Page 22 of Interior Design for Demons
A loud tone reverberates through the bathroom. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from Apollyon’s discarded clothes.
“Fuck,” he says, disengaging himself from me. He steps out of the shower, water streaming from his hair and puddling on the floor. He bends, giving me a glorious view of his ass, and takes a phone from the pocket of his pants. “I have to go.”
“Now? Why?”
“I’m not sure, but I have no choice. I like a little pain with my pleasure, like sugar in tea, but the pain they mete out to a disobedient demon, even one of my rank—it’s nothing I want to experience again.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
“You’ll make it up to me later.” He winks, grabbing a towel and passing it over his glorious body. “You let me touch you. That’s enough reward for now.”
He pulls on his pants with surprising awkwardness for such a graceful-looking creature, and then he leaves.
Absently I finish washing my hair and shaving. The relief Apollyon gave me was good, but not deep or intense enough to really get the craving out of my system. I’m still restless, needy. If he hadn’t left when he did, who knows what might have happened. After all, the period between the completion of the first task and the judging is, in Rusala’s words, a gray area, in which demons can probably take advantage of the contestants without fear of repercussions.
Take advantage.The two words reverberate in my mind. Because that’s what it is, really. Any demon who sleeps with a contestant tonight is taking advantage of them at the most vulnerable and stressful time of their lives. The demons are in a position of power over us, the essence of a very real threat. Theywantus. They crave our bodies. And they salivate for our souls, too. They’ve put us in a position where one of us will die tomorrow—which makes us more willing to let our inhibitions dissipate, more likely to yield to them.
I comb out my long hair and fling my head upside down to dry it with the hair dryer the demons have so thoughtfully provided. And while I do, my jaw tightens with the determination to keep myself out of the graceful fingers and sharp claws of those demons tonight. I won’t yield toanyone—not Apollyon, not Rath, not Lucifer himself. I’m going to be smart, and sly, and cautious. Until now I’ve let my emotions carry me along—understandable, considering my situation—but I’m done with that. From now on, no more showering naked with demons. No more kisses. None of that crap.
I indulge in a short nap before putting on some makeup and wriggling into the burgundy dress Rusala chose for me. It’s stunning, with a sweetheart neckline and tiny clear straps over my shoulders. Its rich color darkens to near-black along the sweeping hemline, and the bodice is decorated with black lace appliqué.
While I dress and curl my hair, I make a mental list of what I’ve learned so far. Demons are susceptible to the sexual charm of humans. And they draw their power from human hatred and fear. Which means the less I hate and fear them, the less power they’ll get from me, right? But the demons are walking a strange tightrope here, because although they hunger for our fear, they can’t scare us too badly or we won’t be able to do the work they need us to do.
I’m inserting my second earring, selected from a tray full of gorgeous jewelry, when Rath stalks into my room like he owns the place. He looks more like dark-eyed Thor than ever, if Thor wore a navy tux with a satiny gray shirt underneath, skull cufflinks with sapphire eyes, and a lapel pin in the shape of a tiny human spine.
“Where haveyoubeen?” I snap.
He pulls up short, clearly not used to humans addressing him that way. “What?”
“I needed you earlier. Rusala and Slate almost punched me full of holes after I finished working on my room.”
“You’re not my only project, Grace,” he says.
I shiver at how sexy my name sounds when he says it. “Still, it’s your job to keep me in good shape for the contest. And being forcibly pierced all over and traumatized is like, really bad for my creativity.”
“You seem to be intact. Clearly you handled the situation,” he says. “Now, come. We cannot be late to the gala.”
I’m tempted to tell him about Apollyon saving me, but then he might ask questions about what happened afterward, and I have a feeling that would cause some serious demon drama. I’m not above using the drama to my advantage, but I’d rather save that particular weapon for later.
“This thing tonight is aparty,” I say. “Not a board meeting. You don’t have to be precisely on time for everything.”
“Yes I do.” Rath grips my arm and pulls me out of my suite into the corridor. He propels me along with a hand at the small of my back. “You should have put your hair up.”
“Why? Is it super formal?”
“Rather formal. And all ofthis—” he tugs on a lock of my hair— “is too loose and free. It says, ‘Come and take me.’”
“It’s myhair.” I glare at him. “It doesn’t say anything. And I’ll fix it however I please.” I shrug him off and hurry ahead to join Aghilas and Linnea, who are walking the hallway a little distance ahead, behind their demon sponsors. I sandwich myself between my fellow competitors and link my arms in theirs. Although they both look surprised, they don’t object.
“How did it go? With your rooms?” I say in an undertone.
Linnea releases a shaky laugh. “I honestly don’t know. I went big and bold—then I started worrying that it was too much, so I toned everything down. And now I’m afraid it’s too bland.” She pats a stray wisp of her gray hair into place with a shaking hand.
I squeeze her arm sympathetically. “What about yours, Aghilas?”
“It’s some of my best work,” he says quietly. “And I’m not sure it will be enough.”
“Same,” I tell him. “Well—if this is our last night of life, at least we look good.”
