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I loved my friend, but I was her servant, and she treated me as such most of the time. Our personalities were also different, with me always being the fighter and protector. Sometimes, I’d think what it would feel like to have her be just as fierce. To connect through strength, rather than her always being the damsel in distress and me the savior and protector.
The thought of going back to that awful dungeon caused a shaky breath to leave me, and I stopped walking, watching as his broad shoulders and strong back moved with his continuous steps, unaware that I’d stopped. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice. Maybe he’d just walk in there without me and I could make a run for it. I rolled my eyes. Sure enough, ten paces ahead, he stopped, barely turning his head over his shoulder as he leered at me.
“Move.”
I sucked in a breath, startled by the command in his voice, which attracted me and terrified me all at once. I resumed walking until we stood in front of the large black doors.
Ominous.
“Whatever happens in there, keep your mouth shut. Understood?”
I pursed my lips, doing my best to dampen my rebellious side. “It’s not like I have anything to say. I don’t have any secrets to divulge to them.”
He rolled his eyes, sighing like I was an insolent child. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He got in my face. “Don’t talk back or you may find yourself in a worse situation than the one already waiting for you.”
Staring into the depth of his eyes, I saw the seriousness of his warning. Was he worried about me?
I gave him a subtle nod, throat dry and fingers clammy. My vision blurred even before we entered the room. And then he pulled the doors open. Two guards stood on either side of the door.
A man sat behind a luxurious desk, tall—enormous, actually—with long silver hair and pointy ears. He wore an all-black suit. A large golden ring with some sigil rested on his forefinger. I knew he was a demon, but he was no ordinary demon. He was a king of hell. An ancient being created by Aurora, and the Stygian had obliterated his light, turning him into darkness itself. Purity turned into pure evil.
And he exuded just that. Pure evil.
He sat behind a large mahogany desk, reading through papers on his desk. “What do you want, Reaver?”
Reaver stood stiffly next to me, a hand on the small of my back, which I disturbingly found comfort in.
“The extra girl.”
The extra girl? What the fuck. It was like I was a number, a piece of meat. Fury boiled inside me, but I kept my mouth shut.
Murmur’s head snapped up, and he looked at Reaver for a second before his gaze landed on me with no expression. He eyed me up and down, taking in the outfit Reaver had put me in.
With my back straight, my shoulders squared, and my chin up, I stared right back, drawing confidence from the outfit, because I refused to let him intimidate me.
“Hmm,” he said, steepling his fingers under his chin like a pompous douche. “She’s an unexpected surprise and a pretty one as well, but I have little use for her. After all, she is mortal. Is she not?”
Reaver’s fingers dug into the bare skin between my corset and skirt. He didn’t like Murmur sharing his own suspicions that I wasn’t a mere mortal. I didn’t like this. “Yes. You still wanted to see her, though. So, I brought her to you, like you asked.” Reaver’s tone held an edge of anger that Murmur ignored.
He stood, his uber fancy wooden chair scraping behind him. He rounded his desk and came to stand directly in front of me, scrutinizing me.
“What’s your name, girl?”
I kept my jaw shut, rebelling, not wanting to give this fucker my name or any information about me.
The hit of his huge palm on my cheek was so unexpected, it made my entire body jolt. Reaver’s hand stiffened at my back, like he hadn’t liked that at all.
Murmur smirked. “I admire your bravery, though it is ultimately foolish, as I have no qualms about hurting a weak mortal.”
With my hand on my throbbing cheek, I glared, despite the quaking of my legs.
“Tell the king your name,” Reaver demanded, all traces of the intimacy we’d shared gone from his voice. He sounded as cold as his fucked-up uncle.
The king. A self-proclaimed king held no credence. And he wasn’t mine.
