Zac sat frozen in his chair, his mind doing a victory lap while the room around him descended into a predator's silent standoff.
'Was this it?' he thought, practically vibrating. 'Did I actually win the lottery? Virginity, my lifelong curse, my badge of shame in the mortal world… is my golden ticket in Hell?'
He let his gaze wander, drinking them in. Each demon was a perfectly crafted archetype of his deepest, most questionable fantasies.
There was Skarg, the primal brute who promised to break him in half.
Nock, the gleaming Prince Charming who would sweep him off his feet.
Andras, the dangerous bad boy who would ruin his life in the best way possible.
Bune, the stern butler who would probably make the bed while they were in it.
Halphas, the cocky buff jock who knew he was sexy.
And finally… Marchosias. The No Daddy. The bearded wolf with the weight of the world on his shoulders. 'Oh god,' Zac thought, staring at the Captain's ears. 'If he used that Voice to command me… I would scratch the hell out of that spot behind his ears. I would be such a good boy.'
He was so lost in a fantasy involving Marchosias, a collar, and very specific instructions, that he didn't notice the shift in the room. The predatory stillness broke.
Skarg moved first. It was a blur of motion, a sudden displacement of air. Zac barely had time to grunt before he was yanked from his seat, the world tilting crazily as he was tossed over a massive, furry shoulder. The cold radiating from the wendigo was intense, but Skarg's grip was surprisingly careful.
"Mine," Skarg rumbled, turning to bolt for the door.
Schwing.
Nock's longsword cleared its scabbard with a song of steel. He flourished it high, the blade catching the red light of the war room. "Unhand the maiden, you beast!"
'Maiden?' Zac thought, dangling upside down. 'Okay, we can workshop the title later. And please don't fight, guys. Just form an orderly queue. Take a number. There's plenty to go around.'
Suddenly, the world went dark for a split second. Skarg stumbled as a shadow seemed to peel itself off the floor. Andras materialized from the darkness right next to them, his hand darting out to snatch Zac from Skarg's unsuspecting grip.
"Yoink," the owlman said with a smirk.
Skarg roared in fury and whirled, slamming a fist into the ground. A jagged spike of ice erupted from the floor where Andras had been standing a microsecond before. Zac, caught in the handoff, dropped onto the stone floor with a yelp.
The war room spiraled into absolute chaos.
Bune, still transformed in his three-headed hydra form, roared, "YOU'RE GOING TO DAMAGE THE GOODS, YOU CRETINS!" He waded into the fray, four arms flailing, trying to peel the owl and the caribou off each other while simultaneously shielding Zac with his bulk.
Halphas was squawking directly into Marchosias's ear, ignoring the brawl entirely. "Military protocol, sir! Rank has privileges! You wasted your night sleeping, so as Second-in-Command, I have right of first refusal! It's in the handbook!"
Nock, ignoring the melee happening inches from his head, dropped to one knee in front of Zac. He clasped his gauntleted hands together and began to recite, his voice trembling with emotion. "Oh, pure vessel of unblemished snow! Like a lamb to the slaughter, your innocence cries out for the blade of my-"
"HEEL!"
The Voice slammed into the room like a physical shockwave. It wasn't just loud; it was command made manifest.
Every spine in the room snapped straight. Skarg froze mid-punch. Andras froze mid-stab. Nock choked on his poetry. Halphas snapped his beak shut. They all turned, compelled by an irresistible force, to face the head of the table.
Zac, also caught in the spell, found his head whipping around. He didn't mind. Being forced to look at that ruggedly handsome, furious muzzle? 'Woof,' he thought. 'Yes, sir.'
"SIT."
The demons scrambled back to their chairs like scolded puppies, though their eyes kept darting back to Zac with hungry desperation.
Marchosias stood there, chest heaving, his amber eyes blazing. He took a deep breath, visibly composing himself, letting the magical resonance fade from his voice.
"Now," he began, his tone deadly serious. "I know this is unprecedented. The chances that Ose procured such an asset… that he was able to form a contract with a soul of this nature… it changes the entire trajectory of the war."
The lieutenants tried to focus on their Captain. They really did. But the primal, overwhelming awareness of the human sitting at the table, the human who was practically screaming to be deflowered, was a constant, distracting hum in their brains.
Marchosias looked around the table, seeing their struggle. He sighed.
"And that," he growled, "is exactly the problem."
"What?" Skarg grunted, his eyes darting back to Zac's neck, then his thighs, then back to his neck. "You're in command. Just fuck the slut or whatever so we can stop smelling it. Stop wasting our time."
"No," Marchosias growled, leaning over the table. "The Avatar is important. Just think for a-"
"Oh, you don't want to fuck him?" Andras drawled, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that didn't reach his hungry eyes. "Even a virgin isn't pure enough for you, huh, Cap? So tragic. Holding out for an angel?"
"Hey." Marchosias's voice dropped an octave, a warning rumble. "Watch your-"
"I VOLUNTEER!" Nock shot out of his chair, waving his arm frantically like a student who knew the answer. "The virgin is a mythical creature down in these parts! None of you brutes have the skill set required to help him blossom into a true lover! It requires finesse! Poetry! Lubricant!"
"Shut up, Nock!" Marchosias rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine building behind his eyes that could rival a geological event. "We need to keep him so-"
"But the protocol!" Halphas squawked, slamming his hand on the table. "Senior officer rights!"
"I FOUND HIM FIRST!" Skarg bellowed, standing up and knocking his chair over.
"THE VIRGIN IS MINE!" Bune's middle head roared, drowning out everyone else. The butler had transformed again without anyone noticing, his massive dragon head snapping at the air. "FOR MY HOARD! HE IS RARE! HE IS MINT CONDITION! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH THE COLLECTIBLE!"
Everyone stopped to stare at the butler.
Zac sat in the middle of the storm, on the literal Hell version of cloud nine. He had been a bit embarrassed about dying as a virgin… okay, mortified… but look who got the last laugh now! He was surrounded by the monsters of his dreams, and apparently, his lack of experience made him the most desirable bachelor in the Pit.