The dress was an A-line style with a skirt that flared out due to the little pleats at the waistband. It was a soft and stretchy type of material, so, at the very least, it was comfortable. It had strange symbols I had never seen before printed all over it in a light grey tone. The bottom of the skirt had much larger symbols, and these looked more like the demonic sigils I was used toseeing in the shop. Symbols that were white and the size of my palm, making this the part of the dress that was less subtle.
As for the upper half, it was a plain black, fitted, corset style that laced at the back, but with a hexagram-shaped strap that crisscrossed over my chest at the front. Of course, I had been torn when standing in front of the mirror before coming out of the changing room. Because, on one hand, the dress actually looked good on me, giving me a sexy hourglass figure. But on the more practical side, it wasn’t exactly office chic, like Nate had said.
“Oh wow! It looks great on you… But the shoes don’t go,” my sister informed me with a big grin, and my sigh must have said it all. Especially when I held out my hand without looking, and she passed me the thick-soled, lace-up black boots that I knew were the tamest pair in the shop. Again, she just giggled, clearly finding amusement in my forced fashion choice.
Any other day, and it wouldn’t have bothered me as much, but this could have been a pivotal turning point in my career. Now, if only there had been any other clothes shops open this early, then it wouldn’t have been so bad. But the only reason I knew Sabrina would have been here was that they were doing an early stock-take, which was why Nate was here too.
“Maybe this is a bad omen,” I complained after zipping up the sides of the boots and tightening the laces.
“No, don’t think that way. You have worked too hard on this, don’t give up now… remember what Mom always says…”
“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. Thomas Edison… yeah, I know.”
“Well, I was going to say the one where a bad omen is just another name for fear, and both exist to become a battle to conquer.”
I released another sigh, now slapping my hands to my knees and standing before telling her that she was right.
However, I never got there as the second my hands came into contact with the fabric of my dress, I was struck with the next fear to conquer. And this time it had nothing to do with a meeting or a presentation.
No, this time, it was a face.
The most startling, handsome face I had ever seen. A man that I knew wasn’t just a man at all. But a powerful figure sat upon a throne of flesh and bone.
A demonic King and ruler of a Hellish…
Eternal Oblivion.
2
SUMMONING DISASTER
“Hey, sis, you okay?” I jerked back to myself and let go of the strange, haunting vision that I knew would cling to my mind regardless. I used to get these types of things when touchingsomething. Like a bare glimpse into another life, just from contact with an object. Memories that weren’t my own but had imprinted on an item. At first, they freaked me the fuck out. That was until my mom explained it, telling me it was a precious gift given by a higher power. That I should consider these moments as offerings handed to me by Janus, the God of Time.
That I was special.
Well, after that last one, I definitely didn’t feel very special. It had felt more like a warning. Like some demonic god somewhere was keeping an eye on me for some reason. As if some malevolent being was waiting to punish me. And no matter how devastatingly handsome he had been, I would have been a fool to let beauty distract me from the wickedness I felt coiled at the very core of his soul.
I had never experienced a vision like it!
Even now, I could feel it clinging to me, as if he had just opened a visual portal and the image it fed himwas of me.A wave of foreboding swept through me, as though he’d purposely left a piece of himself behind, branding my mind with an image I knew would never fade.
He had been sitting on a throne of twisted bones and flesh, made from creatures that were clearly not of this world. A man who had looked as comfortable sitting there as if it had been an armchair made of the softest leather. His large, powerful frame had been relaxed, with a long, open robe flowing at his sides, leaving a ripped, pale-skinned torso on show with too many muscles to count.
Pale skin that was marred with tattooed symbols that looked as if they belonged to some ancient lost world unknown to Earth. They had rippled over his body like oil on water, as if they flowed over his skin rather than being absorbed into it. Symbols that had started to glow white the moment he seemed to catch sight of me. Like some kind of sixth sense of his that was alerting him to the fact that there was an intruder peeking through into his world. He had even leaned forward, resting a forearm to his knee so as to get closer to me, gifting me the first glance of his face.
Moon Goddess!
But he had been breathtaking, and not only from how handsome he was. No, because fear had claimed me first. Claimed me in his unyielding grasp and with an intimacy I hadn’t invited, as his demonic eyes flared from the shadows crowding the throne. An all-consuming gaze burning into me like white-hot coals, alive and hungry, fed by every ragged breath I took. Then the whites of them suddenly turned to black, and this darkness branched out, bleeding into the skin surrounding them.
High cheekbones and a slim nose matched the sharp lines of his jawline, giving him an ethereal and macabre appearance.One that in any other setting I would have said he looked more like an angel or even a…
A Fae Prince.
Now, where that thought had come from, I didn’t know, but the moment it surfaced, my gaze was drawn to the pointed tips of his ears. They were visible only because his long, white-blond hair had been pulled half back from his face. Hair that had been braided tight against his scalp, while the rest spilled over his broad shoulders in pin-straight strands that looked impossibly soft against the hardness of him. Even his flawless, pale skin seemed too gentle to belong to a killer. As though every beautiful detail were a deliberate contradiction to the monster beneath.
But then those pale lips stretched into a malevolent grin that only promised me bad things should this ever become more than just a vision in return. Something within him that had prompted him to reach out toward me, as a pale hand emerged from the long length of his robe. This before he extended two fingers, jerking them in a way that wanted me to come closer. Such a simple gesture, yet one that spoke volumes, telling me this was not a being to be denied anything. A man who could command subjects with the barest hint of action. A power that went beyond barked orders or bellowed commands.
Oh, and I didn’t miss the details of that hand either. One that looked too strong to simply wield magic and nothing more. No, this was the body of a warrior, and those rough hands had, no doubt, gripped more weapons in his time than simply that of casting spells. Fingers that I knew could crush my spine, curled back as he beckoned me forward. But this time, silence wasn’t enough, and he spoke one name, his rich, unearthly voice winding around my heart even as it loosened the spell that momentarily bound me to him.
