Page 20 of Damsel to the Demon

The sun's barely risen when I hear the commotion. Footsteps echo through the halls, accompanied by the clanking of armor. I shift into the shadows, my form melding with the darkness as the captain storms past.

My fists clench as I watch him drag Mercedes from her cell. Her eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange passing between us. I want to tear the captain's throat out, to feel his life drain beneath my claws. But I can't. Not yet.

This is Mercedes' fight. Her revenge.

I follow them, silent as death, as the captain hauls her to his quarters. His grip on her arm is bruising, but she doesn't flinch. Good girl.

"Clean her up," the captain barks at his servants. "I want her presentable."

The servants scurry to obey, filling a large tub with steaming water. I watch from the shadows as they strip Mercedes, my blood boiling at the captain's leering gaze.

She catches my eye again, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. She knows what she's doing. The power I gave her thrums beneath her skin, invisible to these fools but clear as day to me.

The servants step out leaving her alone in the steaming bath while gathering a towel and her garments.

Perfect.

I slip into the room, silent as a shadow. With a flick of my wrist, they fall to the floor unconscious.

No interruptions.

I approach the tub, shedding my disguise. Mercedes startles, her eyes wide. "Azaruk! What are you-"

"Shh." I press a finger to her lips. "We can't waste this opportunity."

I slide into the water, savoring her sharp intake of breath. Her cheeks flush, and she averts her gaze.

Interesting. Where's that boldness from before?

"Let me," I murmur, reaching for the soap. She tenses as I run my hands over her shoulders. "Relax. I won't hurt you."

"I know," she whispers. "It's just... different. When we're not..."

I chuckle. "Fucking like animals?"

Her blush deepens. I work the soap into a lather, trailing my fingers down her arms. "Tell me about yourself, Mercedes. Your life before... all this."

She hesitates, then speaks softly. "I was a cook. Nothing special, but people seemed to like my food."

"Mmm." I massage her back, feeling the tension melt away. "What was your favorite thing to make?"

"Sweetbread," she says, a hint of a smile in her voice. "With honey and cinnamon."

I lean closer, breathing in her scent. "I'd like to try that someday."

She turns, meeting my gaze. Those eyes... they still captivate me. "Really? I thought demons didn't eat human food."

"We don't need to," I admit. "But some of us enjoy it. Especially when it's made by someone... special."

Her breath catches. I cup her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Your turn. Ask me something."

"Why..." She swallows hard. "Why do you collect eyes?"

I pause, considering. No one's ever asked me that before. "They're windows to the soul," I finally say. "Each one unique, beautiful in its own way. But yours..."

I trail off, lost in the depths of her gaze. Something stirs within me, unfamiliar and terrifying.

"Azaruk?" her voice is soft, almost hesitant.

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