Chapter 3
Oziel
Flickering lights from sconces illuminate my pathway.
The soft, almost imperceptible sound of my footfalls echoes behind me.
I’ve walked this hallway many times, as have many demon kings before me.
The hallway is a testament to ancient, malevolent grandeur.
The walls are carved with intricate, infernal runes that pulse with a deep crimson glow, casting eerie patterns onto the cold, polished floor.
Ruby-red framework adorns the obsidian walls with portraits of my ancestors hanging in each one.
I can’t help but think that their beady eyes follow my every move, judging me harshly for what has befallen this kingdom during my reign.
Usually, they would give me pause, but today is different.
I reach a set of grand doors with golden accents splashed against the dark wood.
The soft sound of hauntingly beautiful music drifts through the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning incense and brimstone.
There’s something else there too, a heady, musty scent.
No longer is the music the only sound emerging from the room, but lustful sighs, moans, and grunts dilute the piano’s melody.
My eyes narrow. The party has started without me. I wave my clawed hand, sharp nails scraping the door. They burst open, and the smells and sounds assault my senses. It’s intoxicating, a perfect distraction from the curse plaguing my demons.
I pause before stepping inside, surveying the debauchery before me and demons in various states of undress and compromising positions.
The ballroom is the largest room in the castle, spanning the size of three formal dining rooms. Much like the rest of the castle, the obsidian-black tiles blend into the walls, making the room feel endless and caving in on you all at the same time.
Floor-to-ceiling windows line one of the walls, bathing the room in starlight.
I stalk in, and a few demons engaging in sexual acts meet my gaze.
A woman is on her hands and knees, with a male demon thrusting into her from behind and another cock fucking her mouth.
She pulls back, a string of saliva hanging from her lips, black claws reaching out, beckoning me.
“My king, join us. Let us serve you,” she moans.
The demons never cease their pleasure parties, thriving on sinful temptation.
Normally, I would take the succubus up on her offer, but the pleasure she and the male succubi will give me pales in comparison to the news I received earlier.
Still, I reach out my claws, sharp nails digging into her skin.
The succubus’s eyes roll back, a small gasp leaving her lips.
“Perhaps next time.”
“Yes, my king,” she manages to say before a cock is thrust back into her mouth at a punishing pace.
I make my way to the chair that awaits me on the far side of the room. A throne made of bones and sinew, polished together, creates a stark reminder of life’s fragility and my power here.
But if you ask me, it’s a bit much.
I’m not alone when I reach my throne, draping my body over the chair. The piece is more a symbol of power than of comfort, but I don’t plan on being here long. It’s important I make my presence known, but in the back of my mind, I’m waiting to meet her.
“Garvan,” I say to my courtier, who has taken up his normal position at my side. “Voyeurism is beneath you. Join in. Indulge.”
Just as expected, my courtier blushes. As far as demons go, he’s modest and cares too much about his pride and dignity. Makes for a boring advisor but a disciplined one.
“I don’t care to participate in such…follies, my king.” Garvan says “follies” as if the word personally offends him.
I regard my second, a demon I’ve known most of my life. He was a child when we met—we both were. We grew up, not as friends, because kings rarely have true friends due to the power imbalance, but as confidants. He was an easy choice when I ascended to the throne and had to choose a courtier.
Despite being fully clothed in a room full of nude and mostly nude demons, Garvan stands out.
He wears a sharp tailored suit in midnight blue with elongated lapels.
His gray horns—smaller than most demons’—are adorned with silver chains.
Garvan is slender and tall, awkward in his own body.
He wears his meekness like a mask, but it’s all a facade.
I’ve seen this man rip heads from bodies and hearts from chests.
People underestimate him, which makes him perfect as my spy and confidant.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” I murmur, never having seen him do more than kiss another. I don’t quite know his preference for male or female. Most demons don’t limit themselves to just one gender. Where’s the fun in that?
“Are you certain this is appropriate?” Garvan asks. Near him, a rather rambunctious couple slams into a wall, fucking in a frenzy to see who will orgasm faster. It’s a game we play, one I find quite fun but have no time to play today.
“I mean, with everything going on, shouldn’t we—”
“Whether or not we fuck is not going to stop the curse. Let them indulge while they can.” I wave my hand, cutting him off. I grow tired of this conversation. If it were up to Garvan, he’d have the demons locked away in their homes, isolated.
The curse isn’t a sickness. It can’t be caught from an infected person. No demon is safe. It’s a game of chance and not one I like playing. Especially when the odds are stacked against me.
So, no, stopping the sex-induced haze as a form of escapism will do nothing but leave me with horny and anxious demons. With them occupied, I have been able to put my efforts in other places. And I think I’ve succeeded, if this morning was any indication.
My lips pull up into a smile, a deep laugh escaping from the back of my throat. Garvan’s black eyes bore into me, a burning question on his tongue. My courtier isn’t one to stay curious for long though.
“You seem pleased, my king. Is it because Ender is bringing the human here today?”
Ah, yes, that. The entire reason I’m not indulging in tonight’s activities.
“Is that today?”
My question doesn’t amuse Garvan, and he frowns. His black eyes flash, but not with anger. No, Garvan is smart enough to never show anger toward me in person. Behind my back though…well, he probably still doesn’t.
No, there is something akin to fear in his expression, but I don’t know why.
Still, I let him stew with his fear for a little while longer.
I know quite well my betrothed is on her way to me.
I sought out Ender after Malix called a meeting with all the kings in Mescos.
I watched from my throne as their people suffered, fed off it, even, but then watched the human women take on the curse and end up victorious each time.
If I want to win—and I always want to win—I know my best chances are with a human mate. It’s been months since I’ve reached out to Ender. So long, in fact, I assumed he forgot about me, until he reached out a week ago and promised to hand-deliver my bride.
Unlike the other kings, I don’t plan on sitting around as my kingdom unfolds before me. I will not run away from the dangers but embrace them with open arms. Which is exactly what I’m doing.
And it has worked for me so far.
I got word this morning from a servant that my guards—or rather what remains of them—were successful on their endeavor.
The task at hand was to track and locate a Nephilim, horrid and vile creatures set on claiming Mescos as their own.
We’ve been tracking a group that branched off from the others, lurking too close to my border.
My guards tracked one down. But not to kill, no. A dead Nephilim is useless to me. Their instructions were clear. Bring the creature to me. Alive.
And now, if the information I was given is to be believed, and I have no reason to think otherwise, a Nephilim is imprisoned in the dungeon below the castle.
Which is a reason to smile.
As eager as I am to visit the cursed beast caged in my dungeon, Ender and my human bride will be here soon. I push myself off the uncomfortable throne, rolling my shoulders.
“Garvan, come with me.” I make my way back across the room. More drinks and aphrodisiacs are passed from demon to demon, heightening an already frenzied sex party.
“Where are we going, sir?” Garvan follows behind me like a shadow, mimicking my path to the doors.
A man reaches out, running a hand down my courtier’s chest. Garvan tenses before pushing off his advance and quickening his step to stay close to me.
It would be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.
Garvan’s avoidance of touch is part of the reason he’s so rigid.
A good fuck would loosen him right up, but alas, he seems content with a life of celibacy.
“To meet Ender, of course. You're to be my wife’s babysitter.”
Garvan stops talking after that and follows me to the courtyard in silence.