The two Hell Mice lurking in my collar tittered.

Her eyes widened under her glasses. “Don’t you DARE call me Mouse, you ridiculously overgrown … blond!”

On a mad whim, I leaned closer until my mouth was beside her ear. “What else do you expect me to call you,” I whispered, “when you squeak at me like that?”

Her hair smelled like strawberries. I wondered if she managed to attain that vibrant pink shade by rubbing the fruit on her hair.

That would be ridiculous, though. Wouldn’t it?

A tiny breath left her lips. She loosened her grip on the box. Disappointment zipped through me. Was she really giving up so easily? Things were just getting interesting!

Then her small, warm fingers wrapped around mine.

I almost dropped the box until I realised she was trying to pry my hands away from it. The thrill of witnessing her valiant fight (one which she could never hope to win) bloomed in my chest.

“I’d really love to stay and do … whatever it is you think you’re doing here,” I remarked. “But I have important places to be. With my box of donuts.”

“Just—give me—one! And I’ll leave you alone!” she snarled, her delicate nails, decorated with some sort of sparkling coating, scratching against my skin. I suppressed a shiver.

Her hands were dwarfed by mine. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her creamy skin. What would it look like against the skin of my true form?

We would likely never find out.

“Uh … Boss?” Bub squeaked near my earlobe. “You gonna answer her?”

I blinked, muscle memory taking over. With very little effort, I plucked the box—and my hands—out of her grasp, lifting it above my head. Far higher than she could ever hope to reach.

Unless she climbed me …

The human denims grew tight, and I gritted my teeth. I needed to end this interaction. For my own sanity.

“No,” I grated, my voice gone dark and rumbly. The voice of the devil within. “You will get nothing from me.”

She blinked up at me, and the anger in her expression melted into something forlorn that squeezed my chest.

But this was part of the plan. Deny her the one thing she seemed to want above all others … and see what we could manipulate her into giving up to have it.

I steeled myself against the disgraceful softness that lurked inside me, glowered down at her, and pushed past. I kept walking until we reached the corner. There, I stopped.

“Ooooh, that was some performance, Boss!” Beezle snickered, his little mouse tail curling around the back of my ear. I fought the urge to flick it away.

“Is she still watching us?” I asked softly, pretending I was checking the road for a break in the motorised carriages that zoomed past when really I couldn’t think around the tickling certainty that her eyes were burning holes into my back.