Chapter Six
Ingrid
Having only the vaguest idea of what to expect thanks to Anumar’s verbal acrobatics, I’m entirely awe-struck by the grand ballroom full of monsters.
All shapes, sizes, and colors, some with wings or tails, those with an extra set of arms or hair that looks aflame—it’s a wild assortment of creatures I never dreamed possible, but it’s the man—.
..monster? …beast? Demon—who approaches with an unnerving calm that makes my heart race like a rabbit under the hawk’s gaze.
As the Dealmaker takes a step back, I’m left with the impression of how tall this demon is, towering above me so that I have to squint into the lights to see the top of him.
His strong, muscular shoulders are reminiscent of a bull poised to charge, an image that’s not at all helped by the thick, curved horn that sprouts above his right temple.
What remains of the horn on his left side is a jagged, broken stump.
I suppress a shudder of fear at what kind of battle could leave a mark like that on a brute like this.
This is Xandril, the demon I’ve been contracted to?
Have I made a terrible mistake agreeing to come to this world?
The sudden realization that the Dealmaker’s promise I’ll be unharmed is only worth as much as his definition of harm doesn’t sit well with my nerves.
From the waist up, the demon before me wears nothing more than a bejeweled cape.
There aren’t many other bare chests around the room, but I imagine the sharp, rock-like spikes jutting out of his shoulders and trailing down his arms make finding proper garments a challenge.
The rock-spikes extend along the outside of his arms, forming what appear to be natural gauntlets, each finger tipped with a long, deadly-looking claw.
My gaze hardly alights on his hands, drawn back to the broad expanse of scarred muscles.
With my eyes and the center of his ribcage level, it’s hard to look anywhere else.
A flush of heat spreads from my center outward, my thoughts still stuttering to catch up.
When Serenity mentioned I might encounter scandalous behavior, I don’t think she meant it would come from me.
It’s impossible to tear my attention away from him, though.
His eyes burn like coals left after a roaring fire.
His skin, what’s not covered in spikes or his paltry amount of clothing, is the same sort of impossible shifting color of my dress—dark, shadowy gray, with hints of dusky purple and a sheen of shimmering gold.
The catch of the light reveals shifts to blue and green, depending on the angle, and the overall effect is completely mesmerizing if I look too long.
And, shamefully, I find myself wanting to take a good, long look.
Outside of my family members, I haven’t seen a man so naked.
The dark fabric covering his legs combined with the cape do little for his modesty.
He may not be fully nude, but he might as well be with how my body heats at the sight.
How my mouth dries and limbs tremble, my chest buzzing with something that feels kin to fear, only far more thrilling.
His enormous, other-worldly hand encircles mine, and it’s impossible to ignore how quickly he could snap me in half.
Power radiates off of him, both from his physical size and strength and from something deeper, unseen.
The kind of power that has every pair of eyes in this room glued to him, breaths collectively held waiting for his next move.
For the briefest, stupidest moment, I wonder what it might be like to gaze into those burning-coal eyes and feel his lips against mine. Would they be as strong and rough as the rest of him? Or would I find a hidden tender part that no one else knows?
He is your employer, Ingrid! I chastise myself, suddenly all too aware how many people are watching me fawn and freeze. With any mercy, I will never see any of them again before spring.
Glancing back to the Dealmaker, I’m not sure what I’m hoping for.
Reassurance? An escape? A crack of a smile and a confession that this is all a joke and it’s time to get to mucking the stables?
Whatever it is, I don’t get it. His amber eyes are unreadable, and the nod he offers is so small I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it.
One step toward the dancefloor is all it takes for the band to begin, the sound of string music swelling to cover the whispers and questions.
I’m not dense enough to miss the fact that my appearance has made somewhat of a stir.
They’re going to have a lot more to discuss if I’m expected to dance for them—I haven’t the first clue what to do, and my feet freeze in place even while my arm tries to follow.
Xandril stops as well, and the music falters for a beat before the confused band continues with nervous looks exchanged among them. The demon lord looms over me, his presence near suffocating with the tension rolling off of him.
His hand releasing mine, his eyes dim as they narrow at me. The gathered audience is far enough away to not hear his low demand. “Am I not what you expected?”
His voice is a deep rumble I feel in my own chest, like distant thunder on a summer’s eve.
My throat tightens, so dry I can’t find my own voice for a moment.
Slowly, I shake my head. “I had no expectations, my lord,” I finally manage with minimal cracking in my voice.
“I hadn’t realized I’d be asked to dance, and I fear I’ll trip all over us both. ”
The only indication I have that he heard me over the increasingly-nervous band is a brief flare of heat behind his smoldering eyes.
With the weight of everyone watching so closely, I don’t have the chance to decipher what that strange light could mean.
He leans down, moving in to speak close to my ear.
He smells of faint wood smoke and fresh-tilled fields after a rainstorm, and his warm breath stirs the loose hairs at my temple when he says, “Don’t let go. ”
Those three little words leave me more confused than ever, but I don’t have time to wonder.
He pulls me toward him, his hands settling to their respective places, and a sudden weightlessness takes hold of me.
My stomach drops, feet hovering a hair’s breadth off the floor.
I understand Xandril’s direction when he takes a step, sweeping me along.
Heart leaping to my throat, all I can do is cling to him, one hand in his, the other searching for safe purchase among his spiky exterior.
With the room twirling around me, I have no space to hesitate or debate the propriety of taking hold of his bare side.
It’s that or lose my balance and fall on my behind.
Xandril’s side is muscled and warm and the flush that overcomes me from being so close to him leaves me short of breath.
Is it the heat radiating off of him in contrast with the cold surroundings?
The weight of so many other-worldly eyes following my every move like an oddity on display—or prey to be hunted?
The tight bodice of my fantastical gown isn’t helping matters, and the loss of my own footing, being at the whims of this strange man, makes my head spin.
Focusing on Xandril and the way he seems to know just how to move across the dancefloor is all that keeps the room from spinning, too.
My stomach twists into knots, a lump rising in my throat as the weight of the tangle I’ve made for myself starts to settle on me.
This might be worse than all of Phillip’s tangles combined. A lifetime’s worth all at once.
Emboldened by our movement, the band picks up the pace, the music’s speed increasing along with my thoughts’. The room blurs, colors swimming in a dizzying haze while the edges fuzz into a dark tunnel.
I manage to conceal any distress I’m feeling from the demon lord, and mercifully, the music stops, giving me some respite.
Turning us both toward the main portion of the gathered crowd, he raises our joined hands, the gap between my feet and the floor shrinking slowly enough that my skirts don’t move.
“I present my bloodsworn bride!” he announces just as I reconnect with the frigid ground.
…Did he… Did he say bride? My knees fail to collect my weight, buckling beneath me as the rest of the room fades into the tunnel.