Kiss of a Demon King

17

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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?"