The Devil (BOOK I + II)

20 | "Freedom"

Chapter Twenty
"Freedom"

"she is a queen.
her soul is royalty,"
~ adrian michael

┏━━━━━━━┓

   Over the course of the week, it had been a circle of having to grief Micah, and finding anyone who was participating with the Genovese family and Rolando.

   Gala was interviewed multiple times since then, but I honestly don't think anyone believes she took part of the attack. She resented this lifestyle, only accepting it because of her father and Rolando. I also learned that she was the one who had told papa where they were possibly keeping me.

   Still, Vladik has taken it upon himself to stick with her. I wasn't necessarily sure why, but until he says so, Gala's staying in Russia.

   On the other hand, papa's managed to find a replacement to fill the Italian's spot in the Dynasty. Someone papa actually had been on good terms with when they were teenagers.

   Everything was tidying up in a neat bow, and yet, that didn't stop the ache from sinking in my chest, every time I thought of Micah.

   Still, some things had lightened up. I didn't have a camera in my room anymore. No more stalking guards. And, I could go outside.

   I felt my lips quirking at the thought before I curled my head deeper into my fluffy pillow. I was half-awake now, because ever since the windows were unbarred, the sun aimed directly to my bed. Not that I would ever complain.

   My brain was fuzzy when I started falling deeper into sleep, but before I could even commit myself to rest, I felt the bed shifting underneath me from someones weight. 

   I sucked a breath and tilted my head up, just as two elbows pressed against the mattress, on either side of my head. And with one quick whiff, I sucked a breath at the familiar, intoxicating scent.

   Suddenly, the weight of the arm on my left disappeared—but not for long.

   Daemon's rough fingers skimmed over my bare shoulder, taking in every crevice of my skin, before reaching my collarbone. His breathing deepened while I tried to keep my chest from rising.

   But when his fingers gently thrummed above my collarbone, I sucked a breath and arched my back, making him chuckle deeply.

   "You're horrible at faking sleep, Rose," he drawled, but he didn't bother to hide his amusement before he brushed my hair way from my face.

   My eyes fluttered open, only to stare into his mischievous grey gaze. "I wasn't pretending to sleep," I defended with a glare.

   His lips quirked again, like he knew I was lying. "Sure," he murmured, bringing his head closer, until I felt his breath on my neck. His free hand was busy, caressing my waist above the thin sheet. "How'd you sleep?"

   "Fine." I licked my lips, and his eyes followed my movements. "When did you get up?"

   He smirked. "Missed me?"

   I scoffed, although, I'd never admit sleeping with him has helped with my nightmares. "Never. I just want to know how long I've had the bed to myself. I need to appreciate every second."

   He grinned, and I don't know why, but the sight made my heart pound harder.

   Instead of replying right away, he twisted off my body and quickly threw the blanket off me. Since I was only in a shirt, the cold air hit every inch of my skin.