THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

One thing about Azrael—once he sets his eyes on something, he desires it completely.

Possession was his nature. Greed was his curse.

He didn't control his obsessions. He indulged in them.

His silver eyes darkened as he watched her disappear down the hall.

"Who is she?" His voice was low, almost lazy—but there was an edge to it.

A guard beside him hesitated before answering. "A maid, my lord. But…" He cleared his throat. "She is also a queen. Your brother's wife—by law, at least."

Azrael's gaze didn't waver.

"A mistake," the guard added quickly.

Azrael hummed in amusement, but his fingers curled slightly—like a predator savoring the thought of prey.

Azrael settled into his wing, the scent of burning incense heavy in the air. The chamber was lavish—dark drapes, golden candlelight flickering against polished marble floors. A silver tray of freshly poured red wine waited on a nearby table, along with a spread of fruits and delicacies. Yet, none of it interested him.

His second-in-command, a sharp-eyed warrior with years of loyalty to him, stood a few steps away. "Lady Selena has left the capital, my lord. She should return by the next full moon."

Azrael barely reacted. He loosened his robes, his mind elsewhere. "I can do without her."

The words came carelessly as he stepped into the tub, the warmth of the water seeping into his skin. He leaned back, eyes shutting for a brief moment, letting the silence settle.

Then came the voice—hesitant, calculated.

"My lord," his second-in-command spoke again, "you seemed… intrigued by the maid earlier."

Azrael's eyes remained closed. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across his face, making it impossible to read his thoughts.

A long pause. Then, finally, he exhaled.

"She's fair," he murmured, his voice deep and almost dismissive. "Not beautiful… but attractive."

His fingers trailed lazily along the surface of the water, creating ripples. But his mind was no longer in the bath. It was back in that hallway. The way she had looked at him—wide-eyed, hesitant, utterly unaware of the effect she had. That innocence, that softness… it was rare. Rare things, he always wanted to keep.

His grip on the edge of the tub tightened.

"I want her." His voice was lower now, rougher, as if he were speaking more to himself than to his second-in-command. His jaw clenched. "I want to claim her."

Then, after a beat, his lips curled into a smirk.

*The Next Morning – The Dining Hall*

The grand dining hall was silent, save for the soft clinking of silverware. The three lords sat at the long table, their meals before them. Behind them, the servants stood still, heads bowed.

Evelyn kept her eyes down, hands clasped in front of her. She had no desire to draw attention.

But then—

"Isn't that the girl who bumped into me?" Azrael's voice broke the silence, smooth yet laced with something unreadable.

Evelyn froze. Slowly, she lifted her gaze—only to find him already watching her.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

She quickly lowered her head, pulse quickening.

"Ah." Azrael exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "So, she's your maid."

Lucifer didn't respond.

Azrael hummed, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his goblet. "Strange. I thought you had no interest in maids."

Lucifer remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Then the General spoke. "Lord Azrael, what about your sixty wives?"

The room tensed.

Azrael's smirk didn't falter, but the amusement in his eyes dimmed. His gaze flicked toward the General, slow and assessing.

For a brief moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, Azrael chuckled—a low, quiet sound. "Sixty wives." He swirled the wine in his goblet, watching the deep red liquid with feigned interest. "Yes. And yet, a man can possess kingdoms and still long for what is not his."

The General said nothing.

Azrael took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze drifting back to Evelyn, lingering just long enough to unsettle her.

Lucifer finally spoke, his tone calm yet firm. "Eat."

Azrael chuckled, tipping his goblet toward his brother. "Of course, my lord."

After the meal, Lucifer instructed Evelyn to remain with him in the library. The room was silent except for the crackling fire and the occasional turn of a page. He read in silence, immersed in his book, while Evelyn sat nearby, pretending to do the same.

But her mind wandered.

Her gaze drifted to him—the Demon Lord, draped in dark robes, his fingers lazily turning the pages of his book. He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his face, the cruel beauty of his crimson eyes, the way his lips—

Kiss.

What would it feel like to be kissed by him?

She swallowed, quickly lowering her gaze, but it was too late.

Lucifer shut his book with a quiet thud. "What is it, little rat?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.

Evelyn jolted. "N-Nothing, my lord." She hurriedly bowed her head. "I apologize for staring."

Lucifer held her gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he reopened his book and continued reading.

Evelyn exhaled, gripping her own book tighter.

Foolish. So foolish.

The library remained quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages. Evelyn had forced herself to focus on the book in her lap, determined not to let her thoughts drift again. But as her eyes skimmed the words, her breath caught.

Her cheeks flushed.

She had picked the wrong book.

Heat coiled in her stomach as her gaze darted over the explicit words—things she had never even imagined, let alone read about. Her fingers trembled. A sharp gasp escaped her before she could stop it, and in her panic, she flung the book away as if it had burned her.

The heavy thud echoed in the silence.

Lucifer barely moved, but his eyes slid toward her, crimson and amused. "What exactly are you reading, little rat?"

Evelyn stiffened. "I-I…nothing, my lord," she stammered, her face burning.

His lips curled slightly. "Nothing? Books don't inspire such reactions over 'nothing.'"

She hesitated before lowering her head. "It was…it was an inappropriate book, my lord. I didn't know."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, watching her like a predator playing with his prey. "Oh? And what did you find so shocking?"

Evelyn swallowed. "It spoke of…things between a man and a woman. Intimate things."

The silence stretched. Then, his voice came, low and mocking.

"Have you been touched?"

Evelyn's breath caught. "No, my lord."

"Kissed?"

She shook her head. "No, my lord."

"Nothing?"

She clenched her fists in her lap. "No."

Lucifer tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "Has a man even seen your nakedness? I imagine it would be…an eyesore."

Her head snapped up, mortified. "No, my lord! I—I await my husband to do that to me…"

His smirk vanished. The air thickened between them.

"But unfortunately, you are married to me." His voice dropped, slow and venomous. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Evelyn's lips parted, but no words came out.

"Because I won't," he continued coldly. "You're disgusting." He exhaled sharply, as if the thought alone irritated him. "How old are you? Ten? Twelve?"

She straightened, squaring her shoulders despite the sting in his words. "I am twenty, my lord."

Lucifer huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "A child," he muttered, returning to his book.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to ignore the dull ache in her chest.