Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized, #1)

by Annette Marie

Stay away from magic, and it’ll stay away from you.

Most people couldn’t have ignored a demon sharing the library with them, but most people didn’t love books as much as I did.

Could a demon throw a cookie hard enough to kill?

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.

“Zylas.” “That’s your name? Zylas?” “Not zeeeellahhs.” He mimicked my attempt in an exaggerated tone. “Zuh-yee-las. Try again.” “Zee-las.” “Zuh-yee-las. Three sounds, not two.” “Zyee-las.” “Close enough,” he muttered.

“What do you keep calling me? Payilas?” “Pah-yil-las,” he sounded out bossily. “It means small female.” So … “girl.” I scrunched my nose.

I cried because I was alone with no one to turn to, no one to ask what I should do, no one to comfort the aching grief. I would’ve happily died myself if, just for tonight, my mother could hold me one more time.

He yanked on my arm, pulling me straight, and his other hand caught my jaw. Forcing my head up, he leaned down, his face filling my blurring vision. My breath wheezed from my lungs too fast and my head spun. A low, husky laugh rumbled from his throat, his breath brushing across my tear-streaked cheeks, and he whispered, “What does your blood look like, payilas?”

What I truly wanted was an ally. I didn’t want to struggle alone anymore, to fight alone with no one at my side, no one at my back. No one to step in front of me and shield me, as my parents once had. “Payilas.” His whisper demanded my answer. “Protect me.”

“Protect.” He seemed to taste the word, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “What does this word mean, na?”

“What does it mean, payilas?” he whispered, his breath warm on my lips. “It—it means you can’t hurt me.” “Is that all?” “And … and you won’t let anyone else hurt me.”

“You did not explain your meaning.” His fingers caught a lock of my hair and tugged. “So I get to decide what protect means.”

He let the lock slip between his fingers—then suddenly slid both hands into my hair. “Why are you so soft?”

“Keep your hands off me!” “Na? But payilas.” He stepped closer and I retreated. My back hit the dresser. “Protect … does not mean obey.”

“Must I keep you from all hurt?” he mused, as though there’d been no pause in our terse exchange. “Or only keep you alive?”

I didn’t recall offering him anything else in exchange for … My eyes popped wide as my fuzzy memory handed me the answer. “Cookies?” I blurted shrilly. “That—that’s what you agreed to?”

“He has to protect me.” “That’s vague. What else?” “In exchange, I’m supposed to … make him cookies.”

“He protects me in exchange for baked goods. That’s … that’s the whole contract.”

“Your blood smells as bad as it tastes.” The soft, confusing feeling of gratitude in my chest snuffed out. “Ugh.” I yanked my hand away. “You’re awful.” “But I do not taste bad.”

An odd flip of pleasure in my middle caught me off guard. He’d fallen asleep while I was touching him. If that wasn’t a tiny step toward trust, I didn’t know what was.

“No. I won’t give you my contract.” “You don’t have a choice.” But I did. I couldn’t surrender him to these men. I couldn’t throw him into his worst nightmare, the fate he most feared.

“Because I’m zh’ūltis,” I muttered resignedly. A corner of his mouth pulled up. “I have been telling you that.” “Yes.” “You keep disagreeing.” “I did, but you were right all along.”

“Mercy is for the weak, payilas.” “The weak can’t afford mercy.” I met his eyes. “I think we can.”

“Stupid payilas. I will protect you.” “You can barely stand straight!” I protested as I ducked around him. He shoved me back again. “I’ll—” “You will what? Yell at them until they die?”

“By the way, Robin,” he murmured. “The expression on your demon’s face when you called him your partner was fascinating.”

“If you were not so weak, you would not need any allies but me.” My sappy gratitude evaporated. “Every time you say something nice, you ruin it.”

Zylas laughed huskily. “Closer, payilas.” “Closer to what?” “To not being a weak hh’ainun.”

“In my world,” he said unexpectedly, “there is a type of … tree.” I faced him again, my brow furrowed in puzzlement. “On the tree, it grows small …” He cupped his hands as though holding something. “… small fruits. The outside is poisonous, deadly, but inside is juicy and sweet. We fight over these trees. I have killed to take the fruit when it is ripe.” He picked up another s’more cookie. “These are better.”

He thought my cookies were better than a fruit he’d killed to eat. My hands, submerged in soapy water, paused. I’d have to make sure no one ever tried to take food from him. It sounded dangerous.