Kiss of a Demon King (26 page)

42

I
would say something nice,” Sabine began when she first spied the rickety shack, “something like ‘I’m sure it’s a really nice place inside.’ But my covenant would just break.”

“You wanted me to take you out on a date to a Lore bar,” he said, sliding her a grin. His smiles were coming more frequently, but they still made her go soft each time. “We’re on a date, and here it is.”

She had wanted him to take her out on what would essentially be her first date. After all, they’d spent the last four days in and around the house, mainly in bed. But she also had ulterior motives….

“It’s packed tonight,” he said as his new sports car prowled the shell parking lot for a space. They were out in the middle of a swamp—how could this place be so crowded?

When he finally parked, she said, “I still think you should have let me drive.”

“Not a chance,” he said, as he exited the car.

Once she’d woken the morning after their first night of lovemaking, he’d had a surprise for her. He’d bought a new vehicle for himself and had one delivered for her as well. But she’d just blinked at the shiny red convertible in confusion. “I can’t drive.”

“I’m going to teach you,” he’d said confidently.

At the end of the lesson, he’d declared her the most aggressive and dangerous driver he’d ever encountered. Which meant…
number one!

And after that, Rydstrom had arranged for Lore vendors of the finest clothing and jewelry to come to the house and supply her with everything she could need. She’d asked him, “Are you trying to buy my affection?”

“Is it working?” he’d answered.

Now as he opened her door, she was assailed by damp air and the sound of music and raucous laughter.

Gods, he looked good. He wore dark jeans, and a black button-down shirt, with an expensive leather belt and boots. His overall air said,
“Money, power, and I know it.”

When he helped her out, he bent down and briefly kissed her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed?” Her lusty demon seemed insatiable. In fact, they both were.

He was so fascinating, loving it when she brushed kisses over his face to show affection—and shuddering in bliss when her nails raked down his back. This morning, she’d caught him twisting in front of a mirror to inspect the scratches. “Sign of a job well done, then?” he’d said proudly, flashing her a sexy grin that made her toes curl with delight.

She would have been more than happy to go back to their bed. But this evening she’d experienced a twinge of discomfort—not pain, just a feeling that seemed out of place in an immortal. The old Sabine had roused, the one who held survival paramount. Though she’d grown confident about defeating the morsus, she always had a plan B.

Tonight she was scouting for a vampire who could trace her back to Rothkalina just in case things got bad….

“You look stunning tonight,” he said. “I’d have told you earlier, but you robbed me of speech.” Earlier, when he’d spotted her coming down the stairs, he’d done a stutter step.

“I thought you’d be more resistant about my attire.” Though she’d worn her hair as wild as ever, she’d donned a simple headdress, and her navy blue kohl was drawn more conservatively for him, only streaking back to her temples. But her skirt was short, her boots were high, and her top was a metal mesh bandeau held in place by chains connected to her choker, two in the front and four climbing up her back.

“I refuse to have you deem me old and stodgy again.” As he ran his eyes over her, he took her hands and spread her arms out at the sides. “Will I be jealous that other males see you like this? Without doubt. My horns will go ramrod straight from the first double take. But it also makes me proud.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, his warmth and scent making her lids grow heavy as she gazed up at him. “People have pitied me for going so long without finding my female. Now I want to show you off, and I want to be so bloody smug because it was always going to be you for me—I just had to do my time.”

Over the last four days, when he’d said things like this with his tone gruff and his eyes so piercing she almost feared he was
too
wonderful—too handsome and good and considerate to possibly be hers.

This time with Rydstrom had been blissful. But in all fairness, it hadn’t always been perfect. For one thing, he’d insisted she learn how to swim, teaching her in his luxurious pool. Though she was already getting better, she spent more time attached to him, arms wrapped around his head.

And he still drank demon brew, ate steaks, and sucked on little buglike creatures called crayfish. But he did make sure she had vegetables to eat and sweet wine to drink. He’d even brought a bottle in the car for her tonight, in case she couldn’t find a drink she liked inside.

With that thought in mind, she turned her attention to the ramshackle tavern. A battered neon sign glowed, but the lettering was illegible. “So what’s this place called anyway?” It was situated over the water, nestled among cypress trees and looked like it would blow apart with a strong wind. A precarious-looking pier led out to it. “The Thirsty Thistle or something like that?”

“It’s just called Erol’s. Now if anything goes south inside, just stay behind me. Promise me.”

He was overprotective to a fault. “I can’t promise you that, or there’s going to be clay all over your kitchen floor.”

“
Our
kitchen floor.”

“Demon, if anything goes south in there, I won’t need you to take care of me. I’ll need you to help me take care of us.”

That seemed to throw him. She turned and sauntered onto the pier, leaving him with a bemused expression on his face. The big demon male was having to learn some new tricks with her.

When she began tip-toeing so her stiletto boot heels wouldn’t get stuck between the planks, he asked, “Why don’t you wear flats and just make them look like boots?”

“Because wearing these makes me feel sexy.”

“Would being carried by your man make you feel sexy now?”

“I can manage, King Charming,” she said. “So, if it’s really packed inside, will you see anyone you know? Perhaps one of the thousands of demonesses you’ve bedded, like Durinda,” she said, teasing him.

When he fell silent, she faced him. “I was just joking—I know you weren’t with her. Wait, why do you look so guilty?” Why would Rydstrom appear guilty at the mention of the female—Suddenly she felt like she couldn’t get enough air. “You didn’t…in the camp…you weren’t with her…”

“Gods, no! But I told you I hadn’t slept with her. And, apparently, a millennium ago or so, I did.”

Relief sailed through her, but then she said, “You told me you hadn’t.”

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’d…forgotten.”

“Did she have to remind you?” When he reluctantly nodded, she burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny,” he said gruffly. “It was embarrassing as hell,” he added, looking like he’d begun fighting a grin.

Still laughing, she said, “I would have given gold to hear that conversation!”

“I’d thought you’d be angry.”

After another chuckle, she said, “Not at
funny
things. Hey, I have an idea! Maybe we should start a database and enter all the names of females you tagged, so you can keep up with them—”

“You think so, smart ass?” He swooped her up in his arms. “All I care about is the last entry.” He charged down the pier, with her laughing the whole way.

At the entrance, he let her slide down his body. As they walked in, Rydstrom had his hand on her hip and his shoulders back, looking arrogant and every inch the king. She loved it.

The interior was dimly lit and crowded. In the corner, an old-fashioned juke box played twangy songs. On the back wall, skulls framed a mirror, their eye sockets laced with Christmas tree lights.

The place had its charm.

They passed the bar where a pair of startlingly good-looking twins sat. She suspected the two males were Lykae, and was proven right when they spoke with a thick Scottish accent.

“Damnation, Rydstrom, where’d you get
her
?” one said as he shot to his feet off a stool. “And she’s dressed up like a sorceress of yore.” He whistled low.

The brother added, “Does the lass have a sister?”

Rydstrom acknowledged them with a cool nod, then said, “Sabine, this is Uilleam and Munro, Lykae soldiers.”

“I do have a sister,” Sabine eagerly said. “You’d love her, and she would
certainly
adore you—”

But Rydstrom steered her away before she could finish, heading toward the back to the only empty table. Raucous females sat nearby, playing dice. All looked intoxicated on drink or intoxispells.

When Rydstrom muttered, “More witches,” Sabine put out a light probe for powers. Again, finding nothing she’d get out of bed for. But one of the females with them had pointed ears and glowing skin.

“And Regin the Radiant,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s often Nïx’s partner in crime.”

Once they reached the table, and he’d pulled out her chair for her, he was clearly reluctant to leave her to go get drinks. “Go, Rydstrom, I’ll be fine.”

He leaned down to say at her ear, “Just don’t tell anyone your full name or your sorceress title, and we ought to be fine.”

When Rydstrom hesitantly left her, Sabine glared at all the females sighing over him as he passed, though he seemed oblivious to their notice.

At the bar, he turned back to her, checking on her, those green eyes watchful.

Taking one on the chin for Team Evil? Try scoring one for Team Sabine.

He was so incredibly masculine. A dynamo in bed, on the couch, and in the shallow end of the pool. And he was good to her.

She’d been good to him for the most part, striving to be so for him. But old habits died hard. Whenever Rydstrom had unlocked his armory to view that sword, Sabine had made herself invisible.

And now she had the combination….

This could get dicey.
He’d brought Sabine here because she was going to have to get used to being in this society sooner or later. And the Lorekind were going to have to get used to seeing her.

But he also had another reason for coming here. Erol’s was an excellent place to get information. And Rydstrom wanted Lothaire’s whereabouts.

When Rydstrom had admitted to Sabine the terms of the deal struck with the vampire, she’d been understandably worried. Lothaire could ask him for any one thing. At any time. “What if he wants your firstborn? We’ve got to kill him!”

“
Our
firstborn. And I’ll take care of it….”

At the bar, Rydstrom asked a nearby storm demon and then the barkeep for information, but the mere mention of the Enemy of Old had them shaking their heads.

As he waited for drinks, Rydstrom gazed back at Sabine. She was sitting with an innate grace, casually surveying the room with those amber eyes.

So bloody beautiful.
And of course he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Males were craning their heads to get a glimpse of her. Just as he’d predicted, Rydstrom’s horns were flaring. He cast killing looks at some of the bastards, letting them know that the female was his.

But was she? According to Sabine, he had only two more days with her—then they would
reconvene
. He hadn’t pressed her about it, because he’d simply assumed keeping her here was a function of making her want to stay with him. He was doing everything he could think of, and still he felt her slipping away….

Just as he accepted her wine and his brew from the barkeep, Regin yelled across the tavern, “Yo, demon, who’s the tartling?”

Rydstrom exhaled, turning to stride back to the table. He saw that some of the witches in the back were from the pool party. They must have recognized Sabine, because they were urgently trying to shut Regin up.

Though they whispered to her, Regin responded loudly, “Sabine? Who the hell is she? Still looks like a tartling to me.”

When Sabine slowly turned toward Regin, Rydstrom hastened back to her, dropping the drinks at a random table—

“
I
am not a tartling. I am the Queen of Illusions,” Sabine answered with silky menace, her palms at the ready.

Ah, fuck.

“Sister to Omort?” Regin shot to her feet, knocking over her chair. As lightning streaked the sky outside, the Valkyrie snatched two short swords from holsters across her back. “How’d you like those no-handed fire demons that Nïxie and I sent back to you? Did you get her note?”

At the mention of Omort, beings in the crowd began comprehending exactly who Rydstrom had brought to this bar. He heard mutters and whispers about the sorceress, and people began filing toward the door.

As the Lykae twins reached the exit, one of them called to Rydstrom, “Damn, demon, that filly’s no’ yet been broken.”

The other added, “Talk about goin’ out and gettin’ some strange.”

Rydstrom stepped between Sabine and Regin. “Valkyrie, she’s with me. Nïx wouldn’t want you to fight with Sabine.” Because Sabine would destroy Regin.

Regin frowned in confusion. “She must be the sorceress Nix
specifically
told me not to off tonight.” The Valkyrie shrugged, expertly holstering her swords behind her back. Her ire had left her as readily as it had arrived, and her attention drifted from Sabine and Rydstrom. “Hey! Where’s everybody going?
Rocky Horror Picture Show
’s playing downtown!” Regin brushed past them toward the exit, her friends following.

In minutes every being in the entire tavern—including the barkeep—had cleared out.

Sabine regarded the empty area with an unreadable expression.

He wrapped his arms around her, curling his fingers under her chin. “Baby, I’m sorry. It’ll take time.”

“Are you kidding? I was very flattered.” When he gave her a doubting expression, she said, “Rydstrom, don’t forget that I was raised to equate fear with respect. All those people just showed me an enormous amount of respect.”

He still must have looked unconvinced because she added, “Demon, I didn’t come here expecting to make friends. Now, is this still a date?”