Kiss of a Demon King (14 page)

20

D
idn’t get a chance to call off the, uh, bathing?”
Lanthe said telepathically, able to sip from her goblet and communicate at the same time.

“Alas, no,”
Sabine said, modeling an outfit in front of her oversize mirror, readying for another night with the demon.
“And it went…badly.”

“Tell me.”

“The Inferi’s powder wore off, and Rydstrom attacked with his poisonous horns.”

The trio hadn’t intended to do more than bathe him, but he’d gone insane, fighting them like a beast.

“He temporarily paralyzed one of my poor Inferi before they contained him,”
Sabine said, selecting another top from the collection recently forged for her.
“I mean, I knew he wouldn’t like being touched by three males—that’s why I ordered it. But to react like that? The thought of being bathed by strange women merely sounds titillating to me.”

“And you’re going to him just three nights later?”

“I don’t have a choice.”
Unfortunately, she wasn’t pregnant. The Hag could divine such things within days, so this morning, Sabine had descended into the bowels of the castle to consult the old crone. Rumor had it that she’d once been a beautiful elven maiden who’d met with some kind of curse.

Sabine couldn’t see it.

The Hag’s basement laboratory was squalid and disturbing with all the butchered animals—Sabine had had to bathe twice to get the odor of fried batwings off her body.

The woman had taken her blood and told her the news—a blow to Sabine because she was nearing the end of her fertile cycle.

Out of curiosity—and for no other reason—Sabine had asked the woman if Rydstrom would have been poisoned by the morsus if he’d bitten her neck. The Hag had glared at her with aged opaque eyes. “Not unless you were in the full blown throes of the poison. So there’s no excuse for you to deny the demon male something he
needs
to do. No excuse other than your own selfishness,” she’d said, demonstrating her customary insolence. “You take his seed and give nothing….”

Now Sabine told Lanthe,
“Tonight it has to be business as usual.”
Hettiah wouldn’t be out of commission much longer.
“I have to conceive so that Hettiah doesn’t bear my husband’s child.”

Lanthe winced.
“That sounds really messed up.”

“Because it is! Over my dead body will that be happening. And you know I don’t say that lightly.”

“Have you thought any more about Groot’s sword?”

Once Sabine had told her about it, the two of them had been antsy, wanting to plot, to act, to do
something
.

Outcomes and possibilities. Actions and reactions. Although plots usually came to her easily, Sabine was having to work for this one.

Plus, the memory of Omort’s wrath on that Vampire army weighed heavily on them as well.

“I’m staying the course with the demon.”
Sabine had ultimately decided the prospect of the sword was too up in the air to even consider a plan of action.

“I thought you’d sworn off sex.”

“I’m going to give it a second go,”
Sabine said as she donned a top that had metal cups shaped like actual paws, with claws flared. Knowing the demon would like it, she laced up the leather ties on the sides.

“You’re softening toward Rydstrom, aren’t you? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for him?”

“Lanthe, you know perfectly well that I
could
look you in the eyes and lie,”
she said.
“But I won’t. Honestly, I’m drawn to him.”

Sabine’s head had been filled with thoughts of him. She craved his warmth against her body, his scent surrounding her. She’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling as sea breezes rushed in, wondering what it would be like with him here in her bed. Could he touch her slowly at first?

“I keep thinking of him as my husband. It’s silly that a few words should affect me like that, but the idea makes me possessive of him.”

“You don’t seem too broken up about having to bed him again.”

“Upon further reflection, I’ve realized it wasn’t
all
bad.”
The time leading up to the pain had been incredible. She wanted more of that excitement, was aching for it. She was a born hedonist, a Sorceri who craved her pleasures. The demon could give them to her.

Last night, she’d woken to a chimera of Rydstrom slipping into bed with her, that intent look in his eyes and handcuffs dangling from his fist….

“The demon Cadeon is still going strong?”
Lanthe asked.

Sabine gave herself an inward shake.
“From what I understand, he had four checkpoints to get through, and he and the Vessel have already completed three.”
She settled a new headdress over her plaits, clasping the back of it to her collar.
“But even if he gets the sword, he’ll never get close enough to use it.”

“We
could. If given the chance, could you personally take Omort out?”

Sabine’s eyes went cold. “
In a heartbeat.”
She smoothed her finest metal fishnet hose up to her thighs, securing them in place with tight leather garters. Then she covered much of the hose with wicked steel-toed boots that climbed up past her knees.

“You still won’t consider uniting with the rage demons?”

Sabine shook her head.
“Omort would kill us before we even had a chance. How quickly we forget his power.”
Over her short skirt, she draped a belt hung with a dozen blue-gold tassels.
“Besides, if we united with them, we’d have to turn around and kill them.”
When Lanthe raised her brows, Sabine said,
“Or we’d be out a castle. And I’m not keen on sharing.”

“Not even with your
husband?”

There was that word again. She hesitated, then said,
“Think of what Rydstrom would demand from us—obedience, lawfulness. Yes, it would be better than with Omort. But it couldn’t be better than if we ruled.”

“That’s true.”
Lanthe rose to head back to her room.
“Try to get some information tonight. Maybe they have a plan of their own.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”
After Lanthe left, Sabine finished at the dresser, drawing her face paint in blurred streaks of black and gray that covered her eyes and fanned out toward her temples.

She checked her reflection. Was she alluring enough to tempt him from his certain ire? The mirror said
yes
.

But then she had the most startling thought. More of an impulse, really. And one she readily checked. She gave a nervous laugh, glancing around the room.

For a second there, she’d thought about telling him she was…sorry.

Though he burned with rage toward her, Rydstrom wanted her with him.

Being separated from her like this wasn’t natural—it went contrary to his demon instinct.

He hungered to have his mark on her, his scent on her skin. He needed to run his horns all over her.

His fists clenched.
Damn it, when will she return to me?

A male materialized in his cell. Lothaire.
Kill.

“Don’t look at me like you’ll rip my throat out,” the vampire said in accented English. “I can aid your escape.” He held up a key in one hand and a pack in the other. “Your freedom. And supplies. I can trace you to Grave Realm, but not off-plane.”

“Why aid me?” Rydstrom demanded, wondering what his game was.

“I want something from you. You’d have to make a vow to me.”

“A vow to do what?”

Lothaire said, “When I ask you for something in the future, no matter what it is, you must give it to me.”

“Fuck—off.”

“Think about it. Your options are limited at present.”

They were. And in his current state, Rydstrom couldn’t think of anything that Lothaire could ask for that would be worse than what he’d forfeit if he remained prisoner here—his female, his child, his kingdom, and eventually his life. “Why help me now?”

“Because at this moment, Sabine’s sister Hettiah is limping her way here to drug you with an aphrodisiac. And that won’t do.”

“Not by Sabine’s leave?”

“I would seriously doubt that.”

“What you ask for is too steep, vampire. I’ll resist the sister and her potions—”

“Not if you’re unconscious.”

“She could do that?” At Lothaire’s nod, Rydstrom grated, “Even if I escape, I’ll be found before I can get us off-plane.”

“Us?”

“Sabine. I’m not leaving without her.”

The vampire shook his head sharply. “Come back for her—we’ll be discovered, and Omort will never let her go.”

“Wherever I go, Sabine goes. It will be this way from now until I’m dead.”

Lothaire gave him an appraising look, then nodded. “You have a few days before the sorcerer can manage to get all the illegal portals sealed. Especially since I’m in charge of that security measure. Now Hettiah nears.”

The idea of that woman drugging and using him while he was unconscious made Rydstrom shudder with disgust.

“Make the vow, demon. I know much about this kingdom. And I know much about your intended new prisoner. How to render her
completely powerless
.”

This time Rydstrom didn’t hesitate. “I vow it. Now tell me.”

Lothaire nearly smiled, a mean expression on him. “She can’t purposely cast her illusions with both hands bound behind her back.” He began unlocking Rydstrom’s chains. “Her tower is the west one.”

Heart thundering, Rydstrom said, “I
know
.”

Lothaire clasped his wrist and traced them into her room.

Sabine was admiring herself in the mirror, the most beautiful creature Rydstrom had ever seen.
Mine.

“Hello, princess.”

21

S
abine’s breath left her when she spied Rydstrom in her mirror’s reflection, with his eyes wild. And
Lothaire,
too? The vampire was working with him? That traitor!

She raised her hands to cloak herself, but Rydstrom lunged across the room and captured her wrists behind her back. Did he know that would prevent her from casting illusions? She shrieked once before he covered her mouth with his other hand.

Would it be enough for the Inferi outside to call for the guards?

While Rydstrom tied her wrists with a length of cord, Lothaire traced over to help him. She fought the two as the vampire secured a gag around her head.

With muffled curses, she berated the traitor. He
shrugged.

Shouts sounded as the castle raised the alarm. Seconds later, guards burst into the room with swords raised, a mix of revenants, Sorceri and fallen vampires. The latter nodded at Lothaire and
traced away
.

Rydstrom tossed her behind him, sending her tumbling to the ground, then faced off against at least ten guards. His horns flared ominously, the color of his skin deepening in his rage. His muscles expanded and flexed before her very eyes.

She watched in awe as the demon launched himself at the guards, slashing with fangs and claws. That dragon tattoo seemed to come alive, snaking its movements over sweat-slicked flesh.

Lothaire casually stood beside her place on her floor, drawing a knee up and resting his boot on the wall. “We could simply trace,” he said, “but then, you’ll likely want him to work some of this out of his system. And I’m hungry.”

She cursed him again behind the gag, but his attention was fixed on the melee.

Rydstrom was tearing the soldiers apart with such a ferocity, that even she was stunned.
And that’s my husband.

Lothaire himself quirked a brow, glancing from Rydstrom to Sabine and back again, linking the demon’s savage reaction to her. He muttered,
“Noted.”

Two Sorceri guards charged her and Lothaire. The vampire pushed away from the wall and fought them, seeming to enjoy the battle, easily dodging their swords with his tracing.

He slew one, then clasped the second’s flailing body tightly to his own, piercing his neck. His blonde brows drew together with pleasure. Between his and the demon’s brutality, Sabine stared in horrified fascination.

She shook herself, scrambling to her feet to escape them. Almost to the door…But the demon was clashing with two more revenants, and the three barreled toward her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sword hilt rushing toward her head.

When she cried out in pain, the demon roared with fury. Then…nothingness.

His thoughts were dim—any part of him that was rational was muted. His demon instinct was ruling him.

Take my woman…get free.

More shouting soldiers charged up the stairs. With Sabine draped across his shoulder, Rydstrom hissed, “Trace us, vampire!”

Lothaire dumped the guard he’d been draining, then clutched Rydstrom’s wrist once more. “Hold her tight.”

After an instant of blackness, Rydstrom saw mountains soaring in the distance. The moon glowed off the sand of a barren plain. The vampire had traced them to Grave Realm.

Rydstrom was free—and Sabine was in his possession. He drew her from his shoulder into his arms. She looked innocent, but it was a false face. She’d tormented him again and again.

His mind was burdened with confusing hatred, his body with aggression and primitive need.

My woman.
So pale and perfect.
To use as I please.

He bent down to lay her limp body in the sand, then checked her head. A knot had risen, but nothing her immortality wouldn’t rapidly shake.

“A blade,” he grated as he untied the cord he’d bound her with. When Lothaire handed him a dagger, Rydstrom cut lengths that he tied around her wrists like cuffs, then he secured the two together with another line.

Once he’d finished, Lothaire tossed Rydstrom a black tunic and the pack. “There’s a canteen of water and supplies to camp for a few days.” From his waist, he unfastened a sword belt. “And a weapon—to defend against the beasties,” he said, seeming amused by that.

Rydstrom drew on the tunic, then strapped the sword to his waist.

“You’ve got a week at the most to locate a portal. Strike out due west from here—you’ll likely begin to find rage demons, refugees who will know the way.”

Rydstrom lifted Sabine once more. “What will you ask of me?”

The vampire’s pale-eyed gaze locked on Rydstrom. “Something that will be worth what I’ve lost here by breaking my pact with Omort.”

“When?”

“When the time comes. In a week, a decade. Maybe a millennium.”

“You’re still my enemy,” Rydstrom said. “I could simply hunt you down and kill you.”

“I’d expect nothing less. You’re an honest king, but you’re still a ruthless one. Now go. The clock ticks.”

When Sabine woke, the moon had not yet set.

She was greeted by a pounding pain in her head, and since the demon had thrown her over his shoulder, each of his long strides was increasing that ache. Her hands were still bound behind her back. Which meant…

I’m powerless.

Glancing up through her braids, she could see they were in a different region of Rothkalina—gone from the seaside castle and verdant forest to a desolate plain. There was only one region in Rothkalina that wasn’t replete with green forest—the aptly named Grave Realm.

Where the wild things are…

She was out in the middle of a perilous territory with a madman, Lanthe must be out of her head with worry, and Sabine had no morsus—if she didn’t get back to the castle, to Omort, she truly would be condemned.

All of this was because of that traitor Lothaire! And the bastard had traced them to Grave Realm. She’d stake him herself!

Sabine could only imagine how Omort was taking this betrayal…or who he was taking it out on. She believed Lanthe would be safe, but she hoped her sister would protect their Inferi.

Gradually, one head-pounding stride of his at a time, the plain gave way to a gnarled forest of petrified wood. Shadows from the moon slithered over the ground. Unseen things scurried in the dirt.

More alarming, her skirt was riding up to her waist, leaving her ass in no more than a thong. The hand he used to pin her to his shoulder now covered her curves completely, and he’d begun kneading them.

What will he do to me?
She didn’t want to have sex with him again, especially since he was in this agitated state. For one thing, her plan was foiled. For another, the pain was too fresh. When she’d decided to return to his cell, she’d had every intention of being on top….

Rydstrom abruptly halted and dropped her to her feet. In the waning moonlight, his crazed eyes held a look of expectation, his lips drawn back from his fangs.

Steady Rydstrom had snapped.

Apparently, Sabine had grabbed a tiger by the tail. And she’d just become its prisoner.

Not for long.

“Rydstrom,” she whispered.

“What?”

She whispered more faintly. When he leaned in, she butted her headdress against his nose, then launched her steel-toed boot between his legs—

He caught her by the ankle and flipped her onto her back. He was on top of her in an instant. “You’re a vicious little female.” He crushed his face into her hair, inhaling. “Treacherous.”

When he began kissing her neck desperately, she frowned up at the sky—he was kissing her as if he’d
missed
her. Just as his loneliness had called to her, now his yearning did.

“But you won’t be for long.”

He was already erect, and when he ground his shaft against her, a shock of pleasure jolted through her. She was getting caught up, his excitement fueling her own.

Wait…
What did he mean by
won’t be for long
? Planning on converting her to his side, changing her?
Always wanting to change me!

He took her mouth, his firm lips crushing hers. Before she got lost in the frenzy of his kiss, she nipped his bottom lip hard.

He hissed a curse as he bolted to his feet. Grabbing her by the waist, he hauled her over to a flat boulder. When he sank down on it, he laid her across his legs.

“What are you doing?” With her hands tied, she could do nothing to prevent him.

“Keeping my promises.” Just as she realized what he was talking about, he shoved her skirt up to her waist.

“Rydstrom, just wait!” She wriggled when he yanked her panties to her ankles. “Demon—”

He brought his palm down with a loud slap. It stung, but it sounded worse than it felt.

This was his revenge? Would he mind if she slept through it? “Is that all you’ve got, demon? Was that punishment or affection? I’m confused—”

Whap!
She whistled in a breath on that one, writhing over his lap. Another slap, followed by stinging pain, then another. His other hand was kneading her thigh. He was excited by this, heaving his breaths.

And something began to happen to her. To her amazement, she was growing aroused. What was it about the demon? Would there
ever
be a time when he couldn’t make her want him? Maybe like right now, when he was spanking her ass and seemed a razor’s edge away from throttling her?

But
she was hyper-attracted to strength, and the demon was the strongest male she’d ever encountered. She’d never forget him fighting those guards—the ferocity within him….

With his next slap, her cry turned to a moan, bewildering her. Even he hesitated.

She was a true daughter of the Sorceri—a hedonist who would take her pleasure where she found it. Here she was in the wilds of the realm, captive of a demonic being, receiving blows—and her illusions of fire were already lighting the night.

What a surprise,
she thought, with the faintest smile.

She maneuvered over his lap, easing her knee to the side, spreading her legs. His body grew still. His hand hesitated in midair. All she could hear was his ragged breaths.

Then he gave a harsh groan as he leaned back to see between her legs.
“Touch you…”

She nodded. At the first contact, she cried out, then moaned when he delved one of his big fingers inside her. Had he just freed his shaft? She could feel that he’d begun stroking himself beneath her.

In and out went that seeking finger. “Getting so
wet,
” he rasped. “
Sorceress, you drive me…mad….”