11. Isabelle
Isabelle
Ididn’t sleep well last night. Every time I close my eyes, I see the horrid creature.
The Nephilim reaches for me and mocks my fear.
Even in my dream, I felt the unbridled hatred the creature possesses.
Not just for me, but seemingly for the world around it.
Its long, bony fingers reached out to grip my shirt and then…
I wake up drenched in my own sweat. These dreams are out of control. Twice I’ve had vivid dreams since coming here. Before, I could never remember what I ate the night before, let alone my dreams. They were never this vivid. These feel so real.
“Fuck this place.” I push myself into a seated position on the bed.
Fire crackles from the hearth, splashing the room in a faint glow.
The fire has continuously burned since I arrived, making me believe it’s some type of magic that keeps it alive.
It no longer makes the room feel stifling with its heat.
Perhaps I got used to it because it’s actually a comfort now, falling asleep to the pops and crackles of the fire.
After I move the furry blankets aside, my feet swing off the bed, landing on the warm stone. Last night’s dinner sits mostly untouched on the table beside the bed. It was brought up to me shortly after I was escorted back to my room by the quiet but intimidating demon.
Fine, if you insist on being a prisoner in the castle, then that’s what you shall be.
Oziel’s words from last night play on repeat in my mind, a cruel reminder that the demon king is not my ally.
But I’m not quite sure he’s my captor either.
I came here willingly and have argued with Oziel every chance I’ve been given.
Instead of getting angry, the demon smirks, finding it nothing more than a game. It’s…intriguing.
I’m about to test the prisoner thing because I’m in desperate need of a shower.
I wasn’t able to check last time, but I hope it’s fully stocked with everything I need.
I hesitate at the door, seeing the lock still firmly in place.
Clearly it does nothing to keep out demons, but it makes me feel better.
I turn the bolt, hearing the clicking mechanism of the lock, and turn the handle.
No one greets me on the other side. I half expected random demons to surround my room, forcing me to stay within the confines of these four walls.
But there isn’t a soul out, and the only light comes from a single candelabra perched on a small table.
My first step out of the room feels forbidden, but when I’m not immediately ambushed, I gain the confidence to leave, shutting the door behind me.
I trail my fingers along the wall as I navigate the dim hallway, using it to steady myself.
I can’t see shit. The air is thick with silence, broken only by the soft scuff of my footsteps.
It’s unsettling to feel alone in this giant-ass castle.
When I reach the first door, I grasp the handle and twist. Locked, of course.
“Damn,” I murmur under my breath, moving on to the next one. I try again. Locked.
Frustration coils in my chest as I press forward, but then I come upon a door unlike the others. Instead of dark wood, its surface is rough, cool beneath my fingertips, all made from stone. There’s no knob, no visible way to open it, yet something urges me to push.
I press my palm against the heavy slab, bracing for resistance, but it gives way with surprising ease. As it swings open, the faint scent of damp earth fills my nose, followed by the unmistakable sound of rushing water echoing from beyond.
Found it.
But when I round the corner, I realize I’m not alone.
Garvan failed to mention the washroom is communal.
Like the rest of the decor, the large room is made of polished black flooring that extends up the walls.
Showers line the walls, each crafted to resemble demonic mouths or curved horns, from which water pours in steaming cascades, filling the room in a gray haze.
Sweat gathers at my brow from the hot mist.
Partitions between showers are sparse, made of dark glass that only partially obscures the view, adding an edge of vulnerability. Meaning I see everything.
My face heats. I’m in no way a prude, not thinking twice about stripping down to shower in front of strangers.
I used to do it all the time after long workouts at the gym.
The women’s locker room was full of naked women, and no one batted an eye.
So, I’m used to seeing many different body types and shapes.
However, what didn’t happen at gym showers, at least not while I was there, was public sex.
Very few shower stalls hold a single demon.
Most are occupied by two or three. A woman moans from the shower closest to me.
She’s not alone. A demon—I can’t decipher male or female—kneels at her feet, one of her legs thrown over their shoulder as the demon eats her out in earnest. Another demon stands behind her, an arm wrapped tightly around her torso while his free hand cups her breast. He thrusts shallowly from behind her, the sound of their fucking not muffled by water or the sounds of others.
It’s not just them. Most shower stalls are full of demons engaging in various sexual acts.
In the center of the room, a communal pool bubbles and churns, filled with milky water, surrounded by carved stone benches.
A male demon sits on one of the benches while another male bounces on his lap, crude and dirty words leaving his lips.
My body heats up; being surrounded by so much sex creates an aphrodisiac vibe.
Ignoring it is almost impossible. A sultry laugh draws my attention to the back of the washing chamber.
Three demons take up the center shower. Two sensually wash each other, their hands and fingers lingering in certain places until they draw a moan from the other demon.
The third demon stands a few feet away, his back toward me.
Black shoulder-length hair hangs in spirals with dark horns protruding from his head.
His golden-brown skin is flawless, back muscles tensed as he lets the water fall upon him.
The curve of his ass should be studied, and his strong thighs look deadly enough to suffocate anyone brave enough to go down on him.
Finally, the man turns.
All color leaves my face, a chill going through my body.
Pearly white teeth peek through his amused smile.
I don’t mean for my gaze to drift down his body, but like a moth to a light, I can’t seem to look away from the indentation of every muscle, to the curve of his hip bone.
His heavy cock bobs between his legs, a slight curve at his tip.
It hangs like a heavy sword, a weapon to be used to take down his conquests.
Probably the only weapon people would beg to be taken down with.
A low chuckle steals my attention. I snap my head up, but it’s too late. He saw me looking, and the insufferable ass’s giddy smile tells me he’s going to be reprehensible.
“Hello, Kitten. Did my bride sleep well?”
Oziel’s words have a halting effect on the room, as if everyone is tuned into the show that is Oziel and I.
Lewd sounds of bodies slapping together and cries of pleasure all stop.
I feel eyes all over my body, and despite being the only dressed person in the room, I’ve never felt so exposed.
The couple next to Oziel takes the opportunity to move closer to their king, not touching him, but it’s clear they would leap at the chance.
Out of nowhere, a fiery possessive anger takes over my body.
How dare these demons feel so comfortable standing this close to Oziel.
My anger flares when he does nothing to separate himself from the demons eager to get into his good graces.
I’ve never been a jealous person before. Vengeful? Clearly. But jealous?
I hate it.
I steel my resolve, pretending I don’t have the attention of every demon in the room. “Well enough, groom,” I snarl, which only seems to excite him.
His cock twitches in interest, and I hate myself for the way my body responds in kind. I have to remind myself I don’t like this man. I can barely stand him.
You don’t have to like him to fuck him, the unhelpful voice whispers in my mind.
“I did as well,” he says as if I asked him. “I had a very interesting night.” The words are meant to draw a reaction out of me. Besides my body tensing at the implication, I school my face into one of apathy.
“As did I.” It’s a lie. I did nothing noteworthy, but Oziel doesn’t need to know that.
His grin only grows larger, as if he knows I’m lying.
I pretend to ignore him as I pull the sleeping gown over my head, discarding it into a neat pile on the floor.
I try not to dwell on the fact that I’m completely naked in an orgy shower.
By now, the room has lost interest in us, and many have returned to their lustful activities.
Only one set of eyes bores into my naked body.
It’s my turn to catch Oziel looking me over.
He doesn’t even try to hide it. His gaze sears my flesh, burning me from the inside.
There’s only one free shower, and it’s the one next to Oziel.
Unlike the others, there’s only a half wall to separate the two.
Figures.
I keep my head held high as I make my way toward him. Oziel doesn’t speak, perhaps the first time I’ve seen him rendered silent. It’s impossible not to feel a sense of pride as I make my way next to him, reaching out to turn on the water.
Hot water, the kind that burns your skin, but in a good way, cascades down around me. I let it hit my face, shoulders, before rolling down my body. My hair grows heavy, and I’m pleased to find an assortment of bottles that must be shampoo and conditioner.
I reach down for the soap, maybe a little more than necessary.
Slowly, I straighten my spine, running the soap across my chest until a nice lather forms. Oziel clears his throat next to me, and I turn just in time to see the spiteful looks from the two demons who tried to get my husband-to-be’s attention.
The demon king steps out of the shower, but he isn’t headed to the door like I thought. No, he does something much worse. Oziel walks out from his stall and moves toward mine.
“What are you doing?” I try to convey my anger, but my question sounds more curious than anything.
“I’m having a conversation with my future queen,” he feigns innocence. It doesn’t work for him. Even naked, strength and danger surround him. He’s an overpowering presence, full of darkness and mystery.
“And we need to have this conversation while I’m naked?”
“I’m naked too, Kitten.”
Yeah, I definitely noticed that. It takes all my concentration not to look down at the lengthening member between his legs.
“What do you want?” I turn my back to the king, tossing my hair over my shoulder. I hope it hits him.
“What are your plans today?”
The question catches me off guard in how mundane it sounds. As if we are old friends and not contracted to be married. I’m a stranger in this palace, so my plan is simply to stay alive. So far, so good, for the most part.
“You know damn well I have nothing planned.”
He chuckles, and I can just picture the sly smile on his dumb, sexy face. “Then allow me to be your social event coordinator. You’ll meet Garvan and me in the dining room in an hour.”
“Do you ever ask, or do you simply demand things from people?” I blurt, spinning around to face him. Has he forgotten I have already declined eating with him once? I’m not afraid to do it again.
Somehow, he is closer, his bare chest hovering near mine. My hard nipples are mere centimeters away from touching him.
Or perhaps one meal together wouldn’t hurt…
No! Focus.
“I think you know the answer to that, Kitten.” Oziel leans down, and my heart speeds up. Out of fear or something else, I’m not sure. “But I do so like our arguments.”
His words shouldn’t be sexy. Nothing about his sentence is sexy. And yet my core heats. “Must be a kink of yours.” Silently, I scold myself. Out of every fucking thing I could say, my brain came up with that?!
Oziel’s grin takes on a darker, sultrier vibe. “One of many, Kitten. Perhaps one day you’ll learn more.”
I feel tongue-tied. Too flustered to produce a good rebuttal. Oziel licks his bottom lip in a suggestive manner before stepping back. “One hour, Miss Sinclair. Don’t make me come find you.”
With that, he spins on his heels and makes way to a small alcove, grabbing a towel. “Oh, and Miss Sinclair?”
“What?” I snap.
“This was the last towel.” Then the bastard laughs darkly, snatching not only the last towel but the night dress I wore here before leaving the washing chamber.
“Fucking ass,” I murmur under my breath. Part of me wants to stand him up out of spite, but another part of me is interested in what he has planned.
By the time I’m finished, more demons have made their way to the washroom, and no towels have been brought in to replenish the stash. I use my hands to cover myself, even though it hides nothing, and I half run, half waddle back to my room, cursing Oziel’s name the entire way.
I swear I hear laughter in the distance.