Page 17 of His Little Devil

“Hello, dear. Master has assigned me to be your personal servant. I’m Layna,” she says in a voice that reminds me of bells.

I step closer and offer her my hand.

“Umm, thanks, I think. Are those my clothes for the day?” I ask, then point to the lingerie and dress she has laid out on the bed. There are also some killer high-heeled boots.

“Yes, Master has certain tastes, but I did tell him that you will need to wear more than your underwear,” she says, then leaves the room, so I may have some privacy.

I don’t understand what she means until I start to get dressed and notice that the material is sheer.

“Luke,” I grumble and shake my head. I hope I don’t run into anyone on my way to get food.

Someone knocks as I’m zipping up my boots. “Come in,” I shout, then cringe, rubbing my throat. Luke may not have gotten far in his blow job, but I am a little sore.

A man with purple hair, wearing a three-piece suit and an old fashioned pocket watch, pushes the door open and gives me a stern once over.

“Passable. I see we have a lot of work ahead of us, but that will need to wait. Come. Master is waiting for you, and he’s not known to be patient,” he says before checking his watch and making some hissing noise with his tongue.

I stand and put my hands on my hips. “Excuse me? Who the fuck are you?” I snap at how rude this little man is.

With a wave of his hand in my direction, he turns and walks away, muttering, “Yes, yes, I can see now why the Master is so fond of you.”

I go to reply, but honestly, I don’t know what to say, and this is the first time that I have left the bedroom, and the expanse of the halls is overwhelming me. You could drive a monster truck along these passageways and still have room.

This place is huge. My eyes are still wide with shock when we reach black iron French doors. I step ahead of the man—I still don’t know his name—and he grabs my hand before I can touch the handle.

Ripping my hand out of his grip, I glare at him, and he rolls his beady black eyes.

“The only way to enter the Master’s dining room is with a blood sacrifice,” he scolds. He then takes his finger and bites the tip until a bead of blood is pooling, and he drips it along the handle.

The iron sizzles and I swear I hear a groan of pleasure. Fucking weird.

The doors swing open, and Luke is there behind a huge table that could seat at least fifty people. He stands and pulls out the chair next to him for me. His eyes eat up my body, and I scowl.

I’m still not happy that he denied me, and we really need to have some conversations.

“That will be all, Thimon,” he says to the man who escorted me, and I make a mental note to remember his name. Names are power after all. Speaking of which…

I walk around the table and take a seat, letting Luke push my chair in, then grab my napkin and place it over my lap.

There are trays of food in front of me, and my stomach grumbles at the smells. Once Luke has loaded my plate, I turn to him. There has been something on my mind, and for some reason, I had forgotten about it until our walk here.

“Did you kill my family?” I blurt, and his eyes widen, before a dark, sinister smile splits his lips.

LUKE

I have been waiting on this question, and though I am annoyed that my day is going to shit, it’s better to get it over and done with now. I give her a smirk and watch as her nostrils flare.

I think I am going to enjoy riling her up now. “Why, whatever do you mean, Little Devil?” I coo, and she slams her fist onto the table, rattling the china.

“The curse about my family. You’re the one my great-great grandmother, Elena, was talking about,” she hisses, and I throw my head back and laugh.

“Such a little spitfire you’re turning out to be,” I mumble, then sigh. “I didn’t kill your family, Silver, but I am a large part of the prophecy. Do with that as you will,” I say, then wave my hand, dismissing the topic. “Eat, or I will lock you back in the room until you can learn to behave,” I order, letting my powers flow freely.

Pouting, she picks up her fork and stabs her eggs, piercing the yolks. I should scold her for acting like a brat, but she takes a bite, and I decide to be lenient… for now.

She glares at me, and I notice how she's squeezing her thighs together. Seems she's still worked up from our shower.

Glancing over my shoulder at my guards, I give them a look. “Leave. I wish to have breakfast with my bride.”