Page 199 of Problematic

“Prison,” Kalon corrected.

“Dungeon,” Mandi said.

I pressed both hands over my face. Of course Lux had a dungeon. Of course he did. Why would the masked billionaire demon lord with a tactical closet and blood wards not have one?

The tail was still a problem.

A massive, twitching, heart-tipped problem currently moving behind me with the nervous energy of a feral ribbon.

I took a breath and wrapped it around my thigh.

Once.

Twice.

The little heart-shaped tip tucked against the inside of my leg, warm and strange, pulsing faintly with the same pink light burning behind my eyes. I held my breath, waiting for discomfort, pain, any fresh humiliation my body felt inspired to offer.

Nothing.

The tail settled against my skin, hidden beneath the dress, snug and alive and weirdly obedient now that I had stopped screaming at it.

“Okay,” I whispered. “We have a truce.”

It twitched.

“Temporary truce.”

Sam watched me through the mirror, face tight. “You sure you’ll be able to move?”

I shifted my weight. The tail flexed around my thigh, secure under the fabric. “Yeah.”

Kalon’s gaze flicked away, polite and tense. “No one will see it unless you lose control.”

“Great. No pressure.”

Mandi handed me lipstick from her bag. Dark red. Too expensive for her, which meant stolen, gifted by someone she had blackmail on, or emergency-only. “Wear this.”

“I’m rescuing my kidnapped mate from a coup.”

“Exactly. Look hot.”

Sam made a strangled noise. “Mandi.”

“What? Scarn thinks she’s a sad, powerless mate. Let him. Everyone else gets the sad, pretty, harmless version until she eats their motor skills.”

“I don’t know how to eat motor skills.”

Mandi uncapped the lipstick. “Then improvise. That’s how most women survive men with titles.”

I took it.

My hand shook so badly the first swipe went crooked.

Mandi gently took it back, fixed the line with her thumb, and softened in a way she would deny until death.

The plan, if anyone felt generous enough to call it that, had three parts, none of which deserved confidence.

Kalon would enter first through the public security intake, claiming he had been ordered to report for reassignment under southern command. That part made my stomach hurt, but he swore northern assets would be getting cataloged, sorted, threatened, and trained by Scarn’s men. A rich, trained demon with a known family name walking in to protect his own future would make sense.