Chapter 4
Boom! The door of the guest bathroom exploded inward.
I raised an arm to protect my face from hurtling debris, then lowered it to find the demon king filling the obliterated entrance.
He sniffed the air, no doubt picking up the sulfur from the portal I’d closed one second before his arrival.
“Where were you?” he asked, accentuating each word.
Carmine was pissed.
I waved a hand through the remaining dust while my voice unlocked.
Not that I’d portaled from somewhere where he could glimpse any clues on the other side.
I wasn’t an idiot. But there were other ways to trace the route of a portal, and he could never find out where I was coming from.
The truth was, even if he agreed to let me return to the Pinnacles, I wouldn’t stay there with the other contestants at night.
I had a promise to keep, a promise to return home daily.
Unfortunately, keeping that promise made things a great deal riskier.
“Here and there.” I peered into the mirror to stall while I got a grip.
Dust framed me like mist. My black hair hung in a gleaming curtain, hacked off at shoulder length.
Large gray eyes never failed to remind me of my beautiful, savage grandmother.
Except now, memories of mating with Carmine impinged on those too.
I looked nothing like my twin—she’d had a red-brown hue to her hair, like rust. With her blue eyes and willowy frame, she’d been ethereal—like a fairy instead of a really fucking powerful magus. Was her demon form different?
I didn’t care.
I couldn’t rest until she was free from his dungeon. If I failed in that, my entire plan would fail.
Carmine tilted his head. “Your heart is racing.”
He inhaled deeply, and I glanced up long enough to catch the unhinged light in his gray gaze. “Who have you been with? You’ve washed.”
I’d made sure to wash, yes, and I had a supply of meticulously laundered clothes at my halfway point. I opted not to answer.
He stepped into the bathroom. “Who have you washed off your body, Syera?”
A chill ran down my spine at the appearance of cold Carmine. “If I could, I would have washed the scents of five males off my body. You’re also aware that another male can no longer bring me satisfaction. Why the hell would I waste my time?”
“There are other types of love. Companionship.” He spat the word out like a sharp bone.
I laughed and looked at him in the mirror. “Is that what you miss about me? My companionship? Our chitchats? You loved having a young woman to hang off your every word, didn’t you?”
He stepped closer, and I turned to press my hand against his chest. “Look, I’m tired from the orgy I just had. I’m going to bed.”
Carmine placed his hand over mine, then purred, “Bed? No, enamai. There will be no bed for you as wearied as you must be. You have a banquet to attend.”
I narrowed my eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. The banquet is over.” I’d made sure not to return until this time on purpose.
His smile was all teeth. “We waited for you.”
Which meant he’d made everyone wait. Which meant everyone would extra hate me. “You shouldn’t have. I’ve eaten. Tell the others to dig in.”
“Would you like to change into appropriate attire yourself, or would you like my help?”
The calm words held no room for retort or refusal.
Banquets usually started at dusk. The crimsons and their king had waited at least five hours for my return. Which meant Carmine was beyond reason. Scrap that, he was never in the confines of reason, but where I could push him sometimes... this wasn’t one of those times.
“I’ll dress myself,” I answered. “Meet you there.”
Carmine stepped aside, and I picked my way over the debris to exit the bathroom. Out in the hall, a crimson dress was draped over the armchair. The dress was sylk. He knew I fucking hated sylk.
Carmine walked around me to pass me the garment. Then, he sat in the chair.
Yeah, he’s pissed. I pivoted to enter the bathroom again.
“Do it here,” he ordered in an icy voice.
I didn’t stop walking. “No chance.”
“You did have a chance. You wasted that when you chose not to attend the banquet and to disappear from my fortress instead.”
I paused and spoke over my shoulder. “It hasn’t occurred to you that I could portal away from here for another three years?”
“It hasn’t occurred to you that tonight was a test of whether you’d return or run?” Leather creaked as the demon king shifted position on the armchair. “Whatever the reason you entered Tiers, it’s not one you can turn your back on, Syera. You could portal away, but you won’t. You must return.”
Fucking. Asshole. He was right, and I couldn’t underestimate his intelligence again. “To an extent, Carmine. Nothing more or less.”
All traces of humor disappeared from his face. “Why did you return? You escaped, and now I will never let you go, not now I have seen what you are.”
What the hell did that mean? He’d wanted me to stay away? My brow cleared. Now that I was confident and skilled in my demon powers, I held more value to him.
I smirked. “Should I be offended that the mating ritual wasn’t enough for you before?”
“Enough, yes you were. But if you disappear now, I will hunt you,” he muttered darkly.
The words were a warning. “You never found me the first time.”
The air tightened between us. His face worked like he wished to say more. Then ice froze any emotion away. “Put the dress on, or I’ll do it for you.”
I really was tired. The royal fortress was an arena of its own. I wanted to sleep. If I couldn’t do that, then I was not in the mood for his moods. “I’ve agreed to put the dress on. What’s the reason you’d like me to strip off right here?”
“Because you pissed me off.”
Translation: You embarrassed me in front of my subjects, and now I’ll embarrass you.
Tit for tat? If I hurt him, he’d hurt me? If I pissed him off, he’d do it right back? My thoughts swung in the opposite direction… If I made him happy, he’d make me happy.
Returning to Tiers was crucial, and Carmine had shown that he’d interrupt the game to yank me out. I couldn’t portal into the game next week. He had to give me permission to play.
He’d only make me happy if I made him happy.
I also knew that Carmine hated me doing anything against my will.
I tossed the sylk dress at him, and as his eyes flashed at the challenge, I pried off my leather boots, then shimmied out of my pants.
The ice in his gaze melted into a heat equally as intense as he focused on my black underwear—something demons didn’t wear.
My underwear had always fascinated him, and he’d tripped to the Earth realm to fill an entire chamber with lingerie for me once.
Lingerie that I’d stolen when I escaped, knowing that no merchant would stock underwear for me to buy.
I pulled up my tunic, but paused once the material was gathered at my waist. I paused for his inspection. “Oh, did you want me to take off my underwear so you can get a really good look first? I can spread my legs if you like.”
Carmine glanced away. “Get it done, enamai.”
I lifted my tunic overhead, and he frowned at my chest. “Why do you tie them down so much?”
What, more than nipple string? That wasn’t a difficult achievement. I told the truth. “Because they got bigger, Carmine, and other women don’t need to contend with boobs this big. Especially when they’re fighting.”
His throat worked, and I took that as agreement with some part of what I’d said. Or maybe he’d stopped listening.
Turning from him, I undid the bindings covering my breasts.
“Have you had much reason to fight in the last three years?” he asked in the cloying quiet, only disturbed by the scratch of my bindings.
I sighed. “More reason than ever.” I fought for him. I fought for her, my twin. I fought for me.
The bindings dropped to the floor. “Throw me the dress.”
I regretted the choice to chuck it in his face.
His voice was silken. “Come and get it.”
I rolled my eyes and held a hand over my boobs. Striding back to him, I snatched up the dress and whirled, not fast enough to miss his raking look, or his sharp inhale that reminded me how he’d liked to crush my boobs between us, just like I was doing to myself.
I slipped the dress over my head. The garment slithered into place. I gritted my teeth as the material agitated my skin.
Best get this over with. I faced him and jerked my head to the door. “Stop dithering, Carmine. Your minions are waiting.”
He unfurled to his full height, then crossed to me in three large and unhurried steps. “I had a leather dress picked out before your little rebellion, Syera. Think of me every time the sylk rubs that sensitive skin of yours.”
“I will,” I replied sweetly.
He hadn’t expected that, but his brows drew in. “Because the mating ritual forces you to.”
I’d be thinking of murdering him, actually, but likely lust would take a few bites too.
Carmine lifted his forearm. His hand was tightened to a fist, palm down.
There was a time when the romantic gesture had cast butterflies into a storm in my stomach.
But the gesture was a demon one—one where the fist signified the iron heart.
I avoided his burning gaze as I rested the belly of my forearm along the back of his, then curled my fingers over his fist.
His fist was the iron heart. And my hand was the layer of defense. This shared gesture was exclusive to mates and spoke of how they strengthened one another.
A ripple ran through his body, but he wisely didn’t say a word as we left the heart of the royal fortress where his personal rooms were.
We walked side by side down the halls, then out of the lounges.
Surrounding his quarters were the banquet rooms, grand halls, and enormous communal lounges used for the very frequent festivities.
Beyond these areas, and occupying the perimeter walls of the royal fortress were bed chambers for the other royals, all powerful crimsons lucky enough to earn a spot close to Carmine.