16
I sink lower into the tub and exhale a deep breath. I release my thoughts about the Demon King, who left me alone just a few minutes ago with the instruction to change into the clothes laid out on the bed and make myself presentable.
He was aroused. Darya wanted me.
And I burned between my thighs.
I sigh and submerge beneath the water. My chest is heavy with saturated emotions. I’ve fallen under Darya’s spell. I desire him. I hate him.
You don’t hate me, Lotte – you hate yourself.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe the Demon King knows me better than I know myself.
Maybe I don’t hate him as much anymore. Why would I, really?
Besides the fact that he’s a demon who kidnaps children.
I know nothing about their world, and maybe it’s not so bad for the children here after all.
My breath runs out, and I break the surface. As I wipe the moisture from my eyes, I freeze. Two fiery, coffee-brown eyes stare at me from the doorway.
“Out, bitch, and get dressed!” It would take centuries to master the contempt in Léthé’s voice.
I defensively clasp my hands in front of my bare body.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
A sharp smile spreads across her face, and she prowls toward me like a jaguar. In an instant, I leap out of the tub and grab my towel.
“That’s better.” Léthé nods. “I don’t like babysitting.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Darya sent me,” she says with disgust.
“And you do whatever he wants,” I mutter.
She waits a moment before responding.
“He’s our ruler. If you think he’ll ever do anything for you, you’re very mistaken.”
I don’t doubt that, though I wish I could.
“So, are you going to braid my hair?” I mock.
She snorts. “If I can avoid touching you, that would be nice. The instruction is to escort you to the ceremony on time, appropriately dressed. At least something like that, but there was no mention of laying a finger on you. Now, get rid of that bath sheet and dress yourself! If I have to intervene, your bones will regret it!”
I’d be na?ve not to take the warning literally.
I don’t like the idea of being naked, vulnerable in front of Léthé, but I discard the towel and put on my underwear.
From the corner of my eye, I see the mermaid looking at me, and her expression alters, if only for a moment.
My body has changed over the past three months.
I never had a bad figure, but now I am more toned my breast size has remained the same.
The clothes I wore three months ago no longer fit me.
I confidently turn to Léthé and put on the long white dress.
It clings tightly to my chest, leaving an inviting neckline, then flows loosely and drapes over my now well-defined thighs.
I take out the makeup brought by Nárs and discover yet another new addition.
The dark purple, almost black lipstick could have been smuggled in when I wasn’t here.
I apply it generously, then prepare the perfect foundation and eyebrows.
As I stand up and look into the mirror, I like what I see and know from Léthé’s disdainful glance that others will like it too.
My confidence doesn’t last long. As we leave my cell, I regret being so provocative.
I try to shrink into myself as much as possible.
Demons gather around us, but they keep a respectful distance.
I feel like a white light that’s drawing attention to itself in a dark cave.
A shiver runs down my spine as I sense that spicy earthy scent, the same one I felt when that demon attacked.
I grimace. Léthé visibly enjoys my discomfort.
“You better get used to the idea that if you ever transform and don’t die – which I would deeply regret – this is how you’ll look.”
“Like this?” the question slips out of my mouth as I glance towards the black skeletal demons. Léthé shrugs.
“We can’t really know. I don’t look like this.”
“Then how?”
“It’s better you don’t know until you have to. Not many survive my demon form. Or even the human one.”
“Why are you in human form?” I ask.
“Darya is in human form too, and it doesn’t bother you, does it?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. I hadn’t even thought about what Darya might look like.
“He is,” I begin, gesturing around, “like this when he transforms?”
“The Demon King’s form is unparalleled. So is mine. That’s why we’re perfect together, and have been for hundreds of years now.” I sense the threat in her words.
“I heard you also came from my world,” I say, referring to what Nárs had said about Darya picking up Léthé from a slavetrading ship in the middle of a storm. She nods.
“That’s right. Darya saved me, and even then, he knew that I would become a special demon. He personally oversaw my training.”
I glance over her black, short jumpsuit. Most of her chest is exposed, but the neckline reaching down to her navel isn’t as conspicuous as the almost panty-sized shorts.
“And did the Demon King personally have your military uniform tailored for you?”
She doesn’t take the bait, but rather smiles triumphantly.
“I often need it for my work, and besides, why cover up what looks good?”
I try to hate and scorn her, but I have to admit, this woman is truly beautiful.
Maybe her strength lies in proudly wearing her flaws as wonders, making everyone feel like there’s nothing lacking in her.
At least, I can’t find anything besides her arrogance and killer instinct, which would be a problem.
Maybe these are even attractive to Darya.
The crimson light is replaced by the sunlight shining through small openings.
I know where we’re going before we step into the spacious, root-covered room.
A sense of calm settles in my chest. The marvelous grayish-red branches of the tree lazily reach out across the chamber, touching the edges of the walls.
The surrounding, crumbling earth initially seems like lifeless mud, but as I step closer, I see it’s the result of the perfect symbiosis between the tree and the space.
The plant seems to emphasize that, while Darya may be the king of demons, it rules over all of Filizi’s land.
And there he stands. By the trunk of the tree.
The black claws of the Kraldem rest on his elbows, his clasped arms accentuating his muscular shoulders.
Black teardrop tattoos emerge from the corner of his eyes, nicely lining his curved lips, before disappearing under the leather shirt reaching up to his neck.
His gaze sweeps over me, and a small gap forms between his lips, as if he were hissing.
“Shall we go?” the mermaid next to me asks uninterestedly.
“Léthé,” Darya addresses her firmly. “Leave us.”
Disdainful ridges appear on the woman’s face.
“The ceremony is about to begin,” she says tensely.
“We’ll be there,” Darya says, waving off her concern and approaching us, but he only looks into my eyes as if Léthé doesn’t even exist. My heart pounds again, and it feels like hundreds of spiders are running under my skin.
The mermaid sighs, and I see her angry gaze from the corner of my eye, then she turns on her heel and leaves. But when Darya looks down at me with his piercing eyes, I can only swallow in my embarrassment.
“Come!” He puts his cold hand on the small of my back and leads me to the tree.
“Touch its trunk!”
“What? It didn’t go so well yesterday…”
“Aren’t you curious to find out if anything has changed?” I’m afraid to touch the tree.
After a moment, I change my mind. What’s the worst that could happen?
I touch it, and calm washes over me again. I don’t think about grief. I don’t think about how little I am to Darya. I’m just enough. Without worry, I take my hand away.
“What… what was that? Why didn’t I feel overwhelmed?” I ask, as Darya leans closer to me. He places his hand on the tree, towering over me now, and I turn my back to the trunk.
“You felt what it’s like when you truly allow yourself to be happy.”
He leans closer to me.
“Will it always be like this now?” I ask, but in such a choked voice that I can barely hear myself.
The Demon King shakes his head.
“Faith is transient. Believing in ourselves is the hardest. Touch the tree again!” he commands.
I press my back against the trunk. Calm floods over me, euphoria fills me, and warm waves shake my body, numbing my skin. I can’t retreat anymore, but I don’t want to either. I just let Darya get closer to me, and in this ecstasy, he kisses me.
His lips are cold and yet heat pours within me.
His mouth rests on mine as if waiting for something, then slowly starts moving.
He explores. Waits for me to respond, and I do.
I hold his lower lip between mine, and he does the same.
One of his hands still rests on the tree, the other slides under my dress to my waist, pressing his entire body against mine. I sigh.
My back touches the trunk, so I still feel the wavelike sensation. I release the tree with my hand and wrap my arm around Darya.
Not a single consequence crosses my mind. Darya senses my openness, and his lips become even more demanding, his tongue finding mine. His hand slips under my dress at my waist, then down to my legs beneath my skirt, as if unsure how much he demands from me.
“You… are perfect,” he murmurs against my lips, igniting tiny fireworks on my skin.
The demon’s firm hand already grips my bare thigh, and the sound rising from my throat only urges him to go further, which he does.
He’s at my hips now. I feel his fingers on my underwear, slowly sliding down towards my sensitive areas.
I dig into his hair, lifting myself onto his waist with my legs.
The demon growls, pressing me against the tree.
Darya devours. He drags his rough tongue down my neck, then finds my lips again. He kisses deeply, wildly, depriving me of air. I feel the warmth between my legs, feel his desire, and mine, too. His hand explores the inner part of my hips, and I can only moan, begging him to continue.
And then suddenly he stops. He takes his hand out from under my skirt, separates our swollen lips, and places his forehead against mine. Only our breathing echoes in the room; mine faster, his deeper, like a predatory growl. I whimper in protest.
“After… the ceremony,” he groans out, as if each word spoken is torture for him. Then he opens his eyes and looks straight at me.
“We must go now,” he adds, and then let’s go. I detach from the plant, no longer feeling the warming sensation of euphoria. Instead, thoughts, solutions, worries return about what I just did. Yet I so badly wish he would press his body against mine again.
Darya also gathers himself enough to take a step back from me. It’s hard for the Demon King not to finish what he started. With me .
“After the ceremony, if you feel like it, we can come back.” He offers his arm, and his seductive smile is like a shared secret between us.
It’s something we don’t need to say out loud – we both know what the other is thinking.
I can’t resist smiling, and I can only hope that my flushed face and smile don’t present a pathetic sight.
But Darya’s expression becomes serious. He steps beside me, holds my face between his hands, and kisses me sternly, decisively. Before I can react, he pushes himself away from me. Once again, I can barely breathe.
He wraps his arm around mine without permission and pulls me towards the entrance.
“If you smile like that, I’ll find it hard to resist,” he says. Not a sound comes out of my throat, and I just follow the Kraldem, wherever he is dragging me.