The Demon King’s Bride by Skye Wilson
Bea
With the soft grass under my feet and the man who wasn’t my husband at my side, I found myself nearly dragged along in a retreat to my dressing room. The same one I’d had my hair and makeup done in back when I genuinely thought that today might go exactly according to plan.
“Thank you,” I said softly as he closed the door behind us. “I…I guess I owe you one.”
“You do,” he agreed as he moved to the vanity. He dropped my heels onto it, placed the knife he’d taken from the shadow thing next to them, and tossed his jacket on the back of a chair. “You have no fucking idea.”
“It would be easier to understand if I had some answers.” I stood in the center of the room with my arms crossed over my ribs. “We’re alone now, and I think I deserve an explanation. You can start talking any time.”
“Well…” He turned to me and shrugged. “I’m not Simon Roth.”
“Yeah, no shit.” I’d known that the second I had kissed him.
I’d never kissed Simon, but sometimes, these were things you could tell just by looking at a man.
However Simon Roth kissed, it was certainly nothing like that.
“So, who are you, then?”
“Don’t you recognize me?” He leaned back against the vanity and held out his arms, palms up. His Simon disguise fell away in an instant. Once again, I was standing in front of a dark-haired, ridiculously handsome, incredibly dangerous-looking man with intense, gray eyes. “This is far from the first time we’ve met.”
“I meet a lot of people in my line of work.” That was true. Being the heiress to a banking empire didn’t exactly leave much room in my social calendar. “Though, I strongly suspect I wouldn’t forget a face like yours.”
“You like my face, do you?” He cocked his head to the side and stroked his jawline. He was still bristling with post-fight anger, but it was already beginning to fade.
Bastard. He knew exactly how good he looked—and when he was being all dark and dashing and cocky like this, he looked even better.
“Depends,” I said. “Is that even your real one, or just another disguise?”
“Oh, Bea. I’m all real.” He pushed off the vanity and drew himself up to his full height. He must have been at least six-three. Maybe taller. Tall enough, he was always looking down at me and I was always left looking up. “You can touch me to make sure, if you like.”
“What I’d like is answers.” Touching him was tempting, but it would only distract me, and I knew it. “You can start with your name.”
“That’s easy enough. They call me Apollyon. Destroyer. Emperor of the Abyss. King of Hell…” He took a few steps forward as he spoke. “Which do you prefer?”
“Which one is real?” He’d asked the shadow for its name. The fact that the shadow hadn’t wanted to give it to him told me something: there was probably power in the things people were called.
“They’re all real, darling,” he assured me. “But I usually go by Abaddon. Don, if you like.”
“Don.” If I ignored the rest of the stuff he’d just said, I could accept Don as normal enough. “And where did we first meet, Don? Like I said, I highly doubt I would have forgotten you.”
“I do have a way of making an impression on people,” he agreed. “But if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.” After the business with that shadow, he might be surprised with how much I could believe now.
“I’d love to,” he purred in a tone that made my clit throb. “But I’m afraid that will have to wait until later. You don’t remember me for a reason, Bea. Unfortunately, the memory of our first meeting was taken from you. Along with so many others. A shame, really. Some of them were particularly…” He rolled his lower lip beneath his tongue as his eyes raked up and down my body. “Inspiring.”
My breath caught in my throat. He was only a few feet away from me now.
Any closer, and I was going to be able to imagine exactly how inspiring a man who looked like him could really be.
“And why did I lose my memories?” I asked.
“To keep you safe, of course. Some of them contained things that you were better off not recalling.” He reached for my arm and trailed his fingertips down my bicep. The look in his eyes was almost wistful. “Particularly the ones involving me.”
“Is that why we were attacked? Because you’re dangerous for me?” I kept my gaze as steely as I could.
It was difficult, with the way Don was looking down at me. There was something in his eyes that made it far too easy to imagine what kind of moments I might have forgotten.
“Some dangers are more pressing than others.” His eyes met mine. “I may be dangerous for you, Bea, but you saw the shade I just killed. What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t been there to stop it?”
“A shade,” I whispered, glancing at the knife on the vanity. “Is that what that was?”
“It was an assassin, yes. A thing forged from darkness in the shape of the demon that controlled it.”
There was that word again. Demon.
“Is that what you are, then? A demon?”
“Of course I am,” he said, like that was a completely sane thing to say to a woman. “What else would I be?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Demons,” I repeated. “That’s ridiculous.”
It wasn’t.
Given everything else I’d just witnessed, it made about as much sense as anything else did right now.
“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” Don reminded me. “But whether you like it or not, it’s true. I’m a demon. I was born in the pits of Hell and now, along with two others, I rule there as king.”
“You’re the Devil, then,” I said, blinking. I hadn’t ever been that good of a Catholic, but I at least knew a thing or two about who was who. “Satan—Lucifer. He’s the king of Hell.”
“He was. Not anymore.”
“All right then, Don—if that is your real name—”
“Real as everything else.”
I brought my eyes up to his again. “Why do demons want to kill me, then? I’ve seen The Exorcist, you know. Paranormal Activity—all six of them. Killing random humans isn’t really the MO of you demonic types. Aren’t you supposed to try and possess me instead?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? I already possess you. You married me. I own you now. Mind, body…soul.” Don brushed my hair behind my ear and dragged his thumb across my cheek. “Though, we’re going to have to work on your obedience. I’m not surprised, of course—you were always exceptionally strong-willed—but still.”
I drew in a breath.
I didn’t like the idea of obeying men at all. Normally, at least.
But Don was something else.
Looking the way he did…
He might be exactly the kind of man I’d like to obey.
“You only answered one of my questions,” I pointed out. “Why does a demon want me dead?”
“Humans have communed with demons for as long as man has walked the Earth.” Don’s gaze dropped to the swells of my breasts for a moment. “Woman, too, for that matter. Scholars, writers, poets…” His eyes trailed back up my neck until he was staring into my irises again. “And especially bankers. Money is the root of all evil, you know.”
“That’s not an answer, Don.”
“It’s part of one.” His gaze turned serious. “Simon. He’s responsible.”
“My fiancé Simon?”
“Your ex-fiancé, yes. I overheard him in the garden earlier making a deal with something from Hell. He asked it to kill you, and it agreed.”
“And you’re sure it was actually…him?” I’d always known Simon was kind of a prick but until just now, I’d been operating under the assumption that we were…maybe not friends, but something close. I certainly hadn’t anticipated that he’d want to take a hit out on me. Frankly, I was a little surprised that he’d had the balls to even consider it. “But… Why?”
“Something about not being able to control you, I think he mentioned.” Don shrugged. “But it could just as easily be a money thing. Most deals with demons are.”
Money. Control. Those were things that Simon had always been interested in.
The realization that it had nearly cost me my life hit me like a softball to the chest.
“So…you overheard a stranger making a deal with a demon to kill someone and you…what? Decided to start wearing his skin for the hell of it?”
“No,” Don said firmly. “I overheard an ungrateful little shit making a deal with a demon to kill you and I decided that I couldn’t let that happen. Putting a glamor on to make me look like Simon was just the easiest way to keep you safe.”
“By tricking me into marrying you?” I wasn’t sure how that kept me safe, exactly—though, even with barely knowing Don, I knew that I definitely preferred being his wife over being Simon’s.
Even if Simon hadn’t been trying to kill me, I suspected that might still be the case.
“Marrying you was the quickest way to bind you to me,” Don explained. “The bond between a husband and a wife isn’t easily broken. All the better to keep you safe.”
“I see.” I guessed that made sense, and after having a demonic knife thrown at my head, I didn’t hate the idea of Don keeping me safe. “And when you’re not masquerading around in a human suit…is this your real form? Or are you more like…” I bit my lip, recalling Don’s black eyes and black horns. “Like you were after you got done killing that thing.”
“A bit of both,” Don admitted. “Why? Did it scare you, seeing me like that?”
“A little.” It had been the strangest mix of terrifying and, well… kind of hot. “But I’m also…interested, I guess.”
“Interested?” Don arched an eyebrow. “Would you like to see more?”
I held my breath for a moment, then nodded.
“Yes,” I said. “I think I might.”
“Promise you won’t panic?” Don asked. “I can show you, but sometimes these things are difficult for humans to comprehend. What you saw earlier was only a small taste.”
“Anything you show me, I can handle.” I’d already seen his black eyes and horns. What was the worst he could do next? Sprout hooves? Spin his head around and spit pea soup? Run around with a pitchfork and start poking sinners in the butt with it? “I’m not exactly the swooning type.”
His lips shifted into a crooked smile. “That’s true. You never were.”
He glanced down, and I followed the line of his gaze.
He’d turned his hand over.
Sitting in his palm was a ball of bright, flickering flame.
I moved my fingers toward it but had to stop before I touched the fire. The air around it shimmered with a heat that intensified the closer I got to touching it. Definitely real.
“It’s hellfire,” he explained. “I can use it to hurt people who want to hurt you. Or, if I need, I can use it to speak with the other kings of Hell.”
I blinked at the flames as he folded them back into his hand. Smoke rose up through his fingers as he made the fire disappear.
He was right. This was a little hard to comprehend.
“What else can you do?” I asked, curious.
Don laughed. “Greedy thing, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I’m just trying to get a better sense of who my new husband really is.”
There. I’d said it. Out loud, so Don could hear.
I’d said my vows to him. I’d kissed him at the altar. And in turn, he’d protected me. He’d saved my life.
Already, he felt more like my husband than Simon ever had.
At least Don didn’t want me dead.
“All right,” Don said. He took a step back and rolled his shoulders. He cracked his neck. “How’s this?”
His body tensed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark and glossy rise from behind him.
I blinked, and suddenly, it wasn’t just in the corner of my eye anymore.
Sleek black feathers. Broad, massive wings. His horns were back again, dark and even longer than they’d been the first time I saw them. Both curved up and tapered into dangerously sharp points.
Once again, his eyes were all black.
This was no trick. It couldn’t be. There was no way.
Any part of me that had continued to doubt Don’s story a moment ago was a true believer now.
My husband was a demon. I was the bride of a king of Hell.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
And why the fuck was I not more afraid?
“You’re real.” I took a step toward him, reaching out to brush my fingers against the feathers of his wings. “Aren’t you?”
“You already know the answer to that, Bea.” His wings flexed as I touched them. The feathers were almost metallic to the touch and strangely cold compared to the heat radiating from Don’s skin. “And if you like that—”
Don paused as a knock sounded at the door. A second later, the door began to open.
My heart jumped up in my throat as Don’s wings folded back and vanished. He grabbed me quickly, wrapped me up in his arms, and placed a passionate kiss on my lips. Against my mouth, I could feel him shifting back into his Simon disguise—and not a moment too soon, either.
“Um…Bea?” Ava’s voice sounded from the doorway. She cleared her throat uncomfortably at the sight of me in Simon’s arms. Behind her, Joan’s brow was fixed in a glare at Simon—no. Don.
“We thought you might need a quick touch-up before you and the hubby do your big entrance at the reception.” Joan said. Her voice was ice cold and sharp as a butcher’s knife. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”
“No,” I said quickly, pushing Don away. “We’re fine. Totally fine. A touch-up would be great.”
“I’ll go.” Don tucked his hands into his pockets and gave me a wink as he moved toward the door. He nodded at Ava and Joan as he passed them. “Good seeing you ladies again.”
“Again?” Ava whispered as he left. “I think I’ve maybe met Simon twice in my entire life…”
“Uh. Yeah. About that.” I let out a breath. “I’ve got something to tell you two.”
“Yeah?” Joan arched an eyebrow and headed to the vanity. “Well, seeing as we walked in on you two smooching—which I know you’re not into… Start talking. We’re all ears.”