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“Awe, come back. I don’t bite,” he says, a humorous ring to his otherwise tenor voice. He sounds young. Looks it, too. I’d be surprised if he’s older than me, maybe early twenties. But that hair…
It’s not common for creatures within the Seven Realms to have pure white hair like his. Not even our most pure bloodlines do. Our original families have silver.
The color of his hair alone names his heritage without me needing to put much thought into it. He’s of the Midicious bloodline, descending from the gods and druids of old. A line which descends from the mad king who once reigned over the Realm of Monsters, otherwise known as the prison realm that collapsed and released the wicked beasts on our world.
Though the mad king is long dead, a handful of his children have carried down their vivid white hair, and only one male has been born to that line. The Duke of Solaria.
“Oh, Asmo,” the man sings as I descend the steps. “It would appear your lady friend has risen. I don’t think she likes me much.” There’s something knowing in his voice, like some secret meaning hides in those words.
“Her name is Valeria.” I’d recognize that voice anywhere, especially the snarl in it. “Andfriendis a stretch.”
Reaching the first floor, I find the white-haired man grinning wildly, arms crossed as if awaiting my arrival. His dimples flash as he turns his attention from me, down the hall, where I find Asmoshirtless, and standing over a table he’s pulled out of the apothecary. The dark wooden surface is covered in a thin layer of old, leather-bound books.
I’ve got this.
Asmo rakes a hand through his dark hair, pushing it out of his face before flipping the time-withered pages of the book open in front of him. I take a solitary step before he leans over, brings his lips close to the crease in the binding and blows a stream of air through that crevasse. A plume of dust spills around him and I swallow hard.
The act shouldn’t be arousing, but it has a memory storming my senses no less. The image of him in my dream, after he dragged the tip of his hot, wet, tongue down my body, from my collarbones to the juncture between my thighs. He followed that trail with the warm air of his breath, and as if he’s done it just now, the centerline of my body turns both hot and cold.
A shiver rolls through every limb of my being and I shift my weight to my other foot, clearing my throat as if it will shake me from the trance I’ve fallen under.
I don’t got this.
For a moment, I forget to breathe. It’s not until amber eyes pool into mine that I jerk my gaze away. My spine rigid, I shift my weight from foot to foot, crossing my arms to pretend like I wasn’t gawking at Asmo. Willing my face into a mask ofemotionless stone, I clutch my crystal pendant, letting the hum of magic there soothe my far-too imaginative mind.
“What’s with all the books?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“They’re grimoires and I’m looking for something.”
That’s a vague answer if I’ve ever heard one, but it’s clear by the tone, he has no desire to elaborate on the matter.
Here I thought we’d moved past the power play, that we made a truce, signed in sealed with our blood. For a moment, I saw a possibility of us becoming, dare I say,friendswhen he showed me around my new home, and it seemed like he wanted to. Why else would he invite a woman who stabbed him to live in his home? Perhaps, the peace I sensed was merely a dream. It was likely me just scrounging for a place in this world that I belong, where I’m needed or wanted, rather than being a nuisance for existing.
Trapping my lower lip between my teeth, I breathe in deep, letting the fresh air push away the thoughts swirling my mind. It’s far too imaginative indeed.
Asmo closes the grimoire and the slap of the book coming together, sends a jolt through me. With a sharp pivot he faces me, arching a dark brow and crossing his arms over his bare chest. It’s like he’s waiting for me to apologize. For what? Interrupting him?
“My nephew will live here for the foreseeable future. However, you have my formal permission to ignore the bastard as you see fit. The gods know I find it hard to entertain the likes of him. If he annoys you, you can lock him outside. Perhaps we’ll make him a doghouse.”
My gaze shifts uneasily from Asmo to the duke, and the scowl on his ethereal face. There aren't many fae in the Seven Realms, and though I’ve never seen one in person, I’ve heard stories. They’re supposed to be beautiful creatures, far too beautiful to be mortal. And looking at him now, the stories are true.
Asmo flicks his wrist in Griffin’s direction. “This is Griffin, the son of Lady Eva and Lord Finn—”
“I’ve gleaned as much,” I say, cutting him off dryly. Doing my best to paste on a smile, I bow my head respectfully to the duke, as if he's a lord himself, deserving of such an honor.
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Griffin grins a bit too widely in my direction as I right myself, his blue eyes dragging down my frame at a snail’s speed, as if I’m something he could swallow whole.
I take a hesitant step forward, glancing between the two men. I’m not sure who in this room is less of a threat, the fae with hungry eyes or the grumpy demon who’s scrutinizing every move I make.
“Well, it is rare,” I say, politely. “There’s only one family line with hair like yours and only one male born to it. It was an easy guess.” Griffin all but beams, like he’s reveling in the fact I’ve heard of him. “So, why exactly are you living here? Shouldn’t the duke live in the lands of which he is the duke of?”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice.” Asmo pushes off the table. “Seeing as he allowed a witch to put him under a love spell, and the keep is warded against such magic, he’ll remain here until it…” Asmo trails off, clearing his throat. “He’ll stay until it wears off.”
“What he means to say, is I’ll be pussy-whipped until the bitch is dead,” Griffin says in the melodic voice that makes my insides explode with butterflies. I was taught that his familial line descends from Aphrodite and I can see why. Not only is he beautiful, being in his very presence is like chugging faerie wine. “More importantly, I’d love to know why you’re here.” Griffin is closer now, so close, that he glides the tip of his index finger along the shell of my pointed ear. “And my my… What sharp ears you have.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen an elf before.” The snarl in Asmo’s voice has me sucking in a sharp breath. “As for why she’s here, well, she is the Lady of Grim’s Keep and you’ll treat her with some respect, not like one of your many conquests.”
Griffin whirls, the motion so fast and fluid that it sends wild tendrils of my dark hair flying into my face. “Thelady?Since when are you involved with someone?” His white eyebrows practically disappear into his hairline.
