Rage and impotence ripped through her and she shoved her face aggressively in his, forgetting he could crush her in a second. “I will never enjoy your hands on me. Never.”
Asmodeus merely laughed. “A woman’s body can betray her. Yours definitely will.”
Tears shimmered in Ari’s eyes. “I hate you.”
In a blur of movement she found herself caught in his clutches, his hand gripping her nape tightly, painfully, as he hauled her up against his body. She strained against him as he leaned down to brush his mouth across hers. He pulled back and his eyes bore into hers, heavy with malice. “Good,” he murmured softly.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
The Rebellious Puppet
* * *
The mirrored room, that vast space Ari had always considered a ballroom because of its size, was actually just Azazil’s receiving room. The ballroom was smaller, although still sizeable, and it was surprisingly a little warmer in style than the rest of Azazil’s palace. The marble floor was shot through with silver crystal dust, the walls a soft buttercream, broken up by elaborate sconces and paintings. The paintings were of all different styles—Impressionism, post-Impressionism, pre-Raphaelite, Surrealism … None of it was coherent stylistically but it followed a theme: all the paintings captured images of the jinn world.
Heavy brocade curtains draped windows and archways. Three massive crystal-drop chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Banquet tables lined the edges of the room while a phantom orchestra played classical music with a hint of the Middle East. Hundreds of jinn, lesser Royals, and important landowners mingled around the room, the energy vibrating with power and magic and excitement that after centuries and centuries, Prince Asmodeus had finally chosen a bride to be head of his harem.
Azazil sat in his throne on a small dais at the north end of the room. He wore black silk pants, his feet bare, his torso also, although covered slightly by a long black cape. It had armholes so that it concealed some of his torso, but his bare arms were decorated with mysterious black tattoos, a pattern of swirls and curlicues Ari did not understand. Gold cuffs adorned both wrists, a large emerald stone in the center of each. A long, white braid threaded with thin, gold chains stretched down his back, and in his ears dangled earrings of emerald and gold.
His lieutenant, Asmodeus, and Ari’s detestable betrothed, wore black leather pants. His feet were also bare and he wore no shirt, displaying a powerful upper body. His long, dark hair spilled down his back like black silk, and he wore a decorative gold torc that clipped from the back of his neck and fitted in a wide off-circle across his collarbone and upper chest. Inset with rubies and emeralds, the torc matched the cuffs around his wrists. Spanning his massive biceps were plain gold circlets.
The two of them were dressed to impress. As, unfortunately, was Ari. Female shaitans had come to her room hours before the “celebratory” feast, and outfitted Ari to Asmodeus’s request. This meant she was wearing an emerald green dress that revealed much more than she’d like it to. It was made of light chiffon silk and although long, the skirt was split into four panels so that when Ari walked, it revealed her bare legs. She was also barefoot, but she had a gold spiraling cuff that started at her ankle and wound its way up her right calf. It matched the gold spiral wrist cuffs and the spiral drop earrings. Her hair was loose because Asmodeus liked it that way. The vile bastard.
Ari glowered out into the ballroom, her expression only changing from hatred to agonized longing when she allowed her gaze to stop on Jai. He stood in the far right corner with the Red King, who stood vigil at his side. Jai’s gaze did not waver from her. Red clamped a hand on Jai’s shoulder to stop him from moving toward Ari.
“I keep warring between sympathy and amusement over this, Asmodeus,” Azazil suddenly said. Ari jerked her gaze to the sultan to see he was eyeing Jai. “Perhaps we should move it along before my sympathy gets the better of me.”
Asmodeus’s expression darkened. “My mercurial master is not going to change his mind on me.”
“That sounded like a demand.” Azazil tilted his head to smirk at his lieutenant. “You are getting bold, Asmodeus.”
“I just don’t want my fun spoiled.”
Ari waited with bated breath to see what Azazil would say.
He heaved a sigh and flicked a bejeweled hand at Asmodeus. “I am not going to change my mind. You need not worry. It’s just there are few real warriors among the lesser jinn and we are baiting the one we have. I suggest you get your cruel torment over with before I decide to alter your vengeance to Ari only.”
“Fine.” Asmodeus growled in the back of his throat. He clutched Ari painfully by her bicep and dragged her down the dais as Azazil announced to the room that Asmodeus was going to have his first dance with his betrothed. The floor cleared quickly, the curious jinn huddling to the edges of the room, their bodies like a treasure chest of jewels in such richly colored clothes.