I soon found out that Amirykal was a hurricane when she had her mind set on something. Within the hour, we'd picked out the perfect room and she'd practically dragged a team of mages in by their ears to furnish it to my tastes. I'd never thought about furnishing a room before, and the last time I'd had one had been before puberty. But she'd been unerringly patient with me, helping me find out my likes and dislikes until she was convinced I was pleased with it. And I truly did love it. Everything from the light pink walls to the fluffy white comforter to the twinkly lights Ammi had called "fairy lights".
It felt...like a safe space. With the bed in the corner of the room, I could put my back against the wall, bundled in my bed. Everything was perfect.
But when the lights went out and the castle went to sleep, I felt wrong. Jumpy. Restless.
Like I was waiting for something. Like I was incomplete.
I tossed and turned for what felt like several hours until I was forced to admit defeat. My instincts were begging me to find the male that would make this feeling go away. As I padded barefoot on the cold stone, I furiously tried to convince myself that this was alright.
I don't have to trust him. I just...need him for now.
How convincing.
Before I was prepared for it, I was outside of Marcus' door. The door of both my doom and my salvation. I bit my lip, my fist poised to knock, desperately trying to rebuild the walls that existed around my heart. It was so easy to maintain before I met the not-daemon...but they'd been inexplicably weakened.
Finally, I forced myself to knock.
Before I expected it, the door swung open, a messy haired, bleary-eyed Marcus appearing on the other side, shirtless and hefting a longsword. I jumped back on instinct, gasping slightly in shock.
Instantly, the blade clattered to the ground, and Marcus darted forward to cup my face in both hands.
"Sorry, babygirl," he whispered, dark eyes searching my face carefully. "Usually when there's a knock on my door at the ass-crack of dawn, it's an irritating angel telling me we're under attack or some such."
I attempted to smile at him, forcing myself to carefully leave from his hold. Distance, I reminded myself. From now on, people had to earn my trust. To work for it. I wouldn't allow myself to be misled like that again.
Marcus eyed me carefully, and the corners of his mouth twitched down in barely discernable displeasure. At what, I wasn't sure, but he didn't address it, and neither did I. I had other things on my mind.
"What is it you need from me, babygirl?"
"I don't-" I furrowed my brow, "-really know. It's just..."
"Just what?" He stepped closer, and my eyes were drawn immediately to the chiseled abdomen in front of my face.
Holy guacamole.
"Um, my room feels empty," I blurted out, flushing and distracted by my impure thoughts. "I mean, I love it, but I just can't settle down."
"I have a few ways to settle you down," Marcus purred immediately with a peculiar gleam in his eye. Then, he shook his head, "I mean, do you want to sleep in my room tonight?"
Thinking of the arsenal of weaponry that he had as his décor, I shuddered, shaking my head vehemently.
"No, but-" I cut myself off, suddenly feeling incredibly silly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you, I'll go back."
I turned to leave, only to be yanked back into a warm, hard chest. I froze, trembling as he leaned down, his warm breath raising goosebumps behind my ear.
"I promised to give you space, sweetling, but I didn't promise I wouldn't pursue you. You came to me for a reason, and you won't leave until I've...given you what you need."
A full-body shiver made its way down my spine, and my heart felt as though it would thump right out of my chest. As much as I might wish it weren't true, he affected me profoundly. I was so used to being cut off from emotion, from sensation, being a walking, killing corpse. I'd had to be to survive with my sanity intact. But Marcus forced tumultuous emotions to the surface, tiny explosions of feeling.
Yeah, coming here had been a bad idea.
Marcus' voice sharpened like the edge of a blade. "Tell me now, little girl."
"Will you sleep in my room tonight?" I blurted out, the words drawn almost forcefully from me. When he used that tone of voice, I was powerless. Something deep in my core refused to disobey him when he spoke to me that way. It felt natural. Right.
Warm hands gripped my upper arms and turned me in his arms so I was facing him. His dark eyes probed mine, silvery-white hair falling onto his forehead.
"Is that really all you wanted, babygirl?" At my nod, he smirked, "it'll be my absolute pleasure. Let me grab some blankets, alright?"
Guilt set in, and my immediate inclination was to tell him he could sleep in the bed. But I held my tongue. Because though I might feel bad about having him sleep on the floor, I didn't feel comfortable sharing the bed...at least not just yet. I was forced to admit that it wouldn't take much for me to change my mind on that.
Still, I was grateful.
"Thank you, whoever you are," the corner of my mouth tipped up.
One eyebrow quirked upward. "Whoever I am?"
"I haven't figured it out yet," I tilted my head, regarding him. "But you're not Marcus."
He shook his head good-naturedly, chucking me under the chin with his finger.
"Well, you let me know when you figure that out, babygirl."
Then, he disappeared into the bedroom, quickly reemerging with a bundle of scarlet red blankets. He held out a hand, and I took it, unsettled by how natural it felt to do so. His hand was not at all like you'd expect the devil's glorified assistant's hand to feel; it was warm and heavily calloused, the instruments of a warrior. Feeling his palm rasping against mine was indescribably comforting.
We walked like that, him slightly leading, as if he knew exactly where my room was. And, sure enough, he didn't so much as dither over the route the entire way, not hesitating until we arrived. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"You seem far too sure about where I'm staying."
Marcus grinned, shrugging in a decidedly unrepentant manner, "lucky guess?"
Utterly impossible male.
"Come on, babygirl," he tugged on our still-connected hands, "you need your sleep. It isn't healthy for you to be staying up so late."
I tilted my head, "It isn't?"
He stared, jaw tensed, before nodding jerkily, "it isn't. You need at least eight hours." He growled something under his breath, pulling me through the-or, rather, my-door.
Without so much as a warning, he dropped the blankets he'd brought onto the floor and scooped me effortlessly into his arms. I yelped, clinging desperately to his neck for fear he'd drop me on my butt.
Wordlessly, he deposited me onto the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin delicately, carefully. It was beyond endearing. After my mother died, I'd never had anyone treat me like I was breakable, and I'd certainly never been tucked into bed since then. I had to consciously force myself not to tear up at such a trivial gesture.
Catching my eyes, he rumbled, "I'll be right beside you, alright babygirl? Between you and the door, see?"
I nodded. "Thank you, Marcus. You know..." I trailed off, flushing as he began settling himself down. I did not want to finish that thought.
"What, babygirl?" he pressed, his silver-white hair almost glowing in the darkness. I couldn't see his face, but I knew his eyes were pinned on me. After a moment, when I didn't say anything, he continued, "let's make a deal right now; all of your thoughts belong to me, and mine to you. I want to hear every little thing that crosses your mind, no matter how inane."
"That'll get old fast," I replied on a slight giggle, turning on my side to face him.
He snorted incredulously, obviously disagreeing with my sentiment.
"Alright," I muttered, "but don't laugh at me."
"Absolutely zero promises on that front, but I can promise if I do laugh it'll be because you're adorable."
I growled, "fine. But if you do laugh, you're worse than olives on pizza." I took a deep breath, "I was just thinking how nice it was for someone else to be so...protective of me, I guess. My father always told me that no one would do that, that if they did, it would only make me beholden to them."
Suddenly I sat up, digging my hands in my hair.
"I need you to understand. Back there, with the devil...he said I was my father's favorite." I looked at his dark form, pleading with my eyes, desperately hoping he'd understand. "It's true, but not in the way you might think. Every night I wished he didn't favor me. I hated it and him!"
I jumped slightly as Marcus' arms came around me in a firm embrace, pressing my head to his warm chest.
"I know, Kaiah. Anyone with a working brain cell can see you aren't the cold-blooded killer we expected. Your father manipulated and used you. The only reason Luce hasn't realized it is because he holds onto his grudges, especially when it comes to Ammi. But don't ever doubt that I'm on your side, babygirl."
I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to cry again.
"Thank you," I whispered against his warm skin, and he stiffened.
He withdrew abruptly, but held on to a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers.
"No need to thank me," he grunted, seeming disgruntled. "I'm your mate. It's my life's purpose to make you happy."
I bit my lip to prevent myself from doing something stupid like asking him to sleep up here with me. I couldn't help it; with him, my defenses were about as flimsy as cardboard. When he was here, holding me, comforting me and saying all the right things, it made me forget all my convictions. But once he left, all my insecurities and doubts would come flooding back and I'd regret letting him in and making a fool of myself.
At least, that's what my brain told me. My heart was screaming something entirely different.
"I can hear you thinking from here, babygirl," Marcus sounded almost scolding, "you need your rest, little girl. We'll talk about this in the morning. Settle down."
With a sigh, I obeyed, curling up under my covers, unable to keep the small smile from my face when my protector leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
"Goodnight, Marcus."
"Goodnight, babygirl. Sleep well, and know I'm here for you."
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