The Demon King's Bride (Married To The Devil Book 4) by Roxie Ray & Skye Wilson

Author:Roxie Ray & Skye Wilson [Ray, Roxie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

18

Bea

In Don’s absence, admittedly I was a little lost.

He’d left my knees trembling. My legs were wobbly as I picked myself up off the grass and took my little bubble of color back into the mansion.

Every room I entered turned Technicolor the moment I stepped into it. The Abyss was a coloring book, and I was a one-woman pack of crayons. As I walked through the halls, I turned them from gray to pretty golds and reds and browns.

It’s never lonely here when you’re around, Don had told me.

How many times had I colored this place in? I didn’t recognize any of the rooms I moved through, but they did seem vaguely familiar somehow. Without my memories, it was hard to tell.

Still, having the power to make color in the Abyss was kind of fun. As I stepped into the library, I smiled as all the books on the shelves shifted into a rainbow of blues and reds and greens.

I liked to read. Always had—even when my parents told me it was a waste of time. I knew they would have preferred that I’d focused my time on learning languages and doing my math homework and memorizing etiquette rules instead of burying my nose in books. I’d humored them as much as I could.

But many of the best parts of my childhood had been spent sitting out in the garden with Jane Eyre or Little Women open in my lap. Don’s library here was even larger than the one I’d grown up with—and the books on its shelves were far more interesting than my parents’ collection as well.

The library at Nevermore didn’t just have law books and the classics. Don had romances and horror novels, Haruki Murakami and Stephen King. That surprised me—I didn’t think of Don as a causal reader. But parts of his library made me feel like I’d just wandered into a bookstore full of bestsellers.

Other parts, I was almost too afraid to touch. Some of the shelves were full of books so old and fragile looking, I would have expected to find them in a museum, not a personal collection.

I wiped my hands clean on my dress and carefully pulled out a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy. It was written in its original language, Italian. The pages were tawny in color and incredibly thin.

There was something strangely comforting about this book. Its weight in my hands just felt…right somehow. Familiar. Like something that was important.

Maybe at some point in my lost memories, it had been.

Unless I was willing to pay Don’s price of kisses for more recollections, I supposed there was no way I’d ever know.

Then again, given the way Don’s kisses felt on my lips… Maybe I could afford the cost of remembering.

Maybe when he got back from interrogating Simon, that’s what we’d do: spend the whole day here in the library, making out and remembering.

Assuming that he’d kept his word and avoided murdering my fiancé. Ex-fiancé.

Now that I was married to Don, it was hard to say exactly what Simon was to me now.

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