what!” I snapped.

“Hear what you want in exchange for deleting the pictures and keeping this empire of sin garbage to yourself. I assume you brought it up to blackmail me?”

“Oh.” Our conversation had taken such a detour, I’d forgotten about all of that. “Yes,” I said, straightening my back. “I am blackmailing you, and you know exactly what I want. You’re going to break the sub bond and continue helping us, and in return, those pictures and rumors never see the light of day.”

Ronin nodded to himself, humming. “Fair enough. But may I make a counterproposal?”

“What counterproposal?”

Ronin snapped his fingers, and the clothes ripped off my body.

“Ah!” I cried, slapping my hands over my nakedness.

The shreds of my dress came after me. Wrapping around my arms and ankles, they lifted me off the floor and dropped me on the bed.

“Wait!” My wrists bound together, but my ankles spread apart. In mere seconds, my legs were tied to the bedposts and served up to him like a Christmas roast.

“This is my proposal.” Ronin shrugged off his jacket. “If I make you come five times in the next twenty-five minutes, the only thing I’ll break is your phone. But if I fail, you’ll get what you want.”

“Are you insane!” I kicked and flailed in my binds. “It’s not even possible for you to make me come that many times in only twenty-five minutes!” I bared my teeth at him. “You’re not nearly as good in bed as you think you are.”

“If it’s not possible, then there’s no reason for you to refuse me. You’re set to win.”

“No,” I blared. “I don’t use my body to make bets and deals, jackass. I want you nowhere near me. The idea of your hands on my body makes me puke!” The awful things he said about love and my relationship with Dora burned in my ears. “You got the only proposal from me that you’re going to get, so untie me, and fuck off!”

The madman laughed. “And if you change your mind? Can I put my hands on you then?”

“It. Won’t. Happen.”

Ronin still had his jacket in his hand. Lifting it up, he dug in the pocket and fished something out. He held it up for me to see.

“Magic potions.” The vial in his hand caught the light, reflecting its glow through the amber liquid held inside. “Demons usually don’t bother with it because brewing them takes too long, and a single mistake with the ingredients or the timing can be disastrous—even deadly. But the reward for sticking it out is actually quite worth it. Magic potions have no downside for the user because the price has already been paid by all the creatures you had to kill to create it.”

Once again, hell is the worst.

“That’s why those who do brew and sell potions can command the highest price for a single vial.” He gave his a little shake. “Two thousand gold obols for this, my pet. The most expensive gift I’ve ever bought for anyone—ever. And I bought it for you.”