Chapter 14
Isabelle
Three female demons gaze upon my naked body, muttering to each other in a language I’m not privy to.
If I were the modest type, there would be no way I could endure another bathing session with strangers around me.
At least this time, no one is fucking. But that also means their attention is focused on me, and even as confident as I am in my body, this still feels intimidating as hell.
When Garvan found Oziel and me by River Hel and informed us of the correspondence from the other kings, Oziel immediately began to bark out orders.
Most of them had to do with “prepping” me.
I didn’t like the way that sounded, but before I was able to protest, black smoke gathered around me and transported me away.
I really hated that little ability of his.
My stomach plummeted, the same feeling I get when I’m on a roller coaster going down a massive hill.
Only there were no thrill seekers waiting for me once the smoke cleared in my room, but rather three demons with haughty, sour expressions.
The blue-skinned demon introduces herself as Greta.
She seems to be the one in charge of the other two: a purple-haired demon named Lola and a short, stout demon named Paulina.
Greta barks orders—or what I assume to be orders it’s a language I don’t know—to the others.
Lola and Paulina usher me down the hall and into the bathing room.
It must have been cleared out because it’s empty, free of the orgies that took place earlier.
I don’t protest when Lola and Paulina strip my clothes off, mostly because I’m still dazed from traveling via smoke and shadows. Greta perches on the edge of the tub in the center of the room, sprinkling in bundles of tightly bound lavender.
All three of them look over my very naked body, making plans for me I don’t understand. “What’s going on?” I ask, unable to continue standing here awkwardly while my whole pussy is on display.
Greta snaps her attention to me, her face pinched as if she just sucked on a sour lemon. Both Paulina and Lola look to her. “We are cleansing your body for your vow exchange, mistress,” she explains as if it physically pains her to do so.
Mistress? Don’t like that name one bit, but I highly doubt she would care if I made mention of it. “What does this cleansing entail?”
Instead of answering, Lola and Paulina take me by my arms and lead me into the milky-white water.
The tub is grand and full to the brim. Water sloshes over the sides, landing at the demons’ feet.
None of them seem to mind or notice as they crouch down next to the tub.
Paulina and Lola produce white washcloths out of seemingly nowhere and start to scrub my skin.
Greta reaches for my hair, murmuring something like a song crossed with chanting.
Then cold water hits my head, followed by a soapy substance that stains the water red.
Back in Grym Hollow, Greta would make a great—albeit grumpy—hair stylist. Her lithe fingers move easily between the strands of my hair, massaging my scalp.
A sweet floral scent permeates the room, as if we aren’t in a demonic washroom but rather a budding florist shop.
Lola and Paulina scrub every part of my body within an inch of my life.
My skin is flushed red as if they scrubbed the first layer clean off.
Paulina gestures for me to move closer, which I do, despite Greta tugging on my hair to stay in place.
Once close enough, Paulina grabs a jar, unscrewing the top.
She digs her hand in and comes out with a green lotion the color of seaweed.
It’s warm when she rubs it in, making my face feel tingly.
She rubs the substance down my neck and to my chest.
“What is this?” I ask, even though I don’t expect her to reply.
“Skin purification treatment, mistress,” Paulina says in a low, sultry voice. “Enhanced with seduction enchantment.”
“Seduction? Oh, that won’t be necessary—”
“Hush, girl,” Greta snaps. “This is the process. King Oziel expects us to uphold tradition. As his future wife and queen, these steps are necessary. We will not skip steps or deviate from tradition.”
I bite my tongue, knowing I’d win no favors by speaking against Greta.
She has a point, even if I hate to admit it.
This ceremony has to be and feel real for me to help Oziel and his demons.
That includes Greta with her rude ass. I might be a killer, but I’m not a senseless murderer, content to condemn people to their death simply because they have a bad attitude.
Not sure if I can say the same about my future husband, though. He seems the type to kill for fun.
I should be more upset about that fact. It’s a testament to how fucked-up I am that the thought of Oziel killing doesn’t fill me with dread or anger.
After five minutes, Paulina wipes off the cream.
My face feels smooth to the touch, soft like satin.
Lola grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet.
Water sloshes and drips down my body, and the slight chill in the air has me shivering.
Every other place in this damn castle is a sauna—figures the one place you want to be warm isn’t.
Instead of letting me out, the women pour three vials of oil on my body, rubbing it into my skin. I try not to shudder when Greta takes it upon herself to rub the oils between my thighs, gritting my teeth when Paulina massages the oil into my tits, paying extra attention to my nipples.
By the time they finish, I’m a slippery mess.
It takes all three of them to help me out of the tub and keep me standing on the tile.
One of them—I think Lola—wraps a towel around my body from behind before they escort me out of the washroom and down the hall to my room.
A dress that wasn’t here this morning is sprawled across the bed.
For the first time, the dress isn’t black, though it’s fairly close.
The dress is made up of dark purples and midnight-blue accents. Greta reaches for the bodice at the same time Paulina rips the towel away from me. Luckily, the fire roars brightly in the hearth, drying me quickly and warming me up.
The bodice is placed and tied first, accentuating my waist and pushing up my boobs in an obscene manner. They look damn good, I must admit. Greta takes her time lacing up the back. It’s a little tighter than what I would prefer, but manageable.
Next comes the skirts. Lola hands me a skimpy pair of panties that I quickly shimmy on before stepping into the billowy skirts, which are layered with a mix of fabrics—velvet, leather, and chainmail.
The layers cascade down in varying lengths, the longer sections trailing on the ground like a dark, royal train.
If I’m not careful, I could easily get tangled up in the skirts and trip.
Which, I presume, is a worry some brides face on their wedding day.
Wedding day.
What a weird thought. I never gave much thought to marriage.
It was always an obscure concept that society pushed on people, especially young girls.
From the hair to the makeup to the dress.
It was a big spectacle of grandeur and a money pit.
Too many marriages end in divorce, throwing away everything they promised and spent on their wedding day.
And some even go on to have multiple weddings.
I never thought of getting married and have never been so in love with a person I wanted to commit to living the entirety of my life with.
That sounds like a fairy tale. I doubt there is room for a murderer who likes to avoid people in anyone’s fairy tale.
Besides, those women marry a prince with a good heart.
I’ve never read one who married a demon, the villain in many people’s stories.
Paulina tugs at my hair, pulling it into an elaborate updo with random strands to surround my face.
Greta and Lola work on applying a black paint to my cheeks and forehead in intricate designs.
When I ask what they are, Greta says something about ancient ceremonial markings but fails to elaborate.
I don’t push her though. Already, I have used up my supply of social aptitude for the day, leaving me to run on fumes for my wedding.
At long last, Greta pulls back and barks orders at Paulina and Lola.
They shuffle out of the room with a promise to be back in a few hours to retrieve me for the ceremony since the lotions and oils need to set into my skin, or some shit like that.
Apparently, it’s part of the process. The moment they file out of the room and close the door behind them, I sink into the leather upholstered chair, careful not to damage my dress.
Fatigue seeps deep into my bones. The events of the past week slowly start to pile up until I can’t ignore them anymore.
In a blink of an eye, my whole life has changed.
The moment James came into my sister’s life—and by extension, my own—was when I felt the change in me.
The need for something that could only be satisfied with cold blood.
That one decision landed me here, in a land full of magical creatures, fighting against a magical war I hold no part in.
Until I signed my life away.
I still don’t regret it.
I didn’t know what to expect upon my arrival, but Oziel isn’t it.
Yes, the king’s power and strength are terrifying, and in the rare moments his guard slips, I catch glimpses of the evil lurking beneath.
It doesn’t scare me like it should. In fact, in some ways, it calls to me, playing on my deepest, darkest desires I have never given thought to.
Because those things aren’t normal. I shouldn’t be tempted and yet…