Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Val
A ny minute now, I’ll meet the demon king for a mandatory summons.
I’ve got this. I’ve met plenty of powerful and influential people before. Okay, not royals, but Hollywood fake royalty can’t be that different, right?
Regardless of how tense this summons makes Theo.
He took his already uptight norm and dialed it to the gazillionth power.
His blink wrong and I’ll murder you energy sent the glamazon crew Nic arranged for me running from the room before I slipped into the deep red evening gown required for my presentation to the king. They finished my hair and makeup in a Cinderella-style magical makeover. From the perfectly styled waves they gave me to my smudge-proof red lipstick, their potions and spells outshine even the best from Bonetti Beauty.
Theo taps on the dressing room door.
Yeah… I hadn’t realized the suite had an enormous closet filled with clothes and shoes in my size, a vanity complete with luxury lighting around the mirror, a ginormous crystal chandelier hanging above, and a tufted circular bench done completely in ivory velvet. Every time I think I’ve explored the suite, I find another room—but not a second bedroom. Although I guess Shadowvale would magic me one if I asked.
When I ask , I remind myself. Not if.
No matter how hurt Theo might be, I can’t risk spending another night in his bed or waking another morning wanting to stay cozied up to him.
When he walked me back to the suite with his wing draped over me and pulling me tighter to him, I felt safe and almost cherished, even if that was as much of an illusion as the enchantment they put on my bejeweled bag to make the clutch large enough on the inside to hide Monty in his mongoose form. Heck, I could stash a suitcase of stuff in there.
Theo knocks again. Louder now. “Are you ready?”
“Almost.” Did I lose track of time? Am I late? I step into the dress, being careful to avoid catching it on the stiletto heels that could double as daggers, and draw the silky fabric over my hips, tugging the zipper up. It sticks. I try again. Nope. It’s not moving. I glance at Monty who’s curled up asleep on a pile of clothes, his tail over his nose. No wardrobe help will be coming from my soul guardian. I raise my voice to call to Theo. “Can you give me a hand?”
He cracks the door open as if testing if I’m luring him into a trap for some stabby fun, and I have the pleasure of watching him freeze. I’ve flummoxed the unshakeable prince.
“You look amazing.” His voice goes rough, catching on that posh accent of his, and I want to hand him one of Meg’s romance novels and demand he read the dirty parts to me.
“Thanks?” Great . I sound like I’m not sure if he’s my mate, my prom date, or the pizza guy who has shown up with an extra-large cheesy flatbread. Focus . Shit, I have zero ability to quiet all the noise in my brain right now. “Am I running late?” Story of my distracted life .
“No. We still have a few minutes.” He stoops to fit his wings through the doorway and walks inside, and I take in the full demon prince form, complete with leather armor and shoulder things that make me think of Vikings and hot guys on a movie screen screaming “Sparta!” The black armor stands out even more against his crimson skin, matching the places where his scarlet fades to ebony.
His claws and horns have a glossy obsidian look in this light, and he’s not bothering to hide the ruby of his eyes. He left his hair long, and I want to wrap the cherry-red tips of those strands around my fingers.
His swagger has fully returned, the momentary shock at the transformation of my makeover having passed. For a moment, I wish I could stun him again. My gaze drifts lower to his abs, and I’m working up the courage to keep going when I catch sight of a familiar bag in his hand.
“My purse.” Joy radiates through me. I haven’t seen it since I tossed it in the lockbox of the haunted house. In the turmoil of dimension hopping and missing my friends and my entire world, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed my stuff.
I reach for the bag, letting go of the beaded bodice, and the expensive gown pools at my feet with a loud swish . Once again, I’m reminded of how microscopic my attention span is today.
Theo’s gaze locks on my body, and I fight the instinct to do a little shimmy to celebrate whatever magic they sewed into this lingerie. It’s soft despite the lace, supportive despite the peekaboo teasing of its tailoring, and it nips and tucks in all the right places without cutting off my circulation. I could do cartwheels in this and not have a wardrobe malfunction like I do every single show. I want ten of these corset things. Until then, I’ll enjoy this one and its obvious devastation over a certain demon prince’s self-control.
I don’t realize I’ve spaced out until Theo’s standing in front of me, wings tucked tightly. This close, I can make out each claw mark across his chest and arms from the fight earlier. Deep purple bruising spreads over his skin. Here he is hurting, and I’m staring off into space.
“I zoned out,” I tell him. “It happens. I mean I try, but today’s been a lot, and my ADHD…” How do I explain neurodiversity to a demon?
“What do you need?” he asks.
“You’re not going to ask if that’s a real thing? Or tell me to just try harder?” I search his face for the judgment lacking in his tone, and there’s nothing. He’s not being dismissive or patronizing. He’s just being… Theo . “Why are you handling what I said so well?”
Of all the things I’ve done that could have potentially set him off today, my questions—which are reasonable given past experiences—have his claws clenching into fists and his eyes going horror-flick fiery. “Who didn’t handle it so well?” He stresses the words he repeats back to me like they’re blasphemy.
I could pretend I didn’t hear him or simply deny his obvious conclusions, but what would be the fun in that? It’s so much more entertaining to tease him. “Why? What are you going to do about it?”
“Kill them. Slowly.”
Shit , I think he’s serious, and I don’t want to admit how much his crazy protective vibe turns me on. “Uh, you asked what I needed. This thing tonight, the meeting with your dad, how big of a deal is it? I mean, how important?” Please for the love of all that’s holy, I need him to stop my rambling.
“Really fucking important.” He sighs, and I’m just glad he’s going along with my change in subject until his tail curls around his booted feet with a reticence unlike my arrogant prince. “My father hasn’t been acting like himself.” Theo threads so much hesitation and hidden meaning through those words that I feel like this is a serious convo to have in my underwear.
But I don’t want to interrupt when we’ve come so far with our temporary truce. “Yeah?”
“It’s a private matter we don’t want the royal court to know, and my father hasn’t disclosed the problems with the portals outside immediate family.”
The realization that his father is the government here hits me. “So you’re basically bringing me in on classified information?”
He nods.
“My meds are in my purse. They’ll help me focus.”
His horns lift, yet his tail—it sneaks closer to me, wrapping around my ankle. He scowls, but it’s not a scary one. I’m coming to recognize it as his possessive, overprotective prince expression. “My family shouldn’t force you to feel you have to medicate if you’re uncomfortable?—”
“It’s for me.” I pat his chest, lingering on the smooth muscles while dodging the claw marks and bruises. My touch shuts him up. “Not for them, but thank you.”
He picks up my purse from the ottoman, the big bag looking small in his claws. I root through it while he holds it, acting like this is completely normal for us. I can almost imagine we’ve done this before when he hands me a bottle of water while I pop a pill. But when he takes the prescription and water bottles away as I wiggle the dress up again, his wings brush against my hip, and the zing of desire for more that hits me is anything but ordinary.
My heart picks up in a frantic pace, having nothing to do with the stimulant I just downed.
“Theo?” All boss bitch certainty has bled out of my voice, and I hate myself for being so vulnerable in front of him. Being half-dressed doesn’t bother me. I’ve been filmed in less for the show. But this demon strips away the mental armor I’ve spent years crafting, and I can’t stand my sudden doubts. I remind myself he doesn’t want me for me . He wants what I can do for him, whatever power he’ll gain through a mate. Any mate the Fates had tossed his way.
Yet when he trails the back of a single claw up the side of the low-backed bustier from my waist to the curve of my breast, he does a damn convincing job of making me believe I could be the one he would choose, regardless of the magic. He doesn’t answer me, doesn’t look me in the eyes. No, he simply watches as he drags that delicious slow touch along the edge of the lingerie.
Time to be brave again. After all, it worked in the cyclops’ battle. “I didn’t imagine the almost kiss before Nic came in, did I?” I ask.
His gaze flicks to my lips. “Gods, I wish we had time for a taste.”
Heat rushes low in my belly. The roughness of his voice, the momentary lapse of that posh accent into something darker? I shouldn’t . “We do.” The answer falls out of my mouth before my brain kicks in. I’m cursing my lack of impulse control when he splays his hand over the small of my back. My skin erupts, and I crave more of that possessive touch.
Forget a kiss.
I need to figure out how to climb my demon prince and take care of the need thrumming through me.
He drops his claws from my skin and pulls the zipper between two knuckles, twisting it past the stuck spot and tugging it upward, one agonizing inch at a time. “We don’t.”
“What? Why not?” That’s not a whine in my voice. Really .
“Because I’ll take my time with you. I’ll drink you down until you’re begging me for more, and then I’ll deny you. I’ll drag out your pleasure, one delicious drop of your wet pussy after another until you’re panting.”
Oh fuck, I might be panting now, but Theo isn’t finished.
“I’ll have you drenched and shaking,” he promises, arrogant and sure of himself, and damn, I’m having trouble catching a breath. “You’ll crave me and my cocks.”
Wait. My mind stutters on the last. “Cocks?” He hums a decadent, naughty sound so wicked that it almost distracts me from my question. But no. I’m not letting this go. I didn’t imagine what he said. “As in plural?”
“Two. Think you can take both? I’ll pull you over my thighs so you ride one until you’re nearly passed out from climaxing, and then I’ll flip you over and drive the other into you so I can fuck you until you scream.”
My legs wobble, and I sway. His filthy words paint a picture so vivid that my body clenches as if he’s already pushing inside me.
“One last thing,” he says, kneeling in front of me.
Dear god, I could get used to the sight of him on his knees.
I whimper because while he has barely touched me, I’m already more turned on than I’ve ever been. If he plans to make good on a fraction of his promises, I might die.
He extends his hand into the empty air as if imploring Shadowvale for something. The jeweled dagger the castle magicked me last night along with the thigh holster appears in his palm.
“I would hate having you wear a slit this high in court except it’s proving useful.” The temptation in his tone wraps around me in a tension so thick I could slice through it with the blade. “I would teach you how to better use the dagger, but I think you’d use any lessons against me.”
“I wouldn’t. Probably.” I’m not sure if I’m talking to myself or Theo with how gone I am since he’s playing my body like he knows every sensual trick to make me want more from him. The ache within me builds, a pressure I can’t relieve. Not without a release. And damn him, he has to know that. “Stop toying with me.”
He looks up at me from his place on his knees, his long hair framing monstrous features that make my fingertips tingle with the need to touch. “I haven’t even begun to toy with you.” His breath brushes hot against my core, and I shiver.
With achingly thorough care, he buckles the blade to my thigh, brushing his claws up toward my panties, and oh god, I think I’ll orgasm the second he reaches my clit.
Except he stops short of it.
The bastard stops.
He gets to his feet and turns me to face the full-length mirror, straightening my clothes as though he hasn’t reduced me to a sticky puddle of need. My vision constricts to the reflection of the vibrant contrast of his scarlet skin against my pale flush.
“I would prefer you naked,” he says against my hair, “but you make the dress beautiful.”
Dress? Oh yeah, the one he zipped me into. He’s right. The dark red tapers from a deep V neckline to a nipped waist before spilling into a full skirt. The attached cape in sheer gossamer gives the gown a fantasy look. I could’ve stepped out of a luxurious, Renn Faire-themed costume ball as a great fae lady.
Or a demon princess.
Theo straightens. “Ready?”
I am more than ready.
He glances to Monty. “Soul guardian, if you’re coming, then get in the bag and don’t show your furry face tonight. We don’t need you sparking another demon war.”
I’m still in a daze when we teleport. I close my eyes tightly until the whooshing sensation passes. Nausea has me flinching, but the sickness isn’t as bad this time. With a firm hold on Theo’s forearm and the bag holding Monty, I steady myself, taking a deep breath in and out.
“Welcome to the Infernal Palace,” Theo says in a tone that’s anything but welcoming.
I open my eyes and wish I hadn’t. “What the actual hell, Theo?”