Wish Upon A Demon
36.

36.

CHAPTER - THIRTY SIX

It was confusing.

I think I never had such a hard time in choosing clothes. Yet, here I was, with two beautiful dresses hung on my wardrobe, either side, while I debated which one would look better. I was never the one to think much about what I would wear, but this was a night that would come only once in my life, so I needed to look good.

Besides, my date was a Demon King.

In the end, I settled with the cream gown. I wasn’t the one for showing much cleavage, nor did I personally favor short dresses, so the cream dress which came a little above my knees and was beautifully designed was perfect. I hadn’t gone overboard with the makeup either and kept my hair naturally down. I knew I wasn’t the prettiest girl out there, but due to demon boy, I began liking myself the way I was. I began loving my body even when it began to show changes, and I guess I finally learned to love myself without paying heed to what the others had to say.

“You look beautiful,” Alana comments as I walk into the living room. My father walks in a second later from the bedroom and is surprised to see me as well. “You look gorgeous, honey.” He says. His tone matches that of when parents pull the ′she grew up so fast′ line. I smile at them as I watch them hold each other. Though Alana is four hundred years old – probably more than that, she doesn’t look her age, which serves as an advantage and makes her look perfect with my father. I do miss my mom, but I’m happy for my dad. I’m happy to see my father be the lively man he was before, and I have the demon princess to thank for that. “I have a surprise for you,” I whisper, and though my dad – who’s back is turned as he prepares dinner – cannot hear me, Alana catches my words and looks me dead in the eye.

I liked Alana, and what I said wasn’t out of anger or any emotion of that sort. I wanted her to know that her ex-fiancée was the demon that had begun haunting me months ago and had somehow made me fall in love with him. I wasn’t a fan of feeling such emotion either, but he woke it in me and it was time for his friend to know of his constant presence in the human world. Alana’s eyes are confused and questioning, but I don’t give anything away. Any minute now, I think and smoothen my dress. The doorbell rings. Exactly on time, my heels clack against the wooden floor as I walk towards the door and slowly open it. I had prepared myself to be surprised, but I don’t think that any amount of preparation could’ve prepared me for this.

My mouth hangs open.

Dressed in a black suit, white shirt underneath, Zylen King looks ready to kill someone. Not with words or a weapon, but with his looks. Hair styled back and hands in his pockets, he gives me his signature smirk which surprises me further. I don’t know what to do at the moment, so I stand there, mouth agape and holding the door. “So, are you going to let me in or...?” He asks, voice deeper than usual and husky. I swallow and regain myself. “Yeah, come in.” I step aside, feeling smug. He has no idea about what – who is inside. He steps in, never breaking eye contact with me. I close the door, holding in my smile. It’s me who breaks the eye contact. I turn my gaze to Alana who’s frozen in his spot. Zylen follows my gaze and freezes in his spot as well.

My father notices the exchange between the two and then turns to me with a questioning gaze. I shrug. “Do you know him?” Fredrick Martin asks his fiancée. Alana relaxes, clearing her throat. “I...um...know his parents...” Alana lies efficiently, and Zylen seems to have regained himself as well because he nods. I smirk and place my hand on Zylen’s shoulder. “Oh, so, she is the babysitter you mentioned?” I ask. Zylen whips his head and glares. I see a tinge of red on his cheeks. He seems to be blushing quite a lot of times recently. The demon king clears his throat, “Yes...uh...she is-was my babysitter.” I have to hold in the urge to break out into a smile and laugh at his embarrassment.

My father still looks confused but nods nevertheless.

“Now, listen to me, boy, -” My father starts. I widen my eyes and cut him off. “No, dad.” It’s probably mandatory for all fathers to have a talk with the prom dates of their daughters. But my father and I really didn’t have that sort of a relationship where he would question the guys – demons I went out with or stuff like that. Mostly because demon boy was the first guy I’d ever properly hung out with but whatever. Fredrick Martin knew that too, but I guess he was just doing the required. My father steps back, raising his hands, smiling. “Okay, okay.” He murmurs.

“That’s your surprise then...” I say quietly, and grab hold of Zylen’s hand. It’s his turn to look at me now, surprised. “We’ll be leaving now.” I say, and my dad nods. Alana, however, maintains eye contact with Zylen for a second longer before he breaks it off to look me in the eye, giving me a breathtaking smile as his fingers entangled in mine.

I was going to prom with a demon king as my partner.

“He dumped me.”

Alexa whines. “I didn’t even have any plans of coming here....” She continues, “And now...I’m all alone while he grinds up against one of the prom queen nominees.” Alexa finishes. I pat her on the back because I’m not very good at consoling and I don’t know what to do.Looking around, I’m surprised to find Michael dancing with Jennifer. Jennifer is genuinely smiling - laughing and Michael too, seems to be enjoying himself. I smile and look away. I wasn’t fond of Michael, but I didn’t completely hate him either.

I mean he was my crush for so many freaking years. Not that I felt anything anymore, but it wasn’t fair that I hate him for the death of my mother. His family was the problem – he was only a child when it happened. So, I had gotten over feeling angered by him and settled for just adjusting with his presence. I was looking around when I spotted Zylen in one of the corners. He’d left my side when we’d walked in. If he weren’t a demon, I would’ve suspected him of having social anxiety. “Yeah, okay, you can go back to your date....” Alexa says. I look at her, asking a silent question of if she would be okay. “I’ll be fine...maybe I’ll force someone into dancing with me or something....” She places her hand on my shoulder and gets behind me, pushing me in Zylen’s direction. “Go...” I know she’s smiling and I oblige, walking over to Zylen.

“Let’s dance,” I say bravely, holding out my hand when I walk over to him.

He looks at my outstretched hand, and then at me. Though I can’t access Zylen’s mind, I’m guessing that he’s wondering where I found the confidence. First, it was teasing and making him blush at his coronation and now it was showing him the surprise that was his ex-fiancée, making him blush once more and currently asking him to dance. “I don’t want to.” His says, keeping it short and curt as he leans against the wall, away from the crowd. It looks like he likes it here, in less quiet since the speakers are quite far away and there are less of people except for the couple, who are unstoppable a bit away from us.

“Too bad I wasn’t asking them.” I grab his hand and pull him with me. Grabbing his other hand, I place it on my waist as both my arms go around his neck. We’re living a cliché moment right now – with the slow song playing in the background, arms around each other, swaying to the music in silence. All that’s missing is a bit of rain or snow and a kiss.But of course, if all that were there, then this wouldn’t be short of a movie scene.

My eyes drift in search of Alexandria. I find her a few seconds later, swaying with a guy that I’m guessing is one of the prom King nominees. Oh, the irony. I smile in her direction, before turning back to the demon king. He’s looking down at me intensely. I don’t think his eyes have moved from me since we started dancing. I break the silence among us, tuning out the talk from the others and concentrating on the song and Zylen. “So, why are you here?” I ask him, staring into his eyes with the same amount of intensity.

“What do you mean? You asked me to be –” I cut him off from his flustered rambling. “I meant, what about the kingdom? Aren’t you king now?” I say, a twinge of sarcasm in my tone. “Oh, yes, that.” Zylen rolls his eyes, “I’ve come off on the excuse that I’m on the mission to get you to accept the throne once more. Zeus is taking my place.” Zylen answers. “You know I’m not Queen material right? No amount of convincing will make me accept that throne.” I say. “I know. But I’m hoping you’ll change your mind once you see Friella. It’s getting harder and harder to stall off your great-aunt.” Zylen says. “Corah?” I question and he nods. “She was ecstatic when we finally told her about you. It took many talks to stop her from showing up in front of you.” There’s a hint of annoyance in Zylen’s voice and I smile a bit wider.

“We’ll see,” I say in response to his previous statement. I wasn’t going to change my mind though. There was no way I was sitting on that throne. Well, maybe not until I was done with my education and stuff, but definitely not anytime soon. After all, I’m immortal. I have all the time in the world to come to a decision. “I’d guessed that Corah told her daughter since Alana had mentioned quite a lot of times that she knew you were a demon from your scent. But looks like she hadn’t.” Zylen says a second later. “Oh,” I say. “It seems Alana was finding the right time to talk to you, know how you were turned into a demon. After tonight, she’ll probably coax her mother and finally get to know that the both of you are related.” He says. I stay silent and sway along with him.

“So, when did you fall in love with Alana?” I ask. I feel his hands tense by my waist. “You can tell me.” I persuade, calmly. Zylen stays silent before he takes a deep breath and talks, “I don’t know.” He pauses. “Like I told before, I spent a lot of time in the castle since I wasn’t allowed to leave. My father was always away making peace with the other kingdoms or in meetings and my mother spent her time in the garden or knitting or finding some activity to occupy her time. She’d try talking to me, but it would always end up in an argument, so, she slowly withdrew.” As he talks, I listen calmly. The song changes into an even slower one, but I don’t pay attention to the lyrics – focusing solely on Zylen. “I was twenty-five when I met Alana.” He pauses again.

“It took a lot of time for her to get me to speaking terms with her and I’d often hear her complain about me to herself when she thought she was alone. I liked her. And soon, the more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. Loved her, maybe. She felt the same way. We got engaged. And then a few years later, we grew out of it – out of that forced feeling that was tying us together.” Zylen continues. “She was introduced to me by my parents. They felt if we were married, it would be equivalent to fulfilling the promise they’d made to the citizens that day that my father and Elvive canceled their wedding. And they were pleased to know that Alana and I had taken a liking to each other. But when we called off the wedding, they were just as furious.” Zylen says, eyes losing focus like he’s recalling the events.

“That was around the time I saw you.” He says suddenly.

“Me?” I question. “Yes, you – the little you. I’d been tracking Elvive’s whereabouts for years and that lady was quite successful in putting up barriers, but I found her. And exactly, four days later, she died.” He says and my arms tighten around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Even with the heels, I’m not able to match his height, which is why he had to bend a bit. I smile lightly at that. “But Zylen, if Elvive was a demon, then she was immortal, wasn’t she? Then how did she die?” I ask softly. He tenses once more. “It’s not the place to speak about that.” He says. I drop the subject.

“So, you blush too, huh?” I ask.

He scowls. “I don’t blush. Blushing is for girls.” He says, lamely. “First of all, don’t be sexist and second, the pink on your cheeks would say otherwise,” I say. His hand leaves my waist and goes to his cheek. I grab his hand, wanting to put it around my waist again since I liked the feeling, but he swats my hand away. I roll my eyes. “You speak like you’ve never blushed.” He comments. “...I haven’t...” I say. “Oh, you have. And it’s always because of me.” Zylen smirks. “Drop that smirk,” I order. “Or you’ll do what? Blush some more? Like you haven’t done that enough...” Zylen teases. “Just know that your behavior isn’t appreciated,” I say.

“Why? You seem to be enjoying it.” He pulls me closer, and instead of being flustered like I usually am, I decide to embrace the newfound confidence and smirk at him. “You’re right. I do like it.” His eyes widen a fraction for a second before they relax. Hazel eyes dropping to my lips, I don’t get time to react before his lips fall on mine. I don’t stay still, nor do I start an internal debate of whether I like this or not. I just push myself closer – if that’s even possible, and move my lips along with his. I’d always thought sparks flying during a kiss or any sort of contact from a person you like was a myth told by couples that were too much in love to care, but Zylen’s proving me wrong.

I always felt sparks when I kissed Zylen. I sometimes felt it when I was around him. I love him. I momentarily tense hoping that Zylen didn’t hear that. But then, close my eyes once more, letting myself be swept away by the current that was Zylen King. Though my eyes are closed, I can feel the lights dimming and then brightening once more, and then suddenly, there’s something falling from the ceiling. A little of it lands on my shoulder and our eyes flutter open at the same time. Zylen and I break away to look up. I gather what’s on my shoulder and rub it between my fingertips. Snow. Not really of course, but the type you find in stores within cans. Artificial snow, basically.

I’m guessing the prom committee had bought in the snow. But as I watch them watching it with confused eyes, I tune in to their conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen until the ending, what’s going on?” I hear them say to each other. A sneaky smile makes itself on my face. I turn to Zylen and capture his lips with mine once again. He smiles against my lips. When we’re breathless and break away, foreheads touching, he questions me about the lights and snow, “How did you do that?”

“Well, what can I say? I’ve been practicing.”

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