Page 11 of King’s Obsession (Obsessions #5)
Asmodeus
The words were like a bell chiming loudly; they rang through the air. Vito visibly jolted, and Asmodeus couldn’t say whether it was from the shock of being told off or because Dougal appeared to have a bone-crushing grip.
“Mate?” Vito squawked in an undignified way.
Asmodeus had to clamp his lips together to prevent them from revealing his amusement at seeing Vito thrown off so spectacularly.
It would come across as weakness, and he needed Vito to be clear when he reported back to his cronies, that was not the case.
He could also see the ball announcement would not be an option of surprise with Dougal’s declaration.
He would never deny Dougal. Controlling the situation to prevent his enemies from gaining a footing over this news had been lost, so he went with it.
“Blissful one,” he stated regally, looking down his nose at Vito, giving him a blast of the cold fury the demon would feel once Dougal was safely back in his realm.
“How… this… it’s not possible…” Vito stammered, still trying to get his hand free from Dougal’s.
Dougal, it seemed, had other ideas and snapped his arm back, forcing Vito closer to him. Asmodeus growled at the closeness. “It is. He is mine and I am his, so be warned.”
The demon wore a pained expression before Dougal let go, his head tilted. “It was interesting meeting you.” To Asmodeus, he gave a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “What were you going to show me?”
“Why… this—”
“You are excused for now, Vito, I will speak with you later.” On that, Asmodeus slipped an arm through Dougal’s and guided him towards the garden area. “I wanted to show you the sacred garden of souls. You will find what you seek there.”
“I will?” Dougal chuckled. “And what do I seek there?”
Asmodeus kept an eye on Vito until he disappeared, clutching the hand Dougal had… crushed ? His blissful one was strong, and Asmodeus found pride in that, though it didn’t stem the fear that his enemies would target Dougal, as they had done with Dakata’s blissful one, Silas.
He will prove himself worthy of his position at your side.
He is already worthy of it. His demon half understood this on some level, but keeping Dougal in the human realm away from prying eyes had ensured his ultimate protection.
Without the knowledge of his existence, of Asmodeus’s trips to the human realm, they had guaranteed Dougal’s safety. Those guarantees were now gone.
For the moment, he set aside the worry and smiled at Dougal’s expectant look. “The plants, trees, and flowers you love in your realm,” he explained. “We have those things here and they thrive.”
“Is that so?” He sounded intrigued as they walked to the gateway that shielded the garden.
Feeling a little excitement at sharing what he had nurtured here, Asmodeus hoped that with Dougal’s affinity for things that grew in his world, he would appreciate this place. Asmodeus wanted to show Dougal that though the demon realm wasn’t the same as his own, there were elements that were.
The sacred garden of souls was where all of Asmodeus’s family, for generations, had their remains scattered in the soil. Life and death became infinitely connected in the one place.
He pushed open the large wooden gate, and it moved silently on the huge wrought iron hinges to reveal the hidden treasures beyond. Asmodeus didn’t look at the garden but at Dougal.
His eyes widened and his smile brightened as he stepped past Asmodeus. “Such beauty,” he murmured, reaching out to caress the petals of a large purple hibiscus. The plant’s flower opened and bowed towards his touch.
Asmodeus slowed his step, watching in wonder as Dougal moved along the paths, careful not to trample on any of the young plants. Greeting each bush, tree, and plant with gentle touches and encouraging words.
In this place, Asmodeus had found some solace over the centuries.
He loved it, and here and now with Dougal, he acknowledged why.
It was as if Dougal was part of each plant.
Each living thing. Breathing became easier, and the weight of responsibility lifted off his shoulders for brief moments.
This place held some plants from Dougal’s forest, Asmodeus had taken them and kept them here.
Dougal glanced back at him, wearing a serious expression. “Your garden holds love and sadness.” He touched the leaves of a fern. “You brought a part of me here… to be with you.”
It wasn’t a question, but Asmodeus nodded.
“You were always in my thoughts, and I needed…” He sighed at his own silliness.
“I needed to be able to touch something in those times when I couldn’t touch you.
” A fierce heat burned his cheeks at admitting it aloud, making him grateful that his skin would hide it.
“What a lovely sentiment.” He glanced around at the lush garden. “It’s beautiful and helps with the separation from my forest.”
Asmodeus walked to where Dougal stood, stroking a hand down a large tree. “We scatter the ashes of our dead here. They help give life to the plants. Give renewed life to the souls of those who have died.”
Dougal slipped his hands around Asmodeus’s waist and brought him flush against him.
Eyes that had captured his soul stared from a face that held more wisdom than many would acquire in ten thousand lifetimes.
“Yes. Sadness, I feel it.” He kissed Asmodeus softly.
The hint of mint and his favored apple cider lingered on his breath as he eased back.
“There is hope, too, and love. You have nurtured the plants, and they appreciate it.”
Asmodeus coughed with embarrassment. “I… yes…” he glanced around the empty garden, feeling uncertain for the first time in his life. “Shall I show you something else?”
Hands cupped his cheeks, making him look directly at Dougal. “We can if you like, maybe the scroll room you set so much store by for finding your answers?”
A low rumbled groan escaped. “If you insist.” Asmodeus eyed the twinkling mischief and shook his head, then gave in and kissed Dougal. The hunger never lessened and here in the garden, he’d thought often of his blissful one and mourned for his touch, so now, he allowed it free rein.
Breathless and aching in places that were impossible to hide, Asmodeus groaned, pressing his head to Dougal’s. “We need to go now or—"
“Or we’ll give your pretty flowers a show.”
His head threw back and laughter rumbled out of him like that of thunder booming. He struggled to get his breath under control and contain the mirth while Dougal grinned at him cheekily. “Yes, that,” he managed past the next gales of laughter that broke free.
Dougal moved, so he was at Asmodeus’s side. “As tempted as I am to give the plants a show, as you already pointed out, I’m an exhibitionist, I would like to see more of your realm.” He gave him a saucy wink. “The flowers can have a show some other time.”
More laughter escaped him as they exited, and those milling around outside the garden froze into immobility as if they had looked Medusa in the eye.
Being with Dougal sure made a difference to his spirit.
Asmodeus got a sense that those in his realm were going to need to get used to this side of him because when he looked at Dougal’s eyes gleaming with amusement, he couldn’t find it in him to care what others thought—only what his blissful one thought of him.
It took much longer to get to the scroll room with the number of times they came across someone that Asmodeus felt compelled to introduce Dougal to.
The words ‘blissful one’ slipped off his tongue so easily by the time he opened the door to the scroll room, he didn’t even hesitate when Rote came forward, looking perplexed.
“Rote, this is my blissful one, Dougal.”
The historian gawped. There was no other word for it as he stared at Dougal like Asmodeus had suggested he was a mass murderer of demons. Shock and horror etched themselves into his features. “Your Highness…”
He didn’t appear to have anything more to say by the length of time that passed before Dougal offered his hand. “So, you’re the historian I feel I need to apologize to.”
“You do?” gasped Rote, automatically taking the hand.
Dougal glanced about the room, showing interest. “Yes, I do.” His free hand swept towards the enormous stacks and shelves. “I seem to have kept you busy for some time.”
“You have?” Rote bobbed his head in Asmodeus’s direction, a look of terror there. “I’m unsure how.”
Dougal chuckled and let go of Rote’s limp hand. “Asmodeus needed some answers, did he not?”
“Blissful one…” Rote’s attention waved between the two of them, his lips slapping together uselessly. “All this time?” he whispered, the terror not diminishing, and Asmodeus understood why. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. If I had—”
“Doesn’t matter now,” he said, waving off the concern, doing his best to keep his thoughts on the subject to himself.
Rote was not to blame for wasted time. That was all him, so to distract everyone, he pulled a seat from the large table in the middle of the room.
“Why don’t you sit, Dougal, and Rote will give you a brief rundown of the history of the demon realm. ”
“I will?” Rote said, his voice several octaves higher than normal.
“Yes.” He scowled at the other demon. “You will.”
Dougal patted Asmodeus’s hand and took the seat. “Why don’t you tell me, and Rote can fill in any bits you miss out?”
Rote looked so relieved, whereas Asmodeus didn’t know how Dougal’s affable smile could make him do exactly what the troll wanted.
Yet, moments later, there he was, sitting in a seat next to him, dragging several scrolls closer that Rote had brought to the table, thinking about where to start. “What do you want to know?”
“How did you become king?”