Beloved in the Realms 1: My Demon, My Love
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M. L. Knight
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870K
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71
The Rules of the Realm
Where am I? What has become of me now?
Azlyn slowly opened her eyes and realized she was face-down on a cold marble floor. She looked to her left and saw a beautiful, soft-looking rug sprawled out on the ground next to her.
Typical. Of course, they would put me on the hard floor instead of the rug, she thought, rolling her eyes.
She could feel her hands tightly bound behind her back. She knew from past experience that she needed to try to sit up and take in her surroundings.
This was certainly not the first time she had been through this ordeal, and she doubted it would be the last.
She wriggled and struggled to force herself off the floor without touching any of the furniture around her. She knew the rules all too well, and she was not about to start breaking them—not before she had even had a chance to make a first impression on whomever her new master might be.
After great effort, she managed to force herself up onto her knees. However, after all that movement and use of muscles, she realized how badly her body ached.
Her head was throbbing, most likely from when she had been knocked unconscious, and her vision was dancing. Again, this was nothing new.
I wonder if I could count how many times I have been bound and knocked unconscious.
She looked around and took in the details of the room. She quickly realized she was in the nicest room she had ever seen in her life.
The entire place was covered in expensive decor, furs, and silks. The rug she sat next to was probably worth more than the cost of her food for at least a year.
The bed behind her was made of ornately carved wood and looked so fluffy that she imagined it must be like lying on a cloud.
There were three bookshelves, all decorated with various adornments. One appeared to be lined with a magnificent book collection, while the second seemed to contain an assortment of antique weapons, and the third housed various trophies, medals, and awards.
Overstuffed armchairs sat in one corner, framing a large stone fireplace, while a table was nestled between them. There was money here, in this space.
Whoever this room belonged to certainly had impressive taste.
As Azlyn sat there on the cold floor for what felt like hours, she wondered how long she would be left waiting before someone stumbled upon her. She hoped it wouldn’t be much longer; she wasn’t exactly comfortable like this.
Her quiet contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. She hoped that whoever it was had been headed to this room.
She could not stand waiting to learn what horrors awaited her in her new life.
She began to hear the sound of muffled voices trickling in through the closed doorway, and she tried her best to listen in on the conversation.
“Before we go inside, I just wanted to say that I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself today,” she could hear a male saying.
She watched as the doorknob slowly began to turn. Here we go… she mused, holding her breath to see what horrors awaited her.
“Happy birthday, son!”
The door swung open to reveal two demons, an older one and a younger one. Azlyn’s gaze danced over the elder quickly, but her eyes fell upon a male so astonishing that she found she could not look away.
She had never seen another quite like him before.
He had sharp, rugged features, and his eyes were as dark as the ocean in the dead of night. His jet-black hair contrasted beautifully against his light, olive skin.
The small black horns atop his head blended into his short-cropped hair, almost seeming to disappear. She guessed he chose not to wear his horns at full size, so they were not intimidating unless he needed them to be.
He was impeccably dressed, revealing that he came from very wealthy means. His muscles bulged and moved beneath the fabric, the cloth clinging to him like a second skin.
There was something familiar and comforting about him. Something she couldn’t place and knew very well that she shouldn’t be feeling.
No demon ever brought comfort. That was against their very nature.
Azlyn quickly realized she had been staring. She knew this was against the rules and swiftly adjusted her position to a more appropriate one by dropping her gaze to the floor.
She chastised herself for making such a grave mistake. She knew better than to look a demon in the eye, especially one of such obviously noble means.
“I know that she could never take the place of Teanna. However, I am told that she is very well-trained and submissive. She should make an excellent new personal slave for you,” the older demon explained.
The two demons entered the room and examined Azlyn further.
“Stand, slave,” the older demon commanded.
She struggled at first, but she did as she was told and rose to her feet.
Upon standing, she began to feel lightheaded, most likely due to the concussion she had suffered, and she started to waver. Panic coursed through her as she stumbled forward, unable to steady herself with her arms bound behind her back.
The older demon stepped out of the way, offering no assistance in her plight. This was not uncharacteristic for a demon, and she had expected just as much.
She attempted to steel herself, knowing the inevitable was to come. She would smash her face into one of the many lovely pieces of furniture directly ahead of her.
If she were lucky, nothing would be broken, and she might possibly avoid punishment.
She braced for the impact when she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around her.
For a moment, she felt safe and content. It was as though her worries had melted away, and she was left with the security of being held tight by these mysterious arms.
The arms carefully lifted her backward and placed her standing upright.
It took her a minute to register what was actually happening. Her mind took longer than it should have to catch up.
“Woah! Careful there! Are you all right?” a melodious voice rang out with concern.
Azlyn’s body was abuzz, and her mind scrambled to find an explanation. What had just happened? Why had he helped her?
She should be on the floor right now.
She was flooded with confusion and a strange longing to be wrapped in those arms again. But she quickly shook it off; she could not afford to entertain such dangerous ideas.
“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” she finally managed to utter in reply.
Azlyn was quickly brought back to harsh reality by the sting of a hand against her face.
“How dare you answer so casually!” the older demon leered down at her.
“I am s-so sorry, m-master! I a-apologize! I s-swear it will n-never happen a-again, master!” she quickly stammered.
“I am King Chesed. You may address me as ‘Your Highness’ or by any other title befitting my rank,” the older demon instructed, gesturing to himself.
“He is your new master,” the older demon explained, pointing at the younger, alluring demon who accompanied him.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she answered with a slight bow of her head.
She could scarcely believe what she had heard. Just another piece of information to add to the torrent of thoughts currently swirling in her mind.
Was she really working in the palace now? As the personal slave to one of the princes, no less? Could this really be happening? Why did it have to be her?
Maybe it would seem like good news for a slave to be assigned to the palace. However, in the Realm of Demons, it was exactly the opposite. One of the worst places for a slave to work was within the castle.
There were more slave deaths here than at any other estate throughout the entire realm.
“What is your name, slave?” King Chesed demanded, though he didn’t really care about the answer. He would refer to her and anyone else, however he saw fit.
“My name is Azlyn, sire.”
“Ah, Azlyn. Well, this is my son, Prince Reve. He is your master now. You do whatever he asks of you.”
“Of course, sire. Thank you, Your Majesty,” she replied with another bow.
“I will leave you two to get better acquainted. Show her to her quarters whenever you are done with her. You may want to get your clothes cleaned as well; her filth has touched them,” Chesed sneered. “Good night, son. Happy birthday.”
With that, King Chesed exited the room and disappeared into the castle, leaving the two of them alone.
Prince Reve stood there, staring at Azlyn for a moment. She began to feel uneasy; she felt his eyes boring into her, but she did not want to look up to see the expression on his face.
She knew he was probably disappointed in her. He had likely expected something better than a mangy slave for his birthday.
She wished she could just disappear. He was beautiful, and she was a complete mess.
After what felt like an eternity, he turned and closed the door. He stepped forward and reached toward her head.
He had noticed she was bleeding and wanted to check the wound. However, he quickly pulled his hand back when he saw her flinch as he reached for her.
“I’m not going to hit you,” he said softly.
