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Their head jerks up, their attention focused on something far away as tension bleeds into their lean body. “I’m sorry, Eve, but I have to go.” They stand abruptly. “Azazel would like you to attend di
Before I can dredge up a rejection of that idea, they’re rushing across the garden and through the doorway. I squint. For a moment, it looked like they’d actually disappeared, rather than just left. I want to say that’s impossible, but that’s what I thought about demons and magic and a host of other things I’ve encountered in the last week.
I slump back onto the bench. I can’t remember the last time I had a panic attack. I must have been a teenager. They were something I dealt with in junior high and high school. They started after the foster family—the one I thought I’d be with forever—adopted a baby and suddenly had no room or space for my troubled preteen self. The next home wasn’t bad, but there were four kids there and never enough attention to go around. Getting lost in the shuffle made me feel unmoored, and that sensation gave way to panic. It’s been years—decades—since the last attack. Long enough for time to dull the memory, to remove some of its teeth.
My heart is still beating too fast, my muscles as shaky as if I’d just completed an intense workout. I’m exhausted, but the thought of going back to my room is too much to bear. Instead, I make myself stand and walk through the garden.
As Ramanu said, it’s not particularly large—roughly the size of my penthouse back home—but whoever designed it was clever. The greenery is explosive. The paths are narrow and winding. I take several circuitous routes before the buzzing in my brain finally retreats enough for me to think. Mostly.
Not only am I trapped in this realm, but now I’m trapped in the castle. How long before Azazel gets high-handed and decides the only safe place for me is my bedroom? Or his bedroom?
The fizzle of lust that rises in response to the thought only serves to piss me the fuck off. Yes, I came to him last night when I didn’t know where else to go. Yes, he gave me what I thought I needed. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s manipulation. We don’t have equal power in this . . . whatever the fuck it is . . . if he can restrict my movements and cut me off even further from the outside world.
And then he summons me to di
I stop, narrowing my eyes. Fine. I’ll attend di