Michael stood up when a small demon child ran toward him, clutching a little case in his hands.
"Zafil… my mother—"
"Tell her I said she has done well," Michael replied calmly.
"Yes!"
Michael smiled faintly at him. The child beamed back wholeheartedly and ran off as if he had just won a lottery.
The moment he left, Michael's expression changed.
His cold aura returned—stronger, darker, far more intimidating than before.
He walked toward Evelyn and dropped the case into her hands. It felt incredibly heavy, weighing her down instantly, yet he had carried it as if it meant nothing.
"Aren't you going to say anything to me?" Evelyn whispered, making sure only he could hear.
Michael looked at her, amused.
"Do you want me to say something?"
She nodded slowly.
He leaned slightly closer.
"You are very brave… baby girl."
Her breath caught.
"I would love it if you wore those pieces… on our wedding."
And just like that, he turned and left.
The wedding was set to take place three weeks from then.
Within those weeks, gifts from Michael were to be sent continuously.
After the meeting, everyone slowly began to leave. The demons exited first—some congratulated her, others gave her looks filled with pity or quiet warning.
But nothing eased the heaviness in her chest.
She felt empty.
Unsettled.
Unfulfilled.
"Evie, come on, dear," her mother called softly.
Evelyn excused herself and walked over.
"Go to your room and rest. We'll handle everything else," Queen Victoria said gently.
Evelyn nodded and left without another word.
Inside her room, she locked the door and collapsed onto her bed.
"Fuck everyone…" she muttered under her breath.
"Exhausted, baby girl?"
Evelyn shot up immediately.
Her heart pounded violently.
She knew that voice anywhere.
That presence.
That effect he had on her.
He was here.
She looked around quickly, but she couldn't see him.
Still… she could feel him.
Everywhere.
Then suddenly—
She felt him.
His body pressed against hers from behind—solid, warm, overpowering. His arms moved, pulling her closer into him as though the space between them was never enough, as though he wanted to close every inch between their bodies.
Her breath hitched.
"This is wrong…" she whispered.
"So wrong," he echoed, his voice low and mocking.
"You've done enough already… what else do you want?"
He leaned down to her ear, his breath brushing against her neck, sending heat through her body.
A soft, helpless sound escaped her lips.
He lowered his head, pressing against her neck, his touch deliberate, teasing, dangerous. His other hand moved slowly, exploring, making her body react in ways she didn't understand.
Her body betrayed her instantly.
She felt it—heat, tension, something overwhelming.
She bit her lip, trying to hold it back.
But another sound escaped her.
"Don't hold it back… baby girl," he murmured.
That was it.
Evelyn pulled away from him quickly, breaking free from his hold.
He let her go.
Easily.
Like he wasn't trying to keep her at all.
"What are you doing in my room?" she demanded, trying to steady her voice.
Michael simply looked at her, calm as ever.
"I came to bid my fiancée goodbye… and to tell you to rest well."
And just like that—
He was gone.
Completely.
As if he had never been there.
But his presence lingered.
His touch lingered.
Her body still remembered.
Evelyn clenched her fists and fell back onto the bed, frustration and anger boiling inside her.
What would he have done… if she hadn't pulled away?
What else would he have done to her?
And why—
Why did a part of her want to find out?
🔥