Blowing out a frustrated breath, Seth stared at himself in the mirror as he tried to do something with his rebellious hair.
It was useless.
Even worse than the curly mess he couldn’t control were the clothes Lydia had picked out for him to wear. The black pants that buttoned on the sides were extremely uncomfortable and they only went to his knees. From there down, he had on white... what had she called them? Stockings? And weird buckled shoes that pinched his toes and rubbed his heels worse than his armored boots.
But the thing he despised most was the gold, high collared, heavily embroidered jacket with a white shirt that had mountains of girly lace cascading down the front. She’d called it a cravat. He called it hideous. And that same scratchy lace spilled out at the end of his sleeves, covering both of his hands, all the way to his knuckles.
He’d bitched about this monstrosity the moment she’d shoved it at him. The only reason he’d finally agreed to wear it was that she’d pointed out the fact that it couldn’t possibly be any more uncomfortable to wear than armor- something he emphatically disagreed with. Only an outright moron laughed at a man in armor. Dressed like this, only an outright moron wouldn’t laugh at it.
And two, he wouldn’t have to wear it long. As soon as they were done, she’d promised to rip it off him and make him deliriously happy that he’d humored her.
Little did she know, he’d have worn it for her anyway. All she had to do was smile at him and he was sunk.
Still...
“I look like an effing idiot.”
Dressed in black tails and tie, Asmodeus snorted from behind him. “I would respond to that, but the fact that you have more powers now than you did when I served you in the Nether Realm, and the fact that I’m fond of my body parts in their current locations, prevent me from saying a single word.” He flashed a fanged grin at Seth. “Sorry.”
Yeah, right. His expression said he was anything but. In fact, that expression said the bastard was highly amused... and at Seth’s expense.
See. Point taken.
Asmodeus had never dared laugh at him when they were in Azmodea and Seth was in armor.
But in this...
Laughter was a moral imperative.
He was tempted to offer the demon money to change clothes with him. Unfortunately, Asmodeus was an amorphic demon who could take any form he wanted, and for the wedding, the little creep had decided to be only six feet tall with short, white-blond hair he had spiked up over his head. Then again, he could use his powers to simply change his clothes into something else.
Like armor.
But that would upset Lydia.
For her, he would suffer.
Maybe not in silence, but...
He stifled a whimper as he met Asmodeus’s gaze in the mirror. Those gray eyes of his were the only thing that stayed the same in all incarnations. Eyes that saw far deeper than the surface of any being.
While Seth had been locked in Azmodea, the demon had been the only one, besides Jaden, who’d never harmed him. In fact, it was Asmodeus who’d taught him to paint his face to intimidate the others. And in spite of what Asmodeus had said, Seth had never once done him harm either.
The sad news was that Asmodeus was the closest thing to an actual friend he’d ever had... which was why the demon, who’d been freed from Noir’s service a few years back while Seth had been confined, had been asked to be his best man.
Asmodeus moved closer to straighten the cravat. “I have to say that I’m glad you’re the only one she wants dressed this way. ‘Cause it is epically hideous and you look like a woman in it.”
Seth glared down at him. “You better be glad I’ve mellowed and that you’re one of only four guests I have.”
Asmodeus’s grin widened. “Infinitely so, Lord Master Guardian. Besides, you wouldn’t want your best demon to have blood on his rented tux at your wedding, would you? It might distress Mistress Jackal.”
A wave of anger shot through him.
It was useless.
Even worse than the curly mess he couldn’t control were the clothes Lydia had picked out for him to wear. The black pants that buttoned on the sides were extremely uncomfortable and they only went to his knees. From there down, he had on white... what had she called them? Stockings? And weird buckled shoes that pinched his toes and rubbed his heels worse than his armored boots.
But the thing he despised most was the gold, high collared, heavily embroidered jacket with a white shirt that had mountains of girly lace cascading down the front. She’d called it a cravat. He called it hideous. And that same scratchy lace spilled out at the end of his sleeves, covering both of his hands, all the way to his knuckles.
He’d bitched about this monstrosity the moment she’d shoved it at him. The only reason he’d finally agreed to wear it was that she’d pointed out the fact that it couldn’t possibly be any more uncomfortable to wear than armor- something he emphatically disagreed with. Only an outright moron laughed at a man in armor. Dressed like this, only an outright moron wouldn’t laugh at it.
And two, he wouldn’t have to wear it long. As soon as they were done, she’d promised to rip it off him and make him deliriously happy that he’d humored her.
Little did she know, he’d have worn it for her anyway. All she had to do was smile at him and he was sunk.
Still...
“I look like an effing idiot.”
Dressed in black tails and tie, Asmodeus snorted from behind him. “I would respond to that, but the fact that you have more powers now than you did when I served you in the Nether Realm, and the fact that I’m fond of my body parts in their current locations, prevent me from saying a single word.” He flashed a fanged grin at Seth. “Sorry.”
Yeah, right. His expression said he was anything but. In fact, that expression said the bastard was highly amused... and at Seth’s expense.
See. Point taken.
Asmodeus had never dared laugh at him when they were in Azmodea and Seth was in armor.
But in this...
Laughter was a moral imperative.
He was tempted to offer the demon money to change clothes with him. Unfortunately, Asmodeus was an amorphic demon who could take any form he wanted, and for the wedding, the little creep had decided to be only six feet tall with short, white-blond hair he had spiked up over his head. Then again, he could use his powers to simply change his clothes into something else.
Like armor.
But that would upset Lydia.
For her, he would suffer.
Maybe not in silence, but...
He stifled a whimper as he met Asmodeus’s gaze in the mirror. Those gray eyes of his were the only thing that stayed the same in all incarnations. Eyes that saw far deeper than the surface of any being.
While Seth had been locked in Azmodea, the demon had been the only one, besides Jaden, who’d never harmed him. In fact, it was Asmodeus who’d taught him to paint his face to intimidate the others. And in spite of what Asmodeus had said, Seth had never once done him harm either.
The sad news was that Asmodeus was the closest thing to an actual friend he’d ever had... which was why the demon, who’d been freed from Noir’s service a few years back while Seth had been confined, had been asked to be his best man.
Asmodeus moved closer to straighten the cravat. “I have to say that I’m glad you’re the only one she wants dressed this way. ‘Cause it is epically hideous and you look like a woman in it.”
Seth glared down at him. “You better be glad I’ve mellowed and that you’re one of only four guests I have.”
Asmodeus’s grin widened. “Infinitely so, Lord Master Guardian. Besides, you wouldn’t want your best demon to have blood on his rented tux at your wedding, would you? It might distress Mistress Jackal.”
A wave of anger shot through him.
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