To Bewitch a Devil

148 Dark, lonely night.

Neera tinkled out a laugh. “It is lovely, and I think it is my new favorite dress. Thank you, Zavian, you have done so much for me that I know I can’t repay...”

“Shh, no talks like that now...”

“No, I just have to let you know. There were a lot of times I didn’t want to live because my life didn’t have any meaning, but with you here, with me,” she pressed her palms to his chest. “I wake up each day now, happy and grateful to be alive, and always looking forward to the next because I have you in it and, as I said, concubine or not.”

Zavian’s grip tightened around her. Neera bit on her lips again, as if she realized she spoke too much all at once. But that small action, the way she held her lip between her teeth, snapped Zavian’s control back and his lips claimed hers. He kissed her as if he had been separated for years and not just a few hours, and Neera, emboldened by the kiss or maybe just the fear of losing him to the pretty Jasmine, pushed her body flush against him, demanding more.

Zavian pulled back and worked on the buttons of his shirt. Neera forgot how to breathe when the view of his bare chest was in full glory in front of her. Seriously, she had seen him bare of any clothes, yet every time he mesmerized her like an expensive painting she wanted to stare at all day, only that he was perfection the painters could never come close to drawing.

Zavian scooped Neera in his arms and gently lowered her to the bed, her hair splayed across the pillow in waves. Neera’s fingers traced the face hovering above hers, down his eyes, nose, and cheek, and Zavian kissed her fingers once they reached his lips.

“Just a fair warning, there isn’t any sleeping tonight,”, he said as he undid the front buttons of her dress. A shiver of pleasure ran through Neera, followed by a stab of guilt.

“The Queen...”

“Don’t,” he pulled down the dress. “This is about us, Neera. No one else matters.”

.....

And so, Zavian took his sweet time lathering every inch of her with his kisses, his hands already familiarized with the curves and planes of her body, giving his promise for a slow and gentle, loving night.

Beyond their closed door, Jasmine stood in the hallway. Earlier, when she had heard footsteps that were no mistake that of the King’s, she had waited for him in their bed, heart giddy with anticipation and nervousness. Her long hair had been let down, she had been perfumed and dressed in a sheer gown, awaiting his return. But he never came, and the painful truth that Neera lived across the hall stabbed at her.

But as she heard bits and pieces of their conversations behind closed doors and the unmistakable sounds of a night of romance that was supposed to be hers, Jasmine returned to her chambers and prepared for a long and lonely night.

...

When the harsh rays of sunlight hit Azriel’s eyes, he hissed and cursed at whoever drew back the curtains.

“It is almost noon, my Lord;”, the familiar voice said to him, and despite his foul words, the person still opened up more curtains and it stung him like a hundred bees.

Azriel tried to pry his eyes open, a languorous task on its own. His head felt like the furnace blacksmiths shaped a sword upon and just kept hammering and hammering on and on.

When he finally got around the first duty of opening his eyes, they landed on a bowl of soup with a vial of potion on the table placed next to him. Muttering thanks to the considerate soul who had done that, he gulped the potion down and rested his head back against the pillow.

His eyes fell on Penelope’s slim frame. She picked clothing tossed about on his room floor, not even concealing the disgust on her face as she pushed them into a laundry basket by her feet. When she held up a lady’s undergarments, Azriel could feel the judgment in her gaze burning at him.

He shrugged, and threw a hand over his head as he stretched, a lazy smile on his lips. “Ah, I remember last night alright.” He looked at the unmade side of his bed. “And where is she?”

“Maybe she didn’t share the same sentiments from last night,” Penelope said.

“Really? Her screams said otherwise.”

He didn’t miss the flood of red that covered her face. Azriel smiled. Penelope was adorable even when she was trying not to be.

Penelope said nothing more as she picked up more clothing, avoiding looking his way. His torso was bare, and what remained of his body was hidden underneath the sheets, and Penelope tried not to think about the fact that he had nothing on.

She shouldn’t have come. There were other maids who would be used to sceneries like this and even appreciate it enough to gush over him in kitchen gossip, so she should have given them that privilege. But something in her riled her and pushed her to wake him after the buxom lady had left the estate early that morning. The other maids had told her the General would wake up on his own time. But it was noon, and to hell with his time. He should have thought about it before gallivanting with everything in a skirt at the wedding hall.

Pen could feel his eyes on her as she moved, so she made to do quickly with her chores and leave. She straightened furniture, and arranged shoes, and when she was done with the room, she finally met his gaze.

“I am done with the task, my Lord,” she said.

Azriel smiled. “Okay.”

When he made to rise, the covers slowly slid off his frame, Penelope panicked and quickly threw a hand over her eyes. “Stop!”

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