Chapter 12
Skeletons in the Closet
Elizabeth walked into the great hall and sucked in a breath. Caspian was there, sitting at the table with Asmodeus. Both demons glanced up at her arrival.
She gave a curtsey in greeting and took her usual place at the table.
Elizabeth waited for Caspian to sip his ghastly “wine” before digging into her meal. She ate ravenously, ignoring their curious glances when she piled her plate high for a second helping. Her mornings of trekking in the woods and riding horses left her with an enormous appetite.
Her eyes narrowed on Asmodeus’s goblet.
Asmodeus noticed her looking and raised his goblet, offering a cheeky grin before taking a large sip. He smiled broadly, his teeth stained red.
She curled her lip in distaste. Asmodeus chuckled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Schooling her face into a look of indifference, she returned to the meal in front of her and ignored the hulking demon staring at her.
“Venison steaks. Hunted them myself,” Asmodeus said, grinning and nodding at the half-eaten slab of steak on her plate. “Does that bother you, sweetheart? Me hunting in the forest? Killing something?”
“Asmodeus,” Caspian warned from the head of the table.
Elizabeth rose. “You can do whatever you like. I’ve eaten tonight, so I suppose I must be grateful,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. “Thank you for the meal. It was lovely.”
She gave a quick curtsey and left the hall.
A short while later, a knock sounded at her door.
She opened it, revealing Caspian leaning against the door jamb. He gazed at her with an odd expression she couldn’t quite read. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
She looked at him curiously. “Hello, Caspian.”
“How busy you’ve been keeping. I’ve hardly seen you at all.”
“My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were expecting me to seek you out.” Her voice came out cooler than intended. She straightened, moving aside as she remembered to be pleasant to the person who was providing her with a houseroom. She forced herself to smile more warmly. “Please, come in.”
He frowned down at her, a lock of black hair falling across his face.
Her fingers itched to smooth it back for him. She tensed her fingers at her sides to restrain them. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Caspian asked finally.
She looked into his burning silver eyes and slowly shook her head.
“I said I would give you a week, and you’ve nearly had two.”
“Oh,” she said.
Yes, that was her, the picture of wit.
“Why don't we sit?”
He closed the door behind him, and they sat on the edge of her bed. She folded her hands awkwardly. Now she would have to pay the price for his protection.
He glanced at her, then at her lips.
She flushed, heat creeping up her neck.
Caspian leaned towards her a fraction, then stopped. “Tell me, how are you settling in?”
She blinked. It was such a normal question. “Er. Just fine, thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been very generous.”
She stood and paced, just to put some distance between them.
He tilted his head, assessing her. “I’m very rich, you know. You can buy yourself anything you like now.”
Instead of telling him how arrogant that sounded, she only said, “Thank you. Your generosity is appreciated.”
She glanced down at her wrist, which seemed like the most logical spot to harvest blood. She cringed, wondering how much it was going to hurt. “So how do we do this?”
“Are you frightened?”
“Not at all,” she lied.
She held out her wrist, bracing herself.
Caspian rose and came to stand before her. She waited for him to say or do something, but he didn’t move a muscle.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked suspiciously.
He took another step towards her, bringing them nearly nose to nose.
Caspian smiled cruelly, tracing her jaw with a finger. “You,” he said simply.
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked down to his mouth, his lips. “What do you want from me?”
There was something about him, something she was inexplicably drawn to. The gods were cruel to make a demon look like that and give him such a rotten heart.
Silence stretched between them, his eyes searching hers.
She looked away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze any longer.
His finger trailed under her chin, and he tilted her face up to his. He leaned in, and she froze in shock as he looked like he was going to kiss her.
Slowly, she felt his soft lips against hers, the barest of touches, before he retreated.
He had just kissed her. Now he stood there, looking at her tenderly with those molten silver eyes as if he wanted to do it again.
What in the Seven Hells was going on? Where had the brooding master of the castle gone?
She looked into his eyes, her lips parting in confusion.
She wasn’t sure what made her lean in, but she closed the distance, and then her lips were on his. His lips moved so gently against hers that a soft sigh escaped her lips.
He tasted like fire and sin and everything forbidden.
His kisses grew more urgent, and she responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hand found the back of her neck, drawing her closer.
He smelled like wood smoke and expensive soap.
Her hands roamed down his chest, over his back, gripping his back and holding him close. When she trailed back over his broad chest, she felt the chest hair peeking above the V of his tunic.
She pulled back to look at him and was surprised to see him smirking at her. His expression reeked of arrogance. As if she were a prize already won.
Her hands stilled and dropped off his chest.
She felt as though she had been doused in cold water. What had she been thinking? Kissing a demon? He drank blood.
Reprimanding herself for her lack of control, she looked away.
Caspian stepped closer once more, placing a finger under her chin and turning her face back to his.
He gazed at her as if memorizing every feature—every pore, every fleck of colour in her eyes, the shade and position of every strand of her hair. As if he wanted to capture the sight of her and keep it with him forever.
This was not how she had expected the evening to go. She asked weakly, “I thought you wanted my blood?”
Candlelight and shadows danced across his features as he said darkly, “I want your everything.”
She stared, speechless.
He still frightened her, but he couldn’t just say something like that.
He kissed her possessively, holding her as if he wanted nothing more than to claim her and make her his. His kiss was all-consuming, leaving her breathless.
But unable to stop the frustratingly rational part of her mind, she drew back and asked, “Do you—do you have any other mistresses?”
She had no claim to him, but still the answer mattered.
His gaze turned heavy-lidded. “Right now, only you.”
“Oh.” She wished she could say something charming, something funny and interesting, but her usually racing mind was drawing a blank.
He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, and she had to remind herself he was a monster. She had no business wanting a monster. She looked away.
“Lady. Elizabeth. Ashcroft,” he said darkly, as if there were nothing that turned him on as much as the sound of her name upon his lips. “I would worship you as none other has before.”
She bit her lip, debating.
He made a show of dragging his gaze over every inch of her. Waiting for her to say something. “Is that a no, then?” he asked her pointedly.
She didn’t want to say yes, didn’t want to say no, so she stood there like a simpleton trying to formulate words.
“Do you not want me, sweet Elizabeth?”
“I do not,” she lied.
“I see.” Caspian sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, extending a hand. “Come here, and show me how utterly repulsed by me you are, then.”
“Why not just take blood from me, and leave?” she asked stubbornly, crossing her arms.
He was not here to share her bed.
He was here to bleed her, to hurt her.
She narrowed her gaze and glanced between his face and his waiting outstretched hand.
He raised his dark brows. “Do you really need an answer to everything?”
She considered for a moment. “Yes. I believe I do.”
He surveyed her and lowered his hand. “Can pleasure and pain not be intertwined?”
She blinked, a look of revulsion crossing her features. “Not in my world.”
“Then let us enjoy what we will, and then I will answer your questions afterwards.”
She looked at him in suspicion, mind working furiously to try and figure out exactly how he was going to hurt her.
Caspian sighed and bared his teeth, fingering his canines. “These elongate. To pierce flesh. It does not hurt.”
“Oh.”
He arched a brow and extended his hand once more. “Does this answer your question?”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
His hand was rough against hers as he took her hand and pulled her into his lap. She noticed, then, that his eyelashes were unfairly long. She grew distracted by the dark beard that framed his lips, making him look like a villain in a play.
He lifted his chin, accepting her critical eye as her gaze traced the lines of his face and figure. He smirked. Clearly, he already knew how attractive he was.
“And what is your verdict?” he asked finally.
“Simply hideous,” she said, purely to wipe the arrogant look off his face.
“Is that so?” he said, leaning in.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until she lost all sight of reason. Her head fell back as he kissed down her throat.
She shifted in his lap, her lips parting, waiting—
Suddenly, he pushed her roughly to sit over his knees. It was much less comfortable, and the ease with which he had pushed her troubled her.
She narrowed her gaze. “Why did you push me?”
His nostrils flared, fingers tensing on the sheets.
“I should not say.”
“I am not afraid.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “I can hear your heart. Hear it race, thumping louder than any drum. I can smell the cold sweat gathered on your spine. I can feel the tension in the air when you look at me and notice the way you wring your hands when you’re nervous, like you’re doing right now.”