In the cool dimness of early morning, Mirage lay lost in thought.
Beside him, the mattress still held Victor's residual warmth. Mirage wouldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy it. It always amazed him how burning hot the human's body felt when his Levia was so cold.
Which certainly made for an interesting experience whenever they exchanged Levia at night. The icy power would flow through the connection between them, their wizard-familiar contract, all while Victor's hands set his skin on fire. It was perhaps his favorite thing about the otherwise worthless human.
Lazily turning his head, he saw Victor seated in the desk chair and bent over his phone. The wizard had thrown on his boxers but nothing else, and Mirage took the opportunity to savor the planes of his broad, muscled back.
But he couldn't put his heart into it. His mind kept slipping back to last night's masquerade gala. Which perhaps made sense, as it was one of the biggest events he'd attended this year and the most successful one yet. Certainly he expected to see his follower count skyrocket after this.
Yes, focus on that: relish in his triumph. No good. Because try as he might, his mind insisted on returning to only one singular event from the gala.
The pretty young boy in the winged mask, features delicate like a doll's but a smile like an imp's. Bold and fearless in a way that far outstripped his tiny frame.
As for the words the boy had spoken....
'I'm going to be the one to enthrall you. No, more than that. I want to completely overcome you, Michel Rose.'
No matter how many times he remembered it, the same jolt from back then lanced down his spine. He'd done his best to hide his shock – what kind of master of illusions would he be if he couldn't? – but something about the way the boy had smirked suggested he might not have been entirely successful.
Damn it all! What nonsense. He couldn't let something so small throw him off his game.
" – Rose. Mr. Rose." The sound of Victor's voice tugged him out of his reverie. Mirage whirled toward his assistant, who had gotten out of the chair and was gazing down at him with his usual stolid indifference.
"What is it?" Mirage snarled. He'd have liked to add 'Can't you see I'm busy?' but his pride wouldn't permit him to tell such an obvious lie.
"I was saying the shoot with Noir Nightmare has been postponed to Thursday," Victor said. "Is that all right with you?"
"Sure, sure." Mirage gave a dismissive flick of his hand.
"I'll mark it on your schedule." Victor tapped on the phone for a bit, but then glanced back at Mirage. "Is something the matter?"
Mirage bristled. "What makes you say that?"
"Forgive me. You seemed a little...distracted."
"Mind your place, human," Mirage sneered, rolling his eyes. "I can pay as little or as much attention as I please."
"Of course, Captain," Victor said, mild as ever. But annoyingly enough, he didn't give up. "Are you bothered by what happened at the gala?"
No sooner had the question popped out of his mouth did Mirage hurl a pillow at his face. As expected, Victor didn't even attempt to dodge. The pillow exploded in a burst of feathers, and as they fluttered to the ground Mirage felt a twinge of guilt. Such a nice pillow deserved a better end.
Victor, of course, remained standing there like a stone. Scowling, Mirage twisted the sheets between his fingers. It'd feel even better if it was Victor's skin instead. So why didn't he? Demon Prince knew he had the right.
Still, deep inside Mirage knew tormenting Victor wouldn't really make him feel better. Nothing would except for direct action.
Glaring Victor in the eye, he said, "Prince Darian is most certainly onto us."
He said it as haughtily as he would if he was seated in his chair in a strategy meeting, rather than naked on the bed. It didn't matter; either way, he was still Captain Mirage of the Infernal Legion and Victor would never forget it.
"It's very likely, yes," Victor said, slow and careful.
"I hope you realize this is all your fault. If you hadn't insisted on engaging the prince and her lot earlier, they would never have recognized you at the gala." Even so, that didn't explain why Prince Darian had chosen to come to the gala in the first place. It meant she must have already suspected something about him.
True to form, Victor didn't bring up this fault in Mirage's logic. Instead, he bowed his head and said, "Understood, Captain. Then it's my responsibility to make things right."
"Don't be so full of yourself," Mirage snapped. "Like I'd trust one single soldier to get this done properly. No, I'm not going to give Prince Darian another chance to escape. Victor!"
He snapped his fingers loudly, and to his satisfaction Victor jumped to immediate attention. "I'm calling a strategy meeting. Inform everyone, and I do mean everyone."
"Yes, Captain." Victor bowed. Mirage snapped his fingers again, dismissing him, and Victor wasted no time pulling on his clothes. After he left, Mirage leaned back against the headboard and gazed up at the ceiling.
He'd need to get ready for the meeting too – no way was he ever going to appear less than perfectly composed before his entire troop – but for now, no harm in taking a brief moment for himself. A moment in which he could lose himself in fantasies of crushing that irritating little princeling, wiping the smug smile off her porcelain doll's face....
If he fantasized hard enough, he might be able to forget the brief flicker of fear he'd felt back then.