They made it nearly all the way back to that wretched bedroom made for a king before Leviathan finally stopped and spun to him, looking smug again. Cullen eyed the door behind him suspiciously; he was almost positive it hadn’t been here the first time they’d walked down this hall.
“Feel free to come and go as you please.” Leviathan murmured as he pushed the thick wooden door open. “You can’t get out of this realm without me.”
To his shock and relief, his room was normal. Still cold stone walls that looked wickedly sharp, but a fire burned behind a grate built into the wall. And candles lit the space, adding to the warmth. There was a big bed that looked soft, the pillows and blanket a dark red. A tall wardrobe stood in the corner, the whorls in its surface making horrifying designs of war and death. It was darkly beautiful. He glanced at the bed nervously, though, terrified of what Leviathan might be planning.
Leviathan seemed calm though, not as if he was about to attack him. "That door leads to your private bathroom.” He pointed across the room to a black ornate door. “There are no locks on any of these doors, but servants won't come in unless they're ordered to. For now, I've told them to leave you to your privacy." He moved closer, pressing his chest to Cullen's back, and curling his arm around him, bringing his hand up to stroke his throat. Cullen froze, his face warming in surprise. "Would you like help in the shower?" Leviathan breathed, pressing a hot kiss to his neck.
Cullen flinched, shoving away from him. Leviathan laughed but made no move towards him. "Relax. I told you I'd give you time. However much I think you need to get over that pathetic rodent."
Cullen shook his head, about to say he would never get over Walker, but Leviathan ignored him, heading back out the door. "I'll bring you some food in the morning. Goodnight, Cullen." He purred. Cullen watched his piercing eyes disappear behind the door, heard it click closed, and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He hadn’t realized until now, until he’d stood in front of the mirrored wall of his new bathroom, that he should have been covered in blood. His clothes should be torn and his hair a mess but…it was all perfect. And he was dressed in some kind of silky pajamas that made him cringe.
Leviathan had changed his clothes. Hadwashedhim that night he’d kidnapped him. Nausea twisted in his gut, made him shudder in revulsion.
But his body hadn’t been sore when he woke. And, smug as Leviathan had seemed, he didn’t think anything beyond…touching had happened while he’d been unconscious. Still…he stripped down quickly, examining every inch of his body for…bruises. Or bite marks. Anything. But he was untouched. He exhaled shakily in relief and turned for the shower–a giant obsidian surface that stretched along half the ceiling and floor–and turned on the water, frowning when it began to pour from such a large patch of the ceiling.
A rain shower. In an ancient, demonic place like this. He snorted despite himself, and couldn’t help the little part of him that was glad Leviathan seemed to have picked up some more human preferences in the last few centuries.
He glanced around the room as he waited for the water to warm, taking in the dark counters and the matching sinks set into them. There was a large mirror set behind them, and the entire wall off to the side was a mirror from floor to ceiling. He glanced down at the huge bathtub made of obsidian in the center of the wide room and blushed at the thought of why Leviathan would want him to have such a large tub. There was no toilet and he felt no need to use one, even after all this time. More proof his body had been altered…
He jumped into the shower, brushing off the thoughts, and scrubbed himself clean with the strange smelling soap that had been sealed in odd–and beautiful–glass jars. It made his skin prickle, but at least that meant he was getting clean, that he was erasing whatever touch Leviathan had left on him.
Once he felt somewhat clean, somewhat untouched, he stepped out of the shower and pulled on the heavy black robe that hung on the bathroom door. Leviathan really had thought of everything, he would give him that.
He left the bathroom and moved across the room to the wardrobe, rifling through it and grimacing at what he foundthere. A mix of nicely folded button up shirts and dark pants. A few sweatshirts that Cullen could haveswornhad been in his bedroom the night he’d been kidnapped, and sweatpants and tennis shoes and so many other things. Leviathan had done so much to make sure he would be comfortable…
He shook that thought away as well and dressed in an orange sweatshirt that smelled suspiciously like it had been stuffed in his drawers back home and too-familar sweatpants before he crawled into the bed, drawing the covers over his head to hide away in the darkness as the tears began to fall again.
Leviathan couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face as he walked away from Cullen’s room. He finally had him here. All to himself. It might take some time for him to stop hating him, for him to get over that brat Walker, but he couldn't go back now. He was sure Cullen understood the dangers of putting himself around humans after what had nearly happened. And he knew that Cullen would never put his friends in peril like that on purpose. He was stuck here. He had eternity to win him over now.
10
The anger had surprised both of them. Cullen had woken in that soft bed, surrounded by that scent that belonged to that stupid demon prince, and he’d rolled over only to find the bastard standing right over him with a thoughtful gaze.
He’d sprung up with a cry of shock, shoving Leviathan back, and something had snapped inside him at the violent contact. He’d thrown the lamp from the bedside table at his head, had shrieked at him to get out and to stop being a creepy, stalker bastard, and then…Leviathan had left. With little more than a scowl.
Cullen had calmed a bit…and then decided that if it worked, he might as well act like this every time the prick came near him. Even if it only delayed the inevitable.
Days.
It had been days.
He had gone back to Cullen’s room over and over againand each time Cullen had attacked him. Had screamed and thrown things at him until Leviathan left again. He could have pushed it, could have put him to sleep again–but he didn’t. He left him alone, only giving the servants orders to bring him food three times a day–and sealing his balcony doors with magic to make sure he couldn’t do anything stupid.
Now it was a goddamn waiting game again.
He hated waiting games, eternity or no eternity.
And his patience had been wearing very thin even before the servant stumbled into his dining room to tell him about Cullen’s new bout of idiocy.
“He’s not eating?!” Leviathan demanded, his fist coming down sharply on his dining room table. The dragonglass shuddered under his hand.
The servant–a thin girl with white hair and big eyes–slid back a step, her body trembling. “Yes, sire. He’s been throwing his food into the fire.”
“And why was I not informed of this sooner?” His voice was much quieter, the violent threat in it obvious.
The girl swallowed loudly. Too loudly. Irritating. “I just realized, my lord. He’s been waiting for me to leave everyday before he does it but today…he looked thinner. And I heard the flames crack when I left the room.”
