Chapter 7

Laura's POV

I had no idea I had fainted until when I opened my eyes hours later in a strange room. It wasn't one bit what I expected. From the painful knee jerking experience I had, I expected blood and gore all over…or maybe, I expected that I was already dead and buried.

So imagine my surprise when I found myself alive, hale and hearty with a wholesome spread of breakfast before me. I could only celebrate for surviving the night.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and I wasn’t about to deny it. Without a second thought, I reached for the bread, tearing off a generous piece and stuffing it into my mouth. The soft, buttery warmth melted on my tongue, and I barely stifled a moan of satisfaction.

I didn’t care how disheveled I looked. My dress was wrinkled, my hair was a tangled mess, and my face probably looked like I had crawled out of a nightmare. But none of that mattered right now. Not when there was food in front of me.

With each bite, I ignored the quiet rustle of fabric as the maids stood silently near the door, watching me. Maybe they expected me to act refined, to pick delicately at my meal, to sip tea with dainty fingers.

Too bad for them.

I wasn’t in the mood for theatrics and drama.

Eggs, sausages, fruit…I devoured everything, washing it down with water before finally pushing the tray away with a satisfied burp and a sigh.

Only then did I stand, stretching slightly before padding over to the large mirror on the opposite wall.

The moment I caught sight of my reflection, I almost laughed.

Sagged shoulders. Red-rimmed eyes. Pale skin. A haunted look that lingered even after a full meal.

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face.

I hadn't expected last night’s ritual to be so... maddening.

The chanting, the eerie glow of candles, the heavy weight of unseen eyes pressing down on me.

It had been more than just strange. It was terrifying. Like a nightmare.

And now that I had a moment to breathe, to think clearly, I realized something. I had been married into a family filled with psychos and the next two years of my life was going to be…fun.

I had questions. A lot of them. And I was going to get answers from Mr Aldoracco. But first I needed to bathe. I wonder who thought it wise to dump me into bed while I looked like something a whale threw up.

I threw off all my clothes haphazardly and walked into the bathroom. The warm rush of water cascaded down my skin, washing away the grime, the exhaustion, and the lingering unease from last night’s madness.

I tilted my head back, letting the heat seep into my tense muscles. Eyes closed, I exhaled slowly, savoring the temporary peace the shower offered.

Then, faintly, just at the edge of my awareness, I heard the soft click of a door opening then closing.

I froze for half a second, my heartbeat skipping before I quickly brushed it off.

It had to be one of the maids, probably. They had been hovering since I woke up, watching me like I was some delicate little thing that might shatter at any moment. If one of them had come in to tidy up or check on me, I wasn’t about to start throwing a fit over it.

With a small shake of my head, I shut off the water, wringing out my dark as ink hair with my fingers before stepping out of the shower.

Bad habit or not, I never bothered drying off in the bathroom. It always felt like a waste of time when my bed was right there. I mean, no one shared the room with me. Why bother?

Dripping water onto the cool floor, I padded out of the bathroom, running a hand through my damp hair as I moved toward the dresser.

And that was when I noticed something. The air in the room felt… different.

The muscles around my eyes were twitching continuously, making me unable to blink. This was a panic reaction for when I was in extreme danger and I knew that right now, I was in one..

A slow, sinking feeling settled in my stomach, but I didn’t move. I couldn't turn around.

Instead, I exhaled calmly, bracing my hands against the dresser.

And in the mirror’s reflection, I saw him.

Standing just a few feet away.

Watching me with the smile of a sick, depraved, perverted, bastard!

My lips parted in silent terror as I gaped, not sure if I should breathe or scream.

The twinkle in his green eyes was unmistakable. He enjoyed getting that reaction out of me. I wasn't expecting his facial muscles to be pulled back in a wide beaming grin. It freaked me out more than it amazed me just how extremely handsome he was. He could easily be on the top ten most handsome men in the world list.

For a moment, we just stared at each other.

The tension in the air was suffocating. My hands curled against the dresser, my knuckles whitening as I fought the instinct to run away and bury myself in shame. His sharp green eyes glowed with amusement, the corners crinkling slightly as if he found something about this situation utterly delightful.

‘Bastardo!’ I exclaimed in my head. Thanks to my limited vocabulary of cuss words, I really had no idea how to express my frustration.

It wasn’t until he moved that I realized how long we had been locked in this silent contest.

Slow. Unhurried. Like a predator savoring the moment before the kill, he stepped forward, crossing the space between us with deliberate ease.

My breath hitched when he veered slightly, bypassing me entirely. I let out a breath, only for my nerves to spike again when he sank onto the edge of my bed.

He spread his arms lazily, one hand propped against the mattress for balance while the other drummed against his knee. He was relaxed, like this was his room, his space, and I was just some amusing guest who happened to be standing naked before him.

His eyes dragged over me in a slow, once over, and my entire body flushed with heat. Thank God the lights were off. I could already envision myself being as red as a tomato.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to remain composed.

"You’re awfully bold for an intruder," I said, keeping my voice as even as possible. "Or is this part of another ritual I wasn’t informed about?"

His lips quirked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"No ritual this time," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "But I must admit… this view is far better than last night’s theatrics."

My jaw clenched.

I wanted to lunge for something to cover myself, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me so flustered. Instead, I lifted my chin, leveling him with the iciest glare I could muster.

"What do you want?"

His grin widened as if he was enjoying every second of this interaction.

"That’s a dangerous question," he mused. "Are you sure you’re ready for the answer?"

I hesitated, frustration bubbling inside me. I hated that I couldn’t predict him, hated that no matter what I said or did, he always seemed one step ahead.

Fine. Two could play this game.

If he wanted me flustered, nervous, or intimidated, then I’d do the exact opposite.

With my plan now in motion, I turned away, feigning nonchalance. If he wanted to sit there and stare, then so be it. I wasn’t about to give him the reaction he craved.

Instead, I reached for my cream on the dresser, squeezing a generous amount into my palm before smoothing it over my damp skin.

I started with my arms, rubbing in slow, controlled circles, my reflection in the mirror showing his amused expression as he watched. His grin never wavered, his eyes following the movement of my hands with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

I ignored him. Or at least, I tried to. But the tingling between my legs told me what I was doing might have been a bad idea.

I moved to my shoulders, down to my collarbone, then my stomach, keeping my breathing even.

But the moment I lifted my leg onto the stool, bending slightly to rub the cream into my thigh, I realized my mistake.

I had given him a better view.

A dangerously good view of what was going on down there.

The air shifted instantly.

His fingers, which had been drumming idly against his knee, stilled.

The silence grew heavier, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

I swallowed, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I dared a glance at his reflection.

His green eyes had darkened. His expression was no longer just amused, it was something deeper. More intense.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he rested his elbow on his knee, leaning forward just slightly.

"Interesting strategy," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety drawl. "Are you trying to test me, little wife?"

My fingers froze mid-motion.

Shit.

A wave of heat rolled through me, so sudden and intense that I almost cursed out loud.

I wasn’t a virgin. Far from it. I’d had my fair share of men…some good, some bad, and some utterly forgettable. I knew my way around a man’s touch, and I definitely wasn’t the type to blush at a lingering stare.

And yet…

Something about the way he looked at me, like he could see right through me, had my skin tingling in a way that made my knees weak.

Damn it.

It had been a while since I had sex. Too long, actually. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why I was reacting this way, why the simple brush of my own hands against my skin felt like something more.

I needed to get laid. Plain and simple.

This wasn't about him. It was about me. My body. My needs. I wasn't about to start fantasizing about a demon lord in disguise.

I forced myself to smirk, keeping my hands moving in slow, deliberate strokes. If he thought he was the only one who could play games, he had another thing coming.

“Test you?” I repeated, arching a brow at his reflection in the mirror. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t flatter yourself.”

His smirk widened.

“I don’t need to,” he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re already doing it for me.”

Bastard. I need to learn new cuss words.

I ignored the way my stomach flipped at his words, at the way his voice curled around me like smoke, warm and suffocating all at once.

I focused on finishing my routine, taking my sweet time as if he weren’t there, as if his presence wasn’t making every nerve in my body hum with awareness.

I smoothed the last bit of cream over my skin, then finally turned to face him, arms crossed over my chest.

“Are you done staring?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

His gaze flicked lazily up to my face, his smirk never faltering.

“That depends.” He leaned back, his posture exuding a dangerous kind of ease. “Are you done putting on a show?”

I refused to let my expression falter, but inside, my pulse thrummed a little too fast.

I had to get out of here.

Not because I was scared of him.

But because, if I stayed, I wasn’t sure