Kiss of a Demon King

"She attacked me. She's been looking for a way to get revenge on me for centuries."



"Why?"



"Probably because I made a wreath out of her intes­tines in front of the entire court. And I've plucked out her organs a few times. And I might have kept them in jars on my bedside table."



"You . . . you do not." And the vampire had said I was killing her?



"Yes, indeed. I'm missing her appendix and spleen." She rose, crossing to the table where a plate of food was laid out. "And on that note, are you hungry?"



He cast an irritated glance at the plate, filled with fruits and vegetables, with no meat to be found. "Now, sorceress, how do you expect me to heal . . . when you feed me twigs?"



Over the last week, Sabine had yet to provide for him meat and demon brew-a potent fermented drink. The Sorceri drank sickeningly sweet wines and bran­dies, calling demon brew a crude concoction. He couldn't stomach their sugary creations.



"I keep forgetting that my pet's a carnivore." She set the plate down. "Here, I'll make you more comfortable." With a wave of her hand, she suddenly made the cell appear to be his old room here.



But this time, she added a sea storm outside. How would she know ... ? "You read my mind, didn't you?"



"I did," she said, her tone absent, although her expression was one of interest.



He'd suspected that she concealed her expressions. In the future, he wouldn't scrutinize her face, he would watch her hands, the tensing of her slim shoulders. "Do you often break your vows?"



"Constantly." She nodded. "I'd go so far as to say uniformly."



The fact that she'd broken her word to him was infu-riating-her lack of shame made it that much worse. "No reservations about being known as a liar?"



"It's not my fault the truth and I are strangers-we were never properly introduced."



"And what did you learn when you hacked into my head?"



She seemed keyed up, listening for something from the outside. Again she didn't look anxious, but she paced. "You used to be lulled to sleep by the sea storms here, and have long missed your room in your tower. You have a contentious relationship with your brother that disturbs you greatly. You resent him for losing your kingdom."



Everyone thought he blamed his brother Cadeon for losing his kingdom. He did partially-was he supposed to act pleased with him? But Cadeon also lied, cheated, and he warred for profit. His life had no meaning.



And yours does . . . ?



She continued, "You've two sisters, Mia and Zoe, who you barely speak to. They have their own lives, and you wonder if maybe you should have involved them more in your quest. You're ashamed because you found yourself envious of a friend of yours who'd finally found his mate. A Lykae. I think his name is Bowen MacRieve?"



Rydstrom met her gaze, though he was discomfited by what she'd seen. Because he was envious, and he con­sidered that a weakness. A good man would be happy for a friend.



But Rydstrom was one of the oldest in the Lore, and over the long years of his life, it seemed that one at a time, each of his comrades had found their females.



All of them had experienced something he could only dream of... something so vital, they'd each begun to pity him for the lack.



His mien was stoic, but she could tell he was unsettled by all that she'd discovered. "Anything else, sorceress?"



"Lots and lots." The demon was a solitary male. He had friends but was too obsessed with his mission to enjoy them. He didn't approve of his disreputable brother or his brother's crew of mercenaries, so he didn't spend unnecessary time with them.



Sabine had taken him from no lover.



"Mainly," she said, "I saw that you are . . . lonely." And his loneliness had called to her-which mystified Sabine, only adding to her general state of vexation. Last night, when she'd imagined the pain Rydstrom would feel to have his arms hacked off, she'd been so consumed with something that she hadn't even heard Hettiah approaching to attack. Feelings made people stupid, vulnerable.



And more, she'd been embarrassed by what Rydstrom had seen at court. She'd never forget the revolted look on his face when he'd surveyed what used to be his.



For some reason, she didn't want him to think that just because she lived here, she was like them.



Just because I don't flinch doesn't mean I'm blind.



"You had no right to be in my head!" He twisted in the bed, his lips thinned in obvious pain. "And then you made me dream of..."



"Dream of what, Rydstrom?" She'd missed it. "I bade you to dream of what you needed most. I'd meant heal­ing. Did your mind supply other particulars?"



His expression grew closed. "It's none of your con-cern."



She let that drop. For now. "I've also seen that you want to take me over to your side. That would be quite a coup. One thing though-I'm not likely to align myself against the most powerful sorcerer ever to live."



"I saw your power. You're stronger than he is."



"Don't play to my considerable vanity, demon." She examined her nails. "It will gain you nothing." "Ally with me and seek asylum within our army."



"Asylum? Where? In your castle? Oh, I forgot, you haven't one. At least with Omort, I'm kept protected from your kind."



"Become my kind, and no one will ever hurt you again."



She sat at the foot of the bed. "That's the difference between me and you. I won't try to convert you. Do I like that you never lie and esteem things like valor? Of course not. But I don't try to rid you of those traits. Why does your kind forever seek to change ours?" That was'what she hated most about them-not their odd,



counter-intuitive beliefs per se, but that they would force them on others.



"Because we live more contented lives. We have loy­alty, fidelity, honor-"



"All three are overrated. The only chance you have to demonstrate any of them is to deny yourself some-thing or someone that you desire."



"Then in the same vein, what about your loyalty to Omort? Have you been tempted to align with his



enemies?"



"Never," she lied. She was constantly tempted to betray him. Even more so now that he was cracking under the pressure of the uprising rebels, the vampires waiting at the castle walls to strike at sundown, the taunting of a foolish Valkyrie.



The idea of Sabine with a demon.... But in truth, Sabine could have been steadfast to Omort. She recalled when he'd first come to find her. He'd seemed gallant as he'd saved her and Lanthe from an attack by ignorant humans. When he'd brought them to live in a plane with no humans or Vrekeners, the sisters had finally felt safe, protected in Tornin. Until the first time Omort had laid his hand on



Sabine's thigh.



Of course, they hadn't believed he was their half brother simply because he'd said so. But they had known that their mother, Elisabet, had committed some sin that made the noble family of Deie Sorceri disown her. Some transgression had made her feel so unworthy that Sabine and Lanthe's worthless father had seemed a good catch.



From Omort they'd learned that Elisabet had been the Vessel of her own time-and she'd given birth to an ultimate evil-him. . . .



Rydstrom interrupted her thoughts. "Omort can't fight off" the alliance the Valkyrie Nïx is forming. Not



alone."



"Ah, yes, your Vertas. That's what Nïx called it."



"You're talking to her?"



"Corresponding more like. She's utterly unhinged, by the way. You'd trust a madwoman to lead your army?"



"There's a method to her madness," he said dryly, but she caught the undertone of respect in his voice.



Luckily, Sabine didn't want his respect, so she wasn't jealous of the Valkyrie. She could earn his respect any time she wanted-if she wanted.



"Besides, Omort won't be alone, demon. You saw members of his army." Members that they would be los­ing if Omort didn't get control of himself soon. "This Accession should be a good one."



"And it doesn't bother you that we'll be on opposing



sides."



"You act as though we haven't always been." "Maybe so, but we will not be any longer." "Then you'll have to join the Pravus, because I plan to be on the winning side." Yet for the first time, she won­dered. Omort was proving useless against the threats sur­rounding them. Without him at the helm, the army was rife with rumor and instability. Already covenants were breaking as smaller factions defected from the Pravus.



This evening, with the coming dusk, Sabine and Lanthe would have to risk their lives in battle because



he couldn't rise to the challenge. "Demon, you have to understand-Omort truly can't be killed. There's simply no way to defeat him."



"What if there were?"



"And still, you believe in Groot's sword." She gave him an indulgent expression. "It's a fable, Rydstrom. Even if it would work, and even if you were free, you'd never get close enough to Omort to use it."



"It will work. Nïx has vowed that it will. She is never wrong."



"She must be . . ." Sabine trailed off when a yell sounded from outside. Soon the din of bridled horses and marching soldiers followed.



Sunset. The vampires were attacking. "I have to leave. I won't return for some time."



"Why? Where are you going?"



To try to shore up the cracks in my brother's sanity. And if unsuccessful. . . "To the battlefield."



17



O



mort's still comatose?" Lanthe asked telepathically as she sidestepped a stray centaur arrow.



Sabine swung her long sword at a vampire's neck- from behind-slicing clean through. "No, not comatose, just descending further into madness." She scooped her steel-toed boot under the vampire's severed head, punt­ing it away. "Omort's glassy-eyed, sweating, demanding sacrifices."



Just hours ago Sabine had gone to his tower again- and she loathed going there-to implore him to deci­mate the converging army. She'd found him sitting on his bed, petted by the still-healing Hettiah, screaming for another sacrifice. "Something young!"



"We can't win this without him," Lanthe said. "Even if we can only be seen by our trail of headless bodies." Invis­ibility had its merits.



"You're right."



The revenants were decent enough fighters, but they were mindless. Though the Libitinae prowled from the



night sky, and were cunning killers, they played with



their victims.



The centaurs had their poisoned arrows, but they were at a disadvantage with tracing vampires because they were such big targets-multiple vampires would launch themselves onto a centaur's back, then haul him to the ground, draining him all the while.



Lothaire's vampires were cutting a swath, yet there were only so many of them. Sabine spied him far across the battlefield, engaging others of his kind, slaughtering with a wild grin on his face, the first time she'd ever seen him smile. His hair was braided on the sides of his face, berserker style, the thick strands dark with blood.



Sabine tilted her head. He was as tall as the demon, but not as muscular. Why am I thinking about the demon



now?



With an inward shake, Sabine thrust her sword at an unwitting vampire. Once she'd felled him, she watched Lanthe gut a leech, yanking her sword up through his



body.



Lanthe was normally so pensive and thoughtful, but in combat she was vicious. A dozen times already, Sabine had wanted to call out, "That's my little sister!"



"Sabine!" Lanthe suddenly cried. "Why are vampires



looking at us?"



Sabine peered around them. She and Lanthe were ... visible? She flicked her hand to cast another illusion, to



no avail.



Only one person could extinguish her power like this. "Hettiah." She'd made them visible. "Can you do a portal?" Sabine asked as she and Lanthe put their backs



together, circling, swords raised as they searched for escape.



"Already tried and got nothing," Lanthe answered. They were surrounded, vampires edging closer and closer.



"I think we're dead."



"I think you're right."



They were now both powerless, two little Sorceri females in the middle of the vampire Horde. Sabine scanned the distance for Lothaire but didn't see him-



One leech dove for her with his fangs bared, grazing her skin until he hit her breast plate. She was able to duck under him and fell him with a backhanded hit. But more were advancing.



Hundreds more.



Strangely, at a time like this, Sabine found herself wondering how the demon would feel about her death. Would he mourn his female?



Lanthe whispered out loud, "Abie?"



Sabine heard her, even over the clamor of the battle-hooves thundering, bowstrings singing, swords clashing.



Closer . . . What to say to her sister? How to protect her?



The end was coming . . . vampires rushing for-ward . . . almost reaching them . . . until the attackers became ... ash.



Their forward momentum sprayed the soot over the sisters' boots.



Power sieved all around them. Sabine twisted toward the castle. Omort stood on the ramparts, with his



mouth open, eyes maniacal, and palms raised. He had smote them all.



Like all the warriors of the Pravus still standing, Sabine stared up at Omort in shock.



Sudden silence reigned on the torn and bleeding battlefield. Wind blew her braids around her face, and she could hear nearby trees rustling in the breeze. Night birds sang in the distance.



The ash scattered....



Omort turned that murderous gaze on Hettiah. She fell to her knees, weeping.



Lanthe stood by Sabine's side. "That's the being you want us to take on?"



Sabine had told him she was going to the battlefield.



He wanted to prevent her from riding out to meet those who would kill her. And to prevent her from slay­ing them-most likely his own people. He suspected that they'd learned of his capture and were rebelling.



She is out there, unprotected. He wrenched his arms hard against his manacles in frustration, the healing muscles in his torso screaming in protest. Now that he was able to rise from the bed, they'd begun chaining his hands behind his back once more. Though the skin on his uncovered chest was newly mended, raised like a new scar, he still suffered pain whenever he stood or moved suddenly. He paced, willing her to return.



I can change her. I can make her understand right from wrong. Once I escape . . .



He was talking himself into the impossible, because he wanted his mate beyond reason. He recalled that



dream of his. That perfect peace. He craved it like nothing before. He wanted the Sabine from their last night together, the woman who'd set his blood on lire.



She's mine. For better or worse, she's my woman.



Don't die . . . don't. . .



When he caught her scent, his eyes briefly closed. Shortly after, she entered the cell, standing before him. She was out of breath, her breastplate rising and fall­ing. She wore a spiked headdress connected to a col­lar, metal hose, and full-length gloves with razor-sharp claws.



Her eyes were dilated and blue, and she bled from the corner of her lips. She'd come to him straight from the fray? He narrowed his eyes. She's shaken. Rydstrom knew what a soldier who'd had a near miss looked like. And she's come to me.



When blood trickled to her chin, she swiped her forearm over it.



So beautiful. So deadly. Mine. In an instant, he grew hard for her. No! How can I want her when she's fresh from a battle-with my own people?



Yet when she ran for him, nothing could have stopped him from lunging forward for her. Her hands shot up to cup his face as she stood on her toes to kiss him. Her lips were so soft, trembling beneath his.



He'd been out of his mind with needing to see her safe again, and showed her how much with his kiss. Relief. He took her with his tongue, savagely slanting his lips over hers, until she was clutching his shoulders. With a groan, he finally broke away. "What happened tonight?"



Panting, she said, "Close call." She drew one glove down her arm, then the next, tossing them away.



"I feared you were going to die."



She unlaced her breastplate at the sides. "At one point, I was sure of it," she said, dropping the piece to



the ground.



Just when he felt her hard nipples brush against him, her hand began traveling down his body.



"Unchain me, Sabine." His cock was straining for



her touch.



"I can't."



"Let me protect you."



"Kiss first; talk later . .."



He shuddered when she dipped into his pants and brushed her fingers over the slick head. She took him in hand, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the crown in mind-numbing circles.



Over. He inhaled sharply, groaning against her lips as he set back into their kiss. He was going to have her one way or another.



Their breaths grew ragged, frenzied. He was dimly aware of the illusions of fire spreading around the cell.



With her free hand, she unzipped his pants, giving them a shove so they fell to his ankles.



Then she tugged on his cock, leading him to the



bed.



Still kissing as if their lives depended on it, both of them went tripping toward the mattress. With his wrists bound, he couldn't catch himself. At the last minute, he twisted so that he didn't crash on top of her.



Between kisses, they maneuvered until she was on her



back beneath him. Ignoring the pain, he levered himself up onto his knees. Yet then frustration rose in him. He couldn't shove her skirt up, couldn't rip off her panties, couldn't pet her ... "Take off your skirt for me."



Seeming dazed, she loosened the knotted ties on the side of her skirt, and it fell away.



"Now those." He gave a nod at her black thong.



She worked it down to an ankle, then kicked it away, leaving her clad only in her hose and headdress. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, glowing metallic blue amid the kohl.



"Between your thighs," he rasped. "Show me."



As she eased her legs open for him, he thought she whimpered. A rough sound erupted from him as he gazed at her copper curls and glistening flesh. "Touch yourself there. Let me see you...."



Her hand eagerly obeyed, and her delicate fingers began gliding over her sex. He hissed in a breath. No awkwardness. No hesitation. For the first time in his long life, he would have the type of woman he secretly desired.



She was glorious beneath him with her braids spread out over the bed, her flames reflecting in her eyes, her body quivering as she masturbated.



"Give me your vow, demon. Make me your queen."



Queen of the very people she killed? But then he frowned at two lines of blood running parallel down her neck to her chest. "What is that mark?"



She waved it away-literally, disguising it with her illusions. "A vampire tried to sink his teeth into me. But my armor stopped him short."



"Why a vampire?"



With a huff of irritation, she removed her hand and leaned up on her elbows, blowing a plait out of her eyes. "We're at war-he's not going to crayon me to death."



Not killing my kind? "You're at war with the vampires?"



"With some of them. What had you thought?"



"I. . . not rage demons?" She'd risked her life against a mutual enemy.



"What? You thought-"



"Sabine, just give me a minute." Just let me mink. . .. "You can't fight against them anymore."



"You can't stop me. I love slaying leeches."



"We have that in common. But they are deadly foes. Just remain within the castle walls."



"There's only one way I would stop engaging them- the possibility of conception."



Vampires had taken the lives of his father and brother. Rydstrom would be damned if they took his queen's. The only way to keep her safe is to impregnate her. Which meant he'd have to wed her, unless he could win this battle of wills between them. He would make her lose herself, so she'd receive him-without the vow.



"And why would I go after rage demons anyway?" she asked in a scornful tone. "That's like hunting sheep-"



"Will you shut up?" he snapped. "I'm considering giv-ing you my vow."



She blinked up at him. "Oh." As she gave him a slow grin, she transformed the spikes jutting from her head­dress into delicate golden leaves, with streaming vines twining in her hair.



"I'll do it-as soon as you release me from the chains."



"I'll release you once you've done it."



He lowered himself until his cock rested directly on her, flesh to flesh. Hers was hot and ready for him. His throbbed so hard, he would be surprised if she couldn't feel it. But when he tried to enter her, his shaft slipped along her slick folds.



She cried out, "Rydstrom!"



He tried once more, and again he thrust over her. "Ahhh." Sweat covered his forehead from the desperate need to plunge into her core. "Need my hands, love."



"Give me your vow."



"Feed me inside you." With his jaw clenching, he grated, "And I will."



With her other hand, she grasped his length, but instead of placing him at her entrance, she ran the crown along her wet sex. He shuddered when she circled the swollen head against her clitoris. "Marry me, Rydstrom." And all the while her heavy-lidded eyes held his. He felt as if he were losing himself in them. "I need you, demon. All of you. Can't you feel how much so?"



"Inside you, tassia. Need inside . . ." He yelled out when the crown briefly breached her tightness. Desper­ate to sink into that heat, he shoved his hips forward, but she still held him firmly, aiming his shaft up. He hissed in pain from the movement. Give anything to pin her hips down. "Damn you, sorceress. You're mine-I want what's mine."



"Then take me. And feel me come for you. Say the words."



Protect her from the battle, any way you can. She'd been teaching him the rules of her game, and now he would play to win. He would make her his. But he'd do it his way.



"Sabine, I have to have you." He tried to thrust inside her one last time, but he only ground against her sex, making her head fall back. "Look at me when I give you this vow."



When Sabine met his gaze, he uttered words in harsh Demonish, "I will never wed you, Sabine. Not until there is trust between us. And I vow to you, I will have my revenge against you." He finished by saying, "Do you accept?"



18



The demon's eyes were so steady, so compelling, her heart seemed to stutter with feeling.



"I do, Rydstrom. I accept you. But how do I know you said the vow?"



"Because I never lie."



She stared at him for long moments, until he grated, "I've waited fifteen hundred years for this. Don't make me suffer any longer."



With a hard swallow, she pressed the broad head to her entrance.



"Take more." The rumble of his voice had turned to a husky rasp. "Now!" His sweat-slicked muscles bulged, his features turning sharper.



She shivered, then worked more of his shaft into her. "You're ... too big." It was uncomfortable, stretching her.



"Then I want you even wetter. Arch up to me."



"Yes!" She did. With heavy lidded eyes, she watched him blushing his lips all around her nipples. "Rydstrom, suckle me."



At her words, he shuddered. "This will be over . . . before it begins." Finally he dragged his tongue over one of her straining peaks. When his lips greedily latched onto it to suck it hard, she cradled his head, holding him to her as she moaned in bliss.



Her free hand dipped down to finger her clitoris, and soon the fullness inside her started to feel necessary, even essential-as if she'd die without it. She was get­ting so close....



He released her nipple. "Deeper, tassia." He tried to thrust, but she scrambled back. "No! Take more of my cock." He wasn't even halfway inside her.



She noticed the injured muscles in his torso were twitching. He wasn't yet strong enough to lean forward without his hands, couldn't force his hips forward. He couldn't take her as he obviously needed to.



"I'm . . . trying," she said. "I'm too small for you, demon."



"Roll your hips up."



"You're too big. Just give me a second like this." As they were, she was on the verge of coming. "Another second-"



"I can't." He stilled, his brows drawing together. "Los­ing control." He began to pull back.



"But I'm close!"



"Don't want to hurt you-"



She sank her fingernails into his ass.



He roared with pleasure, his back bowing with it. "Don't do ... that! Not that."



So she did it harder. It was like spurring him, like lashing a beast with a whip. He began to go fully demonic, his skin darkening, sheening in the firelight. The sight of him in this state unnerved her-and aroused her. Even more.



Gods, she wanted to lick every inch of his beautiful skin. The tone of his voice was different, his bearing changed. His upper and lower fangs had grown, and his gaze was riveted on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.



A demon wanted to bite her, to place his claim on her for eternity. And still she was about to go over the edge with this male... .



Between panting breaths, Sabine cried, "Oh! I'm going ... to cornel" Flames erupted as she arched her back, her nipples jutting.



And then he felt the unmistakable clenching of her sheath. Her body was squeezing the head of his cock like a little fist. "Sabine!" He was about to ejaculate inside her. At last. He felt a savage thrill at the thought of spilling his seed into his woman, the seed he could finally give her. "Need to .. . mark you." So long I've wanted her.



"You're turning even more?" she said, alarm in her eyes.



"Lean up-"



"No! Demon, don't do this. I'll fight you if you mark  me!"



"No?" he snarled. She'd told him no?. He could scarcely hear her-too far gone. "Then you'll take more of me!"