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“Be sure to check on my guest.” It was the last thing I remembered for some time.
“How are you feeling?” Haidyn asked.
Slowly, I lifted my heavy lids, wincing at the bright light of day streaming into my home.
“Like I was run over by every horse in Augustus’s army,” I croaked. He handed me a gourd of water and helped me drink.
“I’m not surprised.”
“How did you know that would work? It’s been nothing but a myth,” I asked him.
“I didn’t. But I knew I had to try something. Demons are created from death; therefore, death should play a part in saving us. All myths are based on some reality, and I prayed this one was too,” Haidyn explained before running a hand haphazardly through his hair.
“Do I even want to know the relationship between you and that witch?”
He glanced my way, then back down. “No.”
“You know that’s forbidden, right?”
“What?”
“A union between a demon and a witch.”
“Hmph,” he huffed.
“Haidyn….”
“There is no union.”
“Fine.” I let the subject drop—for the moment.
CHAPTER FOUR
Feeling almost back to normal, I wandered in to check on Aurora myself. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but as it was dark, it had to have been nearly a full day. Which meant she had been resting even longer.
With an arm thrown over her head, she lay cocooned in my bedding.
Upon approach, I heaved a sigh of relief to see she breathed evenly. As if she sensed my eyes on her, her lashes fluttered and finally lifted, revealing her golden gaze to mine.
“Hello,” I greeted.
“Hello,” she murmured in reply.
“I apologize again for the trip here. If there had been any other way…” I began but trailed off.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Many knew me as Asmodeus, Ashmedai, or my true Greek given name of Asmodaios. I’d been known as the demon of lust due to my ability to manipulate humans and their sexual desires. I was one of the seven original princes of hell after my fall.
For some reason, I didn’t want her to know me as such.
“You can call me Séamus.” It was the name I’d chosen for myself.
“W-W-Where are we?” she stuttered as she glanced around the room in confusion. She gave an involuntary shudder as the effects of our travels wore off. Then she got to her feet but swayed. I stepped in and held her close to me as she tried to get her bearings.
Seeing the room from her perspective, I realized she probably wondered how a mere guard could afford the opulent apartment. The heavy drapes were of the finest weave, and the tapestries and paintings on the walls were worth a small fortune alone.
The bed sat up on a dais with the thick, hand-carved posts, decorated with mother-of-pearl moldings, reaching to the lofty ceiling. Brilliant purple embroidered in gold, the quilt covered the bed with matching pillows at either end. Though it was rare for Romans to share a bed, I wasn’t actually a Roman. I’d commissioned the bed to my specifications. If I had a woman, she slept with me.
