Zac desperately tried to go back to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he just grew more and more frustrated. He was so painfully horny, yet so painfully not erect.

  "NO!" Zac wailed, throwing a tantrum and getting tangled up in his sheets before rolling right off the bed and hitting the floor with a thud.

  If owl dick was that good, what the hell is eagle dick like? Zac thought, face down on the cold stone. If only Halphas didn't get spooked when I walked in on him in the shower... What did I do to deserve this? I wasn't that bad of a person when I was alive, was I? Just because I accidentally uploaded a drawing of King Kong fisting Godzilla to the Las Vegas Sphere doesn't mean I deserve eternal sexual frustration! It was art!

  Zac finally, slowly, pushed himself up and looked around. Once again, he was in a different room. The bureau, the bed, and the window were all there, but they had shifted positions again. It was a bit disorienting, but that didn't bother Zac at the moment. He had bigger problems.

  He marched to the door and pounded on it with both fists. "BUNE! MARCH!" Zac yelled. "ANYONE! I'M AWAKE! LET ME OUT!"

  He waited. Silence. Nothing happened.

  Zac sighed, sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor. How did I even get here? The last thing I remember was sitting in Skarg's lap... Zac's mind fell off a horny skyscraper. Mmm... he was so warm. How is it that someone covered in frost all the time could be so toasty and comfy? Zac wiped a bit of drool off his chin. That Cervidae himbo is so sweet. I wonder if he got my food to go? Or did he just leave me passed out in a booth surrounded by headless corpses?

  Zac looked around the room again, desperate for a distraction. His eyes landed on the small bedside table. There, gleaming innocently in the dim red light, was a small bell. It was silver, and upon closer inspection, the surface seemed to be made of shifting, screaming faces.

  "Oh yeah," Zac muttered, scrambling over to grab the bell. "Bune said this was the pee-pee alarm."

  Zac suddenly began violently shaking the bell. "BUNE!" he yelled. "THE AVATAR NEEDS ATTENTION!"

  The chime was ghostly, a hollow, resonant sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. If Zac could feel fear, it would have sent a shiver up his spine. But without it, the ethereal dings just sounded a bit weak. Like a haunted wind chime.

  Zac waited for all of five seconds before he heard the distinct click-clack-slide of the heavy magical locks disengaging.

  "Avatar?" Bune's voice came through the door, sounding slightly frantic. "Are you okay? Is your human bladder in pain?"

  "No," Zac called back, "but my butt could use a bit of attention!"

  The door swung open. Bune stood there, looking quite trim and put together in a fresh, un-tattered tailcoat. Zac approved. The solo-dueling dragon must not have had his third head triggered yet today.

  "It is good to see you are awake finally," the Left Head said, peering at Zac through its spectacles. "We were getting a tad bit concerned."

  "You had been passed out for two days!" the Right Head scolded, wagging a clawed finger. "You need to control yourself around lesser demons. If you had used any more malevolent mana you could have gone into a permanent state of, uh, death."

  Zac yawned and stretched, his arms reaching for the ceiling as he casually strolled past the dragon butler and out into the hallway. "I trust you would have just put me back together like Pumbaa or Timon. What's for breakfast?"

  Bune's heads looked at each other with grave concern before hurrying to follow Zac down the hallway. "Nock's squires are demons," the Left Head explained, his tails swishing anxiously. "Their souls are eternally damned. There is nowhere else for them to go when their physical forms are destroyed."

  "You are pure," the Right Head added, wringing its hands. "I cannot clean off death, Zachary... It stains horribly!"

  "Yeah, yeah," Zac waved a dismissive hand, not really listening. "Tell me all about it after I eat my leftovers. I think I remember Skarg ordering me chicken nuggets before I passed out."

  Zac’s leopard-print tail swished happily as he turned and began to walk down the nearest stairwell, completely unfazed by the concept of his own permanent demise.

  "Leftovers?" Bune questioned, power-walking down the stairs to overtake the human and assume his rightful place in the lead.

  "Yeah," Zac said, following the dragon’s tails. "We were just about to get food when I..."

  Zac's voice trailed off. He thought about all the demons he had accidentally killed in the bistro. He waited for a sense of shame or guilt, some sort of negative feeling for snuffing out so many innocent lives. He frowned. Oh yeah, they were demons. Hard to call them innocent. But shouldn't he feel a little bad? He poked his conscience. Nothing.

  That's odd, Zac thought. I was worried for Andras in my dream. Even though he is a massive asshole, I didn't want to see him get turned into shark food. His mind, ever reliable, slid off the freeway into a terrible fiery crash. Mmmm... claspers.

  "Hey Bune," Zac called out, "when is it your turn in the dream rotation? Because I have some questions about—"

  "I am sorry to inform you," Bune said, cutting Zac off as they reached the landing, "but Halphas ate the leftover food in the pantry."

  "HE WHAT?!" Zac yelled suddenly, the betrayal hitting him harder than the shame of being a mass murderer had. "JUST BECAUSE HE GOT ME COFFEE DOESN'T MEAN HE CAN GO AND EAT MY FOOD! THAT BASTARD IS DEAD! I'M GONNA SUCK HIS DICK SO HARD THAT HE BEGS ME TO STOP!"

  Bune stopped dead, both heads turning to look back at Zac with expressions of horrified scandal. "I'm sure we can get you some Bicorn if you are hungry," the Right Head offered weakly. "It's really quite good if prepared properly."

  "ARGHHHH!" Zac wailed, falling backward onto the stairs. He thrashed his arms and legs like a toddler denied candy, slowly, bumpily rolling down the last few steps until he landed in a heap on the floor. "MY NUGGIES! I WANT MY NUGGIES!"

  Bune fruitlessly tried to assuage the adult toddler who was making a fool of himself in public for a good minute until a howl ripped through the otherwise silent keep.

  "WAR ROOM! NOW! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!"

  Zac sat bolt upright, instantly ignoring the dragon. "Wolf Daddy needs us!"

  He jumped to his feet, dusting off his onesie.

  Bune sighed, but his heads were alert, scanning the corridor. "You are not wrong, Avatar," the Left Head said, "but this is strange. I have never heard the Captain use the word 'emergency' in a summons."

  "Everything is of the utmost importance to the Captain," the Right Head nodded, its expression grave. "If he howls... we know it is serious."

  Zac grabbed one of Bune's four massive, scaled hands. "Hurry up then! My lupine lover needs me!"

  Zac attempted to drag the dragon down the hall, but his footie onesie gained absolutely no traction on the meticulously polished floor. He just skidded in place like a cartoon character running on ice.

  "March might be hurt! He might be lonely! He might have his head stuck in the dishwasher and needs us to come and grab his hips from behind to slowly rock him back and forth until he gets loose or moans!"

  Bune blinked, both heads looking genuinely confused. "Dishwasher? My necromantic maids take care of the dishes by hand. We do not have such a device."

  "Don't ruin this for me!" Zac wailed, flailing his free arm. "Hurry up!"

  Bune nodded, his expression turning resolute. He began to walk in the opposite direction with long, purposeful strides. Zac slid along the floor behind him, effortlessly towed by the dragon's strength.

  "Whatever the Captain wants," the Left Head said, his voice dropping to a register more serious than Zac had heard without the third head present, "it must be important."

  By the time Bune dragged Zac to the war room, Zac had finally felt like he could give a real shot at water skiing. He let go of the dragon's arm and slowly slid to a stop next to the hellish hydra, his leopard-print feet creating just enough friction to keep him from crashing into the wall.

  The war room door looked exactly the same as the last time he was in front of it. Zac sighed, remembering how he cried and cried about that bastard leopard demon Ose tricking him into the most sexually frustrating hell that anyone could ever be put into. Even Genghis Khan being turned into a eunuch water boy for a women's roller derby team filled with buff and goth tom-boys would not suffer the way I am right now, Zac thought bitterly.

  Bune knocked politely. "Captain, you called?"

  The door flew open. Zac dodged this time, he knew that doors were not his friend in Hell after being smacked by them so many times.

  Marchosias stood there, looking like he'd just run a marathon through a hurricane. His uniform was half-buttoned, his grey fur flustered and standing on end, his hackles raised aggressively. His amber eyes were bloodshot, and he was nearly panting.

  "BUNE!" he roared. "I called for you over a minute ago!"

  Zac's knees went weak. Please bite me, angry wolf daddy, he thought, his heart fluttering. Turn me into your little twinky werewolf omega breeding pup and don't let me out of the cave for anything, ever. Bark in my ear. I don't care if you mark me… no, please mark me, master.

  "We have a guest," Marchosias yell-talked at his dragon butler, completely ignoring the swooning human. "I want you to be sure that there are no, uh, feral cats that need to be spayed, lurking around the castle."

  Marchosias slowly blinked as he finally registered Zac standing next to Bune. His tail suddenly tucked between his legs, and the wolfman went silent, his bravado evaporating like mist. The door slowly creaked open the rest of the way.

  Zac peeped around March and looked into the room.

  The other demons were already there, silently looking at him. Skarg waved happily, his antler-nubs wiggling. Nock gave a charming smile and coiffed his mane, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Halphas leaned back in his chair and flexed his pecs, while Andras smirked, lazily thumbing the edge of his cutlass.

  But they were not the only ones in the room.

  Zac's eyes landed on a new individual, and they looked... quite different from the demons he knew.

  She was a camel woman, tall and strikingly beautiful. Her fur was the color of desert sand at sunset, smooth and lustrous. She wore a flowing gown of vibrant Middle Eastern silk that draped elegantly over her form, hinting at curves that were both soft and powerful. Around her waist, cinching the silk, was a heavy golden crown worn as a belt. Her eyes were large, dark, and lashed, filled with an ancient, regal intelligence.

  As her gaze landed on Zac, her eyes widened. Her hand went slack. The crystal glass she had been holding slipped from her fingers.

  CRASH.

  The sound of shattering glass echoed in the silent room. She stared at Zac, her mouth slightly agape, as if she had just seen a ghost, or perhaps, something far more interesting.

  “Bune...”

  The camel woman’s voice was a sultry desert wind, hot, dry, and laden with expensive spices. It poured over the room like syrup. “What... what is... how did this human get here?”

  Marchosias yelped, a high-pitched, undignified sound. He practically threw himself between Zac and the newcomer, spreading his arms wide to block her view, his coat tails flapping.

  “It must be, uh, one of Bune’s undead servants!” the Captain stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “A fresh one! Not yet decayed! Bune, why did you bring such a thing here? It smells terrible!”

  He whipped his head around, glaring over his shoulder at Zac and the dragon butler. “Get the Avatar the fuck out of here right now,” he hissed, spittle flying from his lips. “What in the Hell do you think you’re-”

  “Silence.”

  The single word cut through the panic like a scimitar. She rose from the table, her movements languid and terrifyingly graceful. She stood tall, her silk gown shimmering around her like a mirage.

  “I was not talking with you, Marchosias,” she said, her dark lashes fluttering as she looked down her long, elegant snout at him. “I asked Bune a question.”

  Marchosias whipped his head back to face her, his lips peeling back to reveal gleaming white fangs. A low, vibrating growl shook his chest, the sound of tectonic plates grinding together.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “You dare talk to me like that in my own keep?” he snarled, his hackles rising to their full height. “I am the Commander of-”

  “I DARE.”

  The camel woman’s eyes narrowed into dangerous crescents of obsidian. The air pressure in the room dropped instantly, making ears pop.

  “You will not talk over me, you little Marquis,” she purred, the sweetness of her tone masking the venom. “I am Duchess Gremory! Procurer of the Love of Women! Companion of maidens! Commander of Twenty-Six Legions!”

  She took a step forward, the golden crown at her waist clanking softly. She ignored the wolf’s growl completely, turning her gaze back to the dragon butler.

  “And I am talking with Duke Bune,” she finished, dismissing the wolf with a wave of a manicured hand. “Why don't you go sit in your chair like a good puppy?”

  Zac’s mind stuttered. His brain tried to process the hierarchy, the danger, the sheer, radiating power of the camel woman. But it all snagged on one phrase.

  Good puppy.

  She just called him a puppy. And not in the sexy, degradation-kink way. She said it like he was a petulant dog who peed on the rug.

  Zac felt a surge of heat rise in his chest. It wasn't fear (he physically couldn't feel that) and it wasn't lust, for once. It was indignation. Righteous, defensive fury. This pretty bitch just told his main boy to be quiet in his own house? The gall... the audacity!

  Zac stepped out from behind Bune’s legs. He planted his leopard-print slippered feet firmly on the stone floor, crossed his arms over his fleece chest, and glared up at the towering Duchess.

  “Hey, Humps!” Zac shouted, his voice cracking with outrage. “Why don't you be quiet? Marchy-poo is the Captain!”

  The room went deadly silent.

  Nock, Halphas, and Andras all looked nervously between Zac and the towering Duchess, their earlier bravado evaporating. Marchosias’s breath hitched, his growl sputtering out like a dying engine as he stared at the small human defending his honor. Gremory blinked, her long lashes fluttering in genuine shock. She looked like she had just been slapped with a wet fish.

  “Sister...” Bune stepped up beside Zac, all four of his hands wringing together nervously. “What... what brings you here on such a... dreadful evening?”

  “Did you just call me Humps?”

  Gremory ignored Bune entirely. She began to stalk toward Zac, her movements slow and predatory, her silk gown whispering against the stone.

  “HEY!” Skarg bellowed, slamming his hands onto the table. “Don't you dare touch the Avatar! He is mine!”

  The wendigo didn't wait for permission. He launched himself over the war table, scattering maps and figurines in a chaotic spray, charging toward the Duchess like a runaway freight train.

  Gremory stopped. She sighed, a long, exasperated sound, and turned her head slightly to look at the charging caribou. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't brace herself. She simply flicked a dismissive hand.

  SHING.

  Golden rings materialized out of thin air, spinning around Skarg’s arms and legs. With a sharp metallic clang, they suddenly shrunk, binding his limbs tight against his body. Skarg’s momentum betrayed him. He face-planted onto the stone floor with a sickening crunch and went skidding across the room like a furry bowling ball, coming to a halt at Gremory’s feet.

  “I will have words with you later, Furfur,” she said, not even looking down as she stepped over him.

  “Of course a bitch would wanna talk instead of fight!” Skarg bellowed into the floor.

  SHING.

  Another golden ring materialized and snapped shut around his snout, muzzling him instantly.

  Zac swallowed hard. Wait... she’s stronger than the other demons? But... don’t women have, like, less muscles or something? He frowned, his rudimentary understanding of biology colliding with the reality of high-level infernal magic.

  Gremory turned her dark gaze back to the table. She looked at Andras, Nock, and Halphas, her eyes cold and challenging. “Do the rest of you feel like you want to say anything?”

  Nock immediately shook his head, looking very interested in the polish on his gauntlets. Halphas developed a sudden fascination with the ceiling.

  Andras just shrugged, still lazily thumbing the edge of his cutlass. “Meh,” the owl said, blowing a smoke ring.

  Oh thanks, Zac thought bitterly. Here I was thinking I would have been upset if you got turned into shark food. I really hate that your nonchalance and assholery is getting me hot again though.

  “Gremory!” Marchosias barked, trying very hard to keep his howl of rage from breaking through, his fists clenched at his sides. “You cannot come here and assault my men! I will report this to the Lowest Power! This is a violation of—”

  Gremory turned slowly to face him. She shook her head, a pitying smile playing on her lips.

  “Is that before or after you explain why you used your silver fire to annihilate Baal's Bistro?” she asked softly.

  Marchosias’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. His eyes went wide, and all the color drained from his face beneath his fur. The room was suddenly very, very quiet.

  "Now, tell me, human," Gremory said, towering over Zac like a sequoia made of silk and scorn. "You dare address me in such a vulgar manner?"

  "Please, Gremory," Bune managed to say meekly, stepping forward but keeping his distance. "This is no mere human."

  "This is Ose's chosen Avatar," the Right Head nodded pleadingly. "You know how the deceitful leopard is... how he enjoys playing with words."

  "He was just making a joke," the Left Head added softly.

  "A joke?" the camel demon asked, eyeing the now-anxious hydra with disdain. "You allow the Avatar of a fledgling President to make jokes? Have you no shame?"

  Bune's heads avoided her judgmental gaze, looking down at their scuffed shoes. "No."

  "Tisk tisk," the she-demon shook her head, the golden crown clinking against her hip. "Even the Avatar of Paimon himself would not dare to speak to me in such a manner."

  "Yeah, because they're probably not a secret weapon like I am," Zac said, jutting out his leopard-print chest. "Some Digimon demon is probably too... Asian... too honorable to understand the nuance of a good zinger, Humps."

  The room went even more silent, if that was possible. A heavy, suffocating stillness descended. Then, Marchosias let out a loud, whimpering groan. He slowly walked to the war table, pulled out his chair, sat down, and gently lowered his forehead until it hit the wood with an audible thump.

  Gremory looked furious. Her eyes blazed with purple fire. "Foolish human! Do you not know what sort of hellish torment I can afflict upon you? Do you not have any concept of-"

  "HUMPS! HUMPS! HUMPS!" Zac yelled, cutting her off and pointing an accusing finger. "I DON'T CARE if you cock ring me until I cry! I'll never respect you for insulting my venerated vincel! March is my final destination, my OTP... my One True Pairing!"

  Gremory looked furious, confused, and deeply scandalized all at once. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Enough!" she shouted, her voice shaking the walls. "Disgusting man! I'll make you experience every romantic folly! All of the pain you've ever pushed on another! Every selfish fornication you've ever squeezed from another's heart!"

  The camel woman pointed a manicured finger at Zac. A dark purple light emanated from it, bathing Zac's body in an evil, royal glow.

  Zac clenched up and squeezed his eyes shut. The light was tingly, like a limb falling asleep. He waited for the pain, the suffering, the emotional devastation... whatever the demonic magic was supposed to do to him. He braced himself for a montage of every time he was ghosted and awkward ‘sorry you looked different on your profile’.

  However, after a few moments of nothing... he peeked an eye open.

  Gremory was staring at him, completely flabbergasted. Her finger was still pointed, but the light had fizzled out. She looked down at her hand, then back at Zac, her regal composure shattering.

  "But... but... but..." she said dumbly.

  "Gremory," Bune managed to say, his voice strained as he tried to calm the furious Duchess. "Please do not get so upset with Zachary. If Ose learned his chosen avatar was killed, he would be most displeased."

  "Stop lying to me, Bune! Do you think I am stupid?" the camel woman shouted, her perfect composure finally cracking like cheap pottery. "If this pathetic runt was truly an avatar, you wouldn't need to dress him up in such a weak and pathetic disguise!"

  "Hey," Zac said, crossing his arms and looking genuinely offended. "Leopard print is totally badass and regal. But Ose can lick my ass. That bastard is a total diaper baby."

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Marchosias banged his head against the table a few more times, the sound echoing mournfully in the room.

  "What is the meaning of this?!" the camel shouted, her voice rising an octave as she lost it completely. "Bune, what in the hells is going on here? Why are you covering for a human?!"

  She raised her hand, the golden rings on her fingers flashing, ready to deliver a demonic backhand that would likely send Zac's head into orbit.

  In a blur of motion, Nock and Halphas were suddenly there.

  Nock threw himself in front of Zac, his arms spread wide. "Don't you harm pure Zachary!" he cried, his mane bristling with righteous indignation.

  Halphas grabbed Gremory's wrist, his talons digging into the silk of her sleeve. "As Second-in-Command, it's my job to dish out corporal punishment!" the eagle squawked, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by protective fury.

  Heh, Zac thought, completely devoid of the fear of being slap-decapitated. I knew they loved me. Now this rando camel lady is gonna have to fight the whole harem.

  "I WILL TURN YOU ALL INTO COCKLESS VEGETABLES!" Gremory shrieked, her long hair coming undone and her previous beautiful composure was totally nuked from orbit.

  A blinding purple light emanated from her form, encompassing both Nock and Halphas in a shockwave of magic. The moment the light touched them, they both fell to the ground like cut marionettes, white foam trickling from the corners of their mouths as their eyes rolled back.

  "Oh shit," Zac thought, looking down at the now-catatonic lion and eagle. She one-shot the tanks. That’s bad.

  He barely had time to register the loss of his bodyguards before Gremory reached out. Her hand closed around his neck with the force of a hydraulic press, lifting him off the ground until his slippered feet kicked uselessly at the air.

  "HNGGG," Zac choked, his vision swimming. "Your hands... so big... and manly..."

  "WHAT?!" Gremory roared directly into his face, spit flying. "MY HANDS ARE FEMININE AND SOFT!"

  "Gremory, please!" Bune said weakly from the sidelines. "Don't!"

  However, the camel woman did not pop the human's head off like a Pez dispenser. Through his breathlessness and watering eyes, Zac saw her expression shift from pure, homicidal rage to pure, utter disbelief.

  She stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head that was singing opera. Her grip slackened.

  Zac fell, collapsing onto the stone floor in a coughing heap, gasping for air.

  "Alright, that's enough," Andras's voice drawled from directly behind Gremory.

  The owl demon had emerged from the shadows cast by her silken dress, his cutlass already pressed against the soft fur of her throat.

  "That dumb human said he'd walk Goremaw for me," Andras hissed, his golden eyes cold and devoid of humor. "So you're gonna have to die now."

  Gremory didn't even move a muscle as another nova of purple light exploded from her body, a sphere of pure, concussive magic.

  Zac squinted against the glare, expecting to see feathers fly. Instead, Andras reacted with supernatural reflexes. His wings flared, propelling him backward in a blur, while his cutlass slashed through the air, cutting a literal path of inky blackness through the luminous purple magic.

  "Shadow is just as fast as light, Duchess," the owl hissed, diving back into the fray.

  He swung at Gremory’s neck, a killing blow. Gremory didn't even turn her head. She simply tilted her long neck to the side, the blade passing millimeters from her jugular.

  Are Dukes really this much stronger than Marquises? Zac thought, his eyes wide as he watched the owl demon assault the camel. It was like watching a gladiator fight a force of nature.

  Andras was everywhere at once. He popped out of a shadow near the floor, slashing at her legs. Miss. He dropped from the ceiling shadow, aiming for her crown. Miss. He appeared behind her, thrusting for the kidney. Miss. He was playing a high-stakes, stab-happy version of whack-a-mole, dissolving into darkness the moment his blade failed to connect.

  Gremory was breathtaking. She dodged gracefully, stepping back from Zac and spinning like a dervish. Her silks fanned out around her, creating a shield of fabric that obscured her true position. She moved with a speed that defied her size, pirouetting through the onslaught as if she were dancing to a 250 bpm trash waltz song that only she could hear.

  Zac’s eyes could barely follow the blur of violence. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

  But then, the music stopped.

  Andras materialized above Gremory, his cutlass raised for a downward chop.

  Gremory’s hand snapped up. She didn't block the blade; she caught the hilt. Her hand overlapped the owl’s talons on the grip, stopping the momentum instantly.

  "Foolish bird," she said softly, her voice devoid of effort.

  A blast of concentrated purple light raced up her arm, jumped to the sword hilt, and surged directly though Andras.

  "Did you forget I can sense treasures?" Gremory purred, her eyes glowing with malicious delight. "Don't attack me with such a precious, antique sword next time. It screams its location to me."

  Andras convulsed, his feathers smoking. He let out a choked hoot before his eyes rolled back in his head. He crumpled to the stone floor, landing in a heap next to Halphas and Nock, joining their chorus of gurgling, white-foam misery.

  Zac looked at the pile of defeated, drooling lieutenants. Then he looked at Skarg, who was still tied up on the floor like a rodeo calf. Then he looked at Bune, who was looking at the floor and wringing his hands murmuring ‘please listen, Gremory’.

  Finally, he looked up at Gremory.

  "Okay," Zac squeaked. "You win."

  The camel woman smoothed down her silken dress and fixed a stray lock of her lustrous hair, her composure returning as quickly as it had been lost. She once again began to walk toward Zac, though this time her pace was less predatory, more... appraising.

  "You," she said, her chest rising and falling as she regulated her breathing after Andras's shadow assault. "You are..."

  "WAIT!" Bune’s heads both shouted in unison.

  The dragon butler moved with surprising speed, planting himself firmly between Zac and the camel Duchess. He spread all four arms wide, creating a wall of scales and desperation. "You cannot take him! He is too precious! He is... he is..." Bune’s voice cracked, a sound of raw, unfiltered panic that made Zac blink.

  Gremory stopped. Her furious expression softened as she looked at the trembling dragon. Her eyes, moments ago burning with purple fire, now held a strange, pitying warmth. "Oh, Bune... why didn't you tell me? You know me."

  "You know the rules," Bune’s Left Head whispered, refusing to meet her gaze. "This was an order. I could not leak the information. It is too important."

  "I WANTED TO!" the Right Head wailed, tears streaming down its snout. "Please forgive me! I can't lose him to the Princes! I... I... I..."

  "Hush now." Gremory reached up, her large, soft hands gently cupping the cheeks of both dragon heads simultaneously. "Shh there, Bune. You've been doing so good these past centuries."

  Bune’s legs wobbled. The proud, neurotic butler crumbled, leaning into her touch and beginning to sob openly. It was a full-blown draconic breakdown, complete with hiccuping smoke and sniffling.

  Wait, what the actual fuck? Zac thought, watching the tender scene unfold over the twitching bodies of the unconscious lieutenants. Are they... related? Or exes? Or is this just how Dukes greet each other?

  He noticed Marchosias watching them. The Captain wasn't angry anymore. He was looking at the weeping dragon and the comforting Duchess with an expression that was equal parts sad and profoundly relieved.

  "You are lucky I was sent to follow up on the incident at the restaurant," Gremory said gently, stroking Bune's scales. "I had no idea Ose had managed to form a contract with a... maiden."

  "Of course you didn't," Marchosias growled from the table, not lifting his head. "It was top secret."

  "I'M TALKING TO BUNE!" Gremory shouted without looking away from the dragon. "SHUT UP, YOU MUTT!"

  Marchosias sighed, and gently thunked his forehead against the wood again.

  Before Zac could defend March and tell the camel woman to stop making the butler cry, Bune managed to contain his wailing. "Do not yell at the Captain! If you insult Marchosias, you insult me!"

  "Fine, only because you say so, Bune," Gremory conceded with a shake of her head, though her eyes were still icy. "But that wolf has barely gotten your third head to relax what, maybe one day a month?"

  Zac was so confused. What was she talking about? Bune's third head only popped out when the dragon was worked up—like when the furniture was being destroyed or someone was trying to ride a warg indoors.

  "Even if he is just an expired methadone patch," Bune sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand, "he has been the only one willing to help me. Even you," he said, sounding a bit more in control, "could not keep my gold hoarding addiction from ruining my afterlife. This avatar, his presence has helped tame my most vulgar self."

  Zac blinked. Addiction? Hoarding? Wait, holy shit, how the fuck did I miss it this whole time?

  His mind raced back over the past few days. The dragon had mentioned gold. He had mentioned urges. He had mentioned needing to control himself. Was that what the lovers' quarrel with him and March in the hallway was about? March wasn't just a bossy prick; he was Bune's addiction sponsor. The whole butler job was basically an eternal Gold Hoarders Anonymous meeting, and somehow March was helping Bune wean off his drug of choice.

  Zac’s eyes grew unfocused as the realization hit him like a sack of bricks. My virginity. Fuck.

  He thought back to all the times Bune said Zac must remain pure. All the times the dragon had sniffed him and seemed to relax. Bune literally saying that lusting after Zac was better than the gleaming of gold. And even Halphas had said that March would put him into a "program with Bune" after he drank all of that coffee.

  Zac’s eyes welled up. March wasn't a harsh captain verbally and emotionally abusing a subservient dragon man; he was helping his friend through such a difficult problem. And Bune wasn't a wimpy demon who preferred to be a butler over being a warrior; he was a demon fighting his own... demons.

  "I'M SORRY BUNE!" Zac shouted, his voice thick with emotion. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

  He sprinted forward and threw his arms around the dragon man’s waist, burying his face in the back of Bune’s tailcoat. "I thought you were just a fussy neat freak! I didn't know you were battling your inner Smaug! You're so brave!"