“You’re beautiful this way and every other way.”
She shuddered under his touch, under their tender kisses, reveling in bliss as they took wet cloths to her body and cleaned the worst of the mess.
Bellinor taught her how to conceal her wings, and it took her several tries before they disappeared, her back ticklish with the strange sensation of feathers. He eased her into the steaming tub after doing the same with his own, letting Rul get in behind her and pull her flush to his chest.
As the incubus dotted kisses along her shoulders, Bellinor got in, sloshing the water onto the floor as he settled in front of her. He wore a sheepish expression, and she quirked a brow, trying to figure out what was ailing him as Rul ran a bar of floral scented soap over her, a delightfully gentle fragrance for such naughty flesh.
“You can still go back, you know,” Bellinor said, causing Rul to pause his ministrations and wrap an arm possessively around her middle.
“What?” she asked, taken aback by the sudden statement.
“To Marilet. Or anywhere you want. We won’t stop you. You don’t have to stay here.”
Ottilie pursed her lips into a smile, her heart warmed by the foolishness of this devil.
“I’llstop you,” Rul whispered in her ear, tingling her freshly cleaned skin. “You’re not leaving.”
Bellinor growled, his brows furrowed into a frown, and she shook her head with a chuckle.
“I’m not leaving. I never truly belonged there, and I don’t ever want to go back.”
She had her cottage and her forest, and though she cherished them, it wasn’t because they reminded her of Marilet, but because Bellinor had created them for her even when he had tried to fight his feelings.
“You’re here to stay,” Rul said, biting her neck playfully and sending a jolt through her body.
Bellinor just smiled, content with leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, the love palpable in the brightness of his eyes and the softness of his touch.
CHAPTER 24
“CHECKMATE.”
Bellinor frowned, examining the board as if making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
They were pretty evenly matched, Bellinor not getting much practice over the decades since Rul didn’t like playing, and after her father’s death it had been difficult for her to pick up a chess piece.
She enjoyed her time in his study, the quiet decorum of the room so different from the absurd chaos of the rest of le Jardin.
Bellinor extended a hand, and she took it, enjoying the warmth of his strong grasp and the way he looked at her like he wanted to spank her for winning. Which she hoped he’d do later, when they were all curled up in bed together after yet another perfect day in paradise.
Paradise. Funny to call a place like le Voile paradise, but it was true.
Each day was spent in debauched bliss, in intimate companionship, in the pursuit of the small pleasures of life. She painted and fucked to her heart’s content, ate macarons and sipped café au lait, explored le Jardin and created her own spaces.
Well, Bellinor was still the main architect of the sumptuous palace, but he’d had centuries of practice. She was a quick study, learning to craft le Voile though she loved the way Bellinor and Rul pampered her like they had when she was human.
She still enjoyed her original form at times, the way her fragile body quaked under the touch of the demons, though she cherished her demonic form above all else.
Rul burst into the study, eyes wild before he composed himself, clearing his throat and straightening his messy shirt.
“It’s done,” he said, and a wave of relief washed over Ottilie.
She supposed she should have felt bad, but embraced the absurdity of life as a source of freedom—allowing her to live without the constraints of traditional morality or purpose. She was here to survive, and if that meant another perished in le Voile, then that was how it had to be.
They were safe, and that was all that mattered.
It wouldn’t have even been anyone she knew from the temple, though she had refused to watch from the window regardless, not wanting to see the devout human’s last breath. She hoped they felt at peace, like they were honoring the goddess.
But she doubted it.
Decades had passed in the blink of an eye. Henri and Pierre had moved on, found wives, had children. They’d grown old and were buried in the dirt like everyone else she had known when she lived in Marilet.
And here she was, not immortal, but… long-lived. Embracing the truth of her deviancy in a way that made her feel free.
She loved and was loved, submitted and gave thanks to her owners, and lived a life she never thought she would.
Ottilie was happy, and Isabelle was too.
