The look of horror on Isabelle’s face is almost amusing, until she gets a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Bring the wine,” she orders the she-demon. My curiosity piques.
The raven-haired demon looks in my direction cautiously. I dip my head, reining my shadows back in. The door opens with an audible click, and she scurries out quickly. Isabelle sits back on the velvet upholstered chair, an amused grin on her lips.
“When were you going to tell me about the kind of parties you throw here?” she asks, only mild curiosity in her tone.
I sit at the edge of the bed opposite her. “It’s more fun to see you experience it. I couldn’t do the party justice with my words.”
“I’m sure,” she hums. “I suppose after everything we’ve discussed, we both deserve a drink. Don’t you think, Husband?”
This time, it’s my turn to grin like a damned fool.That’s exactly what Isabelle makes me. A foolish demon playing a dangerous game. “Very much, Wife.” Even if I have sworn off love, I’ll happily indulge my wife in any way befitting a queen. Though, if I’m being honest, I want to ruin her.
Chapter 23
Isabelle
The woman returns soon after with a dark bottle of wine and a tray of assorted foods. The latter is largely ignored as two glasses of wine are poured. The liquid is a deep red color, almost crimson, with swirling black flecks that sparkle when the light hits it. It’s like no other wine I’ve ever seen before, more tantalizing in nature, as if its job is to seduce you to drink.
“Leave us,” Oziel speaks, pulling my attention from the strange wine. I look up just in time to see the demon’s face crumple in disappointment.
“My lord, I’m happy to assist?—”
“I’m sure you are,” Oziel says, though not unkindly. His tone lacks interest, and he pays her little mind, dismissing her with his body language. “But we don’t require your assistance.”
The woman sticks out her bottom lip before turning on her heels and walking out of the room with a haughty stride. The door closes behind her with a resoundingthud, leaving me and Oziel alone. My body is keenly aware of him.
His hot gaze travels over me, not hiding his blatant perusal. “Why?” he asks after a moment.
“Why what?” I deflect, knowing what he’s asking but needing more time to come to terms with my own answer.
“Knowing exactly what the lust wine will do, why would you still choose to drink it with me?” Oziel’s voice is devoid of emotion, giving me no hint of the thoughts lurking behind the demon king’s dark gaze. His finger traces the rim of his glass in slow, deliberate circles, a silent rhythm that feels almost hypnotic.
I train my eyes on the motion, looking anywhere but at my husband. “Because there’s a lot of scary shit going on,” I finally admit, not feeling compelled to hide my emotions any longer. At least not at this moment. I don’t have the energy to. We both would do well with a little vulnerability. “Being the person who holds the fate of your entire kingdom in the palm of their hands is a burden I didn’t fully comprehend until it looked me in the eyes. To say I’m stressed would be an understatement.”
Oziel remains silent, his gaze heavy on me—watching, assessing, waiting for my next move. The weight of his scrutiny is nearly enough to make me falter and abandon this conversation entirely or pretend it never happened. But that isn’t what I truly want. Consequences be damned.
This will change nothing.
It will change everything.
I ignore the voice, pushing on before my confidence leaves me. “For just a moment, I want to forget. I want to feel something that isn’t impending doom. That one of your demons didn’t just try to kill me, and the survival of your kingdom isn’t on my shoulders.” My gaze lifts, finally meeting his eyes. “I want you to make me forget. For just one day.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip of the wine. The sugary sweetness erupts on my tongue. I’m normally not one for sweet wines, but this seems to be an exception. I take another long sip, and the wine heats my throat as it goes down.
The effects hit me instantly, similar to the wine we had at our wedding. My body—already attuned to Oziel’s presence—ignites with a searing heat, a fire that spreads through my veins with devastating intensity. It’s as if an invisible flame has been set ablaze inside me, and Oziel is the only thing that can quench it. My breath catches as I finally lift my gaze to meet his. His eyes are hooded, dark with something raw, something dangerously close to need.
“You want me to be your distraction, Kitten?” he growls. I swear I hear disappointment in his tone, but disappointment for what?
“If you don’t want to fuck me, then?—”
“I didn’t say that,” he interrupts, hands tightening around his glass. I’m amazed he hasn’t broken it into shards.
There is no use in holding back now. My lips are loosened, desperate to say anything for him to ease this ache. “You’re my distraction, Oziel. That’s all you'll ever be.”
Oziel growls, lip curled back in anger at my harsh words. The last words are gas doused on a flame. We move as one, meeting in the middle, where we crash in a haze of lust and anger. Oziel’s hand wraps through my hair before cradling the back of my head. His lips are on mine, kissing me as if I’m the very elixir to life and he’s a dying man. It’s not the kiss of a lover, gentle and full of promises. No, this kiss is rough. Dirty. Almost angry.
It’s exactly what I need.
Oziel yanks my head back, pulling my hair. I cry out as the kiss breaks, panting heavily. “I will not be gentle with you.”
