Chapter 14 #2
I leave those thoughts where they simmer, not ready to look too closely at what that says about me. The day’s events get the best of me, and I give in to bone-deep sleep, sprawled out on the stiffest chair known to man.
Rough hands on my shoulders shake me awake.
Judging by the intensity of the shakes, she’s been trying to wake me for a while.
My body has slid down the chair, and my back is unnaturally hot due to the fire from the hearth and leather of the chair.
My neck is twisted at an odd angle, forcing me to rotate my head side to side in hopes of getting the knots out.
Once my eyes and brain can focus, I see Greta has come back.
“I thought you were dead.” Her voice sounds disappointed.
“Your presence is needed in the moonlight room. Come now. We don’t want to keep the king waiting.
” She turns on her heels and makes her way out of the room, not looking back once to make sure I’m following.
“Time to get married, I guess,” I murmur under my breath, awkwardly pushing myself out of the chair. I haven’t seen my face, but I hope the markings Lola and Greta painted on aren’t smeared. Greta would have said something if they were. Maybe?
I quickly catch up to the spirited demon, and we walk in silence through the castle.
I haven’t had much time to explore, but most of the hallways and rooms look the same.
If someone were trying to escape the castle, they’d have a hard time navigating toward the exit, though I suspect that’s the point.
Lola leads me to an archway with stairs ascending to a turret.
There’s a chill in the air here, as if the fires from the rest of the castle don’t extend to this part.
I see why the moment we make it to the top.
There’s no ceiling, but rather the circular room is open.
The milky-white moon appears like a beacon in the sky, so close I feel like, if I reach out, I could touch it.
There’s nothing in the turret except a single table with a chalice and golden rope.
The cracks in the stone emit an eerie red light, resembling veins pulsing with molten energy, as if the turret itself is alive and breathing malevolence.
Most of the castle feels alive with a powerful, malignant aura.
Even the shadows pulse with a dark desire.
Two men stand in the middle of the room.
Garvan wears long, dark robes with a crimson tunic underneath.
His pale blond hair is slicked back, and his horns are bare, free of the rings and jewels he wore before.
He stands over a table, paging through an inky-black book that seems to glow.
At our arrival, he looks up briefly and smiles before going back to the book.
And then there’s Oziel. My breath hitches in my throat when I see him.
He wears tight black leather pants that accentuate his thigh muscles.
It also does little to hide the indentation of his cock, which I tell myself I’m not interested in ogling again.
He’s shirtless. The same black markings on my face are present on his chest and torso.
There are other markings too, in gold and silver, though those are fewer.
His hair flows free of a band, hanging loose around his shoulders, matching his dark beard.
Something shiny catches my attention, and I notice the various rings decorating his horns.
Gold, black, and red ones all placed precisely along the length to add a regal charm.
A new energy surrounds him. One that nearly suffocates me with its strength, but I keep myself tall as I walk toward him, even though I want to tremble under his scrutiny.
Gold eyes darken and narrow into tiny slits. My skin heats as he drags his gaze over me. Wetness pools between my thighs, despite my attempts to keep myself at bay. His throat emits a deep, low sound, sending shivers down my back.
“Leave us.”
I pause at his words, confused, until Lola says something and disappears without a trace, leaving me alone with the two male demons.
Normally being left alone with men would make me on edge and ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
And even though I’m in a room with literal demons, I don’t fear either of them.
There are still a few feet between Oziel and me, but like a magnet, I’m pulled the rest of the way toward the center. Toward him. Silence hangs between us. Even Garvan looks like he would rather be anywhere else but here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the demon so nervous.
At last, Oziel breaks the silence. “You are sin incarnate, Miss Sinclair.” His words echo one of the first things he ever said to me: “I smell sin on you.” From anyone else, it would be an insult. But from Oziel, it sounds like the highest of praises.
“You don’t look hideous,” I respond, earning an amused grunt.
“Your compliments are endearing, Kitten.” He smirks, reaching for my hand. He pauses, waiting to see if I’ll pull out of his grip. I think about it, but I’m not against him touching me. I nod stiffly before Oziel takes my hand in his.
“Before we begin, I need to tie your hands together,” Garvan speaks up for the first time since I’ve arrived. The demon grabs the rope on the table, barely more than two feet long.
When Oziel nods, Garvan reaches for our clasped hands.
Gently, he ties mine and Oziel’s wrists together, making sure it is secure before pulling back.
Garvan catches my eye and offers me a tight-lipped smile.
If I didn’t know any better, I would say there was something akin to sorrow in his eyes, which makes no sense. “You do look lovely, Miss Isabelle.”
Next to me, Oziel growls. Garvan visibly pales and stands up straight, grabbing the chalice. Red liquid sloshes over the top, spilling droplets onto the table. “Shall we begin?” he asks, making sure not to look at me out of fear of his king’s wrath.
Oziel nods once to Garvan, and then to me, he winks. “Begin, Garvan. It is time I take my queen.”