Kiss of a Demon King

23

Rydstrom was deep in that twilight between reason and instinct, where nothing made sense. He was losing control with her and couldn't savor it more.

He'd escaped with her. At last. Just thinking of her as his prisoner-his possession-made him want to bellow with triumph.

With her wild plaits flowing down her back and the metal adorning her body, she looked as wicked as she acted, taking the slaps-and raising her ass for more. And now she needed to come, badly. Her fires were already burning.

This is ecstasy.

He worked a second finger inside her hungry sheath. "So tight. Hot." Her flesh glistened, gripping his fingers. "And virgin no more."

With his other hand, he worked his fist up and down his shaft, until it throbbed to release its seed. He let his fingers slide out of her only long enough to turn her over so he could see her face.

There was no shame and no fear. With her eyes half-lidded, she lay across his lap, tilting her hips up, wan­tonly using his fingers. So beautiful. . . so fierce. Mine.

That still-unfamiliar pressure within his shaft mounted, the sensitive crown rubbing against her ass. Pleasure so extreme it's pain.

His muscles tensed, his body readying to come. He roared to the sky, beginning to ejaculate against her ass. On and on it continued while he yelled, pumping hard jets, his hips jerking uncontrollably beneath her.

She gasped, then moaned low. The sound of that drew forth from him a last explosion that landed between her spread legs. Even marked like this, she was writhing, moaning, about to come . ..

But he removed his hand to refasten his pants, then set her on her feet.

As she blinked up at him in bewilderment, he ripped the bottom of his tunic to wipe his seed from her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm finished." Don't push me . . . don't enrage me, "You've three nights you owe me. Three nights where you'll know what I went through. Then we'll have par­ity between us."

When he swiped her skin, she bucked against him. "I'll kill you for this!"

In the moonlight, he could see her ass was bright red. How hard did I slap her?

"Very hard, you oaf!" she answered.

""Stay out of my goddamned head, Sabine!" He tossed the cloth away, then yanked up her scrap of underwear with so much force she rocked up on her toes.

"Or what? You'll spank me? Do you often strike women?"

"Never." Not once in fifteen centuries.

"Ah, that's right, you're King Rydstrom the Good. You don't seem so good now."

"You wouldn't recognize a good thing if it was spank­ing your ass." He wrenched down her skirt so hard, the material ripped.

"Am I turning you bad, demon? Shattering that upstanding facade?"

"That could've been much worse." He took her arm, propelling her forward as they journeyed on. "It didn't have to be like this. You started us on this path. Do you remember the time I asked you to release me? Do you recall my pain as I lay in that fucking bed, with my chest ripped open wide and my spine severed? Day after day, I was trapped in that goddamned dungeon-because of you!"

As if she'd heard none of that, she squinted up at his horns. "Hey, are you going to be like this for long?"

He released her, confounded by this female. Gods, she's got me twisted inside. He resumed walking, not turn­ing back as he spoke into the night, "You'll follow me now. If you don't, you'll be eaten alive out here."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, trailing after him. "What are you going to do to me? Besides taking out your fetish on me?"

He stopped and rounded on her, making her crane her head up at him. "Woman, why would you possibly push me?" His eyes narrowed. "You're taunting me because you like it when I lose control."

She gazed away for a split second, then said, "Not likely. How else should I act with someone who's taken me prisoner? Pleasant?"

"If you had any sense, you'd avoid provoking me." Done with this exchange, he turned to resume their trek. The harsh sun would soon be rising, and the ter­rain was only going to become more grueling....

With each mile, she badgered him about where they were going and how long they'd be gone.

She'd complained about the heat of the sun, the furious pace, and his rationing of their dwindling water

supply.

Other than to feed her sips from the canteen, Ryd-strom ignored her, his thoughts in turmoil. Part of him felt triumphant. He was free, and had Sabine as his captive. He'd already begun his revenge and had been greatly rewarded, coming so hard his legs had been weak afterward.

Another part of him felt guilt for his treatment of her. Anytime that guilt arose, he would remind himself of all she'd done to him. The humiliation of those men bathing him... . The memory of that alone had him turning to her with his lips drawn back from his fangs.

Because of her behavior, he would feel free to do with her whatever he wanted.

But how long could he go without claiming her? If he hadn't done it already, he didn't want to impregnate her. Yes, he wanted his son, but not yet, not when there was so much danger. Not when he knew Sabine would run back to Omort at the earliest opportunity.

When they trudged up a steep incline, she tripped and fell forward onto her front. Spitting out sand, she snapped, "I've put up with this long enough! You've got to free me, else I can't keep up. At least free one of my hands. I need both to work illusions. Rydstrom, I can't keep going like this."

He clutched the front of her metal top and yanked her up with it.

"Omort will come for me! You'll never get away with this."

"Another word, and I'll gag you."

Against his warning, she said, "And Lothaire will be burned to ash ..." She trailed off when he tore another length of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. "Rydstrom! I'll be quiet-"

He wrapped the cloth around her head, tying it tight like a bit to gag her. "I know. ..."

For another hour, he left her like that, gagged as they covered more ground. He could feel her glare on his back, but he didn't want to hear any more of her com­plaints or demands.

He finally glanced back at her. She'd straggled farther behind, the journey taking its toll. She was sunburned, her knees bloodied, her legs cut. Her ass was probably still on fire.

He wanted to feel nothing but satisfaction over her suffering-and couldn't. It went against his instinct.

Damn that sorceress. Got me so twisted. He cast her a black look over his shoulder.

She straightened and assumed her haughty expres­sion-then stumbled once more. Though he could have

continued for days on end, he obviously had to stop for the night for her.

When he found a freshwater lake in a protected canyon pass, he dropped his pack near the shore and crouched down to unpack the contents: a small bottle of wine, bread, chicken, cheese, a knife and flints, bedding.

Sabine sagged in relief, dropping to her knees, then wobbled over on her hip.

After he started a fire, he ate his share of the food, then leaned over to yank her gag down.

She swallowed repeatedly, working her jaw out. "Is it as sweet as you'd hoped?" she asked. "Your revenge?"

"It will be. We're just beginning, princess. There will be parity for everything you did to me. Three nights you came to my cell and tormented me-"

"It wasn't three nights. You have no idea what I would have done the night you were injured. If I hadn't been summoned to court, I might have gotten carried away."

"Though you hadn't before?" He gave her some water from the canteen.

When he brought the chicken up to her lips, she turned her face away. "You know I don't consume meat"

"You knew I did."

"I won't eat it."

"Go hungry." He finished the food, then arranged the bedding under a leafless tree near the fire he'd built.

"I need you to free my hands, so I can wash off." She twisted around to peer at her backside. "I seem to have gotten demon seed on myself!"

He jerked his chin toward the lake.

"There's the water."

"What do you expect me to do with my hands bound?"

"Ask me to bathe you."

When she only glared at him, he stripped off his sword and clothes, then dove into the deep water from a low ledge. The temperature was cool and soothed his battered body.

He surfaced to see her carefully stepping on the slip­pery rocks at the edge of a dropoff, several yards above the one he'd used. Just when he was about to point out a sandy shore for her to go to instead, she slipped and tumbled into the water. In an instant, she disappeared. Her hands are tied behind her back, the metal like an anchor, weighing her down.

With a surge of panic, he dove for her.