“I am going to count to three,” Roxanne hissed, her voice vibrating with pure, unadulterated middle-school teacher rage as she clutched the heavy velvet blanket against her chest.
“If both of your ugly faces aren’t out of my room by the time I hit one, I am going to scream so loud that tin-can in the hallway will put his sword straight through your ribcages!” Malakai didn’t even flinch.
He slunk forward with the silent, terrifying grace of a predator, his dark leather boots making zero noise against the plush carpet.
He stopped right at the edge of the large four-poster bed, leaning his hip against the mahogany bedpost.
His left arm, still covered in sharp, pitch-black raven plumage and twitching with faint blue-green lines, hung casually at his side.
But his sharp, glowing amber-yellow eyes were bright beneath his messy dark hair, tracing the way her oversized white shirt slipped down her left collarbone, contrasting softly against her smooth, porcelain skin, a delicate feature befitting the runaway daughter of the Duke.
“You won’t scream, sweetheart,” Malakai murmured, a raspy, crooked smirk touching his lips.
“You hate the priest’s lectures more than you hate my trespassing.
Besides…
you think those two out there are actually guarding you?” Roxanne tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing in annoyance.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lucifer didn’t just sit in the armchair.
He set his crystal wine glass down on her bedside table with a soft *clink* and glided right up to the opposite side of her mattress.
Standing over her in his tailored three-piece suit, he looked ridiculously handsome in a deeply unsettling, corporate demonic way, his crimson eyes gleaming like polished rubies beneath his dark hair, hinting at the terrifying High Demon Lord with massive horns lurking beneath his polished human facade.
“It means, my dear,” Lucifer purred, his voice dropping into a low, velvet baritone, “that Commander Alistair currently has his hand on his sword hilt, informing High Priest Ethan in no uncertain terms that the Sun Church has no legal jurisdiction over an Imperial subject’s bedchamber.
Meanwhile, the pious High Priest is currently accusing the Commander of abusing his military authority to keep you isolated.” Lucifer chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that made the fine hairs on Roxanne’s arms stand up.
“They’re so utterly consumed by their own righteous posturing that a parade of low-tier imps could walk past them without being noticed.” “And yet here you two are,” Roxanne spat, shoving her silky dark hair out of her face.
“The feathered shadow bird and the Hell CEO, sneaking in through the back door like a pair of horny high schoolers.” Malakai let out a low, breathless laugh.
He leaned down, bringing his insanely handsome, sharp-jawed face dangerously close to hers, his dark leather scent mixed with rain and shadow wrapping around her senses.
Slowly, carefully, his calloused fingers caught the edge of her loose silk robe, pulling it back over her shoulder.
But he didn’t pull away.
His thumb brushed softly against the warm, sensitive skin right at the crook of her neck, his glowing yellow eyes softening into something raw, quiet, and impossibly tender.
“I came to make sure you were still breathing, Roxanne,” Malakai whispered, his voice dropping into a low, husky rasp that vibrated right against her skin.
His thumb stroked her neck once, twice, feeling her pulse thudding wildly beneath his touch.
“You looked like a corpse when the Commander carried you away.
I don’t sleep well when my anchor looks like she’s about to break.” Roxanne’s breath caught in her throat.
A sudden, traitorous wave of heat rushed straight up from her chest into her face, burning her cheeks a bright crimson.
Before she could even process Malakai’s touch, Lucifer leaned down on her other side, unbuttoning his glove with his teeth and letting it slip off his hand.
He reached out with long, slender fingers, his warm, smooth hand gently cupping her blushing right cheek, his thumb lightly stroking her cheekbone as his crimson eyes held hers captive.
“Look at that,” Lucifer purred playfully, his red slit-pupils glowing with dark, teasing amusement as his breathtaking face hovered mere inches from hers.
“A noble duke’s daughter who spits fire at dragons, turning entirely red over two late-night visitors.” He tilted her head up slightly, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin with maddening, deliberate slowness.
“You forced an absurd amount of volatile antimagic through a body with zero natural mana, Roxanne.
You’re operating on spite…
and yet your heart is beating so fast right against my palm.” “I-I… Y-you… both of you, get your fucking hands off me!” Roxanne squeaked out, her entire face, ears, and neck exploding into a nuclear-level blush.
Caught between Malakai’s thumb on her neck and Lucifer’s palm on her cheek, her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Fuck this!
Fuck these mind games!
Roxanne screamed internally.
“System!
Activate Piercing Truth!” she commanded in her head, desperate to read whatever ridiculous, arrogant thoughts were driving these two idiots.
“Show me their god damn mind-boxes right now!” [ERROR!
ERROR!] The System chimed frantically, a bright red warning banner slapping across her field of view amidst the usual pink floating hearts.
[PIERCING TRUTH IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE!
SYSTEM MENTAL OVERCLOCK COOLDOWN IN EFFECT!
YOU DRAINED ALL READOUT RESERVES TO STABILIZE THE CORE!] [KYAAAAAAAAH BUT WHO NEEDS READOUTS?!] The System immediately went right back to its hyper-delusional shrieking, exploding into a confetti of sparkling neon-pink hearts.
[LOOK AT THEIR HANDS!
LOOK AT YOUR BLUSHING FACE!
HOST, YOU ARE CAUGHT IN A DUAL-PHYSICAL CONTACT SANDWICH BETWEEN TWO BREATHTAKING MALES!
WE ARE AT MAXIMUM YOUNG GIRL ROMANCE CAPACITY!] “I WILL KILL YOU!” Roxanne shrieked mentally, ducking her head furiously, shoving both of their hands away, and burying her red-hot face straight into her knees.
“I hate this world!
I hate all of you!
Why are you both being like this?!” “Because you keep almost dying,” Malakai murmured softly, pulling his hand back with a crooked, unrepentant smirk, his yellow eyes brimming with affection.
“And because watching you try to pretend you’re indifferent is the most entertaining thing in either realm,” Lucifer added smooth as silk, retrieving his silk handkerchief and lightly dabbing at her flushed forehead with a wicked, playful wink.
“Come back to the Underworld with me, little bird.
Soft beds, private baths…
and no holy knights knocking on your door.” “Hey,” Malakai growled, stepping in front of Lucifer, his raven claws extending as his yellow eyes narrowed into slits.
“Back off, suit.
She isn’t going anywhere with you.” “Are you going to stop me, shadow?” Lucifer replied, his smile sharpening into something dangerous and otherworldly.
“Will both of you shut the fuck up?!” Roxanne yelled, her cheeks still furiously red as she peeked over her knees.
“I am not going anywhere!
I am staying right in this—-” *THUD.* The heavy oak door to her bedchamber didn’t just open, it blew inward, slamming against the stone wall with enough force to crack the wood.
Alistair stood in the doorway, his imposing, ruggedly handsome frame clad in steel, dark hair wild, and the striking silver scar across his hard jawline standing out as his broadsword ignited with a furious, blinding yellow light.
His cold grey eyes went wide with absolute, thunderous fury as he saw the residual pink flush on Roxanne’s face and the two men standing intimately right at her bedside.
Right behind him, Ethan rushed into the room, his long silver hair spilling over his ethereal priest robes, his staff ignited with starlight as his striking blue eyes widened in shock.
“Roxanne!” “Out,” Alistair growled, his voice vibrating with such violent intent that the glass windows rattled.
He raised his heavy claymore, pointing the tip straight at Lucifer’s chest, his grey eyes locked on the demon lord.
“Get your hands away from her.
NOW.” “Ah,” Lucifer sighed smoothly, sliding his glove back on with a dark, satisfied grin.
“The guard dogs finally arrived.” Malakai’s daggers slid into his hands with a metallic *shink*.
“You’re ruining a great moment, Commander.” “I said OUT!” Alistair roared, taking a massive step forward, his holy aura flaring wildly.
“Stop!
All of you, stop!” Ethan shouted, trying to step between Alistair and the bed, his white robes billowing, his long silver hair catching the ambient starlight.
Ethan’s blue eyes flicked over to Roxanne, taking in her messy hair, her oversized shirt falling off her shoulder, and the deep red flush still burning across her cheeks and chest.
The ridiculously handsome High Priest froze mid-step, his blue eyes wide with an aching, raw surge of jealousy.
“Roxanne…
did they…
did they touch you?” Alistair didn’t even wait for her answer.
His patience snapped completely.
With a furious growl, the Vanguard Commander stepped squarely between the bed and the intruders, using his massive, armored frame to block Roxanne entirely from their view.
“High Priest, call the royal guards,” Alistair ordered, his stern grey eyes fixed on Lucifer and Malakai with lethal intent.
“These two are staying in the dungeon tonight.
Or I will cut them down where they stand.” “Try it, tin-can,” Malakai purred, his yellow eyes flashing in the dark as shadows coiled around his boots.
“Gentlemen, please,” Lucifer chuckled, though his dark aura began to swell, making the room’s temperature plummet.
“If we’re going to fight over who sleeps in her room, at least let the lady choose.” Roxanne sat in the middle of her bed, her face still burning like a flare, clutching the blanket as four absurdly, unfairly handsome, utterly possessive men stared each other down over her mattress like rabid wolves over a bone.
“I am going to throw myself out the fucking window,” Roxanne whimpered, burying her face back in her hands.
Before any of the four men could strike a blow, a soft, heavy dragging sound echoed from the hallway outside.
A tall, breathtakingly handsome figure staggered into the broken doorway, leaning heavily against the shattered wooden frame for support.
His golden hair was disheveled, and his imperial armor was stripped off, leaving him in a loose, unbuttoned white linen tunic that showed the jagged, black dragon-rot scars spanning across his chest to his neck.
It was Julian.
The Crown Prince’s face was deathly pale, but his bright blue eyes were wide, focused, and no longer blacked out by the abyssal shadow.
He looked past Alistair’s raised claymore, past Ethan’s glowing staff, and locked his blue gaze straight onto Roxanne sitting on the bed.
“Roxanne…” Julian gasped out, his voice hoarse, trembling, and entirely human as he dragged himself another step into the room.
“I…
I remember what I did to you in the void.”