Page 30 of Fated to the Demon Lord

His grip on my body was gentle yet firm, his nails pressing just enough to leave a faint sting along my spine.

“You can know this—despite the uncertainty of the future, our goals align in this moment, and I would do nothing to fracture the fragile trust between us.”

A ribbon of cool mist slid along my calf, and I shuddered. My gaze had somehow settled on his lips, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred low inside me. “And when this moment is over? What shall I do then?”

He frowned and set me on my feet, releasing me.

“Time is short. There is no room for distrust.” He turned and headed for the door. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my library.”

Nine

Vaelor led me down the spiral staircase. I ran my hand over the intricate floral gold-leaf design that covered the railing. The soft velvet carpet muffled my footsteps as we came to the grand front foyer.

He took me to the side hallway I had explored just a few hours prior. In their might and glory, the statues of Vaelor’s progenitors regarded me. I found myself pondering about Vaelor’s past, contemplating his youth spent under the scrutiny of such effigies.

He stopped facing the same double doors where I had overheard Erlinen and Vaelor speaking.

I paused and glanced up at the torn painting on the wall as I had before, my gaze drawn to the ragged shreds of canvas.

Vaelor opened the doors. “In here.”

I found myself occupied with reassembling the ripped parts of the painting. I reached out and took the loose edge of the torn canvas and pushed it up. Then another edge. It appeared to be a female, a demon female. She wore an elegant blue dress that came off her shoulders, her wings gracefully arched outward. Her eyes glistened with a soft yellow light.

She was beautiful.

A snarl sounded from behind me, and he grabbed my wrist and tore it away from the painting. “Do not touch anything in this hallway.”

I stumbled back, startled. “I was only curious. Who is she?”

“She is none of your business,” he snapped.

I squared my shoulders and returned his glare. “It’s hard to trust you if you refuse to answer my questions.”

“I have answered your questions.”

“Not all of them,” I challenged. “Not the personal ones. The ones that might lead me to know you.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched me with that intense, glowing gaze. Finally, he released an angry huff. “She was my Bloodbound.”

“Bloodbound?”

“My wife.”

I froze, an iciness seeping into my veins. “She’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

He glanced away, the shadows from the flickering candlelight playing on his features. “She was killed to teach me a lesson.”

“Who killed her?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His face turned up toward the painting, his expression dark and wings pulled too tightly against his back. “In the end, she died because of me.”