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The weather in the demon realm was constant and the flowers never-fading.
Kanato knew that this was the perfect place to take his bride.
The castle in which he had spent his childhood was pleasantly silent now. There were no muffled voices from distant rooms to vex him, no visitors save what he allowed. The entire estate, from the dungeons to the towers and the vast pleasure gardens, was now the private domain of he and the human girl Komori Yui.
In fairy tales, the princess was placed in a castle after she married her prince. And after the lovers became one in wedded bliss, they lived in perfect happiness for ever after, always. That was how it went in the stories that he had told himself over and over again the last time he had lived here, when he couldn’t get his brothers to read to him.
All the old tales were truer than the humans knew.
Kanato had had his fill of dealing with wicked witches and jealous brothers and evil suitors in the time since the girl had been given to them. To be a prince was troublesome business.
Everyone had wanted to make her their own, but no one but him could make her happy. He knew that. None of the others could give her such beautiful dreams.
Her heart was only his now, and the thought made him smile.
This castle was now meant for the two of them alone. The only servants he kept were familiars, and he had crafted them to be inconspicuous as possible. He had made them invisible, and then he had taken their voices so that they were pleasantly silent. His magic was, alas, not strong enough to erase their shadows. At least not yet.
He kept the halls darkened when he visited Yui in her chambers, so they were rendered as null and immaterial as the air around him.
He came to her every night, dutiful groom that he was, even though the borders between night and day in this realm were so thin that most kept time by the blooming of the flowers and the curve and shading of the moon.
The moon was high in the sky this night, pink, flushed like a maid ready to relive her seduction again and again, ever and always.
Kanato had been very careful to only allow things that suited Yui in this place when he had her chambers prepared. He knew that pink was her favorite color. It suited his tastes as well, even if it was the color of those inconstant spring flowers that faded in the blink of an eye; it was the color of rosewater candies and spun sugar and the color he brought to her cheeks when he kissed her, the promise of her blood rushing under her skin. It was the color of sweet things.
The girl lay now under a pink coverlet embroidered finely with flowers set with pink pearls, upon a bank of pink pillows trimmed with lace and ribbon, and with pink draperies shading the moonlight that shone into her room. Her hand lay on top of the covers, white as a funeral flower.
All the candles that lit her room politely snuffed themselves out as he entered. His own vision was clear enough to see her lovely face in the raw darkness, but she was still a human and craved the light like a silly moth. He thought she looked better in the dark anyway.
There was another story that he knew about a girl whose lover was a god that came to her in the night, invisible, because he knew that she was too weak and too frail to receive him fully, because she had not yet passed the tests that would make her worthy of his love and earn her immortality. Still, the god had made her happy with his tenderness and his embrace.
Once he became acquainted with the ways of human girls, sad ones and frightened ones and hateful ones and plain ones and pretty ones, all delivered to the Sakamaki mansion like fresh flowers for the entryway, it had saddened him to learn how many of them were destined to fail such tests. He pitied them.
He did what he could to make sure that each of them was made beautiful, was loved, was valued. He’d never liked seeing anything thrown away.
Sometimes he could almost forget that Yui was a girl herself, common and silly and short-lived as mayflies, prone to selfishness and cruelty and to doing ridiculous things like questioning their lovers.
She had been good since he brought her here, mostly.
The smell that greeted him in her chamber was exquisite, fresh roses brought specially to her from the human world and the lingering smoke of the candles around her bed. They were scented with the dark herbs of the underworld, like exquisite ash and poppies and lotus. The smell had overpowered her at first, but she had grown to love it.
Beyond all that was the sweet smell of the dreaming bride’s blood.
Kanato leaned over her and kissed each of her eyelids. He let his face hover for just a moment. He felt her breath on his cheek and the brush of her lashes against his skin. The smell of her hair and her skin, so comforting. The smell of her blood underneath her skin, so sweet. It made him ache and his mouth watered.
Her eyes opened.
“Oh, Kanato,” she said through the haze of waking.
She smiled at him, and he lowered himself down to kiss her. It was a gentle kiss, barely tasting her lips.
“Did you have beautiful dreams?”
He asked the same question of her every night. It had become a ritual of theirs.
“Of course I did. How could I have any other kind?” she answered. She leaned up towards him and nodded when he spoke, as he had told her he liked.
“And are you happy?”
“Of course, Kanato. I love you so much.” She smiled up at him and pressed his hand against her cheek.
He smiled and kissed her deeply as her reward for answering correctly. He pulled her up into his embrace, taking in her warmth even through his coat. Her heart beat steadily under the silk and lace nightgown he’d had made for her. When he held her close for long enough, sometimes he could imagine that it was his own heart beating.
He had made sure to dress her beautifully. She was his most precious beloved thing, after all.
He kissed her gently again, and she opened her mouth to receive his tongue. She relaxed her body against his chest and pressed her hands over his. He cradled her head against his shoulder and brushed her hair back from her neck.
It was truly unfair, how arousing her nearness was. Even though he had spent uncounted nights in her arms and they knew each other in every intimate way, his cheeks still flushed when he kissed her bare shoulders.
She made a satisfying noise when he put his teeth to her neck, and she quivered when the pleasure from his bite washed through her body. He groaned at the warmth of her skin on his tongue and sucked down gulp after gulp of her ambrosial blood. He was careful not to let even a drop spill down her body. It was all for him. Her heartbeat fluttered and she grew warmer in his arms.
Her expression was soft when he pulled away from her neck, but she did not meet his eyes. A sudden tenseness grew in her, and she pressed her hand against his chest, as if she meant to push him away. He felt his throat grow thick and he bit down on his bottom lip.
“I think I hear someone crying…” she murmured.
Her eyes had a glazed look when he captured her chin in his hand and brought her face to his. “Shhh. It’s just the wind.”
He trailed his fingertips along her jawline and kissed her again before returning to her neck. He drank deeply this time, until her shoulders drooped under his hands. He let her down back on the bed and pulled the covers away from her legs.
She looked quiet now. He could never stand to see her worry.
Kanato pinched his lips tight to keep them from trembling when he looked at her lying golden and soft beside him.
He hated that she was still so innocent. She had no idea, the anguish she caused him.
It was because she was a human girl that he was so gentle with her. They were silly, greedy creatures. They got attached to ridiculous things.
He pushed the lace hem of her gown up past her hips.
He dug his trembling fingertips into her thighs and placed kisses on her legs, on her stomach. He rested his cheek against the soft curve of her belly.
“Say you love me,” he whispered against her skin.
This night too, she was too weak to answer him. Her hand curled weakly against the back of his neck. He preferred it when she could clasp him to her, but he didn’t mind when she was perfectly pliant when they made love.
He pushed her legs apart and moved himself between them.
He knew there were steps to pleasuring a woman. Kiss first with the lips closed. Then with the lips open.
He planted a delicate kiss on her sex, then parted her folds with his tongue to taste her deeply and draw out the warmth and wetness of her. He scraped her inner thigh with his teeth so that he could taste her blood and her more intimate fluid all at once, and he felt an urgent heat wash through him.
He removed his clothing, and hers. He was more facile with her clothing than his, as he had spent so many years dressing and grooming his lovely dolls.
He stroked her body, feeling the softness of her skin. Her skin was marked with his bite marks, love bites. He took his time renewing them, making the red flowers bloom again. He loved the way her skin took his marks so easily. He stroked her arms and laced his fingers through hers, and he eased her onto her side and curled himself around her, spooning her gently. He sucked at the back of her neck, not hard enough to break the skin this time, while he stroked her hip and her breasts and then pushed his fingers inside her.
She was warm there too.
He entered her from behind as they lay on their sides together, him curling around her warm, thin body. So fragile and pale.
He kissed and licked her ear and the nape of her neck, and then began rocking his hips against her while he held onto her.
The warmth from her skin captured and enflamed him. She burned against his chest and legs and around his sex where they were joined together. He moaned softly against her hair, and the posts of the bed and its veiled canopy creaked and shivered as he began to move more forcefully, as he gave his love to his bride. His princess. The lost girl who’d been thrown away.
She’d been so sad and afraid when she had been given to them. Maybe she had understood on some level that only he could make her happy, make her loved, and that was why she had chosen him. None of his brothers could make her happy like he could.
He was panting now and felt his own pleasure cresting within him, but he pulled back with a sharp exhale. He liked to take his time on their nights together.
He withdrew from her and then stretched her body out beside him, scooping her up in his arms and laying his forehead against her burning, pounding chest, panting against it. She was so plain, but somehow, when she lay still and tranquil in his arms, everything about her was exquisite.
Her peaceful expression delighted him. He stroked her face, kissed her, changed his position to straddle her. He saw how lovely and still she looked, her eyes closed. She was nicely receptive to him now that she had taken him in her and he moved easily inside her now. He rode her with his thighs gripping her hips and his hands planted on either side of her on the bed. Her hair shook fetchingly as she rocked with his movements.
His breath hitched in his throat when he shuddered against her and found his release inside her. He thrust deeply as his hips bucked and he grimaced with pleasure and smiled down at his bride.
He let himself relax down onto her body beneath him, still inside her, relishing the remaining wet heat of the love that they’d made together.
He revisited the skin of her neck and shoulders with slow kisses, and he licked along her jawline.
Kanato knew that women liked to be comforted after they’d been made love to.
Some nights, when nothing disturbed her, he allowed himself to remain in her arms until morning. Alas, there were fewer of those than he would have liked.
Kanato pushed his tongue against his fangs and let the blood well in his mouth, and then he brought his lips down to hers. He opened her mouth gently and slipped his tongue between her lips, pressing it firmly into her mouth. He massaged her throat to ease the blood down. He enjoyed knowing that his blood would be joined with hers in her body just as hers was in his.
He drew himself up and watched her face carefully. Her lips were flushed and trembled slightly. There was a slight change in her breathing, and then she gave a deep, long sigh.
“I love you, Kanato-kun. I love you so much.”
Kanato smiled. He captured her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. He kissed the thin blue line of a vein just visible under the skin, her knuckles, the ring that he had given her when they were wed.
Humans had quaint symbols for eternity.
When he had had his ring for her crafted, he had it set with a stone that was only found in the demon realms. It sparkled with dark fire, and it was said to represent passionate devotion. All the demon kings gave them to their mistresses. The ladies of the Vibora’s necks were laden with them. The Vampires had a custom of carving portraits upon them to give to their lovers. It was also a charm against poisons, which made it popular among the nobility for different reasons.
Kanato liked them because they could only be cut or polished by another of their kind.
He bent down to kiss her again, dizzy with the fresh blood flowing through him. He could lose all sense of time for eternity just breathing in the smell of her body.
Then he heard a sound that caused him to narrow his eyes and press his lips into a thin white slash. The music box had begun to play again. Some days it was enough to drive him mad.
His hands began to shake.
He thought he had begun to understand Yui better, now that they had become one. Human love was a selfish thing. It needed rings, flowers, candy, poetry, nights out at the carnival, confessions under cherry treas blossoming in spring.
Because he understood pity for broken things, he had indulged her. He had allowed one last doll to be made. Wasn’t it in the nature of human girls to want such things to play with?
He just hated that she kept it with her at her side and doted on it. She played at tending its wounds, brushing its hair, dressing it. It made him sick to think of her with it, the two of them together looking like paintings of mothers holding dear children that he had seen.
He lay Yui down again and rearranged her hair neatly around her shoulders. He brought the covers up over her and placed her hands neatly at her sides. He recovered his clothing and dressed, pleased with the way that her scent clung to his body.
Kanato crossed the room to where it sat in the corner. Tears stained the corners of its eyes. It was in a chair, tenderly wrapped with blankets and bandages. Its pale skin was crossed with scars.
“Why do you cry so much? You’re a very spoiled little doll,” he scolded it gently.
It did not answer, because Kanato had made sure to take its voice long ago. It was less bothersome that way.
Kanato took the brooch from his lapel and tested the pin against his thumb. He took the doll’s hand in his own, and then pushed it deeply into the flesh between the the knuckle bones. The other of its arms had been replaced with a fine porcelain reproduction, painted just the shade to match the tone of its skin and all of its scars replicated in perfect detail.
A smile twitched at the corner of the doll’s mouth.
This was good. A doll should never show a troubled expression.
This was what it had wanted wasn’t it? To watch over her? To see her happy? To see her loved? Wasn’t it grateful that he had left it its eyes instead of replacing them with lovely glass?
He withdrew the pin and let the thing’s bloodied hand fall into its lap, where the music box lay.
Kanato took the box and snapped the lid shut. It was carved delicately with flowers, polished if unskilled. He hesitated for a moment, and opened it again. He knew there would come a time when he could no longer suffer it. But for tonight, he supposed he would continue to allow it. There was a small beauty in its sad and childish song.
He had faith that there would come a time when Yui would be able to put away her need for childish relics. Her cross. The boy. And then their family would be just the two of them together, prince and princess in their castle and ever blooming flower gardens.
He departed from the chamber of his bride, leaving her to lie dreaming until their next embrace. The soft doleful music lingered in the air behind him.