Page 9 of Dormeo

ROSE

W hen Ash returns, he all but forces me back to his room, assuring me that I don’t want to risk falling asleep anywhere other than safely locked in his chambers.

I heard whispers outside, the raspy voices discussing the lure of my scent. Whatever my powers do in the human realm, the effect seems to be magnified here. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

As I close my eyes, unable to resist sleep once more and cursing my father for drugging me, I hear the front door close and can sense that Ash is gone once more. He didn’t say goodbye is the last thought that flits through my mind as everything melts away once more.

I have no concept of how much time has passed.

It could be an hour, but something tells me it’s more likely twenty-four.

It’s dark again, but maybe it’s always dark here.

The constant tug of drowsiness on my consciousness is frustrating, and I can’t stop worrying about when whatever my father has done to me will pass.

I can’t spend the rest of my life asleep for twenty hours of the day.

Although maybe if I am about to be married off, it will be a mercy. Better to sleep than endure endless hours of boring small talk with a man I can’t stand.

Stretching, I stand, grateful to see a neat stack of clothes on the sumptuous armchair in the corner.

He was in here. The thought of him being in here while I lay sleeping is both unnerving and exhilarating at the same time.

With such a boring life at home, at least I can say I’ve had one adventure before being forced to be someone’s perfect wife.

If I make it home again, that is.

But that’s out of my control, so as much as I don’t love the idea of being held as collateral, this is giving me a rare opportunity to see somewhere new, to experience a world I’d never know about otherwise.

That being said, I’m quite happy to experience the supernatural realm from the safety of my new guardian’s home. If he opened those doors and said I was free to explore, I’d be slamming them shut again immediately.

I’ll stick to learning what I can from my perch at the window, and from the dark demon who’s shown surprising kindness.

Picking up the soft dress and flowing cardigan he’s procured for me, I smile.

A gold bracelet sits on the burgundy leather beneath, an unnecessary but pretty addition.

Gruff he may be, but nobody else has ever bought me clothes and jewellery before.

I tiptoe into the expansive living area, dressed in the outfit that perfectly skims my curves more daringly than my usual clothing, but without being scandalous.

Checking every dark corner to make sure that I am, indeed, on my own, I relax enough to set down the heavy iron candlestick I hide behind my back.

I’m not sure what good that will be against any of the dangerous creatures that live here, but I won’t go down without a fight if being skinned alive is on the cards.

The room is lit once more by a roaring fire in the hearth, giving the room a strangely homey feel.

Did I just call my prison in hell homey?

I must be losing my mind. Maybe the constant need to sleep isn’t the only way my brain has been affected by the drugs.

Remembering the hot flush I felt when Ash mentioned wanting to corrupt me, I wonder if that was another side effect. And the way my heart pounded as he told me all the things he’d look for in a mate.

Even that word, mate , makes my stomach flip.

Sheltered from such things in an effort to protect my value as a wife, or keep me in the dark, I know very little about seduction and satisfaction.

From the lust-filled moans I heard in the corridors last night and the giggles that float in through the open window even now, I get the feeling hell is a place where those desires are indulged.

Pushing down the hedonistic thoughts that are sure to get me into trouble, I move toward the giant wraparound balcony and peer out through the window. I’m simply curious. There’s no harm in having a look, I tell myself, eager to see who’s out there having such a good time.

The grey karst landscape is dark, and yet somehow, still beautiful.

There’s a path winding around the base of this structure, lit by tall lanterns casting an orange glow, and while I stare out, the couple I heard laughing meander by, swaying from side to side, clinging to each other, the effects of too much something making them merry.

I smile as I watch them disappear inside a black heavy iron door, the tall, dark demon stealing one last kiss from his red-haired human before dragging her inside. Instead of looking odd together, they look like a perfect fit. His dark gleaming skin is a perfect contrast to her pale glow.

A knot forms in the pit of my belly as a squeal of excitement can be heard, even through the door.

That is what I want, passion and laughter, not a mutually beneficial match driven by acreage and dowries. And the need to find a husband, lest all of my inheritance fall to one of my lecherous cousins instead.

I watch the inky sea, less angry today, and sigh.

Maybe one of my suitors will make it to hell and rescue me, proving himself to be more than a mercenary cad who’s only after me for wealth.

Perhaps I’ll be sitting here, watching as he battles demon after demon in a valiant attempt to win my favour, and not my father’s.

But staring at the sheer cliffs that fall away to the ocean, and the dizzying height of this tower, it would be no easy feat, and this isn’t a fairytale. The best I can hope for is that my father honours whatever promise he made and can bring me home.

And that nothing befalls me in the meantime.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I watch the door the couple passed through. Is it a bar, a home, or maybe, it’s hell’s equivalent of a sleazy motel?

I step up onto the plinth and attempt to get a better view by leaning over the grey stone balcony.

Huffing in annoyance when I can’t get a better view, I stare at the path below. I’m sure there are flying creatures out here that I have no interest in meeting.

But maybe… before I leave, I could sneak down there and see what’s going on. Listening to the upbeat chatter, it certainly sounds like everyone inside is having a good time.

“Do you think they’d let me in?”

I look to the gargoyle for some support, but he’s as still as a statue, and completely silent. Frowning, I look at how he’s perched on the corner of the balcony. I could have sworn he had his back to the wall yesterday.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Or if they did, I doubt I’d get to enjoy some quiet people-watching.

” Shaking that idea off as ridiculous, and a result of the confusion I feel from my constant grogginess, I admire how the sunlight somehow makes him look softer, despite the foreboding expression on his twisted face.

“So, you're the only person I have here to keep me company,” I say, staring at him intently and pointing toward what I decide must be a tavern. “That also means you’re in charge of stopping me from doing stupid things.”

Like going to a demon bar and expecting to come away unscathed. I gaze out over the lava fields once more and wonder, will I get to see anything other than these four walls, before I leave?

“I wish you could tell me more about this place. It’s almost normal. Not what I expected from the gates of hell at all,” I say, looking at him, but of course, I get nothing in response.

But I spoke too soon.

A scratching noise from outside the door makes me freeze. I turn to stare at the heavy black doors with trepidation. Backing into the corner, I suddenly feel very alone and vulnerable, and not one bit eager to explore.

When the door opens and a blur of black fur and fangs rushes inside, I gasp, stumbling back and knocking my hip on the table beside me.

It's only when he leaps up onto the empty sofa, claiming his usual spot, that I can be certain that it's Barghest, the flames surrounding him dying down as he relaxes.

Ash follows behind him, expression stormy, eyebrows drawn down, a pensive look on his chiselled face.

He doesn't even look at me as he closes the door behind him, hard.

His onyx skin glistens in the light, a sheen of sweat dripping down his body.

His ripped abs clench with each breath, moisture runs down every dip and bulge, and down to his black leather trousers.

Trousers that were tailored so perfectly, they fit him like a second skin, showing off every thick muscle in his thighs, and highlighting his firm ass as he strides across the room.

It’s impossible not to notice how impressive he is, I reason, as he turns away from the door and grimaces when he sees me watching him. I debate slinking back into the bedroom, but I’ve spent enough time in there. If I only have an hour of wakefulness, I don’t want to spend it sitting on a bed.

He runs a dark hand back through his messy hair, unruly after what must have been one hell of a workout. I notice that he carefully avoids the pointy horns protruding from just above his forehead. Could they be that sharp, they could pierce even his skin?

Feeling his dark mood, I say nothing, knowing that he's aware of my presence, and that he’s choosing not to acknowledge me as he moves through the room.

It's the height of rudeness really, his refusal to speak to me, but I wait for him to greet me first, as a lady should, still unsure what to make of this man. He’s been nice to me so far, but I somehow doubt that’s the norm.

And that could easily change, as quickly as his mood.

The tension is so high in the room, anger is pouring off him in waves, making the atmosphere in the room cloying and heavy.

Unable to keep my mouth shut and endure this awkward silence any longer, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.