Page 32 of House of Malice
September 20, 1950
“Sweetheart, we’ll be late,” Galliermo said, staring at the ceiling painted a soft pink. “You always look dazzling as you are. Come on now.”
“I look dazzling because I take time.” Demitria’s voice came through the open door to her bathroom. “You cannot rush perfection, my love.”
Galliermo smirked to himself. He lay in the middle of Demitria’s comfortable bed with his hands behind his head and continued staring at the ceiling.
Patience was never a virtue for him, and Demitria knew it. Yet it seemed that she was intent on helping Galliermo practice it. He only ever indulged her because of how much he loved her.
He would do anything for her. Whatever she asked him to. Whatever she needed. Whatever her heart desired.
“I want your help picking out a dress for tonight,” Demitria said as she walked out of the bathroom.
Galliermo turned to look at her and immediately lost his ability to speak. She looked…breathtaking.
Her blond hair fell in beautiful voluptuous waves over her shoulders, and when she moved, tiny sparkles scattered all over her face caught the light and sparkled. Just like her beautiful blue eyes that were framed by a thick band of long and lush eyelashes.
As always, Demitria added eyeliner that made her eyes look even starker and impossible to resist. Her plump lips were rosy, just like her porcelain cheeks, and a wave of desire washed over Galliermo as he imagined how sweet it would be to mess it all up while losing track of time between the sheets.
“You’re gorgeous,” Galliermo said.
Demitria smiled and went over to her closet. From there, she pulled two hangers with dresses. One was a long sparkly black dress with a large split on the side. Galliermo could enjoy the view of those damned long and perfect legs all night…
But the other dress was his favorite. It was much simpler and less sophisticated, but whenever Demitria wore it, she reminded him of the princesses from mortal fairy tales. It ended just above her knees and was made from white lace.
“The white one. I want you to be my princess tonight,” Galliermo said.
“How can a girl say no to that?”
Galliermo enjoyed the view of Demitria changing from the pink satin robe into the dress. It had a high neck, and a row of pearls lined the neckline. She twisted around, and the skirt of the dress moved with her.
“Panties or no panties?” she asked, looking at Galliermo over her shoulder.
It took Galliermo a few moments to tame the beast that had risen within him. His voice was coarse when he said, “No panties.”
Demitria giggled then. “Are you planning on being naughty tonight, my love?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Galliermo said, taking her in from head to toe. “You’ll have to keep guessing.”
After a few more minutes, Demitria was finally ready to go. And when they left the brownstone and the chilly autumnal evening air enveloped them, Galliermo could admit that every second of waiting for her had been worth it.
“It’s a shame to call this place an art gallery,” Reverie said with a light sneer.
Their little group stood next to the bar in the corner of Darly’s only art gallery. It was in the center of town, right next to the Sparkling Hoof, and it was just as outdated as the bar.
The floors and walls were made of solid concrete, and it looked as if it had seen better days. Large wooden beams stretched above their heads, making the space feel smaller than it was.
“Don’t be so mean,” Octavia said, looking around. In her hand she held a glass of bubbly wine. “It has…potential. I like how industrial and minimalistic it is.”
“You can’t expect Avalon Museum of Art level here in the middle of nowhere,” Alatar said and then finished the last of his whiskey.
“At least we have an art gallery,” Demitria chimed in. “Most mortal towns of this size would never consider such a thing.”
“Yeah,” Reverie said, her eyes settling on Demitria. She smirked. “I would except nothing more from mortals.”
Galliermo tensed inwardly but didn’t show it. Demitria didn’t reveal anything of her emotions at the hostile Reverie’s tone either. And for that, Galliermo was proud.
“How long do we have to be here for?” Rufus asked, pulling Octavia into him by the waist. “I feel like there are so many more things I’d rather be doing right now…”
