Page 50 of Realm of the Wicked

As I pushed past Damien, he snatched my wrist, spinning me around to face him. The drizzle was fast turning into a downpour, and through the fat droplets, Damien’s dark eyes stared into me. ‘Stella. I need you to know I’m giving you everything I can.’

I pushed a wet strand of hair out of my face, his rings burning a pattern onto my skin. ‘I thought you couldn’t read minds,’ I whispered.

His lips twitched. Lightning cracked across the field, lighting up his face. ‘You’re an open book.’

His words reminded me of our conversation in my bedroom, a lifetime ago. It took everything in my power to pull away, but I knew if I didn’t leave, I never would. The feeling of his fingertips pressed on my wrist stayed with me as I found my way to my room, discovering the bath already steaming. I held my skin the same way he’d held it. It wasn’t the same, though. It never would be. I’d never be able to replicate the rough pads of his fingers, trailing over me like I was made of glass. I’m giving you everything I can. Was this all it was ever going to be then? Small touches, watching his resolve crack, only to rebuild a moment later?

I sank deeper into the water, wondering when I’d gotten so tangled up in someone I wanted to hate. Maybe I could stay in here until Clarissa left.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t subject Damien to facing her on his own.

Fat rain droplets sloshed against my bathroom windows.

There was a knock on my bathroom door, and Agatha’s voice carried through. ‘Are you almost done? Damien sent me to help you with your hair.’

I blew out all the air in my lungs, sinking down, down, down, before forcing myself up to the surface. ‘I’m coming.’

I grabbed one of the towels resting on the counter, wrapping it around myself as the bathtub drained. I locked eyes with my reflection in the mirror, flushed cheeks and all. ‘You can do this. You will do this. She will not get to you.’

‘She can only get to you if you let her.’ I turned to see Agatha in the doorway, holding a robe. ‘Sorry. I’m intruding. I heard you get out. But seriously, Clarissa is a monster of her own creation. She only wins if you let her. Not very strong-minded, that one. Miserable bitch, but unique she is not.’

My lips twisted into a smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ She held out the robe to me. ‘Put this on. I’ll help you get ready to meet everyone’s favorite demon.’

She stepped out as I shrugged into the robe. ‘Seriously, is there some kind of beauty pageant for demons? Did she lose? Is that why she’s so miserable?’

Agatha snorted. ‘Imagine her, waving to her adoring fans. Ready?’

‘I’m good.’ I sat down on the small stool in front of the mirror, and Agatha stood behind me. The rain came harder now. ‘But, um, do you have some magic skills or something to dry my hair? I really wasn’t thinking.’

‘Trying to drown out all the thoughts?’

‘Something like that.’ I chewed my lip. ‘Sometimes, it’s quieter under the water. Also Damien and I got caught in the rain.’

‘Some unsolicited wise advice from a very old lady? It’s never loud for long. At some point, any voice is going to give out.’ She ran her fingers through my hair. ‘And to answer your question, the only magical power I currently have is this.’ She reached underneath my sink and pulled out a hair dryer.

I smiled. ‘Less exciting, but I guess it works just as well.’

Half an hour later, my hair was soft and dry, light make-up applied, and Agatha was busy twisting my hair into something I’d never be able to achieve on my own. We sat in comfortable silence. Archie dozed in the corner, exhausted from his midnight excursions with Luna.

Damien would never admit it, but I’d caught him a few days ago petting Archie, who was exploring the hallway. Archie had wound around his hand, purring, and I could’ve sworn I heard Damien say something along the lines of, ‘You’re not so bad for a beastie from the pits of Hell.’

Of course, I’d never admit I let Luna sleep on my bed the other night.

One day I’d have to show him the Internet, and then he could look up a photo of a Maine Coon himself, and realize that Archie really was in fact, a cat, and not a beast.

Agatha broke our quiet. ‘He’s softer than he lets on. More fragile. You’ll have to be careful with him.’ She met my gaze in the mirror, protective and gentle all at once.

I was tongue-tied, realizing at once who she meant, and why she was telling me. The curious part was how she knew.

‘I think he’s doing pretty well without my help.’ I tried to smile, but it felt forced.

Agatha paused with a bobby pin in her hand. ‘That’s what he wants you to believe. But I hope you’ll hear me when I tell you that you wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

Damien definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting, but to believe he was that delicate? That seemed far-fetched.

Agatha’s fingers expertly wove through my hair, gently pinning and pulling. Even as we got ready for the Council of Hell’s arrival, it was comforting having Agatha help me get ready. The mother I’d been missing. Maybe she knew it, too. She squeezed my shoulders as she helped me up, and pulled the dress out of the wardrobe.