The cold breeze makes me shiver.
The night has long settled down, and the autumn air at this hour of the day is freezing. A pair of pristine, white underwear doesn't do much to warm me up.
Maybe I should have kept my hoodie.
Jordan seems to notice; it's kind of hard not to, as I'm quite literally quivering against the man's chest. His warm body only serves to remind me of how chilly the air is. The air has grown cold enough for clouds of vapor to form whenever I breathe.
My now husband speeds up the pace and reaches the car parked in front of the church in a few long strides—oh darn, I'm fairly sure that thing costs more than both of my kidneys combined, and I get to ride it? Yippie.
Man, I'm tired. I'm exhausted, cold, and still pissed off.
All I want right now is to rest.
The chauffeur, who's been waiting beside the car all this time, eyes us with a quirked eyebrow but doesn't comment. Instead, he respectfully opens the door of the back seat with a bow.
I can help but peek at him.
Four pairs of fully developed crimson wings, a fifth on the way, twisted horns, and skin so white that it looks translucent. His eyes are also out of this world, pale blue without pupils. And yet, somehow mostly human in appearance, like his master.
That guy's clearly not a lesser demon. Talk about an overqualified chauffeur.
Well, I'm not seeing anything, and I don't know anything.
To start with, if a demon of noble standing wants to play chauffeur, who the fuck am I to judge? Although I guess this one does know who's serving. Demons love chaos and tend to err on the anarchic side, but they have their pride. They rarely serve masters weaker than themselves.
I bring my gaze back to the seat, where Jordan helps me settle in. I see him remove his vest from the corner of my eye, and next thing I know, he's handing it over to me.
"…Thank you."
I'm not stubborn enough to refuse his goodwill. He's not the one I'm furious at, to begin with.
So, I take it.
He's leaning against the door frame as he smiles at me. I ignore his gaze and put the vest on. Oh, it's warm—a bit too much, in fact, as it prickles my cold skin a little.
"Do you want to get rid of these, by the way?" he says, gesturing at the high heels with his chin.
At the reminder, I quickly bend over and quietly remove these torture devices. A second later, I've flung the heels as far away as possible on the church's ground.
Here's a keepsake for you, priest. Dunno what you're gonna do with them, but not my problem anymore.
With these out of the way, I close the door under the demon's chuckle.
Still with that amused smile on his lips, Jordan gets into the car on the other side, sitting beside me. Only after his master has made himself comfortable does the chauffeur climb into the driver's seat.
How considerate of him.
However, he doesn't ignite the car immediately. Instead, he turns around and wordlessly hands over some reports to Jordan. Not gonna lie, the amount of paper in each file makes my eyes bulge in disbelief. These are thick.
"Sorry, I've got some work to do." No shit, Sherlock! "If you don't mind, I'll be catching up on some files on our way home."
I wave my hand, unbothered. It's not like I'm in the mood to chit-chat. We might be husbands, but we're no better than strangers. I don't even know what kind of work he does, and I don't intend to ask, either.
"Thank you for your understanding. It'll take about an hour and a half to reach my house in the city, so if you want, you can rest in the meantime."
Now, that's an idea I can agree with.
And indeed, it doesn't take long before I catch myself drifting off to sleep. The events of the day have drained me more than I want to admit, both physically and mentally.
On the bright side, I won't be hearing Miria's shrill voice tonight.
***
A gentle nudge on my shoulder wakes me up, and I drowsily open my eyes. What greets me is Jordan's calm, smiling face. Oh, looks like we've arrived.
We seem to be in a garage, too. Good. I won't have to parade my underwear in the middle of the street.
The chauffeur is nowhere in sight, though. He vanished into thin air in my sleep. Not like it matters.
"Do you need help?"
The demon offers a hand. I eye it.
I don't know how to feel.
As far as I know, I'm not a damsel in distress, and these small attentions are pricking my ego a little; I can get out of the car on my own just fine, thank you. It's childish of me, I'm aware, but I want to keep a polite distance between us. I don't want to get used to these candid acts of kindness.
—These never last.
"I'm fine."
So, I push his hand away and get out.
Gosh, my legs are sore.
And the floor under my feet is cold. Ice cold, even.
I tighten the vest around my body. I'm literally floating in it, and it's so big it falls to my mid-thighs. I've never thought of myself as lanky and small, but I guess compared to the demon, I am. Without the high heels, it's overly apparent now, too.
"Do you know when my stuff will arrive?" I ask as I follow him to the door, passing in front of a few parked cars and even one or two motorbikes.
Damn, hubby has money to spare. Honestly, I don't even want to know how much a garage like this one costs in the city.
"—Your stuff?"
"Oh, nothing."
Packing my bags has been for nuts, it seems. Miria has never planned to send them to my new home. I can't say I'm surprised, though.
She's a piece of trash through and through. A petty piece of trash, too.
Still, I do hope she'll at least have the decency to send my wallet over with my IDs. If not, I guess I know what I'll be doing next week: getting a headache with inefficient government officials to get new IDs issued. This is going to be fun.
"Father, father!"
Children's voices bring me back to the present, and I freeze on the spot.
Children?!
We've entered the living room, which is almost the size of a whole floor from my previous house, by the way, and the first thing I see is two small kids running down the massive stairs to plaster themselves against Jordan's legs. Although he doesn't react and keeps his gaze focused on me, pretending they're not clinging onto him, it doesn't deter the kids.
"Where's our new mother?" the little girl says, her eyes sparkling.
"No, wait! Did you get a husband instead?" the boy asks, his eyes as sparkly as his sister's. "We're getting a second dad?!"
"Really?! That's so cool!"
They both snap their heads toward me, their golden irises shining under the dim light of the chandelier. Their little wings flutter on their lower backs, and small horns adorn their foreheads. Like Jordan, they have a third eye in the middle of their foreheads. I'd need to be a fool not to realize they're blood-related to my husband. Their true forms speak volumes about it.
"Wait a second," I choke on my spit. "You have kids?! I've never heard anything about that! Dude, I'm terrible with kids! Like, terrible."
Hearing these words, the trio freezes. The children blink their big, round eyes, while Jordan gives me a strange look. What? At least, I haven't said that I'm allergic to kids, so be grateful!
He doesn't seem to share that thought, though. So, we proceed to stare at each other in silence, while the kids glance back and forth between us.
That is, until realization strikes on my side.
…Ah shit.
"Let me guess," I laugh wryly, feeling like digging my grave and burying myself six feet under, "I'm not supposed to see them right now… Am I?"
He smiles; I curse.