Chapter 12 The Devil’s Little Lamb
RAVIAL
“What do you think you’re doing, my little lamb?”
My voice carried easily across the courtyard, deep and slow. The air seemed to still. Every man froze.
She turned around, her small body trembling, her hazel eyes wide and shining like frightened glass. Her hand was still on the black horse’s neck. The beast had gone calm under her touch, its breath slow, head lowered, as if even it didn’t dare move with me near.
I came down the stone steps of the house, my hands behind my back, eyes locked on her. The gravel crunched under my boots.
So small. So soft.
She reeked of fear, fear of me.
And yet, she stood before a creature that could crush her in seconds without a blink.
She was shaking, yes, but she didn’t run from the horse. She only looked terrified when I arrived.
That amused me.
The devil she married frightened her more than a wild beast. How fitting.
“Step away,” I said.
Her lips parted. “I…I just wanted to help. They hit him, he was scared.”
Her voice trembled but her eyes didn’t leave mine. Brave little fool.
I stopped beside her, looking down at the horse, then back at the men who stood frozen, unsure what to do.
“You allowed my little wife,” I said slowly, my tone low and cruel, “my pretty little star, to stand in front of this beast?”
One of the men dropped to his knees immediately. “Forgive us, Master! She ran before we could stop her!”
The others followed, even the maids fell to their knees, their voices a mix of fear and pleading.
“Please, Master, forgive us!”
Leitana’s eyes widened, her breath hitched. “No!” she cried, her small voice breaking the still air. “It not their fault, please! I go myself, I run! They try stop me, they…”
I turned to her.
Her words died the moment I touched her cheek. My thumb brushed softly against her soft skin, tracing the curve of her face. She went still, her breath catching in her throat.
“So warm,” I murmured, almost to myself. “So alive.”
She looked confused, terrified, and yet something in her gaze wavered like she didn’t know if I was about to kiss her or destroy her.
I smiled faintly, the kind of smile that never reached my eyes.
“You are more important to me,” I said quietly, “than all of them combined.”
I let my fingers trail down from her cheek to her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “If you had been hurt,” I continued softly, “I would have burned all of them to ash.”
She trembled, her lips parting as if to speak but no sound came.
I stepped back, turning my gaze toward the kneeling men. “Get up. Take the horse back to the stable. If it’s hurt, heal it. If not, feed it.”
They obeyed instantly, bowing their heads.
As they led the horse away, I looked back at my little lamb. She still stood there, clutching her dress, eyes wide and lost.
“Next time,” I said, lowering my voice as I leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of my breath against her ear, “don’t run toward danger… unless it’s me.”
“Y…yes, sir,” she stammered, and I placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her up the stone steps. Her maids scrambled to their feet, following closely behind.
Without looking at her, I said, “It’s Ravial. Not sir—unless that’s a kink of yours.”
Her brow creased. “Kink? What’s that… Ravial?”
I smiled faintly at the sound of my name on her lips. “Of course, my pretty little convent wife wouldn’t know what that is. You called my cock a snake—did I really expect you to know what a kink is?”
Her cheeks flushed deep red. She clearly understood what I meant by cock probably because of the word snake. She might not be well-learned, but she was quick. Smarter than most probably,gave her credit for.
“A kink, little wife,” I said, leaning slightly closer, “is a thing someone likes in bed. Something that excites them. Maybe even something they shouldn’t like.”
Her eyes went wide. “Ah… bad thing?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her long lashes fluttered as she looked down, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. “Mi… mi not know such words,” she added quickly, her accent trembling through the words. “You talk bold, Ravial.”
I couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped me. Her flustered honesty was more disarming than any charm I’d ever known.
She ducked her head, mumbling something under her breath in her island tongue before finally saying, quieter this time, “Mi not from convent, Ravial. Mi grow up wit’ sisters, but… was orphanage, small one, in Vanuatu. Catholic one. Mi wanted to be one of dem, join dem but Mama and Papa come one day and take mi.”
Her voice trembled halfway between memory and apology. I hadn’t expected her to say that.
We reached the grand dining room—the long table already set, candles flickering low. I gestured for her to sit, and she obeyed quietly, smoothing her simple dress against her knees.
“Vanuatu,” I said, taking the chair beside her instead of the head of the table. “You speak your island tongue… what else?”
“French,” she said softly, “and lil’ bit English. Mi learn from sisters. Sometimes mi forget words.”
“French and English.” I tilted my head, studying her. “Not bad for a girl who thought my cock was a snake.”
She gasped, covering her mouth, her face turning bright red. “Ravial!”
I laughed under my breath, deep and quiet. “You make it too easy, little lamb.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, she smiled, small, unsure, but real.
As she reached for her spoon, she paused, looking suddenly serious. “You… you not disgusted, ah? The way mi talk?”
I looked at her then, really looked. “No,” I said simply. “I like it that way.”
Her lips parted, eyes widening in surprise. “You… like it?”
“Yes. Every word. Every mistake.”
Her face warmed, her blush spreading until she ducked her head to hide it. She ate in silence, glancing at me now and then, as though she couldn’t believe I’d said it.
When the plates were nearly empty, I leaned back, watching her quietly. “We’ll be leaving soon,” I said.
She looked up, startled. “Leaving? Where we go?”
“There’s an event tonight. You could call it a ball, though the word feels… outdated.”
Her eyes brightened, curious. “Ball? Like princess kind?”
Something in me softened, something that hadn’t moved in centuries. Her excitement was childlike, untainted. “Something like that,” I said. “Except the monsters wear tuxedos instead of crowns.”
She blinked. “Monsters?”
I smiled faintly. “You’ll see.”
For a heartbeat, I just watched her, this trembling, glowing, impossible creature w
ho wasn’t meant for my world, and yet sat there in my dining room, making me feel something dangerously close to alive.