Damien laughed. “Little witch. You’re going to kill me.” He kissed the side of my cheek. Whispered in my ear. “If we get in there together, we’re not getting out. Not until you’re covered in my scent and look freshly fucked, so everyone knows exactly whose you are.”
“Yours,” I said, burying my face in his throat. Inhaling his smell like he always did mine. “I’m yours.”
He kissed me one more time, his tongue slipping into my mouth as I let out a contented sigh. I didn’t want to let go, but Damien set me down, guiding me into the lavish bathroom.
After two lesser demons who appeared from nowhere had cleaned and pampered me, my hair was curled and they tied me into my gown.
The soft silky fabric was smooth against my fingers, slipping through like liquid metal.
“Wow.” Damien’s voice brought me out of my trance. When I looked up, I was struck by the sight of him in a stunning tuxedo. “Just… Wow.”
I blushed.
“You look incredible, Willow.” His voice choked up, speechless.
“You look pretty great yourself, demon.” I tugged on his lapel.
He pulled away before I could kiss him, his thumb rubbing over the sparkles they’d brushed onto my cheeks. Like he knew what I wanted.
“Shall we?” He offered me an arm, and I slid mine into his.
“Yes.”
And mymatetook me to the first ball of my life.
* * *
I glanced back and forth, trying to get a glimpse of my sister.
“Relax,” Damien murmured into my ear, running his hand down my spine. “I’m sure she’s okay.”
“I know, but…”
We didn’t get to talk properly earlier. Away from prying eyes and ears.
I was sure I could trust Damien, but his brother?
There were waiters making their way through the crowded ballroom, dressed in simple black suits, distracting from their innate demon-ness. Some of them had horns, or solid black eyes that felt like they could stare right through you. There were even beings with dark black feathered wings and some with barbed tails.
“They’ll want to make a grand entrance, most likely,” he said as he handed me a glass of a shimmering gold liquid.
“What is this?” I asked, swirling it around.
“Demon wine.”
I blinked at him.What?
“Just try it,” he encouraged, picking up a flute of his own. “You’ll like it. It’s sweet.”
I took a sip, and—woah.I’d never tasted anything like it. All the regular wine paled in comparison to the smooth liquid sliding down my throat. “Oh.”
“Don’t drink too much of it. Gives you a bitch of a hangover.” He chuckled.
I giggled, taking another drink. “It’s good.” My head was already feeling light after just a few sips of the drink. It would be too easy to get drunk off of it.
Another waiter passed by us, this time with a tray of food, multiple pairs of horns curling away from his forehead. A thought popped into my head.
I looked up at Damien. “What do you really look like?”