Sinners (SAINTS #2) | ✓

1

His magic however was still there. When he had a good dream it wasn't much to complain about really, despite the occasional tangles it caused in her hair. It was when he had a bad one that the whole house shook, the moon weeped and nightmares ran through her hallways, dressed in bruises and a slit throat, though the blood seemed to have long dried up. He had those often, often enough for her to have memorized the face of the woman haunting his dreams, her eyes the same vivid blue, like it was made of concentrated grief alone.

"It's fine," she said with a lazy wave of her hand," you can go back to sleep."

He perked up at that. "I will."

Before he left though he lingered by the doorway, his eyes focused on the glittering smoke unfurling around his hands. He closed his hand and it disappeared, leaving only traces of stardust behind.

"You fulfilled your promise," he mused," though it may just be the absence of screams and blue fire which let's me drown in sleep."

"I think your medication has more to do with it," she said.

Gio laughed, something which sounded like a memory from a long lost dream. "They might." He blinked the drowsiness from his eyes then. "The beginning of the end is differently colored for us all, I suppose. For you it may be gold, but for me it has always been blue."

She glanced at the ring on her finger, gleaming in the sunlight. When she looked back at him again, an amused smirk graced her lips.

"What?" she said," are you telling me to watch out for my dear husband?"

He shrugged, seeming tired of the conversation already, like he wanted nothing more than to be in bed. She didn't doubt it. Still, she spun her words of lazy amusement and let them hang in the air, as heavy as the ring on her finger was.

"You and I both know I'm the one he should be watching out for, Gio."

"How right you are, my love."

The voice was a caress on her ear, a hand wrapping around her waist. She didn't need to turn around to know the source, the smooth tones like a promise of sin. Gio inclined his head slightly and then disappeared, leaving her alone with the intruder.

Her husband.

"Did you miss me so much, dear?" she cooed, grazing her nails across the back of his hand.

She glanced at him then and for a moment she felt like her breath was stolen from her. The devil had been beautiful in hell, but here, among the paradise of her garden, he somehow looked breathtaking. Aristocracy weaved itself around him, clear in his lazy confidence and amused smirk, glistening on his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. The suit he had donned in hell was swapped for a black button-up and pants, the top three buttons undone. Still, despite the lack of a crown, he was king, in a way no one could replicate, like power was a language and he was fluent.

Though she didn't feel affection often, it did well up somewhere in her cold heart for him. Perhaps it was more for the things he could give her than anything else, though that surely was a start. When she looked in his eyes she could almost feel herself get burned by the fire in them; his irises a mix of lilac and violet, flickering around like flames.

Her hand traced the skin around his eye. "They were red and black before. This is new."

"Different flames for different moods," he smirked, leaning in to her touch.

"What does purple mean then?" she said.

He cupped her face in his hands, holding it gently, like she was made of glass.

"Calm," he said.

She placed her hand on his chest and his eyes followed the movement, finally settling on the ring. A pleased smile made it's way on his lips and he tangled his hands in her midnight hair, like he could find the stars in there. He dipped his head then, his eyes growing darker. Unbothered, she started buttoning up his shirt.

"I suppose this is your usual check-up?" she said.

In the six months that had passed ever since they had drawn up the contract, he had only visited her every two weeks. Their conversations never had been that long, though they had flowed still. It didn't bother her that much. She was busy enough with her own life, never mind the devil betrothed to her. Now, with school having ended just a week ago though, that had changed. Most of her responsibilities had melted underneath the sun, until there was only her and him left.

"It's just that I've been busy," he sighed, hands loosening in her locks," death waits for no one."

"Not even for you?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Unfortunately only for the lovely Grim Reaper," he said, though he flashed her a wolfish grin," but he's too responsible to let it."

She smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, her smile amused. "Don't tell me you're becoming responsible too, now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he purred," I have a feeling my bride would leave me by the altar if I had."

"Your feeling is right."

He laughed, but before the ethereal sound could find it's way in her hollow heart, he had jumped off the bed. "Well then," he said," let's go and change that, before you truly leave me."

She frowned at him, but without offering another explanation, he reached out his hand.

"Come on," he said," let's go and have our first date, my queen."

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