The Devil's Light

Chapter 3 -Luci

I'm still sat on the bed, trying to gather my thoughts on why the king of hell is all I can think about he's the only one I want to be around. Not that I've met anyone else, really, but it feels like the longer I'm with him, the more he seeps under my skin and embeds himself into my thoughts. I'm disturbed by the door opening and a tall, slender, brunette woman saunters in, in a black silk pinafore with a very racy black bra underneath that has a silk ribbon over the top of the curvature of her breasts.

"Hey, I'm Samara, the sire sent to me to be at your service."

She announces, whilst performing a very dramatic curtsey. I can't help but shake my head and giggle.

"So what we gunna do, Lady Lucinda ?"

She asks as she plops on the bed next to me.

"Call me Luci, please. I don't know. Is there anything you want us to do or show me ? What is there to do around here ?"

I ask Samara, pleased to have interaction with another female.

"Only if you call me Mara."

She smiles, then adds.

"Goodness, if I know, I spend the majority of my time either serving the king or with my husband. Umm, are you hungry ? I could get you some food?"

"You're married ? in hell ? Do they have weddings ?"

I can't help but be intrigued. Samara giggles and blushes.

"Only since the king took over from the old boss. Oft, and wasn't he a bundle of joy."

She shares whilst rolling her eyes.

"Come on, let's get you some food. You look starved."

Right on cue, my stomach growls, a new sensation that makes me scrunch my eyebrows. Samara chuckles again at my reaction.

"I guess I am hungry."

I informed her.

"Awesome, I fancy some fried chicken. Come on."

Samara claps her hands and then holds one out to me. I get off the bed and make my way to her, choosing to link arms instead, as she leads me out into the hallway.

"Huh, so you also use doors like a normal person?"

I ask out loud.

"What ? ooooh, you mean unlike the demons. Yeah, I'm not a demon, I used to be a mortal. Well, I was a witch, but I still am, actually. Oh, here we are, through this door."

Mara informs me as we walk through another door leading into a black and gold kitchen with bar stools surrounding a centre island.

"Sit. drink ? oh, Wine ?"

she asks excitedly.

"Uh, sure."

I answer,perching on a stool, not having the foggiest idea of what she's on about. Then a glass of pink bubbling liquid and some golden objects on a plate are produced in front of me, out of thin air, the look of shock on my face, has Samara in floods of laughter.

"I'm a witch, remember."

she says between fits of giggles and I can't help but laugh with her as I take a sip of my wine, which oddly for a liquid is dry but fruity and sweet.

I can't tell how long has passed or how many glasses of wine samara has topped up, but I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy and unsure if my legs will work once I hop down off the stool, that I've been occupying.

"So how's the kings bed ?"

Samara asks, suddenly sitting cross-legged on the island.

"Oh, well, I didn't dream, but I think I might have fainted."

I hiccup.

"He's never let anyone stay with him before. It was the first time I've been in his bedchamber when I came to see you."

The thought of her statement was sobering, but it still didn't help the school girl giggles that escaped us both, setting us further into fits of laughter, until I fall off my stool, which once again sets us off like a gaggle of hyenas. A pair of strong hands lifts me from behind, breaking our laughter into stone silence.

" is... everything okay ?"

The king asks firmly. I look at Samara, unsure if I want to turn around and see his displeased face. Samara pales, and her eyes widen.

"Sire ... I can explain... I brought Luci here to have some food."

Samara stumbles over her words.

"Lucinda."

He corrects her.

"and it appears you did more than feed her, Samara."

He adds condeming her. When Razoul appears next to Samara, carrying her off the kitchen island bridal style as she plants a kiss to his cheek.

"Right enough wine for you ladies off we go minx."

Razoul strides off with a very happy looking Samara in his arms. The king turns me to face him and sits me on the kitchen island, standing just in front of me, as we hold each others gaze. My hand comes alive with a mind of its own searching for his hand, snaking my fingers into his. I sigh contentedly.

"You make me happy."

I can't help but smile up at him.

"You don't even know me, darling. And we're no closer finding out where you came from."

He retorts clearly displeased. However, still not letting go of my hand. I place my free hand over his cheek, and again, he closes his eyes, relaxing into me just as he did the night before.

"Maybe, I'm just meant to be here with you."

Is this the alcohol talking or how I really feel, but I'm cautiously skirting a fine line, as I speak honestly to the king of hell. I lean forward our lips merely an inch away, and I can feel his breath fanning my face. It feels like we're both just staring at each other waiting for the inevitable but it never happens, instead he picks me with my legs wrapped around his waist and carries me through a door and suddenly we're back in his room.

"And this is why drinking with Samara is a bad idea. Let's see how you feel about me in the morning, darling."

He says, sounding almost pained as he gentles scoots me into bed. As I felt my eyes drift into darkness, I could have sworn I felt him kiss my head, wishing me a good night.