Page 94 of The Dark Lord Awakens
There was something in his tone I’d never heard before—or maybe I’d just never noticed it. His eyes held mine a beat too long, something flickering in those crimson depths that definitely wasn’t just butler devotion. It was pure, undiluted lust, barely contained behind that perfect facade. The man wasn’t just undressing me with his eyes—he was bending me over the nearest surface and doing things that would make a porn director blush.
My mouth went dry and other parts of me decidedly didn’t. Part of me—a growing, increasingly hard-to-ignore part—wanted him to just close that gap between us, to press me against the nearest wall and ravage me until I forgot my own name. I’d spent years fantasizing about guys like my professors who wouldn’t give average, awkward me a second glance, and now here was Azrael looking at me like he wanted to devour me whole and come back for seconds.
The size difference between us only made it more fucking hot—he was a good head taller, broader, stronger. Even with all my dark lord powers, there was something undeniably arousing about the thought of those powerful hands pinning me down, manhandling me however he wanted. The mental image of being thrown over his shoulder or bent over and claimed sent heatstraight to my groin, making me grateful for the generous cut of my formal trousers.
“Well, mission accomplished on the happiness front,” I said, stepping back before I did something stupid like drop to my knees and find out if demons tasted as good as they looked. “But I’m also dead on my feet. Turns out intimidating nobles and planning infrastructure is exhausting work.”
“Shall I prepare your bath?” The question sounded innocent enough, but something in the way he said “bath” made it sound like he was offering to strip me naked and lick water droplets off every inch of my body. Which—let’s be honest—was a mental image that was going to fuel my late-night fantasies for the foreseeable future.
“That would be awesome, thanks.” I stifled a yawn that was only partly fake. “And maybe find me something more comfortable to sleep in? These void pajamas are nice, but it’s been weirdly hot at night lately.”
Something flashed in Azrael’s eyes at that—a quick spark of what looked suspiciously like anticipation. His gaze swept over me in a way that made me feel like I was already naked and spread out for his enjoyment. “I shall arrange suitable attire,” he promised, bowing slightly before leading the way toward my chambers.
As we walked through the quiet corridors, I couldn’t help noticing things I’d somehow missed before—the fluid grace of his movements, the subtle cedar-and-midnight scent that seemed to surround him, the way his hand would occasionally brush against mine in a way that felt about as accidental as a tax audit. Each brief contact sent jolts of electricity straight to my cock, building a tension that was becoming painfully hard to ignore with every step.
Something was definitely changing between us, some weird tension that crackled in the air like static electricity before astorm. It was confusing, exciting, and mildly terrifying all at once. I’d never been the object of such intense focus before—back on Earth, I was the awkward guy who jerked off thinking about hot professors I’d never have a chance with, not someone who inspired this kind of barely restrained desire.
I wondered what would happen if I just stopped walking, turned around, and closed the distance between us. Would he maintain that perfect butler composure, or would it finally crack? The thought of being the one to make Azrael lose control was both terrifying and possibly the hottest thing I’d ever contemplated. Would he bend me over right here in the hallway? Pin me against the wall? Fuck me until I couldn’t remember my own name?
Building a new city from scratch might actually be the easiest challenge on my plate, compared to figuring out whatever the hell was happening between me and my devoted, dangerous, and increasingly distracting demon butler. At least sewage systems didn’t make me want to drop to my knees and beg to be used.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. For now, I’d focus on more immediate concerns—like not tripping over my own feet while being hyperaware of Azrael’s presence beside me, and whether the “suitable attire” he was arranging would involve actual clothing or just creative use of a bath towel. Given the heat in his gaze, I was betting on the latter, and I surprised myself by being okay with that possibility. Hell, who was I kidding? The thought of being naked and wet with Azrael’s hands all over me was making it difficult to walk normally.
I’d never thought I’d be excited about sewage systems, but hey—character development comes in strange forms when you’re accidentally the dark lord of a demon realm with a hot demon butler who looks at you like he wants to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you senseless.
22
Lucien/Beau
The walk back to my chambers felt like the longest journey of my life. Every step was an exercise in self-control, trying not to fixate on Azrael’s proximity or the way his hand would occasionally brush against mine in a way that sent electricity shooting up my arm like I’d stuck my finger in a socket while standing in a puddle. The corridors seemed endless, each turn revealing another stretch that kept me trapped in this exquisite torture of being so close to him without actually touching.
By the time we reached my chambers, I was a mess of contradictory impulses—wanting to run away, wanting to grab him, wanting to pretend nothing was happening, wanting to demand answers about what exactlywashappening between us. Instead, I stood there like an idiot while Azrael opened the door with that perfect fluid grace that made even the simplest actions look like choreographed art. The man didn’t just move; he flowed, like darkness given form and really good posture.
“I shall prepare your bath, my lord,” Azrael said, his voice dropping to that lower register that did funny things to my insides. “Would you prefer the jasmine or sandalwood salts this evening?”
“Surprise me,” I managed, yanking at my tie like it was personally offending me. “As long as it doesn’t smell like actual sulfur or something that died in a bog, I’m not picky.”
He inclined his head with that ghost of a smile that made my heart do gymnastics routines it definitely hadn’t qualified for, then disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence, along with the faint scent of something woodsy and exotic that made me think of midnight forests and secret rendezvous. Not that I’d ever had a secret rendezvous. My dating history was about as exciting as watching paint dry in slow motion.
I collapsed into a nearby chair and attempted to get my brain functioning again. Which was like trying to restart a computer by hitting it repeatedly—technically possible but highly inefficient.
The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam that curled around Azrael’s tall figure like he was making a dramatic entrance in a music video. He’d removed his tailcoat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with lean muscle that made my mouth go dry faster than a desert at high noon. Why were forearms sexy? Who decided that? I wanted to file a complaint with the Department of Anatomical Attractions for making such a random body part so distracting.
“Your bath is ready, my lord,” he announced, and somehow even that mundane statement sounded like an invitation to something that would make a romance novelist blush. His voice had this way of wrapping around ordinary words and making them sound like they were wearing lingerie.
I nodded, not trusting my voice to produce anything more sophisticated than a squeak, and moved past him into the bathroom. The massive sunken tub was filled with steaming water, the surface scattered with what looked like black rose petals. Candles floated in glass bowls around the edges, castingthe room in warm, flickering light that danced across the obsidian walls.
“It’s, uh, very atmospheric,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the setup. “Were you going for ‘romantic spa’ or ‘elegant sacrifice’? Because if you’re planning to harvest my organs, I’d appreciate a heads-up so I can at least finish my drink first.”
A smile touched Azrael’s lips, a real one this time, brief but devastating in its effect on my already compromised cardiac function. “The black roses aid in muscle relaxation, my lord. I noticed you were tense during dinner.”
Yeah, because you kept looking at me like I was the main course, side dish, and dessert all rolled into one.“Right. Tense. That’s one word for it. Another might be ‘wound tighter than a spring in a jack-in-the-box that’s been cranked for three hours straight.’”
I stood there awkwardly, suddenly very aware that the next step involved getting naked. Tonight, with the air between us practically crackling with enough electricity to power a small city, the prospect of his fingers working at my clothes seemed dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.
Before I could decide whether to dismiss him or let him stay, Azrael stepped forward and began undoing my buttons. My breath caught in my throat as his cool fingers brushed against my chest, each point of contact sending sparks across my skin like he was made of static electricity and I was a particularly conductive metal.
“The nobles seemed receptive to your rebuilding plans,” he said conversationally, as if he wasn’t currently undressing me while my heart was attempting to break the land speed record. His face was so close I could see individual eyelashes, impossibly long and dark against his pale skin. “Though Lord Whatshisface will require… additional persuasion.”
