But Morax being her father had set him up for the role.
And he’d played right into the opposite side’s hands, something Ashmedai had counted on when creating his little deal.
I’d be impressed if the whole thing didn’t make me so damn sick to my stomach.
“Is that why the Archdemon is at my gate?” Ankou asked, his long, dark hair flowing around him like his robes. Such an eerie presence. Yet there was no denying his beauty. He possessed the features of a Fallen Angel, his alabaster skin flawless, his eyelashes thick and abundant, and his mouth full in a kissable kind of way.
A false facade that hid the unadulterated power beneath.
“Yes,” Ashmedai replied. “He wants to see her for himself.”
“Hmm.” Ankou scratched his jaw, the dark stubble along his chin the only imperfection on him.
Of course, it didn’t look like an imperfection on him. It appeared almost model-worthy.
Keep thinking about Ankou in this manner, and we will have a problem, little warrior, Ashmedai murmured into my mind.
Jealous?I taunted.
No. Because you’re mine.His wing wrapped more securely around me.Something I will remind you of on this gold floor if you continue fantasizing about Ankou.
I rolled my eyes.I’m not fantasizing about him. And I don’t belong to you.
A lie, one that burned me to my soul.
All because of a deal we’d made.
One I hadn’t fully considered from every angle.
That was before I’d learned about Ashmedai’s ways. I knew better now.
Unfortunately, it was too late for me to make a change. I would forever be his captive.
Captive,he repeated, his amusement swirling through my mind.Ah, sweet warrior. One day you’ll find a better term.
One day I’ll figure out how to kill you,I returned.Then I’ll change my status fromcaptivetofree.
His chuckle feathered through my thoughts, yet his expression remained utterly stoic. No sign of a smile in those violet eyes. His lips straightened in a bored line. His gaze entirely focused on Ankou as he awaited his verdict.
The Soul Keeper considered us for a long moment, then he lifted his hand and beckoned one of his servants forward.
Sprites, I thought, shivering with the knowledge of the kind of beings that served him in this realm.
Only it wasn’t a wispy being that flowed through the wall but a female with long ash-blonde hair moving from a doorway near the corner of the room.
She kept her head bowed, her white robes embroidered with gold and giving her a princess-like flair. The tiara on her head and gold bands decorating her forearms helped with the regal effect, reminding me a bit of ancient Greece with the whole appearance.
“Golden one,” Ankou cooed, his fingers still waving in the air as he continued to summon her. She moved gracefully on bare feet across the golden floor, then knelt at his feet, her cheek pressing into his palm.
My eyebrows lifted.Is that Kristina?
Yes,Ashmedai replied.He returned her spirit to her body. But it appears the transition resulted in a few changes. I’m guessing it has something to do with how she was buried between the realms and whatever mechanism Ankou used to retrieve her remains. Or perhaps he just prefers blondes over redheads.
I ignored his side commentary about her new “look” and focused on the deal he’d made with Morax—how he’d essentially done his part, but with slight modifications.I suppose she’s technically alive. Just like Morax requested.
Indeed.
Except she’s a prisoner here.
