He began to kick and flail, throwing a temper tantrum that would have made a toddler in a toy store blush. He was mid-wail about maple syrup when a bellow ripped through the kitchen, shaking dust from the rafters.
"I FOUND YOU!"
Zac blinked as a massive, furry blur slammed into Bune. Skarg tackled the butler with the force of a battering ram, sending them both crashing into a rack of iron pots.
"Trying to claim the virgin for yourself, you scaled hoarder?!" Skarg yelled, trying to pin down the dragon's arms. But Bune had four arms, two heads, and a very active tail, making him a logistical nightmare to wrestle. "He's mine! If anyone's fucking him, it's me! I saw him first!"
Zac slid off the table, watching the brawl with interest. He smiled wickedly. "Yeah! Get him, Skarg! If you knock him out, no one will be around to stop you from feeding me your… demon meat… for lunch."
Skarg froze. He looked over at Zac, his icy blue eyes wide with a lustful expression that was equal parts hunger and hope. "Demon… meat?"
Approximately one second later, the deer demon's head was engulfed in a torrent of violet fire.
"DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!" Bune's Right Head roared, exhaling the blast point-blank.
Skarg shrieked, rolling away and flailing on the ground, slapping at his smoldering face. "MY EYES! YOU GOT IT IN MY EYES, YOU BASTARD!"
Bune stood up, dusting soot from his already ruined clothes. He looked remarkably unruffled for someone who had just been tackled by a wendigo. "That will teach you to interrupt a culinary consultation! We were discussing breakfast foods!"
Zac frowned, crossing his arms. "I thought you were the rough one, Skarg. You couldn't even knock out a butler to get inside a virgin? I'm disappointed." He shook his head theatrically. "I guess Bune really is the hunk around here. Look at him handle that firepower."
Bune sputtered, cheeks darkening again. "I… well… I simply… it is my duty to maintain order!"
"He's just a butler!" Skarg groaned from the floor, rubbing his singed muzzle.
"I am Duke Bune!" the Left Head snapped, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. "Great and Strong Duke of Hell! Commander of Thirty Legions! Master of Necromancy and Wealth!"
Zac blinked. "Wait. A Duke?" He looked from the dragon to the caribou. "Why is a Duke working for Marchosias? Isn't March just a Marquis? Doesn't a Duke outrank a Marquis?"
Bune's heads looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them. The Right Head cleared his throat. "Technically, yes. A Duke is considered a higher-ranking demon in the infernal hierarchy."
"However," the Left Head continued smoothly, "rank is… fluid in the Pit. I am in a position that works for me. Taking care of the Captain's affairs is quite fulfilling. He allows me certain… liberties with my hoard. And his castle is the safest place for my… collection."
"Plus," the Right Head whispered, "Marchosias is scary. We don't want to make him upset."
"So you're a submissive Duke?" Zac asked, grinning. "Working for a dominant Marquis? That is… incredibly hot. Please continue."
"He's not submissive," Skarg grunted, shoving Bune hard as he stood up. The butler stumbled back into a prep table with a clatter of silverware. "He's a pussy. There's a difference."
Zac considered this, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "So, a dominant Duke working for an even more dominant Marquis? That works for me on a lot of levels. The power dynamics in this house are delicious."
Skarg ignored the commentary, looming over Zac until his shadow swallowed the human whole. He smelled of tundra, burnt hair, and raw musk. "Those lady-boys wouldn't know the first thing to do with you," the wendigo rumbled. "They don't even feed you when you're hungry."
He reached out, his massive hand encompassing Zac's entire bicep. He lifted Zac's arm as if inspecting a cut of meat, bringing it to his nose for a deep sniff. He frowned, dropping the arm. "You must be freezing. No muscle. No fur. Just soft, fragile skin."
"That is why we are here, you oaf!" Bune snapped, straightening his cravat. "He needs sustenance. He is a picky eater. He rejected the Bicorn head."
"Picky eater?" Skarg snorted. "He said he's willing to eat all varieties of meat earlier."
Without warning, Skarg grabbed the back of Zac's robes and began dragging him towards the massive walk-in larder at the back of the kitchen. "Come on. If you won't eat bicorn, we'll find you a haunch."
"I want your meat, not dead horse brain!" Zac protested, stumbling along. But then Bune, refusing to be left out or outpaced, grabbed Zac's other arm. Zac's train of thought derailed as he found himself suspended between the two behemoths, feet barely touching the ground. He felt a giddy thrill run through him. 'Manhandled by monster men. Check. Another item off the bucket list.'
"If he is hungry, he will eat what is provided," Skarg stated with primal certainty. "It is a fundamental law of nature. Starvation cures pickiness."
"I ate a lot of frozen waffles and chicken nuggets in my past life," Zac murmured, his head lolling slightly as they marched him forward. "I'd be okay with nuggets, since waffles sound like a no-go in this dimension."
"Do you hear that, Skarg?" Bune's Right Head asked, exasperated. "Do you hear what I am working with here? Nuggets!"
Skarg stopped abruptly, causing Zac to swing slightly between them. The wendigo turned a lecherous grin on the dragon. "Nuggets," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "You know all about nuggets, don't you, hoarder?"
Bune's reaction was instant. The Left Head looked scandalized, eyes wide with shame. The Right Head curled its lip in utter repugnance.
"Vulgar!" the Right Head hissed.
"Crude!" the Left Head agreed. "He obviously does not mean gold nuggets, Furfur!"
The air in the kitchen instantly turned ice-cold. Skarg stopped walking. Zac felt the tension ripple through the wendigo's arm, stretching him ever so slightly as Bune kept moving for a fraction of a second longer.
"Don't," Skarg whispered, the word a dangerous rumble that vibrated in Zac's chest. He turned his head slowly, his icy blue eyes locking onto Bune's golden ones. "Don't you use that name."
"Or what?" Bune hissed, drawing himself up to his full height. His midnight-blue scales bristled, and both heads glared down at the wendigo. "Do you really wish to try me? All of me?" The threat of the Third Head hung heavy in the air.
Skarg released Zac and stepped into Bune's personal space, attempting to loom over him. "You fuss over the Captain like he's a weak baby," he snarled, nose-to-nose with the dragon's Left Head. "Do you think he is fragile? Should I test him like Andras does? What would happen?"
Skarg then tossed a heavy arm over Bune's shoulder, forcefully turning the butler to face Zac. "What if I nudged March and this little Jezebel together? Just a push. Just a suggestion."
Bune's eyes went wide with horror. Zac's eyes went wide with hope.
Skarg grinned, showing too many teeth. "The wolf might actually have fun. Don't you think that would be good to see? Instead of him brooding in his tower like a tragic monk?"
"Yes! It would be totally awesome to see!" Zac blurted out, unable to help himself. "March wouldn't flay himself, and then I'm free to get down with the rest of you! It's a win-win! That's something you can do?!"
Zac raised his hand for a high-five with the wendigo. Instead, he was knocked flat on his ass by Bune's massive wing as the dragon shoved himself violently away from Skarg.