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“I’m inviting you to snuggle. It never has to be more than that. And only if you want to.” He spins me again, bringing me face to face once more.
What if I want it to be?I find myself holding my breath as I gaze into his eyes, eyes that give absolutely nothing away.“You want tosnuggle me?”
He slowly, unabashedly, took in every line, every curve of me. “I do. And I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”
Caught off guard, I fumble for a response, the blush deepening in my cheeks until they feel like they’re on fire.
Everything my people taught me about demons is so obnoxiously wrong. They claimed everyone but the king and queen lived in dungeon-like homes, ate creatures raw, and picked their meat off the bone like savages. I’d believed that demons were bloodthirsty killers incapable of emotions or empathy. They were supposed to be monsters, not snugglers.
Asmodeus might be the first demon I’ve met—that I’ve talked to for more than five words—but he’s nothing like I’d expected. I don’t doubt for a second that he’s deadly. I’ve seen him covered in blood, just as I’ve seen his magic. He’s capable of things beyond my imagination, but he’s also the man with a map on his ceiling so he can check on those he loves. He’s the one that created bodies for people who were wronged, all to give them a second chance at life, and nearly lost his shadow in the process. He’s no villain—not like my people have made it out to be.
“I owe you an apology.”
He raises his eyebrows as I meet his gaze. “For what?”
“I was deeply misled about your kind. The elves are taught that demons are despicable creatures, but you and Griffin—” I shake my head.
“It’s okay.” He tucks a chunk of my hair behind my ear. “I’m glad you saw otherwise, that you were open enough to makeyour own assumptions, but I don’t blame you for believing what you were told.”
I haven't had time to think about what comes next for me. We’d made a temporary deal—a truce that helped us both. Though, the longer I’ve been here, the more I see what could be. The truth is, everytime he calls me the Lady of Grim’s Keep, my heart glows. It’s like I have a purpose, a meaning. I’m not just a pretty woman on some man’s arm. I don’t have to sit on a throne and smile and wave to those who visit why my husband does the talking.
If I wanted to change something, I believe Asmo would listen. He’d hear me out. I have a say here and can make a difference. The staff could use some culinary training and direction, but they're more than just servants or subordinates under Asmo’s rule, they’re treated like living beings, with just as much respect as Asmo and Griffin give each other.
Sure, their dynamic can be weird, but there’s an undying love there that I yearn to have with someone someday. To have someone care enough about me that they’d face my fae beast to bring me back.
I wouldn’t have had that in Vanderlyth. I would’ve been married to a high-horsed, womanizing, narcissistic asshat who only cared about gaining my last name and the title it comes with. He’d have shoved me back into that gods forsaken wing, raided the whorehouses, and only come knocking when it was time for an heir.
The man left me for dead.
I have no desire to go back. Every living, breathing part of me wants to stay here. With him. Whether that’s platonic, as friends, or if this becomes more… I don’t care.
Asmodeus interrupts my thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"How long has he been watching me think, guiding me around our make-shift dance floor?
I can sense the uneasy change in him, like he’s worried that offering to snuggle with me somehow will have me running for the hills, when in reality, it’s the exact opposite. Reaching up, I do the only thing I can think of to comfort him, to sooth the worry he must be feeling. His face is so smooth against my hand as I cup his face, my thumb absently stroking over the indentation of the scar that cuts through his cheek.
"I'm glad you found me in the keep," I confess, smiling up at him, that trembling nervousness returning. No matter how hard I try, I can push it away, not when he’s this close. Not when the only thing I want to do is drag his face to mine and kiss him until he smiles again. "I'm glad I've had the chance to meet you."
Asmodeus arches a brow, leaning a bit into my touch. “Why do I feel like there’s a 'but' coming?”
“No buts,” I assure him with a laugh.
His eyes drop to my lips, then his gaze returns to mine. I can’t look away. I can’t breathe.
Kiss me. Please Kiss me.
He leans forward as if he can hear my silent plea. My breath catches when he pauses, so close… I push up on my tippy toes, needing to close that gap, but something sizzles in the quiet, and I’m not sure how long it’s been since the music stopped playing.
Asmodeus lurches back, hissing out a curse. He shakes his hand in the air, then brings it up, looking over his palm.
Did I do something? Did I burn him somehow with my magic?I didn’t touch my crystal or cast. I look over my own hands, as if I’m scanning for evidence.
“What? What is it?” Griffin’s voice carries through the throne room, and I look over to find him pushing off the wall.
How long has he been there?
He winks at me before turning his undivided attention to Asmo, who’s gawking at his hand as if it’s predicted someone’s death.
“What is it, Asmo?” Griffin repeats, his voice holding a growl that wasn’t there prior.
