That was an oddly disturbing thought. I quickly chased it from my head as the demonic lord straightened. Then I could only stare, blinking like an idiot at him.
“What are you—” I clamped my lips shut on what I was about to say and hurriedly reworked it so that I didn’t use up one of my allotted questions. “Your clothing is…um…not your usual, er, style.”
I was accustomed to seeing him in clothing suited to…well, a Renaissance festival—breeches, flowing shirts, boots, that sort of thing. I’d always assumed that he wore that style of clothing because that’s what demonic lords wore in the demon realm.
But…now he had on black jeans that hugged the muscled contours of his legs without looking sprayed on, a crisp tailored shirt so white it nearly made his silver-blond hair look dark in contrast, and a grey jacket that looked like it was some sort of exceedingly expensive silk-wool blend.
And his hair. Holy shit, the hair! His hair had formerly hung to his waist, but now it ended just past his shoulders. Even the normal alabaster hue of his skin looked like it had been replaced with the faintest touch of…a tan?
He looked like an action hero on the red carpet. He looked hot—in a completely new and different way from what I was used to. And I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. What game was he playing now? There was no possible way this had been done solely to impress me.
The light from the fireplace bathed his skin in a warm glow. A smile twitched his lips, and his crystal blue eyes found mine. “Smoothly performed, as usual,” he said with approval, and it took me a few seconds of mental floundering to realize he was referring to my sum