The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 167: Paint Me

Chapter 167: Paint Me

Memories of the previous night flooded her head as soon as she woke up, she could still feel the tingling sensation between her legs when he ate her, it made her cheeks flush red when she thought of their intimate liaison.

As she opened her eyes, she met his crimson ones peering right into hers, making her to let out a startled gasp.

She was about to sit up but his iron grip on her waist refrained her movement.

"Let’s stay in bed for a bit, hm?" He said with a soft voice, charming her into agreeing as she snuggled closer into his arms.

"Have you been staring the entire night?" She queried as she wound her hands over his torso.

"I couldn’t take my eyes off even though I almost fell asleep in your arms." He admitted with a straight face.

His blatant confession made her speechless as her gaze flitted from his face hesitantly.

"Where did you learn how to suck a cork like that?" He teased with an impish grin splitting through his lips.

Her cheeks flused redder at his remark, although she felt a sense of pride knowing she didnt mess up, but when she remembered how intensely the night had been, she fidgetted nervously. "From a friend, she was married and we used to engage in vulgar, unladylike conversations." She chuckled out as she reminisced.

"Hmm." He nodded at her reply.

"She’s dead now." She muttered beneath her breath. "Because of you." She continued with a lower voice.

"Do you hate me for what I’ve done?" He asked unexpectedly.

She scoffed with a smile as she said "If I hated you, I wouldn’t be in your arms right now."

A satisfied smile crossed his lips at her response as he sat up and then, rang the bell for a maid.

"So what are we doing today?" She queried as she sat up after him, leaning her back on the headrest.

"Hunting, obviously." He said nonchalantly with shrugged shoulders.

Her brows furrowed at his reply "Definitely not, you have been hunting me from the moment we met, don’t you have any other hobby other than a sadistic hunt?"

"Hobby?" He snorted out with a laughter.

"Well, it’s what you love to do, isn’t it? Hunt people for the sadistic pleasure you gain from it." She pointed out.

A smirk crossed his lips as he spoke with a lazy drawl "I like to paint, clearly it’s not for sadistic pleasure now, is it?"

"You paint?" She queried in disbelief at the fact that the devil beside her painted as a form of recreation.

"Yes love." He answered and as soon as he spoke, a maid walked in with a tray of food on it. She bowed deeply before approaching them, they watched in silence as she dropped the tray of food in front of Rama with a curtsy, head lowered till she was dismissed out of their sights.

Paying attention to the delicacy in front of her, she averted her gaze from Draco as she chomped on her food.

Draco clambered out of the bed, bringing her attention to him as he said "I’ll be waiting for you in my painting chamber, get dressed in a loose, easy wear."

"Huh?" She stopped eating as she faced him with arched brows.

"You want to paint something?" She queried with curious, eager eyes.

"I want to paint someone, not something." He emphasized with a whiff of devilishness twinkling in his crimson eyes.

Like her heart, her lashes fluttered as she asked "Me?"

"I’ll see you in my painting chamber, it’s across your private chamber." He said with a wink as she watched him exit the room. Swallowing the chunk of food down her throat, she hurriedly ate her food and afterwards washed up in a hesitant rush.

She was flustered at him wanting to paint a picture of her, he always had a way to spur butterflies in her stomach. Wondering why he wanted her to wear a loose gown, she wore one anyway while dirty thoughts crossed her mind.

Brushing her hair in loose waves down her shoulders, she exited the room and proceeded to his painting chamber as he had directed. She halted in front of the slightly opened door and pushed it open to reveal the interior of the room.

Dimly lit by a few flickering oil lamps, she saw stone walls adorned with faded tapestries. A large, heavy wooden table covered in a tattered cloth stood in the center, surrounded by mismatched wooden stools.

Jars of pigments and crushed minerals imported from distant lands, clutter the workspace. His painting tools, like fine brushes made of animal hair and finely crafted wooden palettes, were meticulously arranged.

At the far end of the room, a small, leaded glass window allowed a feeble stream of daylight to filter in, casting a soft, warm glow on the worn wooden floor. The room was filled with the faint scent of oils and resins used in the painstaking process of creating intricate illuminated manuscripts or richly detailed frescoes.

For a moment, it seemed as if she was no longer plunged into a fantasy world ruled by the paranormal, but as she walked into the room, she breathed in the fresh air of normalcy. It was a far cry from the opulence of the castle, there was no malevolent or supernatural aura hanging in the air, it was a rather typical artistry room.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Her head whipped to the direction of his baritone voice, pulling her out of her thoughts.

He was busy setting up the canvas on the easel and the other tools comprising of fine palettes and brushes for painting.

She examined the paintings he had done before, dispersed in different positions, but most of them were of dark characterizations, frightful, yet somewhat revealing a broken portrayal, one that she suddenly noticed was of an illustration of his dark and broken soul.

He had created a gallery of paintings that mirrored the tormented soul of the devil himself.

One canvas revealed a swirling maelstrom of inky blackness, where twisted, skeletal trees reach out like gnarled fingers to an ominous blood-red moon, while ghostly specters with hollow eyes haunt the foreground.

In another masterpiece, the devil’s broken heart is laid bare, she could feel it as she ran her fingers on the painting. A desolate, obsidian landscape stretchesd into eternity, where jagged cracks rend the ground apart.

At the heart of this dark abyss, a weeping willow with branches of thorns hangs low, its roots burrowing into the very essence of despair.

Yet, perhaps the most haunting work depicted his shattered ego. A monstrous, horned figure kneeled in agony, its once-proud wings torn and tattered, while a river of molten gold snakes crawl through the barren wasteland, symbolizing the loss of divine grace and beauty.

These paintings, wrought with infernal passion and anguish, offered a chilling glimpse into his inner turmoil in a world where darkness reigns supreme.

"These paintings...What do they mean?" She queried even though she knew what they illustrated, of his darkness and broken souls.

"They were old paintings." He said with an awkward clearing of his throat.

"I know, but what did they portray?" She asked as she tilted her head to look at him, half engrossed in mixing the paints, while his other half of attention was fixed on her.

"What do you think they portray?" He asked instead.

"Your darkness and broken soul." She mentioned with a mutter.

"Not fully wrong, although I still retain my darkness, but my soul is no longer broken, you healed it." He said with a serious countenance, but his eyes gave out a warmth of sincerity in his words, leaving her speechless.

Awkwardly, she averted her gaze from him and focused back on the gripping paintings, he was quite talented, she wondered where he learned how to paint from or if he just so happened to be naturally endowed with knowledge on how to do every everything so perfectly.

"Who taught you how to paint?" She asked, clearing the stillness of the air as her voice made it ripple with its melodic tone.

"I don’t learn how to do things love, I’m naturally flawless." He spoke with a high whiff of pride as he squared his shoulders.

Her eyes squinted when she looked at him with a scoff "I figured."

"I learnt how to paint from her, my mother." He breathed out, his voice menacingly low.

Apparently, it wasn’t the perfect time to talk about his mother so she smoothly averted the topic, he was good with a switch up anyway.

"I’m curious on why you told me to wear a loose gown." She said with a curious smile as she tugged her gown slightly and she saw his mood change from the unnervingly dark one to a mischievous one as an impish grin adorned his face.

"Because it’ll be easy." He answered with a sarcastic smirk curving the edge of his lips up.

She shot him a side long skeptical look with squinted eyes as she queried "Easy for what?"

"To take off." He answered with a straight face and her brows furrowed deeper in confusion.

"I don’t understand, I thought you wanted to paint me." She said.

He stared at her with a naughty gleam in his eyes as he spoke "Of course I’m painting you."

"Hmm?" She stood akimbo with questioning eyes.

"I’m painting you naked." He stated out blatantly.