Chapter 6
Isabelle
Meeting my future demon husband went…fine, I guess. That is definitely not a sentence I ever thought I would say, but here we are. Yet, as I walked away from the demon and Ender, I couldn’t help but feel…let down? That’s not quite the right word. Maybe underwhelmed.
I just left my perfectly normal world in favor of a supernatural world where demons and who knows what else roams free. Anyone would be feeling a sense of disbelief and tremendous fear. A normal reaction to being a non-powerful human in a world full of powerful creatures.
Except all I feel is numb.
Numb and so very tired.
“Miss Sinclair—”
“Please, if you want to protect your peace and mine, you’ll call me Isabelle.” I do my best to suppress my mounting frustration due to the headache pounding in my skull. The migraine is coming on with a vengeance, and even the soft footfalls of my companion grate on my nerves.
“Isabelle,” Garvan corrects. “Would you care for a tour of the castle?”
“I imagine it’s more black furnishings and demons walking around, yeah?” I peer at him through my peripheral vision. I haven’t seen any other demons yet, but I’m certain they’re here. Somewhere.
Garvan chuckles, his hair bouncing with his movements. He reminds me of a professor, slightly nerdy and kind. Can demons even be kind? I suspect I’ll figure that out soon enough.
“Perhaps another time,” he says, not deterred by my less than enthusiastic response. “I’ll take you to your rooms then.”
We walk in silence down the hallway of the massive estate. Garvan’s blond hair is a beacon in an otherwise dark space. Light doesn’t belong here, and my eyes desperately try to adjust to the darkness. The dark is good for my migraine, but not so good for my sight.
Garvan stops abruptly, and I crash into his back, knocking the air from my lungs. “Fuck.” I catch my balance before I fall on my ass.
“Are you okay?” Garvan asks, amusement lacing his words. I think the bastard is laughing at me. I take back my kindness comment from earlier.
“Just peachy, Gar, just peachy,” I mumble, pretending I don’t hear him laugh as he opens the door to my new room. I’m hit with the smell of burning incense, a mixture of vanilla and wild berries. Garvan steps aside, not passing the threshold into my room, but allowing me to walk past him.
The room is lit by an enormous wrought-iron chandelier, its flickering candles casting eerie shadows that dance across stone walls.
A deep crimson canopy bed dominates the chamber.
The tall posts are carved with twisting, skeletal forms, and the canopy’s velvet drapes pooling onto the black marble floor look like spilled blood.
The bed is layered with dark silks and furs, providing a stark contrast to the cold, hard surfaces of the room.
It’s…a lot.
But there’s more to it. A fire burns in a massive fireplace, heating the room to a near uncomfortable level. The only reprieve comes from the gust of cool air filtering in through an arched window shrouded in heavy black curtains.
“The washroom is just down the hall, and your wardrobe will be delivered later this evening,” Garvan says from his perch by the door. “I will have a hot meal sent up and inform King Oziel that you are getting settled in.”
“I’m sure the king is very worried about my well-being.”
Not catching on to my sarcasm, Garvan nods. “He is. Your presence here is important to us all.”
“And what exactly is my presence doing? Why does your all-mighty demon king need a human wife?” I whirl around to face Garvan, crossing my arms over my chest.
To his credit, Garvan doesn’t look down at my boobs that I inadvertently pushed up. “I’m afraid that is not my place to tell you. King Oziel will need to be the one to have that discussion with you.”
I figured as much, but I had to test the waters.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Then I want to be left alone. I haven’t slept in…
” God, I don’t even remember. How long ago did I kill James?
Two…three days ago? And leading up to his death, I slept like shit, my mind working in overdrive and not allowing me a moment of peace.
“Of course, I’ll let you rest.” Garvan reaches for the door to pull it shut.
“Is there a lock on the door?” I ask, strolling over to him.
“Yes, but—”
“Perfect, thank you.” I cut him off and close the door in his face. I don’t have the energy to feel bad about it as I lock the heavy door. There’s no way anyone is getting in, at least not without waking me up.
The moment I’m alone, everything I have been running from finally catches up with me. Fear. Anger. Hurt. All the emotions hit me at once, like a heavy load placed upon my shoulders, threatening to pull me under. I let my backpack fall to the ground, relieving my shoulders of some tension.
I left in such a hurry and was so distracted, I didn’t pack any clothes to sleep in. So, instead, I undo my jeans and let them pool around my feet before stepping out and kicking them in a pile by the wall. I quickly add my bra to the pile and climb into bed in nothing but my shirt and underwear.
The blankets are soft against my skin, feeling like heaven after being forced to stay in a cold, hard cell. The heat doesn’t even bother me as I slip under the mound of blankets into the softest damn mattress I’ve ever been on. Marrying a demon is worth it if I get this mattress.
The second my head hits the silk pillow, sleep claims me.
That’s when the dreams begin.
Rain pelts down on the sidewalk. Leaves from the large oak blow away in the wind, littering the ground. It’s late, close to midnight, and yet I can’t sleep. My body needs to move, which is why I’m outside in the rain. I don’t feel it, though.
The rain, that is.
It’s oddly quiet for a storm. No thunder and even the falling rain sounds faint. Like I’m behind a window, watching from the inside.
I have no destination in mind, letting my body tell me where it wants to go. I think I’m searching for something, but I don’t know what it is exactly. I haven’t lost anything…
My body hits a brick wall, and I go flying back, landing on the sidewalk unceremoniously. The soft tap of boots heads toward me, and I jerk my head up.
I didn’t hit a brick wall. I hit…
Brown boots with what looks like dirt on them. My eyes trail up to an old pair of jeans that have been washed one too many times but still hold the stains from their journey. The person wears a plain t-shirt with a dark stain over the chest. Dirt? No…not dirt, something else. Blood?
My eyes widen as I reach the face of this mysterious person. Staring back at me are soulless black eyes and a bloody smile. James laughs, taking a step closer. I desperately search for a weapon, but suddenly the world around me fades to nothing but James and me.
“You killed me.” The words come out of James’s mouth, but it doesn’t sound like James. It sounds like multiple people speaking at once.
I open my mouth to reply, but it’s dry, and no words come out. I remind myself I don’t regret killing him, because I don’t. He needed to die. But I do regret killing him too late. I should have done something before he took my sister.
James laughs again, and then in a speed I can’t follow, he pounces on me. Large, rough hands wrap around my neck, cutting off my oxygen. I fight, trying to claw his eyes with my nails. Trying to kick him off. But nothing is working.
And the world is getting darker.
Smaller.
And then…
I shoot up in bed, gripping my neck. My breathing comes out in labored pants as if I just ran a mile in the sun rather than wake up from a bad dream. And that is all it was. A dream.
“Interesting,” a masculine voice says from next to me.
I scream and grab the closest weapon I can find, which happens to be a candleholder. I fling it in the direction of the voice, but it misses his body by a few inches, shattering against the wall.
Oziel lurks in the shadows of the bedroom.
He looks so natural in the dark, as if he was born from it and commands it.
He could, for all I know. My body betrays me as something coils low in my belly.
Oziel looks just as good as he did earlier, donning the same black attire.
New silver rings adorn his horns, and I’m tempted to reach out and touch them. I won’t though.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I demand, forcing myself to stop ogling him. “I locked the door.” I remember specifically turning the latch and making sure it was locked once Garvan left.
“You think a lock will stop me from getting to you?”
His words should not send heat straight to my core. They should piss me off—which they do—but something else stirs within me. Something I don’t allow myself to dwell on for too long.
Oziel pushes off the wall and stalks closer. I reach for the blankets and pull them tighter around me, wishing I had more clothes. Not that I’m indecent, but the way Oziel scans my body makes me feel completely exposed to him.
“You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” Which is a lie. My stomach outs me a moment later, deciding it’s the perfect time to growl.
The corners of Oziel’s lips twitch up. “You also need to get dressed. I have clothes coming—”
“I don’t want your clothes,” I snap. “I have my own.”
“You mean in that little backpack of yours? I burned it.”
“You what?!” I jump out of bed, modesty be damned. I round on him, not stopping until we are chest to chest. Oziel’s gaze goes down to my bare legs before meeting my eyes again.
“You had no fucking right,” I growl. “Those were my things. Mine!” It wasn’t much, just a few clothes and toiletries, but that’s not the point.
He went through my shit, deemed it junk, and burned it.
How dare he take away what little I have.
Those were my last connections to Grym Hollow and the family I left behind.
I want to kill him. I’ve done it before. I sure as hell can do it again. Contracts be damned.
“And now you’ll have new clothes. Better suited for a future demon queen,” he hums, disregarding me as if I were nothing but an annoying pest in his way.
“I won’t wear them.”
He laughs, and it lacks all humor. “Are you going to fight me on everything, Miss Sinclair?”
Just like my dream, my mouth goes dry. Only this time, I find a word. “Yes.”
Oziel’s lips curve up, flashing his white teeth. His eyes shine with mirth, amplifying his predatory nature. “Good.” His voice is low, reverberating through the chamber like the growl of an approaching storm.
Oziel steps back, and I gasp softly, not realizing how much his closeness affected me.
He turns his back to me, starting for the door.
“You will wear the clothes I have selected for you,” he says over his shoulder in a tone that leaves no room for negotiation.
“Or you will wear nothing at all. Either way, I’ll be back in half an hour to fetch you.
You have until then to make up your mind. ”
My heart races, caught between fear and something akin to arousal. Which makes no fucking sense, because I’m fully prepared to murder my husband. Not fuck him.
Oziel walks out of my room without another glance back. The door closes on its own behind him with a resounding thud, leaving me to make a choice.
Which really isn’t a choice at all.