Hell's Consort

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Vampire King Apollyon

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Apollyon's heart had strongly palpitated that it almost jumped out of his throat when the Empress' lips curled into a slight smile as if they had shared a secret joke.

Clearing his throat, he had realized that the Empress had appeared so put together that Apollyon suddenly had the urge to fix his imperial crown.

The Empress had paused in front of him while the ladies from the Consortium--with their luxurious gowns--scattered around inside the ballroom as they hid their masked faces with their colorful peacock fans.

Luna was the only one who had worn a midnight black evening gown which made her stand out from the crowd if her large bonnet wasn't enough to catch everyone's attention.

The moment Apollyon saw his wife's small, oval-shaped face, he couldn't help but raise his hand to caress her smooth pearl skin and tuck her silver hair away from her face which was curled to perfection, adorned with red rosebuds hanging on to its strands.

Luna wore minimal cosmetics which only made her face as pale as the petals of a mountain lily.

Red pigments from crushed berries were applied on her cheeks and lips, achieving that natural flush of a woman who had been well-pleasured by her beau during a few rounds of lovemaking.

Apollyon had smiled back as his wife flashed a quick smile before it abruptly faded into a pout.

She stared into his eyes steadily.

Her light-gold eyes pupils were as deep and large as an ocean that he was close to drowning in them; so mesmerized and hypnotized by its lure.

"You look as beautiful as a goddess, tonight, wife," Apollyon said in a genuine compliment, pairing his words with a charming smile. "If I was a painter and I had a pick of thousands of women, I would choose you as my muse."

"Hm." She hummed dismissively and nodded a little.

Her dry response had made him pause for a minute.

The Empress didn't sound impressed at his declaration of reverence to her beauty.

Apollyon didn't know if he should feel offended or alarmed by his wife's indifference but it definitely made him feel anxious about Luna's unpredictable behavior.

He didn't believe in the saying about women being mythical creatures because apparently, they were hard to understand.

As the Vampire King who owned a Harem, he was a self-proclaimed expert on women.

He had figured out that those women from the Consortium were mindless creatures who didn't care about the ruthlessness that was sewn into the fabric of his soul because of the Archdemon's possession.

They gave him what he wanted which was a furious control in and out of bed.

All they had to do was submit without question to him.

He needed that furious control that made women scream his name, their skin too high strung across a body that only knew hunger.

Luna was different from those women and she had proven herself time and time again.

She was the woman—a mythical creature.

"You must think me a silver-tongued devil, wife." Tilting his head, Apollyon's mouth firmed in frustration as he watched her warily, gauging her expression. "I am telling the truth."

His Empress was so damn beautiful and he was honest about it.

Why was it so difficult for her to believe him?

There was no change in her blank expression except when she barely arched a silver eyebrow before flipping her long, wavy silver hair behind her back.

It sent his gaze zeroing on her swan-like neck before his eyes peered back to her face.

Her pouty, blood-red lips curved into a little smirk before it disappeared.

Apollyon had wondered if he had imagined the whole thing.

He had no idea if his wife was flirting/toying with him.

Was she angry at him?

As he tugged at the collar of his shirt, Apollyon had instantly wondered if he had done something wrong to Luna for her brows had somewhat drawn together as she continued to stare at him, blank and emotionless.

He couldn't see the difference since out of all the women he had encountered in his lifetime, Luna was the most difficult to read, well, aside from Lilith.

"Wife." The Vampire King held her gaze as he stepped back a little.

Maybe her wife was uncomfortable with his presence.

This could also be a manifestation of the Empress' anger for edging her.

He gave her an evil grin as he recalled that sensual event.

"Don't you have something to say to me?" Apollyon asked curiously as he swallowed this deep need for her that had been pestering him since earlier.

Shaking her head no along with that secret smile of hers, Luna kept her lips pursed and gave him a half-shrug.

The Empress had remained silent and the only thing he could do to fill up the awkwardness was to clear his throat and rubbed the back of his neck due to his concern of whatever had ailed her.

He had no idea what to do with her so perhaps, she wouldn't fight back and resist when Apollyon bent his knees to match his wife's height—avoiding her large black bonnet which had the same size of thirty piles of bird's nests—and wrapped his arms around her body, enveloping her in a strong, powerful and tender embrace.

Apollyon could sense her mind opening to his—her body's craving for a far darker touch--projecting her thoughts outward to him.

With her stiff muscles gradually relaxing, Luna felt like she was melting in her husband's warmth, her mouth drying up at his body's slumbering heat.

He chuckled but only in his mind or else Luna might pull back from him out of shyness.

When Apollyon stood up straight and withdrew to see her reaction, Luna turned her head sideways cutely, refusing to look at him.

His Empress might be skittish as a newborn colt but even she couldn't deny this passion between them nor could she ever resist him for too long.