One Hell of a Guy: The Cambion Trilogy, Book 1 by Tammi Labrecque

in the room rocketed into the red zone. She held his gaze, refusing to back down.
    Then he sighed and let go. “Please,” he said. “Please don’t walk out right now, not until we talk about all of this.”
    She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, thumbed it on, touched the Timer app icon. “You’ve got ten minutes,” she said, setting it to count down. “You’d better make it good.”
    He sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “I don’t even know where to start.”
    She shook her head, reached down and picked up his pants. “Start by putting these on. Shirt, too,” she said, retrieving that as well. “You’re distracting me.”
    “I’m not doing anything,” he said, frustration in every syllable.
    She couldn’t help smiling a little. “No, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. For a change.”
    He answered her small smile with one of his own, then patted the bed beside him. “Sit.”
    “Sure thing — once you put on those clothes. I know you don’t mean to but you’re doing that … thing.”
    He complied and she sat, folding her legs Indian style and facing him. His eyes strayed to her phone, counting backward steadily to the eight-and-a-half minute mark. “Can we maybe reset —”
    “Nope.”
    “Okay. Cliff’s Notes, then — and please understand, I don’t know much about it myself. This is advanced stuff. I know a little from things I’ve picked up here and there, but it’s not like I had a reason to really ask any questions about this.”
    “Noted,” she said. “Now tell me.”
    “There are … formalities.” He stole a glance at the timer again. “Contracts, if you will, though there’s no stupid signing in blood or whatever. Covenants. Both of the big guys are huge on covenants.”
    “The big guys?” she said.
    He tilted his eyes up to the ceiling, down to the floor.
    She felt her eyes widen. “You mean —”
    “Yup,” he said, but didn’t name them. For all she knew he wasn’t supposed to. “So, when two people — or entities — wish to form a permanent alliance, there’s a sort of ritual. A ceremony of binding.”
    “Okay.”
    “And that ceremony — it leaves this mark.”  
    “And it means?”
    He peeked at her timer again. “It means you’ve bound yourself to a demon.”
    “Bound in what sense?” she demanded. “I assume since you said mate we’re not talking about golf partners, or doubles tennis.”
    “Like …” He seemed to be searching for a word, shrugged. “Yes, mates. But it’s not just about the sex. It’s a relationship bond.”
    Astonished that her voice sounded like a normal person’s might, instead of the gibbering wreck she’d just become on the inside, she managed, “Are you talking about being married ?”
    He blanched. Typical, she thought. Demon or no, he’s still a dude. Say the word “marriage” and he falls apart.
    “No,” he said, quickly. “That’s not — I mean—”
    “Do you have one?” she demanded. “A mark?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I didn’t bind myself to a demon,” he said.
    “Well, technically, neither did I,” she said, tersely. “There may have been some moaning and/or sighing, but I certainly wasn’t embarking on any covenants .”
    “I know,” he said. “I don’t know what to say. I told you, I don’t know much about this.”
    “Then who does?” Lily asked.
    He groaned. “My mother would know.”
    “Your mother?”
    “She specializes in contract language for ….” He paused. “For her particular specialty.”
    “Contract language,” Lily said, incredulous.
    “Yes,” he said. “I told you, there are contracts. Agreements. Covenants. The language has to be standardized. People keep trying to find loopholes.”
    “And she has a specialty?”
    He sighed. “Of course she does. Lust and other carnal sins. She’s a succubus.”
    “Your mom’s a sex contract lawyer for Hell.”
    “More of a supervisor.”
    “A supervisor.”
    “Kind of on par with, maybe, a Vice