Dancing With the Devil (The Devil #2) (2 page)

Her face crawled with the impending blush that was about to devour her, but she scoffed, her brow furrowing as low as it could possibly go.  Surprisingly, he pushed back until he was lying next to her, his head resting in his open palm, his elbow resting on the bed.  She wouldn’t let herself look at him.  Damn him for remaining shirtless.  She was uncomfortable.  His lips curled into a small smirk, as if he could read her thoughts, and he looked at her blatantly, unabashedly.  Harleen’s red face only turned redder.

“You were out for a while, you know,” he told her in a soft voice, and her heart flip flopped.  Damn that accent.  She hated the way her body reacted to him.  He leaned closer to her and she felt herself stiffen; he reached up and brushed a stray strand of her hair from her face and curled it around her ear.  “You’re afraid of me.”  It was a statement, not a question.

“Obviously,” she murmured.  “Now that I know who you really are.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?” he asked, looking at her with an amused smile on his face.

He set himself up for another ‘obviously’, but Harleen opted to remain silent and look away from him.  Though she would never admit it, she started to feel as though she couldn’t trust herself when she looked at him, and she hated herself even more for it.

“How can you be afraid of someone you don’t even know?” he asked her.

“I
do
know you,” she spat, her eyes narrowing into his.  “Or did the past month mean nothing to yo?.  I just don’t know you as this.”  She gestured at him.  “You’re the devil.  Satan.  The prince of darkness.”

“
Judge not lest ye be judged
,” he quoted, giving her a pensive stare.

Harleen gritted her teeth in order to bite back her reply, but his fingers were grazing her cheek, making it somewhat difficult to concentrate.  He had never touched her like that before. 

“You looked absolutely stunning today,” he continued, his voice coming out huskier.  Darn those goose bumps.  He leaned forward, and she flinched, not quite sure what he was going to do.  This caught him off-guard, stopping him from continuing.  She opened one of her eyes, only to find him staring at her.  He looked… confused.  “You know, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”  Harleen looked at him - really, genuinely looked at him - trying to read his dark eyes.  “You can trust me.”

No I can’t
.  She wanted to say it, but she wouldn’t even trust her voice.

“But I promise you the desire will come… and when it does, I’ll be here.”  His lips brushed Harleen’s cheek and she felt herself recoil.  He pulled away, thinking that he pushed her too far.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, staring up at the ceiling.  Harleen could feel Andrew breathing evenly behind her.  He was asleep.  She wished she could be as calm as he was, but her heart wouldn’t let her rest.  She didn’t recoil because she didn’t want him to kiss her; she recoiled because she wanted
nothing more
than for him to place his lips on hers.  And that thought scared her beyond reason.

And it just made her hate herself even more.                

The next morning, Harleen awoke the same way as she had the previous morning, except this time, she wasn’t as blissfully ignorant as she had been.  She stared up at the ceiling, knowing she was alone once more.  Her body was still clothed in her wedding dress, and she knew that Andrew hadn’t touched her while she was asleep.  Despite the fact that he was quite literally Satan, she trusted him to an extent.  For whatever reason, she was calm, as though she couldn’t muster up anger and frustration, but that might have been because she didn’t know whether to direct it at Andrew or her uncle.

She wondered if Edgar knew she was in Hell now, if he even cared that he would probably never see her again until he died, because Lord knew that he would have no other place to go but to Hell for selling his niece’s soul for money.  For money.  No matter how she tried to think about it, her entire body was completely numb, frozen, as she laid there and looked at nothing.

It was then that she realized that there was something around her, something cool and circular.  Picking up her hand, Harleen tilted her chin down so she could get a look at whatever it was that occupied her finger.  Upon looking at it, she felt her breath slip out from under her.  She couldn’t believe it.  It had to be a wedding ring, sitting on her left ring finger.  It wasn’t that big, but she had never cared about the size, carats, or anything about jewelry.  She didn’t own much jewelry, but she couldn’t help but be captivated by it.  Harleen would never admit it, but she was touched that Andrew thought to give one to her.

It suddenly hit home that she was married.  Married!  She was barely eighteen years old and she was married.  Harleen never thought she would be one of those girls on some random MTV reality show that got married right out of high school and divorced three months later.  Then again, divorce was probably out of the question.

At that moment, the door opened and there stood a man Harleen recognized from before, at the wedding.  Yes, he was one of the men that stood next to Andrew at the altar.  Who was he, exactly?  A man, maybe in his thirties, eyed Harleen with wariness.  He had brown hair combed to the right side of his face, every lock perfectly in place and hazel-brown eyes that were hidden behind squared, thin-rimmed glasses.  He was somewhat pale, his face clean-shaven, and a clipboard was in his hands.  One thing Harleen couldn’t help but notice was that his taste in clothing was impeccable.  A three piece suit fit on his body beautifully. 

“You’re up,” he stated in a soft tenor.  “Hmm.  I figured you’d be asleep for another couple of hours.  Oh well.  I’ll have someone fetch you something to eat.”

Harleen opened her mouth, hoping to ask just who he was, but he had already disappeared.  She sighed in frustration through her nostrils, pulling herself up so her back leaned against the grand headboard of their bed.  She rubbed her palms down her face, hoping to cause the sleep to fade and disappear as she waited.  No way was she going to argue about food; Harleen loved to eat.

The man appeared ten minutes later with a ham, cheese, and spinach omelet and some breakfast potatoes on the side. He also had a glass of milk for her to drink.  “Here you are, sweetie,” he said, literally bringing her breakfast in bed.

“Thank you,” she murmured, idly wondering just how they knew her breakfast preferences.

“I’m Sean Wittacre,” he said with a tilt of his head.  “In case you’re wondering, I’m – you know him as Andrew, right? – Yes, well, I’m Andrew’s assistant.”

He was gay.  Harleen had this gut feeling that this man had to be gay.  Wait a minute – was that why he was in Hell?  Harleen would not let herself ask such personal questions, and instead, her eyes rested on the food.

“I feel like I’m dreaming still,” she said to herself, though Sean couldn’t help but overhear.  He had a knack for picking up conversations that didn’t exactly pertain to him.  Hell, it was practically his job.

“Trust me,” he said, watching her take a tentative bite.  “You’re not dreaming.”

“If I’m not dreaming,” Harleen said after swallowing the first bite of the best omelet she had ever had before, “then prove it to me.  You have to admit it’s a little questionable to be a normal high school senior, worrying about finals and boys, and then suddenly wake up and find out that not only am I married to Satan, but I’m in Hell.”

Sean smirked at the young woman’s slight outburst, and decided that he liked her.  Andrew could have chosen a much worse woman to be his queen, but somehow, the one before him seemed to fit the job.  At least from what he could tell as of right now.

“I know,” she continued, after trying the breakfast potatoes.  Her stomach rumbled for more.  Hell had one hell of a chef.  “Why don’t you show me around?  I’ve never seen much of Hell.  To be honest, I kind of expected to be surrounded by flames and to be burning and to be punished for all eternity.”

“Ah, religious guilt,” Sean said with a roll of his eyes.  “Never seems to fail, huh?  What doesn’t make sense to me is if God threw Satan down to Hell, why would Satan punish bad people, which would essentially be doing God’s work?  Anyways,” he waved a dismissing hand, “I am sure I can arrange for you to check this place out.  Trust me; you will be amazed.”

Harleen finished her breakfast, and showered.  By the time she got out, Amber was there, offering to dress her while mentioning the fact that she would be showing the new Queen around.  Harleen found it odd that someone had to help her dress, but it only took a moment for her to realize why that was.  Apparently when she went out, her wardrobe changed in order to make her look more regal – a queen – which meant she would be wearing dresses instead of jeans.  The dress Amber had picked out for her was a cerulean blue color and it reminded her of the loose gowns the Greek goddesses wore in their paintings.  A thin belt cinched at the waist, but that was it.  Her hair was tied up, while the rest was left to cascade around her shoulders, and her makeup was light.

“Your Highness,” Amber murmured, taking a step back.  “If I may say, you look beautiful.”

Harleen felt herself blush and locked eyes with her maid in the mirror.  “Amber, please,” she said in a gentle tone.  “Call me Harleen.”

After another few moments of setting up, Amber and Harleen were in a horse-drawn carriage, descending the gate of the castle she hadn’t realized she had lived in.  The two took hours to explore Hell, and Harleen realized that Sean was right; she was surprised.  Hell resembled earth, except it was much cleaner and there didn’t seem to be any pollution.  There were shops that specialized in food, clothing, furniture, and the like, and Amber even turned down a neighborhood just to show Harleen that there were even houses and residential neighborhoods here.  Which meant that families lived here.  Families lived in Hell.

Harleen hated to say it, but Hell was absolutely beautiful.

The last stop on their excursion for the day was at a family-run bookstore.  Harleen always loved bookstores, claiming she could spend hours upon hours in one.  As they went down the aisles, Harleen allowed her finger to caress the spines of the books, a light smile on her face.  Maybe Hell wouldn’t be so bad as long as she had a good book to read.  She stopped when she realized she was in the sexuality section.  Apparently in Hell, they were upfront about their book selections, and didn’t need to hide sex behind ‘Romance and Intimacy.’  It amused Harleen, and she couldn’t help but pick out a book, regarding it with obvious curiosity.

Despite how much Andrew worried about her pureness to himself, Harleen had never indulged in the act even though Rosco had pushed her a couple of times to do so.  However, she wasn’t a prude and was interested in sex itself, and was quite keen on exploring the physical act once she found someone she truly loved.  And for whatever reason, she couldn’t help but feel as though Rosco wasn’t the candidate for the job.  Something made her grab a book about sexuality, and even more so, made her buy it.

Currency was similar to earth’s as well, with paper bills and coins.  Amber paid for the book herself, since Harleen didn’t have her own supply of cash, but Amber assured her that that would soon change.

“Where, exactly, is Andrew right now, Amber?” Harleen asked, grabbing the bag that contained her book as she walked out of the store.  She would never admit it, but she did not want her new husband finding out about this particular book lest he get the wrong idea.

“He’s the King, Harleen,” Amber said, though her tone wasn’t condescending in the slightest.  “He’s at Council, making decisions and rulings and other decisions.”

Good, so that means he won’t be home when I get home and he won’t see this book…

Or so she hoped.

By the time they arrived back at the castle, Harleen was already determined to get a good look at where it was she was living.  This way, she would know for sure if she was still on earth or not.  There weren’t many authentic castles in America.  When the triangular shape of the roof was seen, Harleen felt her heart do a flip.  The castle itself was absolutely beautiful.  Instead of it being bleak and dark, it appeared as though sun shone beautifully throughout the Court perimeters; it was a welcoming sight rather than an intimidating one.  And the fact that the castle was neither black nor white, but rather grey, added to the beauty and symbology of it.  Black and white mixed together was grey – the castle was both good and bad, not solely one or the other.

Amber dropped Harleen off once they were past the gates in order to allow the new Queen more of an in-depth study of the courtyard while she took the carriage back to its proper place and the horses back to their stable. 

Harleen stood in awe of what made up the courtyard while the inhabitants seemed to be in awe of her mere presence.  They started to bow, leaving Harleen feeling somewhat awkward, unsure of what to say.  So she did what she thought was best, which was to offer them a warm smile and thank them for whatever it was that they were doing.  She took in her surroundings calmly, almost analytically; there was a large fountain in the center of the courtyard that seemed to resemble the sun and the moon.  People seemed to feel at home here, and everyone from all sects of life was welcomed.  When they saw Harleen, again, they would bow, giving her proper respect, before moving on with their lives.  A few women seemed to give Harleen dirty looks, but she paid them no mind.  It wasn’t as though she had wanted to be Queen of Hell, let alone married to Satan.

Without warning, something bumped into Harleen, sending her sprawling on the floor, causing the bag that contained her private book to fall from her hands.  The book slipped out of the bag, but Harleen had yet to notice it or prevent it from happening because she had to break her fall.

“Oh my God,” a voice said from behind her.  “Miss, I am so” - the man cut himself short when he realized just who it was he was talking to - “Oh, Your-Your Highness, my apologies!”  He seemed to get flustered, quickly offering her his hand in order to help her up.  “Please forgive me, Your Majesty.  I did not see you there.  I am truly sorry.  Have I ruined your dress?  Shall I buy you a new one?”

Harleen felt herself smile at how badly the man seemed to feel.  “It’s okay,” she reassured him, wiping her hands together.  “Please, calm down.  I’m not hurt, and I’m sure after one washing, the dress will be back to normal.  It’s okay.  I promise.”

The man stared at her with piercing blue eyes for a long moment, as though he was trying to decipher if the woman in front of him was lying or not.  Harleen took that time to study him; he had unruly jet black hair and those blue eyes, which contrasted greatly against his pale skin.  He appeared to be growing a moustache that connected with a goatee – something men did that Harleen would never quite understand -  but his face was chiseled to the point where he could pull it off.  Wearing a royal blue long sleeved tunic and matching slacks, he was quite handsome, the more Harleen looked at him, but there was something off about him that Harleen couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Oh, I caused you to drop your book,” he said, noticing the reading material.  Before Harleen could stop him, he knelt down to grab it, his eyes skimming over the concept of the book before standing back up.  His lips had curved up into a mischievous grin, especially when he noticed Harleen’s blush.  “Here you are, Your Majesty.  If I may speak freely,” he began, handing Harleen her book, “there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about when it comes to furthering one’s knowledge about sexuality.”  He stuck out his hand.  “I am Nigel Curry.”

Despite his words, Harleen felt herself blush anyways.  “I’m Harleen,” she said, slipping her hand within his.

Nigel drew her hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles.  “It is an honor, Your Majesty,” he murmured against her skin.

There was something wrong about this, but Harleen couldn’t decipher what that was.  She gently tugged back her hand before placing the book back in its bag as fast as she could.  “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder as she started to head back indoors.  Something felt wrong about him, about what he had done.

She wanted to go back to her room and nap. 
Or
eat lunch first and then nap.  Yes, that sounded like a plan.

However, when Harleen returned to her room, she wasn’t expecting Andrew to be back.  In fact, she hadn’t expected Andrew to arrive until after dinner.  At least, that was what she had thought happened with other kings, based on what she read about or saw in movies.  Then again, she couldn’t exactly base her knowledge of the practices of kings on movies and stories.  Maybe Hell worked differently.

“Harley,” he said, seeming genuinely happy at the fact that she had returned.  He gave her his notorious crooked smile as he took in her outfit, something he definitely approved of, though he would never say.  “Good to see you, my wife.  Did you have fun?”

Harleen ignored the fact that he had called her his wife, but her eyes did flash when he had called her Harley.  Andrew immediately recognized the look and his smile deepened, as though he was challenging her to say something about it.  “Actually, I did,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and letting the bag dangle from her fingers.  “Hell is a very beautiful place.”

“It makes me glad you say that,” he said, his dark hazel eyes suddenly noticing the bag.  “And I see you wasted no time when it came to shopping, though I must tell you, you are the only woman I know who would rather spend money on a book than clothes.  What did you get?”

Harleen was poised to make a comment on just what kind of women he knew, but his interest in the book threw her off.  “Nothing,” she said, a little too quickly, thrusting the bag behind her back.  “Who is Nigel Curry?”

The name caused Andrew to frown, forgetting, at least temporarily, the contents of Harleen’s bag.  Something in his eyes darkened, and he suddenly regarded his new wife with a serious expression on his face.  “Why?”

“He accidentally bumped into me in the courtyard,” Harleen explained.  “I was wondering about him.”

“You be careful around him, you hear me?” Andrew told her, and though he wasn’t exactly ordering her around, it felt as though he were.  “Be wary of him, Harleen.  He is a member of the court and he is known for being sexually aggressive with women.  I hope that because you are my wife, he will not try anything, but I cannot be certain of it.  You are incredibly tempting.”  He tilted his head, his eyes dropping to her lips as he took a step forward.  He attempted to kiss her once again, but like before, Harleen managed to dodge the kiss, causing amusement to tickle Andrew’s features.   

“And how was your day?” she asked him genuinely, once she had distanced herself from him.

“As usual,” he murmured as he followed her.  Once he was close enough, he reached up and ran his fingers through her wavy tresses.  He felt her freeze under his touch, and a warmth spread through his body at this effect he seemed to have over her.  “I made decisions, executed the law, things like that.  Things kings do.”

“I would like to be there next time,” Harleen told him, unsure if Hell was patriarchal and her presence would not be accepted at court.  However, she did want to see what it was that he did, especially if she was to be his wife.

Andrew pressed his lips together, thinking a minute before finally nodding his head.  “Yes, I agree,” he said.  “I would like you to sit beside me and assist with my decisions.  You are my queen, after all.  Although, I suggest that maybe you should wear something nice.”  He stared pointedly at her dress, as though trying to signify something to her.

“You don’t approve of this dress?” Harleen asked as Andrew took a step towards her.

“Quite the contrary,” he said, once again tilting his head downwards, though it should be noted he wasn’t attempting to kiss her this time.  Yet.  “I approve of it, and I believe others – my court – would as well, which could prove to be quite distracting.”  An enigmatic smile touched his lips.  “You are beautiful, you do realize this right?”

Harleen felt those butterflies that seemed to have followed her from her new house in Dover Shores to her new place in Hell.  “I will wear something more appropriate then,” she agreed, hoping she didn’t reveal her obvious attraction to him in her eyes.