Chapter 21
Isabelle
Idon’t see Oziel again that day, and when I wake up the following morning, he’s not in his room either.
Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed he’d sleep in his own bed that night, but if he didn’t sleep with me, what other bed did he occupy?
Another’s? White-hot anger simmers just below the surface at the thought of my husband warming another demon’s bed.
I don’t even love Oziel. Hell, I barely tolerate him. Or at least that is what I tell myself because the truth brewing at the back of my mind is not something I’m ready to deal with. But that doesn’t stop my brain from wanting to kill the fucker who shares my husband’s bed.
Now that I’m pissed, I kick off the heaps of blankets—all of which smell like Oziel—and push myself into a sitting position.
None of my muscles scream in protest like they did yesterday, which I take as my sign to get a shower in finally.
It’s about time. I swear I’m starting to smell myself.
Maybe it’s a good thing Oziel didn’t come back to bed last night.
My feet press against the warm stone floor, the heat seeping into my aching bones and soothing the stiffness in my limbs. Oziel’s bed was like a cloud. Soft, enveloping, and far too easy to sink into, but after so many hours wrapped in its embrace, I’m desperate for some sort of movement.
I take another slow glance around the room, noting the luxurious furnishings and lingering traces of Oziel’s presence before finally making my way toward the showers, eager to wash away the remnants of the last few days.
The bathing chamber is surprisingly empty when I walk inside. No rambunctious orgies or lustful moans echoing around the chamber. When I turn the knob, water spouts from the faucet shaped like a wolf’s open mouth. Steam gathers in the stall as I neatly fold my towel and place it upon a bench.
The moment the hot water kisses my skin, I groan.
All the collected dirt, blood, and grime from the last few days wash down the drain.
I reach for the products lining the shelf.
Lavender and honey fill my nostrils as I select a soap to use.
It lathers easily, and I scrub my body until my skin flushes a faint pink.
There are more options for my hair. The shampoo holds more oils than I’m used to but leaves my hair smelling like a floral shop and silky to the touch.
My poor, neglected hair all but sings out the praises for these homemade shampoos.
There’s even a gritty, textured paste I take for the demon's version of sugar scrub, and rub it into my entire body until I’m slick and in danger of slipping around due to the excess oils.
Steam curls through the open shower chamber, thick and swirling. I stand beneath the cascade of hot water, eyes closed, letting it run over my bare skin, content to stay here all day if I could. I just might.
A distant creak of the door has my eyes snapping open, barely containing the urge to cover myself.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be used to a communal shower.
For a moment, nothing else follows the sound.
Maybe I’m hearing things, or maybe someone saw the showers weren’t empty and left.
I tell myself it’s nothing, just the shifting of the old iron hinges in the heat.
But then, barely audible over the patter of water, comes another sound.
Soft. Measured. A footstep on the smooth stone floor.
I turn my head slightly, listening as my muscles tighten. Part of me hopes to see Oziel, his full body on display for me. Would he join me? Would I let him? Yes, I think I would. Purely because I’m just a girl with fucking needs and no other reason.
Soon, a shadow wavers just beyond the steam.
My breath hitches. Someone’s here. Watching.
Oziel? If it’s my husband, he enjoys making my heart speed up. I don’t speak, and neither does the imposing figure standing in the shadows. Something shimmers in the darkness, and my brain is slow to process the mystery figure wielding a dagger.
Definitely not Oziel.
A sense of foreboding washes over me, and I desperately look around for something to use as a weapon. I curse when I come up empty-handed.
The figure takes a step toward me.
My heart pounds rapidly in my chest. I can feel the presence now, far more sinister than Oziel’s. Definitely not my husband then. Someone else. Someone who wants to hurt me.
There’s only one way to enter and exit the bathing chambers.
The door is on the opposite end, but in order to get to it, I have to run past the dagger-wielding shadow.
I can be fast when I need to be, but I don’t particularly want to chance running straight into his trap or slipping on the soapy ground.
“Get away from me,” my voice quivers.
I’m greeted with a low chuckle that sends shivers down my spine. Not the confusing shivers Oziel gives me, but ones of terror.
The shadow crouches.
I brace myself, ready to fight my way through.
Time passes slowly, almost as if it has stopped completely. The only sounds are my labored breathing and water hitting the stone chamber.
Just as I think the shadow is about to attack, the door to the chamber opens, followed by the shrill giggles of two she-demons.
The shadow retreats, slinking back into the darkness.
The mystery person flees as quickly as they arrived, running past the newcomers and out the door.
The two female demons don’t seem to notice the dark shadows pass them, too preoccupied with each other.
My body unfreezes as the reality of the situation hits me.
Someone tried to attack me, and I’m not stupid enough to wait around for them to come back.
I hurry and grab my towel, wrapping it around my soaking wet body.
The demon couple is too consumed with one another, their giggles slowly turning into moans as I race past them.
Wet feet and stone flooring are the worst combination imaginable.
My next step has my feet sliding out from under me, and I go down.
Hard.
My body hits the floor with a dull thud. I manage to keep one hand securing my towel while the other one braces my fall. I’ll pay for that later. “Fuck, I hope no one saw that.”
“Miss Sinclair, Lucifer Rising, are you okay, my queen?”
Fuck, someone saw that.
I turn just in time to see Garvan’s lithe figure crouch down in front of me. His eyes wander over my body, but not in a sexual way—with the intensity of a concerned friend, trying to assess the damage. However, I’m still keenly aware that I’m sprawled on the floor with nothing but my towel on.
“I’m okay,” I mumble, taking his offered hand.
Garvan stands and pulls me up. He then looks back at my water tracks. “Did something happen?”
My first instinct is to lie. For some reason, I don’t want him to know that a crazy shadow demon wanted to hurt me, at least not until I can tell Oziel.
“Yeah, just trying to get back to my room.” The lie slips easily off my tongue.
I hope that’s the end of it, that Garvan will nod and go on his way.
But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he says, “I’ll escort you back, my queen.” Before I have the time to refuse, Garvan starts walking toward my—Oziel’s—room. I have no choice but to follow.
“Do you know where Oziel is?” I ask, doing my best not to sound too interested. Even though I am. Why hasn’t he sought me out yet? Is my mystery attacker after him too?
“The king was called away this morning to the River Hel. There was word of a hooded figure acting suspiciously nearby.”
“A hooded figure?” I echo, frowning.
Garvan stops right outside the door. As usual, the courtier is impeccably dressed in sapphire blue, with a silver tunic peeking through his overcoat.
He nods once before reaching for the doorknob.
“That’s what the guards reported—” he cuts himself off, eyes widening.
“My king,” he says, almost imperceptibly.
With no decorum, I push past Garvan and peer inside.
Oziel stands with his back to us near a table.
There’s a faint glow emitting from something behind him, but I can’t make out what it is.
Oziel turns, his usual golden eyes now midnight black.
Much like Garvan, he’s dressed like a royal.
The only sign the king is tired is the dark circles under his eyes.
Maybe he really didn’t get any sleep last night.
Oziel looks from me to Garvan, eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
“My king,” Garvan says again. “I thought you’d be at the River Hel.”
“I was,” is all Oziel says, not offering any more information.
Garvan awkwardly clears his throat. “I was just escorting the queen back to your chambers. I found her on the floor—”
“I slipped while I was running,” I cut Garvan off.
“Why were you running?” Oziel’s question is for me, but his eyes never stray from Garvan. The temperature in the room seems to rise a few degrees.
“Because…” I hesitate. It’s not that I don’t trust Oziel, or Garvan, for that matter, but I’m still trying to figure out what I saw. Do all demons have the ability to move shadows, or is that an ability saved for the king?
Oziel finally moves, exposing the glowing object.
In a glass dome is a bouquet of blood-red roses.
Petals decorate the bottom, scattered all around.
Has this always been there? I barely paid attention to the room since I’ve been in here, consumed with thoughts of the demon before me. Oziel's silence unnerves me.
“Check for updates with the guards, Garvan.” His command is a clear dismissal.
Garvan nods once and leaves without another glance back. We listen to his retreating steps until I hear nothing but my own breathing.
Suddenly the door slams shut, startling me. “What the hell?” I ask just as Oziel whirls on me.
“Did you fuck Garvan?”
Out of everything he could have asked, this is not something I expected.
My mouth opens and closes in stunned silence.
Anger radiates off my husband in waves. I've never feared Oziel, even when I first met him, but now…
I can see the terrifying demon king everyone else sees. The temper he barely keeps in check.
“What the actual fuck, Oziel?” My voice is a near shriek when I finally find it again, my anger mounting at his accusation.
“Answer me, Wife,” he growls, closing the space between us. Heat from his body kisses my skin; the sheer power of him is overwhelming. “Did you fuck Garvan?”
I laugh humorlessly. “Oh, you’re a fucking bastard, you know that, right?” I jab a finger into his chest. “You’re allowed to fuck any demon in this damn castle, but if I so much as walk with a man who’s not you, then suddenly I’m a whore. How about you tell me whose bed you were in last night?”
For the first time since I arrived, Oziel’s anger cracks, giving way to confusion. “No one. If I fuck another, you will know, Kitten. Because you’d be there with me.”
My anger still simmers, but hearing his words makes my cheeks flush. Damn him. And fuck my body for liking that thought. “For your information, asshole, I was nearly attacked in the bathroom, and Garvan found me as I was running away.”
In the blink of an eye, all residual anger drains from Oziel’s face. A new fierceness I’ve never seen before takes over. He grabs my shoulders as if to keep himself upright. “You were attacked?”
“Nearly,” I say, shoving him off. I need out of this damn towel, so I reach for the silk robe hanging off the chair.
Oziel has already seen me naked, so I pretend that dropping my towel in front of him doesn’t affect me at all.
I don’t miss the way his gaze heats as he looks over my naked body.
I let him look his fill before abruptly closing and tying my robe.
“Do all demons have the power to manipulate shadows?”
“No,” Oziel says immediately. “They shouldn’t. Though technically they could possess the power if they were stealing it.”
“Stealing from what?”
“The River Hel,” he explains.
I frown. Was my attacker the same person poisoning the river? But if so, why? Especially if they are benefiting from the power. “The attacker used the shadows and steam to hide himself. He had a dagger. I think…I think he meant to kill me.”
“Lucifer Rising,” Oziel growls in a way that tells me those are curse words here. “I’ve been dealing with the River Hel all morning. That’s why I wasn’t with you. Are you certain this person used shadows?”
I nod. “Yes. I should have been able to see him, but the shadows surrounded him like they do you. I couldn’t make out any of his features. Hell, I’m not even certain it was a man.”
Oziel curses again.
“Feel bad for accusing me of fucking another man?” I ask after a moment because, yeah, I’m still pissed about that.
Oziel has the decency to look ashamed. “My apologies, Kitten. I’ve been on edge all night. I’m not in my right mind. I saw Garvan with you and—”
“You thought I let him fuck me,” I finish and roll my eyes. “No, dear husband, I was, in fact, trying not to die.”
“Isabelle, I’m sorry.” His apology sounds so sincere, and yet odd coming from him.
Those words are likely not ones he says often.
Maybe ever. What does a king have to be sorry for anyway?
Still, part of me can understand where he was coming from.
Doesn’t make it right or justify it, but stress can do crazy things to people.
“Forgiven.” I sink down into the chair. My shoulder accidentally bumps the table, causing the dome and roses to rock back and forth. On instinct, I reach out to steady it, but then strong arms wrap around my midsection and pull me away. The air leaves my lungs when I hit a solid chest.
“What the hell?” I watch as the roses and dome finally stop rocking, thankfully not falling over and crashing to the ground.
“Don’t touch it,” Oziel warns. “It’s dark magic.”
“Dark magic?” I furrow my brows. “What do you mean? It’s just a bouquet.” Then realization hits me. “Wait…is that…?”
Oziel’s grip on me remains firm, yet not restraining. If I truly wanted to, I could pull away with ease, but I don’t. A part of me refuses to dwell on what that might mean.
At last, he answers, his voice solemn with a heavy truth. “It is. This, Kitten,” Oziel continues, his now golden eyes darkening with something unreadable, “is the curse upon my kingdom.”