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Axe’s grin is positively evil. “You’ll see.”
Before I can tell him not to be a dickhead, another shiver of magic slides over me as a trio of demons blinks into the lair.
“Ah, yes. Lovely. What a canvas to work with.” The taller demon, lean and eggplant-colored with a spiraling pair of horns atop a mop of purple black hair appraises me, taking my hand and turning me around before I can snatch it away.
His build and the horns remind me of Lumière from Beauty and the Beast. One of my favorites to watch when I’m out of rich housewife and crime docu-drama.
He conjures a raised platform under me, making me eye-level with him.
The other two demons, twins I think, both a rusty-orange shade with smaller, curling horns, bustle around me, measuring and pinching at my sides and the back of my arms.
“Hey, what in the flaming seven realms is going on here? Quit prodding me, jackholes!”
Enzo and Bastian both snicker while Dashel takes his opportunity to leave.
“Oh, you were right, Mr. Axwell. She does have the makings for a?—”
Axe clears his throat, and the demon instantly terminates his line of thought and begins a new one.
“Well, I’d say with your coloring you’re likely a winter. How about a deep violet dress to match those stunning eyes?”
Bastian shakes his head. “She doesn’t like… How about a royal blue instead? I think it will complement her luminous skin.”
The dressmaker demon clutches his chest. “Mr. Black, you’ve shocked me to my very soul. Not only is your opinion a perfect choice, but you’ve encapsulated this young demon’s energy and unique beauty with a perfectly sublime choice.”
A bolt of fabric, conjured from thin air, appears draped over Lumière’s arm. He holds a corner to my face. “See. You’ve made the perfect selection.”
“How about you conjure up a mirror so I can see too?” I grumble.
The dressmaker chuckles and looks at Axe for permission.
“Don’t look at him. I asked you for something. You don’t need his permission to do it.”
He gives me a tight smile. “In point of fact, young demoness, Mr. Axwell is funding your makeover. He gets final say over every choice.”
I cross my arms. “Including whether I can have an infernal mirror?!”
Axe’s gaze darkens, his smile too sharp, too composed. “No mirror, Gregor. Please continue.”
The dressmaker shrugs apologetically and continues draping fabric while the twins pin it in place.
“How do you find this silhouette, Mr. Axwell?”
Axe, who’s seated himself across from me for the best view, surveys the dressmaker’s work. Enzo and Bastian flank him.
I look down to see what he’s come up with.
“Uh-uh,” Axe scolds. “Eyes on me, Dove.”
The command has a strange effect on my body.
I shouldn’t like being ordered where to look. And it surely shouldn’t make my nethers tingle.
“It’s hard to tell. You’ve pinned it over her clothes. I need to see it properly to make a judgement.”
My breath catches. He’s not.
Axe snaps his fingers, and the fabric, along with my pants, shirt, and bra, falls to the ground.
