Page 90 of The Dark Lord Awakens
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Indeed, my lord. Subtlety has never been your defining characteristic.”
The suit waiting on the bed was nothing short of magnificent—midnight-blue fabric that seemed to absorb and reflect light simultaneously, with silver threading that caught the light like captured moonbeams. It was the perfect fusion of Earth formal wear and demonic aesthetics, structured like a modern tuxedo but with subtle elements that evoked traditional Iferonian formal attire.
“Holy crap,” I said, genuinely impressed. “That’s… actually gorgeous. No spikes? No skulls? No random bone accents that poke me in uncomfortable places? Did you have to threaten the tailors with dismemberment to achieve this level of restraint?”
“I may have provided some guidance regarding your preferences,” Azrael replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “The royal tailors were initially quite… enthusiastic about traditional elements.”
“By which you mean they wanted me looking like I was about to front a goth metal band?”
“Their initial design included shoulder pauldrons made from actual shoulder blades,” he confirmed. “And a cape lined with what they described as ‘ceremonial bone dust.’”
“Gross. And impractical. How do you even dry clean bone dust?” I shuddered. “Thank you for saving me from walking around like a Hot Topic exploded on me.”
As he helped me dress, I became acutely aware of how this ritual, too, had evolved. What had started as necessary assistance with complicated demonic fashion had developed into something that felt almost… intimate. Each layer seemed to involve more contact than strictly necessary—his fingers adjusting my collar, smoothing the fabric across my shoulders, lingering at my wrists as he secured the cuff links.
The suit fit perfectly, molding to my body like it had been painted on. The fabric felt impossibly light yet substantial, with a subtle texture that invited touch. I caught myself wondering if Azrael found it as touchable as I did, then immediately tried to shut down that train of thought before it could leave the station and head for destinations unknown.
When he knelt to adjust the hem of my trousers, I fixed my gaze firmly on the ceiling, mentally reciting the most boring passages from my old business textbooks to distract myself from his proximity. Supply chain management. Quarterly fiscal reporting. Anything but the fact that Azrael was literally on his knees in front of me, his face inches from my?—
“The tailors incorporated an adjustable hem,” he explained, his voice sounding slightly strained. “For maximum comfort during extended formal occasions.”
“That’s… thoughtful,” I managed, my voice higher than usual. “Very practical. A-plus. Gold star for the demonic tailors.”
When he rose, he was standing close enough that I could count his eyelashes if I’d been so inclined. Which I wasn’t. Definitely wasn’t noticing how unfairly long and thick they were or how they framed those crimson eyes that seemed to be getting darker by the second.
The final touch was a silver tie pin with a small sapphire that matched my eyes exactly. As Azrael affixed it to my tie, his fingers brushed against my chest. Even through layers of fabric, the contact felt like a brand, sending heat racing through methat pooled in places that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“Perfect,” he murmured, stepping back to survey his work.
I turned to face the mirror, partly to check my appearance and partly to put some distance between us before my body betrayed me completely. The person staring back at me barely seemed real—all glowing skin and silver-white hair and eyes so blue they looked almost supernatural. The suit completed the transformation, making me look like I’d stepped out of some high-fantasy novel about beautiful immortal beings.
It was still jarring, seeing this face and body instead of my own. Back on Earth, I’d been aggressively average—not ugly but definitely not the kind of guy who turned heads when he walked into a room. Now I looked like I could be on the cover ofSupernatural GQ: The Ethereal Edition.
“I look…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
“Magnificent,” Azrael supplied, his voice rougher than usual. “Truly befitting the Dark Lord of Iferona.”
Our eyes met in the mirror, and something electric passed between us. The air felt suddenly thick, charged with something dangerous and intoxicating. His gaze was so intense it almost felt physical, like he was touching me without moving a muscle.
For a heartbeat, I thought he might close the distance between us. His body seemed to sway infinitesimally forward, his reflection in the mirror showing a flash of something raw and hungry in his eyes that made my breath catch.
The clock chimed somewhere in the castle, the sound shattering the moment like glass. Azrael stepped back, his perfect composure reasserting itself with visible effort.
“The guests will be arriving,” he said, his voice still carrying that rough edge that did weird things to my insides. “Shall we proceed to the dining hall?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Whatever was developing between us would have to wait. Right now, I had a dinner to host and a kingdom to rebuild—though, suddenly neither seemed as interesting as the mystery of what might have happened if that clock hadn’t chimed.
As we walked through the corridors toward the dining hall, I tried to get my head back in the game. I was about to host my first formal dinner as the Dark Lord of Iferona, with nobles and citizens and department heads all watching my every move. I needed to focus on making a good impression, on advancing my plans for rebuilding the city, on all the important dark lord business that definitely did not include fantasizing about my demon butler.
But a small, persistent part of my brain kept circling back to the look in Azrael’s eyes when he’d called me “magnificent.” It wasn’t the polite admiration of a servant for his master. It was something else entirely—something that made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, the attraction I’d been fighting wasn’t as one-sided as I’d assumed.
And that was a complication I definitely wasn’t prepared to deal with tonight. Or possibly ever.
21
Lucien/Beau
Downstairs, the grand dining hall had been transformed. Historically used for grim state banquets where the entertainment often involved torture, the space now gleamed with elegant sophistication. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting warm light over a long table set with fine china, silver, and crystal. Fresh flowers—a rarity in Iferona—adorned the center of the table, their delicate scent a pleasant contrast to the realm’s usual sulfurous undertones.
