THE DEMON LORD'S ACCIDENTAL TENTH WIFE

"You're still alive?" The Demon Lord crouched, gripping Evelyn's chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Tell me, what do you want? To be saved?"

Evelyn's lips trembled, but she said nothing. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to answer.

Silence stretched between them. Then, he smirked. "Interesting." He released her roughly, standing to his full height. "Very well, you'll serve me directly from now on. Let's see how long you last."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances but did not question him. He turned on his heel, the rain still pouring as he stepped back into his carriage. "Clean her up. I won't have filth serving me," he commanded before disappearing inside.

The moment he was gone, two palace attendants rushed forward. "Get up," one hissed, but Evelyn was too weak to move.

"She's burning up," the other whispered.

"Then carry her before His Majesty changes his mind."

---

Evelyn stirred, her body aching. She wasn't outside anymore. A soft, unfamiliar scent filled her nose—lavender? The warmth of a thick blanket wrapped around her, and her skin no longer burned from the rain.

"She's waking up." A voice, soft but wary.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly lit room. It wasn't luxurious—plain stone walls, a single candle flickering on the bedside table—but it was clean. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her limbs.

"Don't move too much." A young maid sat beside her, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. "You had a fever. His Majesty ordered you to be taken care of."

His Majesty. The Demon Lord.

Evelyn swallowed hard, the events of the day crashing back. The punishment. The rain. Him.

She shifted under the blanket, realizing she was dressed in a simple but dry robe. "Who…" Her voice cracked. "Who changed my clothes?"

"The senior maids," the girl answered quickly. "You were unconscious. No one touched you improperly, if that's what you're worried about."

Evelyn said nothing.

The maid hesitated before adding, "You should rest. His Majesty will summon you soon."

The Next Day

Evelyn stirred, her body heavy with exhaustion. A strange discomfort pulled her from sleep, and as she shifted, she froze.

Her undergarments were damp.

A frown creased her forehead. She pressed her thighs together, confused. Had she…? No. It didn't feel like that. This was different—something unsettling.

Slowly, she sat up, her hands trailing over her body. Her wounds—the bruises, the cuts, the deep aches—were gone. Her skin was smooth, as if she had never been beaten at all.

Her breath hitched.

This wasn't normal.

Panic flickered in her chest. Had someone touched her while she was asleep? Had something else happened?

Just then, the door creaked open.

"Good morning," a soft voice greeted.

Evelyn's head snapped up to see the maid from before entering, carrying a fresh set of clothes.

"Good morning…" Evelyn murmured, swallowing hard. Her fingers clenched the sheets. "Did someone come in here last night?" Her voice wavered. "I—I don't understand. My wounds… they're gone."

The maid gave a small, confused smile. "No, my lady. I slept here with you."

Evelyn's hands clenched the sheets. That didn't make sense. She knew her body. Knew that waking up this way wasn't normal. Even if she had been exhausted, it wouldn't explain the warmth lingering between her thighs.

But she didn't press the issue.

Instead, she forced a nod, swallowing her unease. "Alright."

The maid tilted her head. "You should have a bath. His Majesty has given instructions."

Evelyn stiffened. The King?

Still, she didn't argue. She slipped out of bed, her body feeling oddly light. The pain she expected—aching joints, sore muscles—was gone. Just like her wounds.

She bathed quickly, scrubbing her skin as if that could wash away the eerie feeling clinging to her. Once dressed in a plain but clean gown, she returned to find the maid setting down a tray of food.

"You should eat." The maid smiled, placing a cup of water beside the tray.

Evelyn hesitated before sitting. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, and hunger gnawed at her. The first bite was cautious, but as soon as the warm food hit her tongue, she couldn't stop. She ate quickly, ignoring the maid's amused glance.

Only when she was nearly finished did the maid finally speak.

"His Majesty has given orders."

Evelyn slowed, her spoon hovering in the air. "…Orders?"

The maid nodded. "You are to serve in the King's tower."

A chill crawled up Evelyn's spine.

"You are his personal maid now."

Her stomach twisted, the last bite suddenly tasteless.

The King…

Her hands shook slightly as she set down her spoon.

No.

This wasn't just about servitude. It wasn't just another punishment.

This was something else entirely.

"You've been staring at me. What is it?" Evelyn asked, her voice laced with irritation.

The maid tilted her head, arms crossed. "How did you manage to trick the King into marrying you?"

Evelyn let out a bitter laugh. "Trick him? You think I wanted this?" She shook her head, her fists clenching. "I was drugged. The supposed bride spiked my drink and ran away. And now I'm the one paying the price for it!"

The maid's skeptical expression faltered for a moment before she scoffed. "Unfortunate."

Evelyn exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "Tell me about it."

After finishing breakfast, she was summoned. The maid led her to the King's suite, where guards checked her before allowing her inside. Her pulse quickened as she stepped through the massive doors, the air inside thick with the scent of burning incense and something distinctly masculine.

"The King is expecting you," the maid murmured, leading her toward a set of doors deeper inside.

When Evelyn stepped in, the heat hit her first. The room was dimly lit, steam curling in the air. The lake—or whatever enchanted bath it was—glowed faintly, its surface rippling with warmth. And in the middle of it, the Demon King sat, water lapping at his broad shoulders, his dark hair slicked back.

Evelyn swallowed hard and lowered her gaze. "My Lord..." She bowed.

A long silence. She could feel his golden eyes on her, like a predator considering its prey.

Then—

"What are you waiting for?" His voice was deep, edged with impatience. "Get in and massage my back."

Her breath hitched. Her? In there?

Evelyn hesitated at the edge of the water, fingers curling at her sides. The heat from the bath licked at her skin, a stark contrast to the cold pit in her stomach.

The King shifted slightly, stretching his arms over the edge of the bath, utterly unbothered by his nakedness. "Are you deaf, Little Rat?" he drawled. "Or just slow?"

Her jaw tightened. Little Rat? She bit back a retort. Talking back would only make things worse.

She stepped in cautiously, the warm water soaking through the hem of her dress. It clung to her legs, heavy and uncomfortable. Humiliating. But she forced herself forward until she was kneeling behind him.

Her hands trembled slightly as she placed them on his broad shoulders. His skin was hot under her fingertips, the muscles beneath it hard and unyielding. She pressed down hesitantly.

Evelyn's fingers pressed gently into his shoulders, her touch hesitant as she worked across his tense muscles. The heat of the water curled around her, making the air thick and humid. She kept her gaze low, determined not to meet his eyes, but the moment felt too intimate—too dangerous.

Then, without warning, he turned to face her.

Her breath caught.

Water sloshed between them as she instinctively leaned back, hands gripping the edges of the bath. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the way his eyes slowly dragged over her. The wet fabric clung to her, outlining more than it concealed.

"Are you…" His lips curled into a smirk. "Are you blushing, Little Rat?"

Her face burned.

Before she could react, he stood.

Completely. Unapologetically. Naked.

Evelyn gasped, a scream catching in her throat as she spun around, hands slamming over her eyes.

She could hear the water dripping from his body, the faint rustle of him stepping onto the polished floor.

"Relax," he drawled lazily. "You act like you've never seen a man before."

Her lips parted, but she had no words. Because—she hadn't.

Not like this.

The maids in the castle whispered about such things. About the guards, about men and their… size. But those were stories, nothing real. This was—this was something else.

"Are you staring at—"

"I AM NOT!" she practically shrieked, spinning away again, mortified.

His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine.

"Little Rat," he mused. "Come here."

She dared a glance over her shoulder.

He was waiting, arms outstretched, the firelight casting shadows over every defined muscle.

"Dress me."

Her throat dried.

No. Absolutely not.