She'd been running with it across a green field that turned rocky and ashen. She'd slowed when it neared the edge of a cliff. Some kind of mysterious light had blazed up from below. She'd urged the fawn to come to her--but it'd walked right off the edge.
What was the dream trying to tell her?
Abyssian said, "I wager I was in your reveries."
Her cheeks heated, busting her.
"Good." In Demonish, he added, "You've been in mine every night for ten millennia."
His unguarded comments in that tongue gave her valuable insights about him, but eventually she'd have to tell him she spoke Demonish.
She would also need to disclose her royal status. Yet that news might convince him she was more like Karinna than he'd thought, and then he'd throw Lila back into the dreaded tower.
She felt safer overall, but her position here remained dicey. "If you expect me to do . . . queenly things, you should outline them for me so I know how to plan my time."
"If you're searching for something to keep you occupied, look no further than this bed. Your queenly duties will be found here." He patted the mattress beside him.
What have I done? That huge, smirking, smug demon was . . . her husband.
The harsh light of day flooded into the bedroom. Now what? For the first time in her life, she had no idea where to go or what to do. No schedule to maintain, no goals to achieve. The order and structure her fey heart craved was absent. "I'm being serious."
"So am I. You don't have to plan your time. You don't have to do anything. You answer to no one."
Because she finally had control over her destiny? "No one except you."
"Yes, but I suspect I'll be a soft touch where you're concerned."
How had her life gotten so derailed? She'd been born and raised for a specific existence, and now she was trapped in another one. The king she'd married was far from the king she'd expected. "Don't you have ruler stuff to do? I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. If you need to work late or go on lengthy campaigns, I'll be completely understanding. After all, you love your wars, and I want to be supportive of your pastimes now that Sylvan is out of the crosshairs."
"You and I are on our honeymoon. I have nothing but time to tease my bride."
"I thought the great Morior would be defeating and governing all of Gaia."
"In time," he said. "For now, I need to make sure you are comfortable in your new home."
"What will my days be like here?"
"Until you wear my mark, I'll keep you separated from our subjects in the castle. Though I expect no problems, we don't want to advertise something that might be perceived as disunity between us."
Not only was she a foreign fey, she was an unclaimed mate. Lila appreciated his caution.
"But I'll take you out to explore less populated parts of the realm whenever you like."
She'd forgotten about this particular benefit of being the queen of hell. "Will we see the hellhounds? And the dragon roosts?" she asked, her excitement building. "Will you show me the hellfire your ancestor found?"
"I haven't a clue to its location. No one does." He gazed past her. "I have searched and searched, but unfortunately, I can't find that flame."
Her stomach began to growl. She'd slept so late, it must be well past lunchtime.
Facing her, he said, "For now, we'll dine."
"What do I wear?"
"The entrance to your wardrobe is across from the bathing chamber. I trust you can find something in there to suit you," he said with that tricksy look about him.
Wondering if he had some prank up his sleeve, she headed down the hallway. After her dreams, she was still in a state, her robe brushing over her nipples. She peeked into the bathing room, finding everything had been put to rights.
She opened the golden door opposite it, and stepped into a huge room with a plush divan in the center. Clothing racks lined the walls.
Empty clothing racks. Was this his idea of a joke?
Wanting to brush her teeth and wash her face, she continued through the empty wardrobe to an adjoining powder room with a large vanity. Various toiletries and a toothbrush had been set out for her.
After she'd readied for the day, she headed back through the wardrobe, wishing she had a comfortable outfit, like a flirty skirt and a peasant blouse--
She leapt back when two garments suddenly hung in the closet. The ones she'd just imagined!
A grin spread over her face. Magic. She pictured a pink bra and panties set, and it appeared on the divan. Footwear? A pair of strappy sandals materialized in a shoe rack.
She turned and found the demon leaning against the doorway, dressed in his customary leather pants.
She supposed leather would be the custom here since hell didn't exactly have fabric mills.
"You like your new wardrobe?" he asked, looking very pleased with himself.
"What's not to like?" His bare feet caught her attention. Whoa. Last night she hadn't noticed how beastlike they were. His toes had pointed black claws. A sixth one jutted from his inner sole.
Reminded that she and Abyssian weren't even the same species, she raised her face.
He was scowling at her, all good humor vanished.
If his mate was shocked at his feet, what would she do when he transformed even more?
Run screaming?
When he'd been making plans for their future, he'd imagined himself as he currently was--not as he would be. Yet his deterioration would continue, the years taking their toll.
Once again the hourglass was working against Sian, only now the sand spilled too quickly.
If he and Calliope shared more nights like the last, he would grow attached to her. But in the end, it wouldn't matter how he treated her. Eventually she would spurn him.
I've already been forsaken by her once. Frustration rose up like bile. How could he endure it this time?
Maybe he should separate from her, lest he discover more that he liked about his mate. . . .
No! The idea of separating made his agitation spike.
Gaze wary, she asked, "Can I have some privacy to get dressed?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "We're wed now. What need have you for privacy?"
"So much for my power--and your soft touch. I don't even get to dress in private."
He supposed he should make allowances for her. She was a fey raised in Sylvan, and their culture was much more reserved.
Right now he didn't feel very charitable. If he couldn't separate from her, maybe he should keep animosity brewing between them, anything to maintain a boundary. "There's nothing I haven't already seen at my leisure. Except your ass. You put on that robe before I could evaluate it."
"Evaluate?" Her eyes flashed. "How would you like it if I evaluated you?"
"Go ahead. Of course, that would mean actually looking at my feet or my cock or my horns."
"Less than a day, Abyssian. That's how long I've had to get accustomed to you as my husband. Can't you be more patient?"
She was right. But no demon wanted his mate to have to "get accustomed" to him.
"Change. Now."
Shooting him a killing look, she tugged up her panties under her robe, followed by her skirt. She gave him her back as she donned her bra and shirt. She stomped her feet into her shoes. "Are you happy?"
Not once since you died, female. He frowned. Until last night.
THIRTY-FOUR
Their late lunch on the terrace was grueling.
As Lila and Abyssian shared their second meal ever--plates had arrived with both demon and Sylvan dishes--he continued to seethe. Because she wouldn't look at him?
She was half-tempted to say, Whip out your dick, and I'll examine it for hours if that'll make you feel better.
He expected her to get used to so many things at once! She'd told him she adapted. And she was ready to, but give her a freaking nanosecond to keep up.
She'd noticed that he'd donned boots. Sensitive males. She supposed this would
be a bad time to ask him what in this hell he was eating? The dish kind of looked like eggs--if they'd been painted by a modern artist.
The demon's table manners were fine--his utensils were larger by necessity--but he and Lila would never be sharing a dish.
"Why aren't you eating?" he demanded, seeming eager to resume their hostility.
Since she'd officially tied her fortunes to his, she wasn't as keen to; cooperation was a more logical route. But she would go toe-to-toe with him if she had to.
"It's Sylvan fare. Is that not even good enough for you, princess?"
She stiffened, hating when he called her that. "Are you always so moody?" Why did he have to spoil such a beautiful day? The ash had been tamped down by rain last night, and the late-afternoon sun was bright. When she'd gotten her first daytime glimpse of the Mercury Sea, the light had beamed across the water, reflecting off its silvery surface.
"Moody? Perhaps I already see the writing on the wall."
"Which is?"
"I doubt you will ever be satisfied here."
"So will you let me go?"
He leaned forward, his lips drawing back from his fangs. "Never."
She leaned forward as well. "Then fucking satisfy me, Abyssian. It's not difficult."
"Ah, this I must hear. How would one go about such an epic endeavor?" He settled back in his chair, as if he expected a long-winded reply.