Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Leda
My search of Bokkan’s bathroom finally turned up a widetooth comb. I winced when it caught in a snarled tangle near the crown of my head. If I hadn’t fallen asleep on his sofa with damp hair, it wouldn't be such a knotted mess.
I bit back the curse on the tip of my tongue. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Especially with his bedchamber door unlocked. But the stress of the day had taken its toll, and I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes open once I sat down.
I grimaced as my stomach growled. If the daemon didn’t return to his room soon, I would have to venture out by myself in search of food. Masu had given me a great deal of food earlier, but I’d eaten it all before my nap, hungrier than I’d realized.
When I finished combing my hair, I replaced the comb and found a bowl containing strands of leather like the ones I’d seen in Bokkan’s hair. Assuming that’s what they were for, I braided my thick, wavy hair and tied it off.
If I didn’t find something else to focus on, something to do, I would obsess over the situation I found myself in.
I curled up on the couch, draping the blanket over my lap as I stared at the cold hearth. I was in a strange place. More like another world entirely. Here, I had no rights, no money, no security. The only reason I was safe at the moment was Bokkan’s goodwill.
But how long would that last? How long before my security would be dependent on my willingness to spread my legs?
It was clear that these daemons viewed human females as property. Fuckable property at that.
I hadn’t had time to be afraid earlier, too focused on taking down the giant daemon they’d called Talus. He was taller than his commander, Guldan, and almost as tall as Bokkan. But he was leaner.
Thank God, he was slow as hell. He also telegraphed his intentions with his foot placement and shoulder position.
Avoiding his blows had been easy, but he’d also been holding back because it wouldn’t be fun to fuck a human female if she was bleeding all over the place.
I wasn’t sure I would have gotten the upper hand quite so quickly if he actually wanted to hurt me.
Or if I would have escaped without injury at all.
I picked up the knife I’d yanked from the sheath in his boot, studying the blade. It was larger than the weapons I usually practiced with, but the balance was excellent and the edge razor-sharp.
I felt better with a weapon within my reach.
I still wasn’t sure it would be enough to protect me against a daemon like Bokkan, though. He was taller, broader, and heavier than Talus, but there was something about the way he moved that warned me he would be difficult to escape.
I closed my eyes and pictured the daemon’s face.
His features were sharp and crisply hewn, as though he’d been sculpted with a chisel.
Thick black brows arching over utterly black eyes.
The straight bridge of his nose and the high cut of his cheekbones with hollows beneath them.
His lips were as defined as the rest of his face, not thin but not lush either, slightly darker than the reddish-bronze of his skin.
Though his straight black hair was long, he wore it in a tail at the base of his neck with two thin braids running tightly against his scalp above each of his pointed ears. His horns were matte black and curved up and back from his forehead, their texture reminding me of a ram’s horns.
As alien as his appearance was to me, I couldn’t deny that he was hot as hell. His face and horns, combined with his huge, muscled frame, lent him the look of a villain. And I’d always had a weakness for bad boys.
Still, if he proved himself to be no better than the other daemon males I’d met this morning, I would do everything in my power to gut him with the knife in my hand.
He said it wouldn’t be possible for me to go home yet. That his coffers were empty from reimbursing his men. Surely there was another way I could earn my keep in this world besides sex. A way to make money and pay a witch to get me home.
My fingers flexed around the handle. It was made of textured material I’d never seen before, rough enough that it wouldn’t slip in my hand even if it was covered in blood.
I couldn’t be stuck here. I just couldn’t.
The thought of having no rights, no control over my own life, made me want to scream. To break things. To stab anyone who tried to force me into submission.
I couldn’t live under the thumb of someone else. Not again.
Ever since I’d gotten away from my parents, I’d vowed I would never give anyone power over me again.
Before I could spiral further into despair, I heard heavy footsteps in the hall. I leaped to my feet, shifting my weight into a fighting stance, and lifted the knife.
There was a light tap on the door. “Leda?”
At Bokkan’s voice, some of the tension left my body, but I didn’t relax completely. “Yes?”
“Are you going to stab me if I open the door?”
I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“Maybe. It depends if you’re going to feed me again soon or not. I get cranky when I’m hungry.”
A low chuckle drifted through the door, and I shivered at the sound. His chuckle was more like the rumble of large rocks shifting against each other than laughter.
“I promise that Masu is bringing us dinner in a few moments.” He paused, and I was grateful that he couldn’t hear the growling of my stomach through the door. “So, can I come into my own bedchamber or not?”
I sighed and lowered the knife to my side. “Yes, of course.”
The door opened on silent hinges, and the daemon entered just as quietly. It was then that I realized that he wanted me to hear him coming down the hall.
He shut the door behind him and moved further into the room, but not closer to me. He kept space between us, his hands remaining at his sides, making him appear completely at ease.
I sensed that was the impression he wanted to give me.
“Do you feel better after your rest?” he asked.
I nodded, smoothing my empty hand over the shirt I wore. It covered me from my collarbones to my knees, hanging like a tent over my figure. Though it wasn’t transparent, it wasn’t heavy enough to keep the chill of the room away from my skin. Especially my bare feet.
Though I was doing everything in my power to remain expressionless, the daemon seemed to sense my discomfort.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Though I was tempted to lie and tell him I was fine, I nodded.
“I’ll have to come over there to light the fire,” he said.
“Okay.”
I backed away from the fireplace, shifting to keep the sofa between us.
His posture was casual and unbothered as he knelt in front of the fireplace.
He pushed one of the large stones to his right, and it swung open to reveal a hidden niche beside the hearth.
It was full of logs and held a basket of wood shavings and pieces of bark for kindling.
Now that I knew where the items were, I could start a fire on my own.
I watched as he laid out the logs and created a nest of wood shavings and bark.
But instead of reaching for a match or some other implement to light the fire, he leaned over the nest and snapped his fingers.
A spark fell from his hand, landing in the kindling.
Within seconds, it had flared to life, and he nudged it beneath the logs he’d carefully arranged in the fireplace.
In less than five minutes, the fire burned brightly in the fireplace, and I could feel the heat radiating from the stones.
He closed the niche that held the wood and straightened from his crouched position. Then, he moved away, keeping his distance so I could get closer to the fire without getting closer to him.
I appreciated his efforts to put me at ease, but I wasn’t ready to fully trust him. Not yet. Until I’d had enough time to assess his intentions, I wasn’t going to let down my guard.
I hadn’t realized how cold my legs and feet had gotten, and nearly moaned at the heat emanating from the fire. I found myself inching closer to the hearth, no longer worried about how close Bokkan was to me. Apparently, warmth was more important at the moment.
He eyed me closely. I was still learning to recognize expressions on the alien faces of the daemons and imps, but he appeared concerned.
Without a word, he walked over to the enormous wardrobe in the corner and began to open drawers.
After a few moments, he came back toward me with two knit sleeves gripped in his clawed fist.
When he held them out, he said, “They’re to be worn on our forearms beneath armor in the winter, but they should work to keep your feet and legs warmer.”
I would not soften toward this daemon. Not even when he showed me consideration and kindness. I couldn’t trust him, even though a small part of me wanted to.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the knit garments from him.
They were heavy and soft. I knew they would be plenty warm just by the weight of them.
“If you don’t mind me altering them, I’d like to sew one end together so they will cover my feet and stay wrapped around my toes.”
He nodded and went back to the wardrobe. A moment later, he returned with a needle and thick thread. “Will this do?”
I nodded, holding out a hand for them.
“I can sew them for you,” he offered.
“Have you ever seen a pair of socks before?” I asked, glancing down at his bare, clawed feet.
I noticed some of the monsters wore boots, and some were barefoot.
I wasn’t sure whether they wore socks beneath the soft leather boots with thick, heavy soles or if their claws would cut right through the fabric.
He shook his head.
“Then, it’s probably best if I sew them.”
The daemon handed me the needle and thread before stepping back, leaving plenty of space between us.
“I will contact one of the dressmakers in the city and see about getting you some human clothing.”
I sat on the couch, curling one leg beneath me, and draped the blanket over my lap. “Dressmaker?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.