The silvery-dark accouterments adorning his clothed arm, fastened to the back of his palm and extending along his elegantly long fingers, imparted a cold touch against my skin.
Glacialis. Was that the moniker of a distinctive demon realm?
I offered a noncommittal hum in response. I wasn't inclined to divulge my name to any demon, seemed unwise even considering the high demon's apparent awareness of it, though he hadn't yet addressed me by it—a gesture I might have appreciated.
Shifting my focus to Vaelin, I observed as he reached for his goblet and indulged in a sip.
Arucard released my hand and redirected his attention to Vaelin, whose countenance remained stoic, seemingly indifferent to the male's actions. “Well, someone's not too thrilled.”
“How about you quit prowling like a cage
