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Penelope doesn't say a word, clearly in shock, as she stares blankly at my gray hand with its black, talon-tipped fingers. She looks ready to pass out, so I tug at her hand, leading her from the room and down the long hall. Once we've made it to the sitting room, I turn her gently and release the zipper and ribbons of her dress, loosening it so she can breathe.
I push her into a chair and move to the drinks cabinet. Pouring two glasses of scotch, I hand one to her. “Drink. I know you’re in shock, but this is your life now. My name is Mammon. I am the demon of greed. And your husband.”
Chapter Five
Mammon
Penelope blinks up at me before taking the glass and bringing it to her lips. She gulps the amber liquid far too fast and ends up gasping and coughing, her eyes full of tears again.
“I take it my father traded me for wealth and power? That’s how a man from a poor family, with nothing, no education, became what he is?” Penelope’s calm voice is like a clear song in my mind, soothing an ache I never knew existed. She's intelligent and, hopefully, resigned to her fate.
“Yes, twenty-five years ago in your time, he came to me and offered you in a trade,” I explain, sitting in a chair opposite.
"And you simply went along with it," she snaps, brown eyes flashing fire.
Oh, I'm going to enjoy this little firecracker. She's so much more than I anticipated. I can't wait to feel her explode around me.
"Of course. I'm the demon of greed, Penelope. It's what I do. Who I am. What I was created for. I collect the souls of those willing to trade them for fortune and glory, money and power. They come to me. No one forces them. They have a choice right up until they sign on the dotted line, your father included. Although, in your father's case, no signature was required."
Penelope frowns. "Why?"
"Because his trade was… unique."
"Unique, how?"
I smirk. "He wanted to trade something other than his own soul."
My bride pales slightly despite already knowing the outcome of my deal with her father. "Me."
I nod, bringing my glass to my lips and taking a swallow. "I've been collecting souls for Lucifer for a long time, little one. It takes a lot to pique my interest. But something about your father's offer intrigued me. A pure life. Something that would belong to me and only me. I was bored, so I agreed. When he found your mother and got her pregnant, I made my claim on you. And here we are."
Penelope's lips quiver as she asks, "Why me?"
Why, indeed? It's a question I've asked myself several times over the years. But now, sitting here with this beauty before me, I hear the metaphorical doors of my self-imposed cage slamming shut behind me. Penelope thinks she is the one trapped in this contract; little does she know that she is the one who has captured me. But I'm not ready to reveal that yet, and she's not ready to hear it, so I simply shrug and reply, "Why not you? Seemed like a good opportunity to take a wife."
“I’m not your wife. I'm your slave,” she spits passionately.
My cock jumps with lust. Oh, this will be a lot more fun than I expected.
My little kitten of a bride has claws.
I pause, studying Penelope's defiant gaze, her words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "No, little one," I respond calmly, sipping my scotch. "You are not my slave. You are my wife, bound by a contract your father forged before you were born. But there is no reason we cannot define our own terms within this arrangement."
Her eyes narrow, suspicion and disbelief etched across her delicate features. "Define our own terms? How generous of you, Mammon," she retorts bitterly, her voice laden with sarcasm.
I swirl the liquid in my glass. "Consider this a negotiation rather than an imposition. I have wealth and power, yes, but you possess something far more precious—intelligence and spirit. I do not desire a subservient companion. I desire a partner, albeit in an unconventional manner."
Penelope's expression softens slightly, her curiosity piqued. "A partner in what, exactly?"
"In mutual benefit," I reply, leaning forward. "I am in part responsible for the circumstances that brought you here, but I am not insensitive to your predicament. If we are to navigate this life together, we need to find common ground where both our needs can be met."
She eyes me warily, yet intrigue glimmers in her gaze. "And what about my freedom? Can that be negotiated, too? Why can't you let me go?"
I chuckle, a dark amusement bubbling within me. "It doesn't work like that, little one. Your father's contract was sealed by dark forces that cannot be undone unless Lucifer allows it."
Penelope pales. "So when you tire of me, Lucifer gets my soul?"
I regard her over the rim of my glass. "Who says I will tire of you?"
