Page 41 of Hellish Fae
Dozens of guests file in at the front of the double doors of the castle, but the side entrance is safer. My father’s guard never were too worried about the side entrance when the King’s rooms were all the way in the back.
I notice Zaviar’s gaze lingers on the fat petals of my mother’s deep red roses. He plucks one off and it’s larger than his massive palm. In the slicing moonlight with the sound of a piano singing into the silence, it’s hard not to think he looks like a fairytale come to life. His strong jaw is always so tense. As tense as his wide, bare shoulders. The shadows that dance along his chest are the most alluring darkness I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I truly want to get lost in that darkness.
And I can’t shake the deep look in his eyes as he stares down at the beautiful flower.
What’s he thinking?
“This part of the fae realm is called the Kingdom of Roses,” he whispers.
I step away from the door and come a bit closer to him, trying not to shiver from the cool night breeze skimming along my near-nudity.
“It wasn’t always. Centuries ago, our Kingdom was in ashy shambles because of a hellacious curse my father brought upon himself. It was a dark mess with more demons than fae.”
His pretty shining eyes look up at me. He’s flawless and handsome but he isn’t kind like Damien. It makes me wonder how he’s kept his angelic appearance for so long while Damien’s turns more demonic every day.
“And then my father met my mother. And with a single touch, roses grew everywhere she walked. She was a powerful fae.”
“Was?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
“Her magic depends on her happiness,” I whisper with a near soundless voice.
And she hasn’t been happy with my father since their wedding day.
He got what he wanted. A thriving woman who made fae from all the kingdoms join us just to bask in her and her children’s magic. She was someone the kingdom loved.
Even if he never did.
“Happiness is vital in life,” I tell him, my attention fixed on the hundreds of petals filling his hand. “Happiness breeds prosperity.”
The pale blue of his eyes isn’t glaring when he peers up at me through thick, dark lashes. He steps closer, and it startles me when he slides the flower into my hand, his warmth skimming my skin with a tingling scorch. “You’re the most confusing fucking woman I’ve ever met, Crow,” he whispers, his breath fanning against my breasts with his closeness.
My fingers tighten into the thorns of the stem, and I take a careful step back from the hauntingly beautiful man.
The man who hates me.
“When we get inside, never let me step in front of you. Always lead me. Never ask my permission. Do as you please with your property.But—” I say sharply, “donotfucking smoke me unless I ask. You have to be just outside the castle walls anyway. The castle is protected against demonic magic. And if I ask, do it immediately. Do you understand?” My eyes are wide as I imagine the worst-case scenario in which I’d need him to smoke me as far away as his demon magic will carry us.
With a single step, he crowds that space I put between us. A carving smile pulls his lips to one side.
“You don’t have to worry about me smoking you,” he says oddly. I don’t really know why he says that. Perhaps just like Damien, most of his demon powers are muted with the dark magic Corva is using. “I understand.” He reaches for the door, and when he pulls it open a sliver of an inch, the music that always hangs over Nathiale’s birthday streams out to us. “One question, though.”
I arch a brow at him and wait as he brings the door all the way back and reveals an orgy of a scene.
“Why the sexy underwear, Crow?” he asks, but then his smile drops when his gaze scans over every thrusting body littering the couches, the floors, and the stage against the far wall.
Demons kneel before their handlers, their lips sliding down hard shafts, faces contorted in bliss and ecstasy. Moans and screams of delight accompany the beautiful piano music and for a moment, I consider not answering the obvious.
But I have pity on the innocent fallen angel.
“Because this is a sex party, Faehole.”
Obviously.
My body hums to life with the sound of orgasms and teasing release. I pretend not to see it all, though. I walk through the crowd behind Zaviar like a good little pet demon. A demon with a goal, and not even a sight like this will distract me.
But I have a part to play. And it seems Zaviar is ready for payback for me not revealing all thedirtydetails of tonight’s itinerary.
