There was a long silence, during which I watched the rise and fall of the spicy breast girls. And lower, to the red undergarment that had enticed me yesterday in those fleeting glimpses. There it was. It was made of some sort of flimsy fabric. Skin peeked through a pattern of petals and vines.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?” I grated.

She lifted one shoulder and flounced away from the table. “I needed more air on my skin. It’s not my fault that you have no control over your ‘central heating’.”

I tore my gaze away. Was she toying with me?

If so, it was working. Infuriating human!

Well, two could play at that game. I closed my eyes, let go of my human form. Heat bloomed across my skin, my muscles burgeoning. A tickle at the base of my spine, and two in my scalp, heralded the appearance of tail and horns.

When I opened my eyes again, she was gaping up at me, her eyes so wide the whites showed all the way around. Her mouth was a perfect O shape.

Shock. Excellent. I had the upper hand now. I stalked after her as she backed away until, with a squeak, she collided with the wall.

“You are so much smaller like this, Mouse,” I mocked. My voice in this form was lower, gravellier.

She remained frozen, staring.

“Cat got your tongue? Maybe while you’re finally silent, I can explain some hard facts to you. You have two choices, little human. You can relinquish your immortal soul to me now—no tasks, no payment, no uncertainty, the contract you made with FiendPay burned to ashes. You can go back to living your human life, with the understanding that upon your death, your soul will return here, the property of Hell, for all eternity.”

She continued to gawk, her mouth moving, but no words emerging.

“Or,” I continued, “you can agree to the terms of the FiendPay contract. You can attempt your four payments, and you’ll have the chance to earn the rights to your soul back from me … from us … from FiendPay.”

I silently cursed myself. I’d been doing so well, only to stumble at the end.

Finally, Jemma Bliss found her voice.

“Four tasks,” she sneered, the derisive tone of her words somewhat ruined by the tremor in her voice. “Pfft, I can do that with my eyes closed! My soul will never belong to you!”

I chuckled, leaning closer. Her eyes followed the movement of my black horns, shiny and curling backwards from my temples.

“You find my horns intimidating?” I teased. “They are certainly larger than the average.” I ran a fingertip along one, narrowly suppressing a shudder at how sensitive they were this morning.

Jemma Bliss rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone is overcompensating for other parts of the anatomy where he falls … short … of the average.” She glanced down at my groin.