“Why are you trying to help me?”
I hesitate before sighing. “Because you helped me. Twice. And… even though sometimes I wish you hadn’t… You did. I also kind of like it here. Aran’s nice, and I don’t want to go back home.”
He tilts his head, staring at me like I’m a puzzle that he’s struggling to solve. “So, you’re returning a favour?”
I smirk, raising a shoulder in a shrug. “Or maybe I’m secretly plotting to kill you and rule Hell myself.”
To my absolute shock, Korithax laughs. A deep, rich sound that sets my body alight. Holy hell, he’s gorgeous when he laughs. His fangs flash in the light, and his jet-black eyes gently gleam. I feel the blush on my cheeks as I watch him. He notices. Of course, he notices.
“Why are you blushing, little flower?” He teases, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.
“You… you’re just beautiful, when you’re not scowling all the time.” I whisper.
He looks directly into my eyes, his hand lingering on the strand he’d moved out of my face. I softly bite my lip, andhe clears his throat sharply, pushing away and standing from the chair. It startles me, the tension between us evaporating entirely.
“You should go back to your chambers. I’ll speak to Aran about Noxthrallia. Get some sleep.”
I nod, silently kicking myself for hoping that moment would last a little longer. He walks me to the door, pausing just before it.
“Wait.” He stops me from reaching for the handle, making my heart begin to pound. He walks to the other side of the room, exiting through a door before returning a moment later with a robe. “Put this on,” he mutters. “I don’t want to have to replace any more guards for staring at you.”
I laugh despite the situation and put on the robe. It buries me completely, and it smells just like him, spice and smoke invading my senses. “Goodnight, Korithax.”
He leans against the doorframe, watching me go. “Goodnight, my queen.”
Tomorrow, everything could change. Forever.
Chapter 24
Korithax
Islam the door shut behind me when she’s gone, the echo rattling through the chamber.
My breathing is ragged, and my chest is tight. What the fuck is wrong with me? I rake both hands through my hair, pacing like a caged beast.
The image of her is seared into my mind—branded into my skull with fucking fire. That gods-damned nightgown. That whisper of silk clinging to every curve like it was fucking painted onto her. Lush hips, full breasts, and a soft belly I wanted to sink my fucking teeth into like some depraved animal. She looked like desire itself made flesh.
And when she stood between my legs, my hands holding onto her hips, feeling the softness of her through the silk…
Fuck.
My cock had hardened so fast it was almost painful. I am so fucking glad she hadn’t realised. I’m still hard, the fabric of my trousers biting into me like a punishment, and gods do I deserveit. I snarl and drive my fist into the nearest wall. The obsidian cracks, the stone spiderwebbing.
Pathetic. She’s a mortal. A broken mortal who has barely recovered from nearly putting herself into a grave. She’s supposed to be a pawn, a tool, nothing more than a contract written with blood. The Divine Six demanded a bride, and I gave them one. And that should be the end of it. But it’s not. Because I keep thinking about the way she looked at me. Like she truly saw me, not the monster that clawed itself out from the depths of Hell.
I don’t care that her laughter is comparable to sunlight. I don’t care that she’s one of the few beings alive who doesn’t flinch when I touch her. I don’t care that the colour of her blush reminds me of a summer morning.
It does not matter.
I let out another growl that borders on a roar and slam my fist into the stone again. Pain blooms across my knuckles, and I welcome the sting. Maybe if I break the bones in my hand, my brain will focus on something other than her. Because she truly is nothing more than a bargaining chip in a political game I’ve spent lifetimes playing. I don’t want her, I don’t need her, and I sure as fuck don’t feel anything for her.
I take a deep inhale, shoving the thoughts aside and shift my attention to a much bigger problem than the mortal who is to be my bride. Velentha.
What the fuck is she playing at? Why push Daisy to seek out Maelkar Vyre, the ruler of Noxthrallia? Velentha has always dealt in riddles, but interfering this openly feels dangerous, even for her. Not to mention, I now have an incredibly big journey to plan thanks to her meddling.
Noxthrallia is the furthest realm from Hell that allows open travel. I can’t just tear through the veils the way I normally would. Each jump will drain me the further I go. I need time toreplenish between realms, and there are only five other realms with open travel for me to go through, which means I need a plan.
Aran is already awaitingme when I storm into the war room.
