Page 35 of The Dark Lord Awakens
“Practicality is unnecessary when one commands the shadows themselves,” Azrael replied, moving to face me. His hands smoothed over my shoulders, ostensibly adjusting the fabric but feeling more like a caress. Mr. Snuggles made a low sound in his throat, not quite a growl but definitely not his usual friendly purr. Our eyes met again, and this time neither of us looked away immediately. Something electric passed between us, a current of unspoken tension.
“And the sight of your cape billowing as you approach,” he continued, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, “allows citizens time to prepare proper obeisance.”
His thumb brushed against my jawline, a touch so light it might have been accidental—except for the way his eyes tracked the movement, pupils dilating slightly. Mr. Snuggles leaned forward from my shoulder, inserting his head between us with what I could only interpret as deliberate timing.
“Ah yes,” I managed, trying to sound casual despite my racing pulse. “Wouldn’t want to catch anyone mid-whatever-the-demonic-equivalent-of-a-sneeze-is.” I scratched behind Mr. Snuggles’ ear ridges, and he made a pleased rumbling sound, pressing against my hand while keeping his eye on Azrael.
Azrael’s lips curved into a subtle smile, drawing my attention to their perfect shape. Had they always been so… defined? So impossible not to stare at? I forced my gaze upward, only to find him watching me with an intensity that made my skin tingle. Mr. Snuggles, perhaps sensing my discomfort, nuzzled against my cheek, his scales warm against my skin.
Azrael reached for the collar of my coat, adjusting it with meticulous precision. His knuckles brushed against my throat, and I couldn’t suppress a small intake of breath. The contact sent a jolt through me like touching a live wire, and from the slight widening of Azrael’s eyes, he’d felt it too. Mr. Snuggles made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a huff.
“Your pulse is elevated, my lord,” he said, his fingers lingering at my neck. “Are you… apprehensive about the tour?”
“Just… warming up to the outfit,” I replied, trying to sound normal and probably failing spectacularly. “All this leather takes some getting used to.”
His hand moved to straighten my lapel, sliding down my chest with deliberate slowness. “The material will conform to your body heat,” he said, his eyes following the path of his hand. “Becoming like a second skin.”
Was it my imagination, or did his voice drop half an octave on “second skin”? The room suddenly felt several degrees warmer. Mr. Snuggles shifted on my shoulder, his tail curling more tightly around my neck in what felt strangely like a possessive gesture.
I shifted my weight, accidentally leaning into his space. Our chests nearly touched, and I heard his breath catch ever soslightly. For a moment, we stood frozen in that almost-embrace, the air between us crackling with possibility. Mr. Snuggles looked between us with obvious interest, his head tilted as if trying to understand the strange tension.
“I should check the fit,” Azrael murmured, stepping back just enough to run his hands down the sides of my coat, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. His touch was professional, but his eyes… his eyes told a different story.
“There,” he said finally, stepping back to assess his work. His gaze traveled slowly from my boots to my face, lingering in ways that made heat pool in my stomach. “You look… magnificent, my lord.”
The way he said “magnificent” made it sound like an entirely different word—one that would make a romance novelist blush. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the perfect butler mask slipped, revealing something hungry and possessive beneath. It was gone in an instant, but the afterimage burned in my mind like a brand. Mr. Snuggles made a soft trilling sound, breaking the moment.
“Thanks,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, one hand automatically rising to stroke Mr. Snuggles’ head. “I feel like I should be carrying a guitar or possibly a medieval flamethrower to complete the look.”
“The shadow essence has enhanced your natural radiance,” Azrael said, his gaze traveling over me once more in a way that felt almost physical, like a tangible caress. “The citizens will be awed by your presence.”
“Let’s hope they’re too awed to notice that I have no idea what I’m doing,” I muttered, turning to the mirror for one final check, partly to escape the intensity of his gaze. My entire qualification for this job was ‘died heroically and woke up here.’ Not exactly management material. Mr. Snuggles adjusted hisposition on my shoulder, seeming to pose alongside me in the reflection.
The person looking back at me barely resembled the call center employee who’d died saving a mother and child. This version of me—Lucien—looked powerful, confident, otherworldly. The subtle glow from the shadow essence made my skin luminous against the dark clothing, and my eyes seemed to capture and reflect light like precious stones. Mr. Snuggles completed the image, his scales gleaming with an iridescent sheen in the dim light, his single purple eye bright with intelligence.
In the reflection, I watched Azrael approach, stopping behind me, close enough I could feel the coolness radiating from his body. Our eyes met in the mirror, and something unspoken passed between us—a current of tension that had been building since I first opened my eyes in this world. Mr. Snuggles watched this exchange with obvious interest, his gaze flicking between our reflections.
“Ready to face your domain, my lord?” he asked, his voice a velvet rumble that I could almost feel against my skin.
No. Not even slightly. I was about to tour a city I’d designed as a digital playground, now transformed into a real place with real suffering. I was responsible for these people—these demons—and I had no idea how to help them. The weight of that responsibility felt heavier than all the leather Azrael had strapped me into. Mr. Snuggles seemed to sense my anxiety, pressing his head against my cheek in what felt like reassurance.
But I couldn’t say that. Not to Azrael, who looked at me like I hung the moon and stars—probably literally, in this realm. Not to the citizens waiting to see their returned Dark Lord. Not even to myself, because admitting how terrified I was might make it impossible to function at all.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said instead, squaring my shoulders and attempting to look lordly rather than nauseated. Mr. Snuggles straightened up on my shoulder, as if trying to match my posture. “Let’s go see what three centuries of neglect looks like up close, shall we? I’m sure it’ll be a delightful tour of urban decay and infrastructure failure.”
Azrael’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “I will be with you every step of the way, my lord. Whatever you require, I am here to provide.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. For all his formality and occasional creepiness, Azrael genuinely seemed to care—not just about Lucien as a concept, but about me as a person. It was both comforting and terrifying, this unwavering devotion. Mr. Snuggles purred softly, as if adding his own pledge of support.
“I know,” I said, reaching up to stroke his head. “Thank you.”
As we left my chambers and headed toward the castle gates, I tried to prepare myself for what lay ahead. I’d created this city, named its streets and districts, designed its buildings and infrastructure. Now I would see it as it truly was—not a digital construct but a living, breathing place filled with people depending on me.
Mr. Snuggles, who had been riding on my shoulder, occasionally nuzzled against my cheek or made soft encouraging sounds, as if sensing my growing apprehension. His presence was oddly comforting, a warm weight against my neck and shoulder that anchored me to the present moment.
“It appears Mr. Snuggles has decided to join our expedition,” Azrael said with a hint of resignation.
“Is that a problem?” I asked, reaching up to scratch under the dragon’s chin. He responded with a rumble of pleasure that vibrated against my neck.
