His breath warms my skin.
I tilt my chin up just slightly.
Just as the distinct sound of hinges swinging open cuts through the thick silence.
I pull back from him, and he releases his hold immediately. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m practically a heap of heavy-breathing hormones in his lap.
My attention lifts to find my cousin staring curiously down on us. Her hand clutches the white robe wrapped around her petite frame.
“Aries?” she asks with confusion heavy in her tone.
My gaze passes from her to the demon in front of me a few times before a thought finally stumbles forward in my cloudy brain.
“Your demon. He’s sick. That shithole down there is a breeding site for infection, and it’s demons like this who make our fine guard look bad. Take him to the infirmary. Now!” I stand and start to walk away without looking back at him.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
“The infirmary doesn’t open until sunrise,” Pen says.
I spin on the toes of my shoes, and it’s really just an excuse to get one more glimpse of him. He’s massive and strong, and yet, beaten and bruised.
He begged me to stay. And now I’m walking away.
And for what? The sake of an appearance? To make sure no one thinks I care for the monster they’ve painted this beautiful man to be?
I can’t stay. Not now. But I can make sure he’s taken care of.
“Then wake them. You are the Duchess of Roses. Wake. Them. The. Fuck. Up. Now, Pen!” My voice rakes down the quiet hall, and I hear feet shuffle behind closed doors like we have more of an audience than we can see.
But I don’t care.
Pen nods so hard, I swear her pretty little blonde curls are going to come loose.
When she starts ushering Ryke to his feet, I turn away from them. Pain strikes through me to walk away.
But I do walk away from him.
For my sake, as well as his.
7
Mind, Body, and Soul
Zaviar
No one talks about it. Krave never once fucking talked about how you become a bound demon. Let me tell you a little story.
The King, the great and mighty King of Roses, fucking date-raped my ass into swearing myself to him. I was drugged. And beaten. And then I was intimately granted a temporary binding of quick spoken words. Bound heart and soul to some fucker who can’t tell the difference between a demon and godsdamn seraph.
My jaw grinds as I stand on the wooden platform above the watchful fae. Damien stands at my side, the sunlight beaming down on his dirty golden skin and reminding me that he’s more of a saint than I’ll ever be.
I got him into this.
And eventually, I’ll get him out of all of this.
It just won’t be today.
“Yes, yes, gather round. Got your sights set on anyone in particular?” The little elderly woman asks a sniveling thin man at the very front.
