She’s here.
In my bed.
Soft and small, curled up among the plush bedding I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. She looks perfectly at-home there, though, golden hair falling out of a braid to caress her freckled cheek. A gentle, delicate thing born for a soft life.
A life that, against all odds, I’m in the position to give her.
Is that what the Dealmaker was thinking when he put us together? I still can’t make sense of it. We could not be more different. It would be so easy for me to hurt her without meaning to… Don’t I have enough on my shoulders without having to guard a bride made of glass?
And yet… I can’t find it within me to be angry with the Dealmaker. I move closer to the bed, memorizing her round face, the dark sweep of lashes—fluttering slightly while she dreams—her full, rosy lips parted to accommodate the heavy breathing of a deep sleep. I don’t know where this sense of loyalty to her has come from. Is it the contract? The nature of the bloodsworn bond? I only know that I have an overwhelming need to never let her out of my sight, to keep her close and protect her. To make sure her life is as soft and beautiful as she is.
Hesitating, I loom over the opposite side of the bed, both wanting to savor this moment and too cowardly to step into the next. Eventually, the avalanche wins, and I slip into bedalongside her. There’s plenty enough space between us, but the sweet, enticing scent of my delicate flower is intoxicating. It’s something she’s put in her hair, I think, some of the loose tendrils spread far enough to reach my pillow, too.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve reached up and I’m twirling one of those silky threads around my claw, completely awed by being this close. I’m a beast in the pasture, and somehow the flock sleeps soundly. Does she not understand the danger she’s in?
My mouth dries, every fiber of my being urging me to get closer to her. To stroke more than just her hair.
It’s not even a thought that fully forms, but a deep, primal need. Something my body acts on before I can respond, shifting myself closer to her, careful to angle my upper body in a way that she won’t get hurt.
Ingrid stirs a bit, murmuring gibberish in her sleep, her brow furrowing with a frown that shouldn’t be there.
Sleep is already beginning to drag me under with proximity to my bride, tension slowly melting out of me. “Shh, you’re safe,” I whisper, a tendril of her hair still wrapped around my claw.
Ingrid takes in a quick breath, startling awake with a panicked shriek as she leaps out of bed, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Chapter Ten
Ingrid
My own surprised shriek rings in my ears as I blink away the bleariness of sleep and try to calm my racing heart. As soon as I figure out where it’s run off to, because it feels like it’s outside of my body someplace. Through the haze of slumber, I can’t even process what startled me, struggling to rouse my thoughts with the rest of me.
Someone was touching me. In my bed—no, notmybed. The bed I’ve been occupying the past week’s worth of nights isn’t mine, and I’m not in familiar territory. All at once, the reality of my situation lands on my shoulders yet again. That moment of confusion in the morning is the only reprieve I have from dwelling on the choices I’ve made, and today, that moment’s been cut short by an ember-eyed demon watching me with guarded curiosity. The burning coals of his eyes are dull, the heat within gone cold, and I have no way to know if my interpretation of that is accurate, but that doesn’t stop a niggle of guilt from worming its way into my heart. As far as I can tell, Xandril didn’t ask for this particular outcome of the Dealmaker’s bargain anymore than I did; I may not intend to go through with the wedding, I may even plan on finding any way out of it that I can, but that doesn’t mean I have tohurthim.
“I…um…” I stammer, his unwavering gaze making me fidget, smoothing down my silk sleeping gown before crossing my arms for some semblance of cover. I can’t imagine the state I’m in right now: sleep crusting my eyes, hair a mess of tangles, wearing next to nothing—it’s no way to present myself toanyone, least of all my ‘future husband.’
Xandril says nothing, staying still as a statue on the bed. He’s on his side facing me, raised up on one elbow to better level that smoldering gaze at me, and the only thing covering the expanses of impossible color-shifting skin is a rumple of bedcovers loosely draped over his hips. His shoulders and upper arms are spiky and intimidating, but his chest is solid muscle, marked here and there by the silver lines of scars, and the nearer my eyes draw to the blankets, the drier my mouth feels. The initial surprise of being shocked awake has begun to dull, my heart back and beating a steady rhythm.A rhythm that says I should get back into bed, that it’s too cold and he is made of warmth.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force my gaze back to his. “I did not realize this was your bedchamber,” I say, voice shaking far more than I’d like.
“Ourbedchamber,” he rumbles a correction.
There’s something in that deep voice of his that ignites a fire in me that has me forgetting all about the chill in the air. It’s two simple words, yet they stoke scandal in my mind.
“If that is the case, why is it only now we are having this interaction?” I ask, hands twisting in front of me. If I don’t keep them busy, I don’t trust I’ll keep them to myself. “I have spent many nights in this bed and haven’t seen the first hint of you since the ball.”
His neutral, curious expression shifts to a scowl that makes me stagger back. The heat glowing from the cracks in his stonyskin and the harsh set of his jaw make my gut twist with fear. All at once I realize I have no idea what sort of character this demon is. Everyone seems to have a different impression of him, and even though the Dealmaker assured me no harm would come to me, the Dealmaker isn’t here now.
I am very,veryalone, and even if I weren’t, Xandril is theking. He has the power to silence anyone who might try to speak on my behalf. I thought the kind of power and influence the Judge wielded was terrifying, but he was still only a man. He had only the drunkards and bullies to enforce his will. Xandril hasarmies.
“I…what I mean to say is, we are not wed. Not yet. I thought—”
“I can have alternate chambers prepared for you, if you’d like,” he says before I can finish my thought. Instantly, all my worries about being harmed or locked away are erased, the frantic spinning wheel of my mind slowing, quieting.
“Um… Yes. I would like that, thank you.” It’s just that easy? I don’t have to plead or argue or bargain?
Who would have thought that a demon king would be so…reasonable?
I don’t have a chance to properly word my gratitude before he’s out of the bed, every inch of him as nude as the day he was born, crossing the room to the door, giving orders to someone in the hallway while I juststare.
