Halo Of Horns

EIGHT

Irina quickly averted her gaze back down to her plate of food. She nervously shifted in her seat, the legs of the chair making a sharp squeaking sound.

In a matter of seconds, any final chance of a good mood was chased away by Azazel's presence. It was like a black plume of smoke followed him wherever he went and it had now descended upon the dining hall in a thick layer of smog.

She watched him closely out of her peripheral vision as he crossed the room to take his seat at the end of the table opposite her. Normally he would sit directly at Lucifer's right hand but Belphegor already had his feast set up there and would not be moving until he was done.

She felt Azazel's burning stare prickle her skin and her face turned hot from the scrutiny she was certain he was imposing. She subconsciously raked her fingers through her hair, checking for knots or tangles, fearful her presentation wasn't good enough. He was always overly critical of her appearance and she knew he was looking for any imperfection to jump on. When she was certain not a hair was out of place, she picked up her napkin and dabbed the sides of her lips as delicately as possible without making it too obvious.

Still, his gaze did not falter. Not even when a shade set down a goblet of wine in front of him.

Leaning forward so his elbows were propped on the edge of the massive wooden dining table, Azazel spoke, "I said good morning, Irina." His voice was low and husky, his head tilted ever so gently to the side.

Irina swallowed roughly, and moved her shaking hands into her lap to hide them from view, "Good morning, Azazel." She nearly croaked.

"Where have you been?" Lucifer asked, barely taking his attention from his eggs, "Sleeping in I suppose?"

Azazel's lips curled up at the corners, the sharp points of his fangs gleaming through the cracks, "No. Actually, I was in the library." The constant feeling of spiders crawling over Irina's skin gave her a clear idea of just how deadly his fixed gaze was. She was certain if she was to look up and match it, her heart would stop instantly, "I couldn't sleep."

A rush of pure, unadulterated glee shot through Azazel when specks of dark pink began to coat Irina's pretty pale cheeks, turning her entire face the color of a rose petal. The embarrassment seeping inside her was nearly palpable and he could taste her fear in the air.

He knew her secret.

Irina was no longer hungry, her stomach doing flips and bubbling with threats of the small amount of fruit she had just consumed coming back up again. She quickly downed her glass of water and stood up, her chair screeching across the floor, "M-may I be excused, please?" She asked, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the uncontrollable quiver.

Lucifer's fork hesitated halfway to his mouth, "Is everything alright?" He asked, his dark brow raised in concern.

Forcing herself to relax a little, Irina leaned forward, cradling her stomach with one hand, "I'm not feeling well is all." She admitted sheepishly, the lie not entirely false.

Her father examined her, looking for her ailment or the cause, of course, not seeing any outer damage that required immediate attention. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he nodded, and without wasting a second after his approval she scurried from the room.

In her haste, she did not notice the twinkle of a flame that sparked behind Azazel's eyes. The hidden amusement as he watched her leave with her tiny snake companion desperately trying to follow after her.

Her feet carried her blindly through the shadowed corridors, taking her anywhere as long as she was away from him. As long as she placed distance between herself and those eyes that pierced her soul like a thousand daggers of judgment.