Page 51 of Wicked Flavors

Gwen’s eye twitched. She might as well have been at her day job, in the back office, with Mary during a performance review. Her last two had been shaky at best. Gwen had tried to hide her distaste for the work, but her mask had been cracking long before then. Truthfully, Gwen wasn’t sure if the pieces could be glued back together at this point.

She couldn’t necessarily take her displeasure out on her job, but she could take it out on Ambrosius—to some extent. Gwen lifted her head from the cradle of her arms and stared at the demon.

“My attitude?” she prompted, almost daring him to say it.

“You agreed to our deal—”

“I didnot—”

“—and then reject the terms of which were given to you.”

“They were your terms—”

“You’re currently behind schedule when it comes to completing the doll—”

“I am not—”

“—thus puttingmebehind schedule. You proceed to declare ‘war’ on me, and expect me not to retaliate. You run when I try to speak with you, at a cost to me, mind you. Then you needmeto help you retrieve the very project I assigned to your care. All of which I do, going so far as to answering all of your questions in the process, without any offer in exchange. Does that aboutfuckingcover it, do you think, or should I go on?”

Gwen couldn’t believe him.

Was he really trying to spin all of this on her right now? And more worryingly, why did Gwen feel a tinge of guilt about it when she had none for her neighbor? All of this—thischaos—was entirely his own doing … wasn’t it? Now, she wasn’t so confident as she stared at his expectant face. Ambrosius stared back, before his mouth formed an almost smile.

“Gwendolyn.”

The way he said her name, all honeyed with a hint of bitterness—a taunt. But most startling was how much he sounded disappointed in her. Like she was a kid who hadgotten too unruly. The thought pissed her off, but it also sparked a terrible idea in her. Slowly, she withdrew her arms, folding her hands in her lap. Gwen leaned back in her seat and lowered her chin.

And then, with all the same condescension and mockery, she echoed his cadence.

“Daddy.”

She watched in real time as the word disarmed him. His eyelashes fluttered, the almost smile frozen on his face. It felt better than Gwen could have expected to see how hard her words hit him. Finally, a small crack in his armor.

Play shit games, win shit prizes, you fucker.

Her moment of triumph was short-lived as the kitchen light flickered, casting the apartment in momentary darkness. When the light came back only seconds later, Ambrosius was standing. He was still staring at her, but his expression had changed. The demon was looking at her not too unlike how he had when they first met.

He lifted a brow at her and asked with an eerie calm, “What did you just say?”

All the confidence Gwen had moments ago was suddenly gone, and in its place was the unsettling reminder of what Ambrosius was. More importantly, what she was to him. He had no qualms chasing her around her apartment—in fact, he appeared to enjoy it. Wholly unpredictable, like a storm that came with little warning.

Gwen slowly maneuvered out of her chair and into a standing position, intent on inching away from him. The lights flickered again, and Ambrosius was closer. Gwen’s hands clutched the back of the vacant chair as her heart began to race.

“Gwen,” he singsonged, an insidious prompt for her to answer.

Confusion—it always came down to that one emotion when it came to him. There were other feelings, but they only added to her apprehensive state. Gwen wasn’t sure what his intentions were. She felt too uneasy to even utter it, let alone with the same tone she had used. Yet Gwen dared not look away from him. He could appear anywhere within seconds, and she didn’t want to be unprepared for it. She was so focused on him that even the fireworks had become a distant, white noise in her ear.

The light bulb let out a soft click before the light disappeared once again. This time, Ambrosius was inches from her, causing Gwen to let go of the chair. She almost stumbled before catching her balance and gasped. His eyes had changed, the sclera now black, and his iris an unnatural eyeshine of burning cyan. Ambrosius’ smile was unsettling, revealing teeth that had sharpened to deadly points.

“Say it again,” he hissed.

A demand, adare.

No,Gwen thought.

If he wanted her to do something, he would need to find a different way to motivate her. She might never get over her natural fear of him, but Gwen refused to be bullied into submitting. The words might have failed her, but Gwen still found the strength to resolutely shake her head in refusal.

He let out a small laugh.

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