The velvet canopy hanging over the giant four-poster bed was definitely not this aggressively burgundy when Harvey, now unfortunately answering to Haviel, had left the room hour ago.
It had been normal. Generic. The fantasy-world equivalent of a hotel room trying way too hard to look expensive.
But the Elsher staff? Good lord, those people moved at terrifying speeds. They must have stormed the room like a highly trained squad of romance-obsessed interior decorators the second the wedding vows were finished.
Now, the chamber looked like a candle store had exploded. Red rose petals, individual, hand-plucked rose petals, because apparently someone had that kind of free time, were scattered across the floor and piled over the silk duvet like tiny crime scenes. It was excessive. It was loud. It looked like someone had tried to recreate every romance cliché at once, and his soul wanted to file a formal complaint.
Omg.
He sat completely frozen on the very edge of the mattress. It was the only section that wasn’t currently covered in decorative plant matter, mostly because he’d aggressively shoved a pile of petals aside with his elbow the moment he was thrown into the room. Meanwhile, his brain was doing that horrible thing where it replayed every embarrassing moment from the last few hours in perfect high-definition.
The tall, dark, ridiculously handsome stranger he’d tackled into a laurel bush while escaping the Duke’s guards? The one he’d grabbed and thoroughly kissed?
Yeah. The Demon King. Jevon Virkharion. The actual, literal ruler of the Demon Realm.
Haviel had not only used him as a human shield, but he’d also effectively molested him in the shrubbery before legally marrying him under a heavy veil.
Honestly, if this world had an HR department, Haviel would’ve submitted his resignation from existence already. The more he thought about it, the worse it became.
How was he supposed to look that man in the eye again? On the bright side, if you could even call it that, the King hadn’t exactly pushed him away in the maze. He hadn’t called for his execution at the altar either. In fact, after the veil slipped and those enormous black horns became visible to the entire crowd, Haviel had sort of... enthusiastically participated in the wedding kiss.
"Stupid, stupid mouth," Haviel muttered, grabbing a gold-embroidered pillow and burying his face in it. He let out a long, muffled, incredibly undignified shriek for emotional support.
At least Duke Elsher and and several men who looked as though stress was their primary food group. Haviel had no clue what they were discussing behind closed doors, and frankly, ignorance felt like a gift.
Every minute Jevon spent trapped in a meeting with politicians was another minute Haviel didn’t have to explain why he’d treated a king like a random extra in a soap opera.
He figured he had at least two hours.
Three, tops. And that’s only if someone was actively begging.
Naturally, life, which had held a distinct, personal grudge against Haviel ever since he stepped off that construction site ledge, decided to prove him wrong.
The doors clicked. Then, they opened.
It was him.
Haviel nearly launched himself directly into the afterlife right then and there. It wasn’t like he had a handy escape hatch built into his ribcage or a button he could pop to turn invisible, but the sheer, visceral urge to cease existing was overwhelming. Why was he back so fast? Didn’t kings have paperwork? Didn’t they have kingdoms to mismanage or small diplomatic crises to cultivate?
Jevon was still wearing the ceremonial robes from the wedding. Black and silver threads shimmered through the fabric as it draped over his broad frame with an effortless elegance Haviel deeply resented. His dark hair was slightly , and those horns looked annoyingly magnificent.
But it was the eyes that did it. Those glowing amber eyes immediately found Haviel sitting on the bed like a low-level clerk who had just been caught embezzling from the petty cash drawer.
Jevon took one step into the room.
Haviel immediately shot to his feet and backed away.
Jevon took another step. Slow and calm. Like a cat watching a particularly nervous bird.
Every step forward from the King caused an equal retreat from Haviel until his back was practically pressed against the balcony doors.
"If you keep backing up like that," Jevon said, "you are going to go right through that glass and fall into the courtyard. And while I am entirely flexible, an emergency medical evacuation isn’t exactly the scenic view I had envisioned for our wedding night."
Haviel stopped dead. His shoulders were up around his ears. He studied Jevon’s face, searching for some clue about what he was thinking.
Jevon stopped about four feet away, close enough that his shadow completely swallowed Haviel’s smaller form, and tilted his head slightly. "Tell me something, Haviel. Did you ever manage to locate my third through tenth eyes? Because I must apologize for the disappointment. The rumors in your territories seem to have greatly exaggerated my appearance."
The memory hit Haviel like a runaway delivery wagon.
Heat immediately crawled up Haviel’s neck and turned his ears bright red. His mouth. His stupid mouth.
"Ah," Haviel let out a thin, high-pitched, incredibly awkward chuckle that sounded like a dying bird. "Ha. Right. About that. That was a joke. A normal human joke."
Jevon didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked deeply, thoroughly entertained, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a way that felt borderline malicious.
The survival instincts developed from years of dealing with unpredictable managers finally kicked in. Haviel didn’t do elegant apologies.
He did panic.
"Look, Your Majesty, Your Imperial Greatness, Lord Jevon, whoever you prefer to be addressed as," Haviel started, his hands flying up in a series of frantic, defensive gestures. "Let me just start by saying you are incredibly... luminous. Like the moon. Truly. I had absolutely no idea you were the King. If I had known you were the ruler of the Demon Realm, I would never have... you know... used you as a camouflage device. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I didn’t mean to assault royalty. I didn’t mean to insult your appearance. If there’s a form I need to fill out or a fine I need to pay to avoid being turned into a coat, please just let me know. Honestly, if the floor wants to open up and swallow me whole right now, I won’t fight it."
Jevon didn’t interrupt. He stood there with his arms loosely crossed over his chest, listening to the entire frantic monologue with the kind of infinite, terrifying patience usually reserved for cats watching a mouse try to run up a slippery wall.
When Haviel finally ran out of oxygen and stopped to wheeze, Jevon let the silence settle for three long seconds.
"So," Jevon said softly, stepping just an inch closer. "If you had known who I was... you wouldn’t have kissed me?"
"Yes!" Haviel blurts out instantly, the word leaving his mouth before his brain could even weigh the legal consequences. "Absolutely. One hundred percent. I value my neck."
Jevon’s expression shifted. His brow smoothed out, his eyes dimming just a fraction into something that looked suspiciously like exaggerated disappointment. He let out a low sigh.
A horrible realization dawned on Haviel. Wait. Did I just accidentally hurt the ego of an immortal monarch? Offending the boss by accident was survivable. Continuing to do it on purpose was not.
"I mean..." Haviel hesitated, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to backpedal without moving his feet. "...probably? Maybe not definitely?"
Jevon raised one eyebrow.
Another agonizing pause. Haviel’s brain scrambled through every conflict-resolution seminar he’d ever attended. "Okay, look, definitely yes. I would have run away. I’m a human. You have weapons attached to your head. That’s basic self-preservation."
Jevon stared at him for a second, and then, he laughed.
It wasn’t a cruel, booming villain laugh. It wasn’t the mocking sneer of a tyrant either. It was just a genuine, deep-bellied sound of pure amusement that made Haviel feel even more exposed. The Demon King apparently found his utter, life-threatening misery to be the best comedy show in the kingdom.
"You’re an odd creature, Haviel," Jevon murmured, the laughter still humming in his throat. "Tell me... do you intend to run away like your sister?"
Haviel shook his head so hard something in his neck popped. He was trying very hard, honestly, he was trying his absolute best, not to stare directly at Jevon’s horns. They were just so... massive. And sharp. Every time he promised himself he’d keep eye contact like a professional, his gaze would inevitably drift upward to check the clearance level between the tips and the ceiling.
On the fourth time, Jevon caught him. Haviel jerked his head down so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, suddenly finding the red rose petals on the floors deeply fascinating.
Jevon closed the remaining distance. He didn’t grab him, but he leaned in, one massive, claw-tipped hand coming up to rest on the glass right next to Haviel’s ear, effectively pinning him against the balcony doors. The scent of woodsmoke and something heavy, dark, and ancient completely filled Haviel’s lungs. Annoyingly distracting.
"Get ready," Jevon whispered, amber eyes glowing with unmistakable amusement.
He shifted awkwardly, his hands fidgeting by his sides. Haviel blinked a couple of times. "For...?"
His gaze involuntarily flicked toward the bed, with its aggressive sea of red petals, and his internal alarm system immediately went into red-alert status. No forking way. Please, for the love of god, do not let him say wedding nigh...
Jevon followed his eyes, a low laugh rumbling in his throat as he realized exactly what the human was panicking about. He looked back at him
"Relax," he said. "We’re leaving. I’m taking you back to the Demon Realm tonight."