Kiss of a Demon King

29

Would you care for any child of ours?" he asked her when he had her clasped in his arms, ready for sleep in the chill night. His hand slipped under the tunic and inside her skirt to rest on her flat belly. "Demon or no?"

She drowsily murmured, "Unless he was a miserable tool like you." Then she drifted off.

Miserable tool. What if he were killing something between them with each of his actions? Do nothing irrevo-cable. And yet tonight she'd screamed, "I hate you. ..."

Over the long hours that he'd teased her, keeping her on the brink of release, she'd never surrendered to him.

She'd been out of her head, her body writhing in a frenzy. She'd rolled her hips, enticing him to break his vow. When he'd beheld her beautiful sex, glistening to be filled ... nothing had ever excited him more.

But now the two nights were done. Tomorrow, he'd get her to surrender completely, and he'd take her once more. Then he would get control of himself. He had to.

Troubled and plagued with uncertainties, he finally fell asleep.

Toward dawn, Rydstrom blinked open his eyes and found himself deep within an illusion. Sabine was cast­ing chimeras in her sleep. Were these her dreams?

"Heat it, stroke it, beat and grow it. Rub it, twist it, love and kiss it," a woman chanted as she ran a fistful of gold chains against her cheek. This was the female voice from the night before-now he could see her.

She wore a silk mask around harried blue eyes. Her headdress stretched out behind her head a foot on each side, the extensions like wings, each crammed with sap­phires. Her jet-black hair was tangled beneath it.

"Gold is life. It is perfection. The element exists solely for us." Once she dropped the chains into a laden chest on her dresser, she dug her hands down into piles of coins, letting them pour through her fingers.

When she turned to the mirror, Rydstrom could see two girls in the reflection, one with red hair, and one with black. They were Sabine and Melanthe, both so young, watching her in wide-eyed fascination. This woman was their mother. And she was clearly mad. . . .

"Band it in armor over thy heart, and never will thy life's blood part. Gild your hair and face and skin, and no man breathes that you can't win. Never too much can a sorceress steal, those who defend"-her face went cold-"she duly kills."

The Sorceri worship gold, Sabine had told him. He'd thought it had been an excuse for greed, but she believed it was more. Recalling her look when he'd

thrown her headdress into the water, he ran a hand over

his mouth.

I will buy her new ones, buy her thousands of them . . .

When Sabine's eyes darted behind her lids, and she made faint cries, Rydstrom reached for her shoulder to wake her, but drew back his hand as a new scene appeared.

A nightmare. Literally.

On a blustery night, Sabine was standing at the edge of a pit, with women lined up on each side of her. She looked to be merely fourteen or fifteen.

A male in black robes stood before her, flanked by followers with pitchforks. He asked her in Latin to recant her evil ways.

Donning the smirk Rydstrom knew so well, she spit in his face. The man backhanded her, hurtling her into the pit-no, a grave.

My gods. The followers stabbed the other women with pitchforks until each one had fallen atop her. Shovelfuls of earth began to build, the weight crushing her. She couldn't get enough air....

An eternity seemed to pass before a dim voice called from the surface. Her sister. "Rise up, Abie! Climb and

heal!"

Bile rose in Rydstrom's throat as Sabine mindlessly dug past the bodies, blindly climbing for that voice until her sister could pull her free of the grave.

No wonder Sabine was so hard. He'd only thought about her treacheries, never comprehending that she'd been dealt with in kind.

If she hadn't been hard, she would be . . . dead. And

then he wouldn't have her with him now. Would he curse the very traits that had kept her alive to be with him?

No. No longer.

In the illusion, the rain poured as she fell to her knees, vomiting earth. Lanthe knelt beside her, rubbing her back. When the rain washed away the filth from Sabine's hair, Lanthe picked up the new white lock and wept....

His fists clenched as a seething fury rose in him. He needed to fight for Sabine, to defend the girl who would grow to be his woman. / would give anything to go back and spare her that-

Suddenly, his ears twitched at an unidentifiable sound. He inhaled the night air and caught foreign scents nearby. He finally heard footfalls rushing toward them, but when he scanned the area, all he could see was her dream. "Sabine!" He shook her. "Wake up!"

He was blinded to reality by her illusion. "Sabine,

damn you, wake-"

Sabine woke to a roar as a battle hammer connected with Rydstrom's skull.

The demon flew back, blood spurting from his head, At least seven armed Teegloths were attacking, gro-tesque half-man, half-beast beings with protruding bot-tom fangs and reptilian skin.

She lunged to reach Rydstrom, but one tossed her across the clearing. Dazed on the ground, she rubbed her eyes on her shoulder, blinking repeatedly. She was complefely vulnerable, couldn't protect herself with her illusions. Couldn't help Rydstrom . . .

He was still conscious! As he struggled to rise, one told him, "We take the female now." He spit the words.

"Not while I live." Rydstrom had maneuvered closer to her. "Get behind me."

She rose unsteadily, tripping toward him. She didn't reach Rydstrom before they descended on him.

As he dodged their swinging battle hammers, they drove him back to the cliff's edge. A cudgel connected with his arm, crushing it. The pick end of another ham-mer slashed over his thigh.

When his leg buckled, and his knees met the ground, the edge began to crumble, the rock splintering beneath him.

Just before it collapsed, he caught her eyes. "Coming

for you."

In a rush of dust and spraying rock, he disappeared.

"Rydstrom!" she screamed, rushing to the edge. Oh, gods! Too dark . . . can't see him!

But she reminded herself that he was a formidable demon-not a Sorceri. He could live through this and more.

She rounded on them. "Why did you attack us? Have you been sent for me?" Maybe Omort had posted a

bounty?

"Our land. You trespassed," one said, as he began ransacking Rydstrom's bag, stealing goods, taking his sword. He was the largest, which meant he would likely be the leader. "You to slave' market."

Slave market? They didn't know she was one of the Sorceri-she wasn't demonstrating powers, nor was she

dressed like one. She had no jewelry, and the blue tas-sels on her belt didn't necessarily look like gold.

Do I tell them I'm a princess of Omort's realm or the queen of the demon king?

She had better do something fast. The Teegloths weren't just slave traders. They were trophy collectors, with the body parts of their enemies affixed to their crude leather vests. Fingers and scalps adorned them. One had only ears on his vest, and he was staring at hers with intent in his beady eyes.

"I'm sister to Omort of Rothkalina. By law, you must ransom me."

"Ransom-sell as slave. Naught different," he said, his speech pattern primitive.

She'd heard about the slave markets, the ones Omort had allowed to proliferate, for a percentage of the gold. "That was King Rydstrom you just attacked, and I'm his wife. He will find me. And when he feasts on your throats, I will pat him on the head."

Another asked, "Ties up wife?"

"It's a game we play. I couldn't expect something like you to understand it."

He slapped her.

She staggered, her mouth filling with blood. When she spat at him, he struck her twice as hard, until her vision wavered and she reeled on her feet. He hauled her up, tossing her over his shoulder. Dawn was just breaking as the pack set out....

Hours later, Sabine still had seen no sign of Ryd­strom-or of any other beings who might aid her.

Why wasn't she succumbing to that cold fury she knew so well? Where was the nausea, the urgency? When she recognized what was happening, she was dis­gusted with herself.

I expect Rydstrom to save me.

With her bound hands, she reached for the back of her belt, plucking a gold tassel, dropping it for him to follow. She hoped he appreciated that she was shedding gold for him. But the do-gooder probably wouldn't! He'd tossed away her headdress like an apple core!

By dusk, she was convinced that every ounce of blood in her body resided in her head. She'd also accepted the fact that Rydstrom might not be coming for her. His injuries had been severe-before he'd fallen.

Now, fear threatened to overwhelm her. And that fear wasn't only for herself.

In the dying sunlight, sand gave way to rock as they neared another mountain. Ah, gods, they took her inside it, down into a pitch-black mine.

For hours, she could see nothing, could only hear their breathing and grunting words as they continued deep within.

At last, the Teegloth dropped her on her ass in the dark, and she heard them scuttling about around her.

They started a fire, and as soon she could see once more, she almost wished she couldn't. While they tore into their dinner-bones and bloody meat-they eyed her with renewed interest.

She surveyed the area, searching for any means to escape. They were in a central terminus of mine shafts, an area where three corridors ended. This mine looked

just like what she would imagine, with beam ceiling supports and track laid out.

But there were no leftover picks or shovels for her to run her bindings against. And Rydstrom's sword was out of reach, lying among their belongings haphazardly pilled at the edge of the camp.

Once they'd finished eating, the leader wasted no time, dragging her off to the side, then yanking her beneath him. She couldn't fight back-already bound for them.

More powerless than I've been since I was a girl.

A ropy line of saliva hung from the corner of his deformed mouth, inching toward her face as he ripped her tunic to shreds....

₂₉

_R

ydstrom came to in a rush, grappling to free himself from the rocks that had fallen over him. Once loose, he lumbered to his feet, every movement grueling.

Staggering with dizziness from his head wound, he scented the night air for her while assessing the damage to his body: severed muscles in one leg, broken ribs and collarbone. One arm fractured. Skull possibly cracked-He caught a hint of her scent to the south. Like a shot he sprinted in that direction, favoring his good leg, ignoring the pain as he began the most impor­tant pursuit of his life. For miles Rydstrom charged ever closer to her.

He hadn't known if the Teegloths had been sent by Omort to return her, hadn't known if she would will­ingly go with them. But the way she'd screamed his name when he'd fallen . ..

And then he'd begun finding gold tassels each time the Teegloths crossed water, or traveled in creek beds.

When Rydstrom realized she wanted to be found by him, his excitement was quickly extinguished by dread. If the Teegloths hadn't been sent to find her as a bounty, then they would feel free to use her.

They were taking her toward a chain of mountains, likely to the mine shafts within. Their habitat.

He wiped blood and sweat from his eyes, somehow increasing his speed. Sheer will forced his muscles to obey, and soon he'd reached an entrance to the mines. He charged inside, descending into the core of the mountain.

Suddenly, her shriek echoed in the dark. His heart dropped even as he bolted in the direction of the sound....

With a furious scream, Sabine head-butted the Tee-gloth. He slapped her, leaving her gasping on her side, her eyes watering.

And that was when she caught a glimpse of Rydstrom stealing out from the shadows. He'd lived!

As he stalked closer, his horns flared with aggres­sion, his muscles seeming to grow before her very eyes. At the edge of the firelight, he silently collected his sword.

When the leader pawed her, rolling her over once more, she hissed, "Teegloth, you're going to pose a ques­tion, and get beheaded before it's answered."

He roared, "What you talk of?"

She only smiled as Rydstrom swung his sword.

"You took the wrong demon's wife," she told the sev­ered head as she clambered away from its corpse.

With the death of their leader, the others howled with a furor. Rydstrom put himself between her and the pack. "Stay back!"

When they attacked, sweeping those hammers at him, he used his sword and claws against them. One tried to take him from behind, but he threw his head back, poisoning it with his horns.

He took hits that would have felled trees, but still he remained standing. Even injured, he was too strong for them to defeat. She watched in awe as the ruthless demon fought, lit by fire and cloaked in shadows from the mine.

Husband. Gods, he was amazing. He's fighting for me. No one but Lanthe had ever fought for Sabine, never, no matter how much she'd needed them to-

One slammed Rydstrom's massive body into a roof support. The shaft seemed to quake all around them. She couldn't scramble up swiftly enough with her hands behind her back.

When the immense beam began to splinter, she screamed Rydstrom's name.

With a roar, he took her by the waist and tossed her out of the way-just as the ceiling of the mine collapsed, boulders plummeting around him and the remaining Teegloths.

Nothing but dust. Again she was helpless, coughing, only able to wait. Would he make it out?

Waiting . . . Heartbeat, heartbeat. Damn it, stupid demon, don't die! Don't-

Rydstrom lurched out of the haze. He was bleeding freely from dozens of injuries, his breaths ragged. Brows

drawn with feeling, he dropped to his knees before her, still demonic, staring into her eyes.

She was overcome with relief that he'd lived and with gratitude that he'd saved her.

Then she remembered that she was one of the most powerful Sorceri ever born.

This damsel in distress could have defeated this entire pack in moments. Except her husband had bound and tied her and made her vulnerable.

He clasped her in his arms so tightly, she almost cried out. She felt when a sound was wrenched from his chest-part growl, part groan.

Warm . . . safe . . . furious? She futilely resisted him, cursing him. He said nothing, just clutched her, cupping her head to his chest, keeping her there with his big palm.

She was infuriated that any of this had happened at all when it could have been avoided. By keeping her tied, he'd risked her life.

But was she more angry that she'd been jeopardized- or because he'd been?

He finally drew back, his gaze flickering over her, assessing her injuries. His eyes darkened at every bruise. When he eased her skirt up, his Adam's apple worked in his throat as if he dreaded what he might find.

"They didn't rape me. No thanks to you."

He took deep breaths, wrestling for control, and his demonic visage receded.

When he smoothed blood from her lips, she flinched from his hand.

"Sabine, I'm here-"

"And I'm beaten. Trussed up like a present for their convenience."

He took a swath from the ripped tunic and tied it over her breasts, then he scanned the camp for their belongings. He left her side only to retrieve her boots. "If they intended to sell you as a slave, they wouldn't have struck your face, unless moved by anger."

"Yes, I taunted them. Therefore, they had every right to hit me! Right?"

He returned with her boots, then pulled them on her. "Why did you taunt them?"

Without looking at him, she muttered, "Because it felt good," repeating his own answer when asked why he'd goaded Omort.

"More might come." Rydstrom helped her to her feet. "We have to leave this place."

"You're not going to free me?" There was a hysterical note to her voice.

"You are angry that you were vulnerable. I should have been more vigilant."

"Damn you, Rydstrom, you won't release me even after this? I was defenseless! You saved me, yes, but you put me in this situation in the first place. Just like when I saved you from Omort, after bringing you into Tornin. Are you happy, demon? To get your parity once more?"

"Happy?" he snapped. "If anything had happened to you. . . . Damn it, I will be more watchful. I won't sleep."

"The Teegloths aren't the only threats out here," she said. "There are beasts from legend. As you know, I could drown."

"I also know that you'll run away from me at the ear­liest opportunity." When she shook her head to deny it, he said, "There's not a doubt in my mind! Every word you've said about wanting to stay with me was a lie. Now we don't have time for this. I won't be moved from my decision-and we need to get out of these mines before more come."

His tone brooked no argument, and when he grabbed her arm to hasten her from this place, she let him lead her.

They continued on, limping through the murky tun-nel for what seemed like miles, until they reached the surface at last.

A new landscape greeted them. High bluffs over­looked green hills that were dotted with trees. The late afternoon sun blazed above them, and the wind gusted. More terrain, more stumbling, more misery.

Enough. She yanked her arm from his grasp. Sabine- never a patient person in the best of circumstances- had hit her limit. She simply .. . stopped.

"Come on, keep up. We're near them. I can sense it."

"Enough, demon."

"What?"

She sat, then drew her knees to her chest. "I'm sun­burned, bruised, hungry. I've been sexually tormented for two days. No metal guarded my hair, neck, or chest during a mine collapse. You took down my braids so my dusty hair continually blows into my eyes. And I can't move it! On top of all this-I was kidnapped by mon­sters to be sold into slavery!"

And I'd feared for the demon's life, at times more than my own. What was happening to her?

"I'm not going any farther, not until you free me."

"Sabine, get this through your head. There's no way I'm letting you go. If for no other reason, you could be carrying my babe!" Had his shoulders straightened? Proudly?

"That's impossible."

"Yes, we were together only once, but it could

happen."

"There is no babe-I'm not pregnant!"

"How can you know?"

"I knew days after," she said. "The Hag can tell that

quickly."

"And you let me think you might be carrying?

Another lie!"

"Why wouldn't I let you think that? I had no idea what your plans for me entailed!"

"Every day you teach me not to trust you."

"You know what? You had better keep me bound, because if I get free I-will-take-you-out! I am done. You're going to have to carry me because I'm not moving."

"You think I won't?" He yanked her up.

"I'm sick of you!" she yelled in his face. "Sick of being treated like this! And to think I'd worried-" She bit her tongue.

"To think you'd done what? Ah, sorceress, were you worried about me?" he asked in a scoffing tone. Then his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "You were."

"Ha! I was only worried about my own skin," she said, but she'd darted her gaze. Damn him, he knows I'm lying. So she kicked him. "Now let me go!"

He tangled his hands in her hair, grasping the back of her head. They were both still out of breath. She was staring at his lips, licking her own. When she took her gaze off his mouth, she found his eyes were focused on her own lips.

They were about to do that frantic kissing thing again, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to fight it-

"Hello!" a voice called from a distance. "Is someone out there?"

The refugees had found them.