The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Spoiled Spells

"Pele?" Mabel's voice was tight with anxiousness, and she couldn't help but step back uncertainly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Mabel," he said again, sounding decidedly not sorry, "I've always been a man of earthly whims, and the price on yer head was a bit t'tempting. Besides," Pele shot a quick glance to Flint, "if ye can't form a bond with a dragon, all ye got t'do is give 'em a wee bit o'treasure." He held the sword up, stepping closer and closer, stopping only when Mabel had scrambled back about ten feet. "I won't hurt ye, but I'll be leaving ye here. Someone ought t'pick ye up in a bit."

Pele walked backwards, his stony eyes on hers even as he stopped by Flint's side and replaced his sword before clambering onto the dragon's back. "Cheers, Mabel." With a flap of wings, they were gone, leaving Mabel on the top of a freezing mountain.

All alone.

With literally nothing besides the clothes she was wearing.

A bubble of fury rose inside her, and she kicked at the snow around her, letting loose a frustrated scream. "How the hell does this keep happening to me?!"

***

Ten minutes later, and Mabel was beginning to lose her mind. She couldn't feel her fingers, her teeth wouldn't stop chattering, and her voice had gone hoarse from the many expletives she'd spat out.

Not to mention she'd already looked for a way down, only to discover that the mountain contained a sheer drop on all sides. So, her three options were: freezing to death, meeting up with whomever Pele had sold her to (which would probably end in death), or fall off the mountain, and well, die.

The irony that, in trying to save Death, she'd brought on her own, did not escape her.

"Hello, human," Mabel spun around at the unexpected voice, her eyes widening at the sight of a woman. Not just any woman, though. A gorgeous woman with a tall, slender body, dark red lips, long black hair, and golden eyes filled with mystery.

There was something about her appearance, though . . . something odd. Mabel tilted her head to the side as she considered the newcomer, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Ah, she mused with a nod after a moment, that's it.

There was a shimmer to the woman's skin—a gleam that screamed FAKE! To Mabel.

"He-hello . . . not human?" Mabel replied sluggishly, straightening her head before she could fall over.

The woman smiled bitterly, making her face twist unnaturally. "Not quite, no. Come along, human. We don't have time for unnecessary nonsense."

Mabel tripped backwards, landing on her butt and sticking her tongue out (a childish move, perhaps, but she was desperate, and she didn't think she could stand up). "I d-d-don't have tim-time for you."

"I hate humans," was all the woman grumbled as she marched forward, heaving Mabel up by her armpits and dragging her through the snow. She mumbled ancient gibberish under her breath, and then they were surrounded by an eerie orange light.

There was a startling flash of brightness, and Mabel's eyes fell shut.

***

Mabel glared at nothing particular in the candle-lit room. The longer they left her in there, the more pissed she became.

Because honestly?!

What did they want with her? What could a measly human offer them? Not that she knew who 'them' was, of course. She hadn't seen any other creatures besides the woman who'd snatched her off the mountain in the first place, and she was getting fed up.