Page 119 of Demon Touched

When we’re alone inside said room, Syrus wastes no time flinging himself down onto the bed in a decidedly un-lordly way.

“Darkness, that was tedious,” he says. “And I thought meetings with the lords were bad. I hate politics. Even when I was king, it wasn’t for me.”

“Hmm…” I say, sitting down beside him and finding I can’t help myself. “But you seemed to like it just fine when you stopped to say hi to Lady Handsy back there.”

He tilts his head to look at me, eyes glinting. “Lady Roseingrave?”

“She’s famous for having a long stream of lovers, you know. And she never settles down with any of them. Not that I’m judging,” I say quickly. “I just think you should be warned.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” he asks, delighted.

I choke out an unconvincing laugh. “No. I just don’t see why she would think it’s appropriate to start grabbing a demon lord, that’s all. I mean, does the woman have no sense of self-preservation?”

He rolls over and pulls me against him, nuzzling my neck in a way that makes me melt. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be pointing fingers there,” he murmurs against my skin. “Or did I imagine you tackling me last night?”

“Tackle!” I repeat, my outrage losing some credibility given I’m giggling and leaning into his touch. “You’re the one tackling me!”

“Then I suppose we’re both hypocrites,” he says as he leans down to kiss me, and my mind goes blissfully blank for quite some time.

Chapter 32

Leah

“And no sign of trouble at the border, so it looks like the lords have no designs on Malice itself—they’re only interested in targeting you,” Viz says, rolling up a scroll and tucking it tight into his coat pocket.

We’ve been living in Strickland’s residence for a few days now, under the protection of his order. It’s a huge house, but I suspect even if it was smaller, we’d hardly see the chief assemblyman. He’s always out somewhere, attending long audiences with the Assembly or policy meetings with his staff. I suppose it’s what you’d hope for in a leader—dedication and focus.

Which is exactly what I see in Syrus too. He’s intent on starting negotiations with the demon lords as soon as possible. It seems they’re still stonewalling any messages he’s trying to send to Infernum, though Viz thinks they’re trying to buy themselves time to agree on a strategy now Syrus has reached out.

When he’s not trying to organize a way to safely return to his realm, Syrus continues to run Malice from afar. I only caught glimpses of this when they were in Luminis, but now I can really appreciate how much work it is—the hours of discussions and reading communications from Quill and studying reports. People think being a lord is all shadows and soul snaring, but maybe admin is the real horror of running a demon domain.

“Well, if they could hurry up and work that out, that would be fabulous,” Aster says, pulling me into a hug. “If I have to visit Baine one more time this week to try to get Lady Jing to return your letters, I’m officially resigning my role as best friend.” She wrinkles her nose at Syrus. “It’s so hot and dry there. Terrible for the complexion.”

Rifts aren’t permitted on Assembly building grounds, and the runes required for them are closely guarded anyway, so Viz and Aster have to be escorted out of the residence by wardens before they can return to Infernum. I watch them out the window as long as they’re in view, then turn to Syrus, who’s slumped in his chair, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

I study his features, now so familiar to me—the slant of his nose and set of his mouth. I’ve run my fingers over the bridge of that nose so often, pressed my lips to that mouth a hundred times. They’re starting to feel like they’re mine, that they belong to me, and maybe I’m allowed to claim them. It’s a wonderful revelation.

But once claimed, could I keep them? Keep him? I can’t sit in the Assembly building forever any more than Syrus can. He might not have made much progress so far, but soon enough something’s got to give—either the demon lords will open up communication, or our time in Strata will run out. I have to start making decisions, and soon. The problem is I might know I want Syrus in my future, but I have no idea what that future looks like.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling me watching him.

“You need a break,” I say, because it’s easier to focus on his struggles rather than my own. I cross behind him and slide a hand over his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” he says, but groans a little when I rub at a knot in his back.

“You said goodbye to Aster without making a single joke about looking for her replacement,” I say. “All of this—the lords, the deadline on our grace period—it’s exhausting you. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“A walk?” he repeats disbelievingly.

“Yes,” I say, digging my fingers a little deeper and enjoying the low, appreciative noise he makes. “Or does the Lord of Malice not go for strolls?”

“I can think of something I’d enjoy more,” he says, reaching behind him to slide a hand up my side. I slap it away playfully. We already enjoyed some slow, sleepy sex this morning when we woke up together. By the time we were done, he was languid and loose and grinning. Now it’s not even noon, and all the stress has cemented itself back into Syrus’s body.

“You need this more,” I say. “Come on. You’ve been back in Strata for days, and you haven’t really seen any of it yet. Aren’t you curious to experience it with your own eyes again?”

He stills under my touch, considering this. “It might be dangerous. The lords could be looking for a chance to ambush me.”

“So we’ll be discreet,” I say. “And you said yourself the lords will respect Strickland’s order. We have the Concords on our side.”