Which meant… my heart thundered. We must be at the devil’s castle now. Panic had me clawing at his arms as he tried to pull away. Despite my earlier bravado, I did not want to be alone with the king of demons. At least not like this. “N-no… no…”
“Don’t move too much, or your heart might stop.”
I sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. “Y-your bedside m-manner—”
“Is abominable? There’s a reason I’m not a healer. Complain later. You’ve got a mild case of hypothermia.” He gently disentangled himself from my death grip and drew back. I could have sworn he brushed his lips across my burning forehead before his weight fully lifted from the bed. When he spoke, his tone was hard enough to make me question if the kiss had been real. “Lay still.”
Fabric ripped. My eyes flew open as shock rippled through me. Wrath leaned over my body, tearing my frozen clothing down the center like it was no more substantial than a piece of parchment. Skirts, shirts, belt. A few more tugs and cool air blew across my scorched skin.
I almost groaned with pleasure as he pulled my damp clothes out from under me and tossed them away. I didn’t even care that I was naked in front of the demon. Again.
I wanted to claw my flesh off and submerge my body in a tub of ice. Which was odd considering I’d been freezing not long ago. My eyes drifted shut and no matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t reopen them. Odd images played across my mind. Memories blurred and broken flitted through a thick mist, a possible result of a dying brain. Or maybe it was visions of a future I’d never know, taunting me. Statues and flowers. Fire. Hearts in jars, a wall of skulls.
Nothing made sense.
“Emilia… stay with me.”
Wrath picked up my hand and gently massaged warmth into each of my fingers. If he was trying to keep me awake, it wasn’t working. A drowsy peace fell over me, and I relaxed under his touch, the memories and strange images fading. He moved his careful ministrations from my fingers to my wrist then slowly up my arm to my elbow, before tending to my other hand.
Once he finished rubbing life back into my fingers, he shifted lower on the bed. He lifted my leg at the ankle with one hand, and used the other to work the feeling into my toes much the same way he had with my fingers. The pads of his thumbs slipped to the arch of my foot, and I softly groaned as he used just the right amount of pressure to heal the ache there.
Someone rapped at the door and Wrath ordered them to leave everything outside. Footsteps thundered across the room, a door swung open and slammed shut, then he was back, gently covering my body with the softest fabric I’d ever felt.
I choked on a scream. It felt as if he’d poured kerosene over me and lit a match. I kicked the blanket off and earned a frustrated growl from the demon.
“Stop.” He pressed me down and folded me into the blanket again. A heaviness settled beside me a breath later. Two large arms wound around my body, tugging me closer, his chin resting on my head. He looped a leg over my hip, securing our connection.
He felt like fire. And I was already burning. I tried to roll out from under him, aiming for the ground. I wanted to crawl under the floorboards and bury myself in the earth like an animal deep in hibernation. Wrath’s grip never faltered; I was trapped against his body. And, with his supernatural strength, no amount of struggling would break his grasp if he chose to hold on. Survival kicked in—I became a feral cat clawing at the one trying to cage me.
Wrath’s arms were twin bands of steel.
“Get off me.”
“No.”
“Didn’t your maker teach you proper ways of treating women?”
“Live through the night and I’ll respect your wishes then,” he snapped.
“You don’t understand…” I was mad with fury and wild with the need to move. His arms tightened around me, but never painfully so. “I need to be in the earth. I have to go below ground now.”
“That’s a common symptom of hypothermia. The feeling will pass when you’re stable again.” He slid an arm behind my shoulders and angled me up. “Sip this. Now.”
His tone indicated that he’d pinch my nose and force it down my throat if I didn’t listen. Coddling nursemaid he was not. I took a tentative sip of warm liquid and held in a scream. Everything was too hot. Wrath lowered me back onto a pillow and slowly pulled another blanket on me. It was featherlight but hurt tremendously. Pain intensified until it was all I knew.
I clamped my teeth together, trying to force the chattering to stop. Blessedly, mere moments after drinking the liquid, I drifted in and out of various degrees of consciousness. I wondered what he’d put in the drink to make me drowsy but couldn’t muster enough energy to feel threatened. If he wanted me dead, he would have let nature handle that deed.
Movement drew me out of my fevered battle with lucidity sometime later. I forgot where I was. Who I was with. Warm light gilded a large silhouette.
I squinted, wondering who had sent an angel. Then I remembered. If the heavenly being staring down at me had ever been an angel, he was something other now. Something to be feared and avoided. Something that made hearts pound and knees quake.
He was as forbidden as the fruit offered to Eve, but somehow even more tempting.
In a dreamlike state, I watched Wrath perform the most peculiar tasks. Refilling a mug of warm liquid. Helping me sip it until a honeyed heat slowly spread through me. Peaceful and calming, a direct contrast from the inferno I’d felt earlier. He fussed with more blankets. Stoked wood in a massive fireplace across from a bed made of midnight. The sheets were the white and silver of shooting stars. They were strangely familiar, though I’d never seen them.
At one point I rolled over to face him and stared at a sheen of sweat glistening on his bare skin. Sometime during the night he’d removed the two amulets. He was tucked into the blankets, too, arms wrapped around me in a comfortable embrace, his body heat fueling mine. He was extraordinary. And it had nothing to do with his physical appearance.
I dragged my attention up to his eyes. Black flecks dotted his gold irises like tiny stars circling his pupils. He watched me inspect his features, his focus scanning my face in the same intent way. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me, how he felt.
“Sometimes,” my voice came out scratchy and soft, “sometimes I think I want to be your friend. Despite the past. Maybe aligning ourselves, our separate Houses, is something to consider.”
His jaw tightened, as if the mere idea of friendship or an alliance was appalling. “Rest.”
Fire now blazed in the room and my lids closed as if he’d commanded them to obey. The world grew foggy. “Wrath…” I wanted to say “thank you” but my words were stolen by sleep.
He spoke in whispers and hushed tones. Smoothed hair from my face with his big, tattooed hand. It felt like he was sharing a secret—something vital. Important in a way that would forever change my reality. I burrowed closer, straining to listen. His voice rumbled through me like a distant storm, trying to shake something awake before it went slumbering again.
I couldn’t retain anything and drifted off once more.
The next time I awoke, Wrath’s side of the bed was empty. Without his massive body, and constant glowering or not-so-gentle fussing, the room felt too big.