“I’m not trying to kill you.”
“You’re not?” Some of her panic began to ebb, and she studied him. She hadn’t quite noticed before, but with his perfect features, he looked a lot like an angel. An angel of death, perhaps, but an angel nonetheless.
“No.” He loosened his arms, but he didn’t release her. He smelled like the sea, and faintly, of sandalwood. “You have angered me, but I cannot kill you. Nyxobas has tasked me as your guardian while you are in his realm.”
“Why you? Did he return your wings?” With his wings and immortality intact, he’d be a powerful protector. If not...
His arms tightened again, crushing her chest.
Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about the wings. So that would be a no.
He leaned down, his breath warming the shell of her ear. “It would be an understatement to say your kind isn’t liked here. You wouldn’t be safe in Asta, Nyxobas’s spire. So he has burdened me with you. I suspect this is part of my punishment.”
“For the whole soul debacle.”
“That isn’t quite how I’d describe it.”
“If you’re tasked with protecting me, does that mean you’ll stop crushing me?”
He narrowed his eyes. The gray irises were lined with remarkably thick lashes. “Are you going to continue attacking me?”
“No.”
Bael loosened his powerful grasp, and she stepped away from him.
His eyes trailed over her dress for just a moment before he glanced away again. “That isn’t how most women dress here.”
So he was a bit of a prude. Interesting. “Cera made it for me. She warned me it might be a bit shocking.”
A muscle tensed in his jaw. “Not quite as shocking as your choice of holster for your corkscrew.”
“Well, a lady can never be too careful.”
His gaze met hers again. “You’re smart to bring weapons with you. You are not safe in this realm. There are many who would like to kill one of Emerazel’s hounds. Or worse.” He studied her carefully, his magic licking the air around him. “Is it true what Cera told me, that the Forgotten Ones stole your fire?”
Grimly, Ursula nodded. “Yes. And the bastards nearly drowned me, too.”
“It is unfortunate that I could not have come for you myself. I should have told Cera to warn you about them.”
“I don’t think there was time. It was very chaotic when we were leaving. I’m sure it was an oversight.”
Bael nodded. “Without your fire, you don’t have much to protect yourself. You must remain in your quarters.”
Her shoulders tensed. Her quarters were beautiful—luxurious, even—but they were also incredibly lonely.
Bael turned from her, stalking back to his onyx throne. As he neared the stone dais, shadows rose around him. Without looking back, he disappeared into the coiling tendrils of darkness.
Chapter 7
For her return trip, Ursula removed the shoes. Much easier to walk over the stone bridge without them.
As he pushed through the front door into her quarters, she found Cera standing in the front hall, chewing a fingernail.
“Oh dear!” Cera cast a critical eye over her tattered dress, the bare feet, and the silver pumps dangling from her hand. “What in the lord’s name happened to the dress?”
Ursula glanced down at herself. It was worse than she thought. The hem was torn up to her thigh, the bodice soaked in Bael’s blood. She felt pretty bad about ruining the gorgeous gown—Cera’s hard work, now ragged and gore-spattered.
She smoothed the front of her dress, as though trying to reclaim her dignity. “Bael was a little confrontational.”
Cera’s jaw dropped. “Is that blood?” Her brow furrowed. “Whose blood is it?”
“I’m fine.”
Cera’s body began to shake. “What did you do to the lord?”
“It was just a little misunderstanding. He’ll recover quickly, I’m sure, but I will need another corkscrew at some point.”
Cera’s hands fluttered in the air like frightened birds. “Of course. The corkscrew. When he asked me to remove all the weapons from your quarters, I didn’t even think to take the corkscrew.”
Frowning, Ursula crossed her arms. “He asked you to remove all the weapons?”
Cera’s hand flew to her mouth, making an audible slapping noise. Given her sharp teeth, Ursula would be surprised if she didn’t stab herself.
“Please don’t mention this to the lord. He specifically told me not to say anything about the weapons. He said you were prone to violence.”
Pot. Kettle. Black. “I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you.” The little demon took a deep breath, then crossed into the living room. “I’ve brought you dinner.”