Page 92 of Gift for a Demon

“And,” Dove rushed the words out, “it won’t be that far out. I mean, all you demons just wear fabric to cover your junk, also known as lingerie, so no one should bat an eye. And I mean, it’s nothing they haven’t seen because it’s the only clothes you get for me anyway and I’m always walking Gaz in them, and–”

Melchom kissed him. He could’ve spent hours listening to his Dove’s ramblings, but Melchom rather liked the way the human gasped and the way his body froze in shock for all of a second.

“You can wear anything you want, and anyone who dares to say a thing about it will meet my wrath.”

“You’re a teddy bear.”

“Say that again,” Melchom forced his face to appear angry. “I dare you.”

His Dove, of course, laughed.

It was fine. Melchom would show him. Sometime. Probably after tonight. He had plans for the ceremony, after all. Plans that took precedence.

Plans that he, too, had to prepare for.

Damned nightmares, Melchom grumbled to himself. He’d been much better off without remembering how that could feel.

* * *

“Your Grace?” There was mirth behind Dove’s eyes, but also worry. “Why are there only like four demons at a table with twelve chairs?”

“Because I got rid of all the traitors and have only had time to anoint three new Princes.”

Beelzebub had only stayed because he hadn’t been involved, and he’d sworn to protect Melchom’s human. Beel had always been intrigued by humanity to a degree that had made Melchom suspicious at the time, but he trusted him. He’d used Gaz to help him with the decision, so it would be on her too if he’d gotten it wrong.

It wouldn’t matter.

“And none of them ever thought to decorate this place. Got it.”

Melchom rolled his eyes. “Behave.”

Dove didn’t answer, but Melchom saw the dozen retorts flying through his head.

It was a good thing he kept them in.

“Beel,” Melchom called out, his voice booming in the conference room.

“Yes, my King?” Beel winked, of course.

He’d always been a pestering know it all who didn’t know when to be serious. Or when he’d taken a joke too far—Melchom still had to get rid of that painting in the hallway. At least now he had the power to do it.

“Show my gift his crown.”

Beel had the nerve to bow. It was ridiculous. Melchom had never once seen him bow, to anyone, ever.

Then again, Hell had never had a coronation, either. He guessed he could let it pass.

Beel retrieved the carved wooden box and went down on one knee in front of his Dove. His gift looked regal in all that expensive fabric. Melchom had already noticed every demon they’d passed by zeroing on all the expanses of bare skin. A part of him wished Dove would let him claim him in front of all of them, but he’d said no.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t fantasize about it. All that silk would look even better if his human was glistening with sweat and Melchom’s seed was smeared all over the heated skin.

“I should be so lucky to get your help with my wardrobe, Dove.”

Melchom growled in warning. He couldn’t help it. The only reason he toned it down was that one look to his left showed Gaz hadn’t even bothered to perk up. She was even more protective of their Dove than he was, and she hadn’t reacted.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Dove was only paying attention to the box, though.

He wouldn’t have expected anything different.

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