Kiss of a Demon King

15

Rhydstrom was disgusted with himself. One blow job and he'd been ready to capitulate everything. Yes, it was the best one he'd ever received, but still...

He shook his head. It wasn't just what she'd done to him, but how. She'd been everything he'd ever dreamed of. And when the room had gone ablaze, letting him see the intensity of what she was feeling ... ?

What male wouldn't be tempted to do anything to have her?

So close . . . He'd almost broken down. If Rydstrom surrendered his will in this, he could impregnate her. And then, what if he couldn't escape before she killed him?

His child would be raised by her and by Omort, used as a pawn. They wouldn't understand a demon child's needs. As if they'd care. He would never subject a child of his to the hell on earth they promised.

She wanted a vow Rydstrom would not give.

For a rage demon king to marry, he would make a claim and a vow of self: "I claim the honor of protecting and keeping you. You are mine-my consort to touch, to guard, to cherish. You will rule beside me and create our dynasty. Accept my claim, and it will be so, now and ever after."

If his female accepted him, then they would be wed forever. But Rydstrom couldn't pledge his life to another under this kind of coercion. He would do it when he was ready.

And when she was worthy.

He heard footsteps, not hers. The attendants had already been here, leaving him free, clothed-

A guard of five vampires materialized in his cell. One was Lothaire, the Enemy of Old. He'd been a Horde general, but Rydstrom had never engaged his troops.

Rydstrom snarled, "What do you want-"

They attacked as one. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't repel them with only his horns and fangs, couldn't keep them from shackling his wrists and ankles together.

When they traced him, he found himself in the court at Tornin. What Rydstrom saw there made his stomach clench.

The well, that purest power, was strewn with grisly body parts. The most evil beings in the Lore were gath­ered around it, dozens of breeds-the Neoptera, winged insectlike humanoids, the Alchemists, eternally old men with long, straggly green beards, the Cerunnos, ram-headed snakes....

In my home.

Omort sat upon a gold throne, smirking. When Ryd-strom lunged forward, fangs bared, the vampires held him fast. Can't break free . . .

"Welcome to my court, demon. The mighty Ryd-strom doesn't look so legendary now."

"Fight me, you fucking coward!"

Omort strode for Rydstrom, but then he stopped, turning his attention to the center of the court, as if helpless not to.

Rydstrom s breath left him in a rush. Sabine! She was surrounded by females, bleeding from her mouth. Every protective instinct within him flared.

When he grappled against the vampires, Lothaire gave him a sharp kidney punch. "Easy, demon," he mut­tered, his accent thick.

One of the lackeys with Lothaire said, "Hettiah will just erase Sabine's illusions. I'll bet twenty sovereigns

on her."

"A fool and his money," Lothaire sighed. "Sabine will thrash her. That one burns rage like kerosene."

Sabine's eyes did look glazed with a mindless fury. "What is this?" Rydstrom demanded.

"A mere feminine row. Hettiah-the one who vaguely resembles Sabine-and her friends intend to murder your female. They see her failure with you as a weakness. They'll keep attacking her." Under his breath, Lothaire added, "Demon, you're killing her."

"Release me so I can guard her!"

"Keep watching."

There were too many of them. She couldn't hold off a dozen. One snuck behind her with a dagger. "Sabine!"

Like a shot, she dropped down, dodging the blade, sweeping her leg around to take out the female's feet. Once the woman fell to the ground, Sabine snatched the knife, then raised her booted foot to crush her enemy's face with the heel.

She quickly turned to Rydstrom-looking shocked that he was there-before she made her face a mask. Their eyes met. Hers held a silent warning. He could do nothing to help her.

In an instant, she made her body appear to dissipate into hundreds of flying bats as she cloaked herself in invisibility. Hettiah raised her hands, seeming to wipe out Sabine's illusion. But it was too late; when Sabine was visible once more, she already had her claws dug into Hettiah's scalp.

Holding her in place, Sabine drew back her other gauntlet, made a metal fist, and punched Hettiah's nose. Bone crunched and blood sprayed with Hettiah's screams.

Sabine kept her hold, twisting her slim body as she dodged Hettiah's blows. With her other hand, she aimed her palm at the rushing opponents, exactly as she had with him when she'd pulled secrets from his mind.

The women shrieked in terror, clawing at their own eyes. She'd loosed their nightmares?

Then Sabine spun around with a kick, connecting her boot with Hettiah's jaw. The woman's body flew back, leaving a huge piece of her hair and scalp in Sabi­ne's clawing grip. She tossed it at Hettiah's unconscious body on the ground, then went invisible again.

The foes still standing darted glances but couldn't see her. One's throat suddenly gaped open. When another was stabbed in the temple, she dropped to her knees, then slumped facedown on the ground.

When all were felled, Sabine revealed herself. Ryd-strom gaped at her, as did everyone at court, except Lothaire, who was busily collecting coin.

She was sprayed with crimson, out of breath-and smiling. Until she caught sight of Omort storming for Rydstrom, yellow eyes wild with rage.

Rydstrom gave a roar, lunging forward against the vampires' hold. The sorcerer laughed-with one flick of his hand, Rydstrom was thrown back against the wall, pinned there by the throat.

With a shrug, Lothaire and his vampire guards traced away.

"Does Nïx seek to capture me?" Omort tightened his hold on Rydstrom's throat. "Tell me what her weak­nesses are!"

What in the hell had Nïx done now? Rydstrom grit­ted his teeth as bones fractured in his neck. He couldn't move to defend himself.

"Answer me, demon!"

The pressure began to lessen. "Fight me!" It increased once more. Black spots began obscuring his vision.

"What are you doing?" Sabine screamed as she swept through the crowd. She was like a furie in her wrath, with her bloody face and hair. Her eyes glowed like hot blue metal. Rydstrom focused on her. Stay alive . . . stay alive.

"Questioning my prisoner," Omort replied over his shoulder. "Before I take his arms for the Valkyrie."

With another snap of bone, Rydstrom's spine was severed. No feeling below my neck. Omort would keep squeezing until his head was forced from his body.

This is how it will end. His skin began to tear, and scenes from a long and wearying life flashed before his eyes. No woman, no offspring. His only legacy was . . . failure.

"Release-him-now!"

Omort faced Sabine. After a moment, Rydstrom plunged to the ground.

He lay paralyzed, his body motionless. As his vision began to clear, the court appeared to pitch and rumble, with winds rushing in. Sabine's wild hair tangled all around her head.

The beings within ran for cover.

"He's my prisoner, brother. And is under my protec­tion." Though so small compared to Omort, the sorcer­ess gazed up at him without fear. "I didn't want him hurt this way."

Omort took halting steps toward her, fascination plain in his rapt expression.

Omort. . . wants her? As a lover?

"Leave this court." She ordered Omort out, refusing to look at him. And the sorcerer was actually turning to leave.

There had been rumors of incest, tales that Omort loved one of his sisters unnaturally. Not her. No, don't let it be her.

But Rydstrom couldn't deny what was so obvious- Omort wanted Sabine.

Between gasping breaths, Rydstrom laughed bitterly, crazed. My court, my home . . . my woman. Everything is wrong, twisted. He rasped, "That has to sting, knowing a demon will be claiming your possession . . . knowing she'll always crave me over you."

Sabine's eyes widened. Omort twisted around. With another flick of the sorcerer's hand, an invisible force punched through Rydstrom's torso, ripping it wide open.