Kiss of a Demon King

6

Rydstrom woke . . . consciousness slow to come. In that dim twilight, he vaguely comprehended that he was lying on a bed.

"You're waking, after a mere half hour," Sabine said to him. "You're a strong one, demon."

Rage coursed through him with his dawning compre­hension. She drugged me. He couldn't lift his limbs or pry open his eyelids. Though he scented her nearness, her voice seemed to come from miles away.

I'm not wearing a shirt? What the hell-

"It might be a few moments before we can resume physically, so I thought we'd talk about your meeting with Groot's emissary."

What did she know? He cast his mind back, but memories proved elusive.

"What do I know?" she asked, reading his mind, incensing him.

"I know why you were rushing off to New Orleans

this evening, and why you were so intent that I had to wreck your pretty car just to get your attention."

He was supposed to meet his brother tonight. Cadeon would be wondering where he was. When Ryd-strom felt her join him on the bed, he slitted open his stinging eyes, but couldn't make out more than a vague

shape.

In his ear, she whispered, "I know that Groot has forged a sword that you believe will destroy Omort."

He jerked from her, then bellowed at the sound and feel of chains. "You've . . . chained me?" The bitch had bound him to the bed with those manacles around his ankles and wrists.

J will kill her so slowly.

She ignored his question. "In payment for the sword, Groot has demanded the Vessel-a female who will beget a future warrior of either ultimate evil or ultimate good." Depending upon the father's inclination. "But wherever will you find one?"

He felt her probing his mind once more, but he had his defenses in place. "After all, demon, Vessels are born only every five hundred years."

And yet Cadeon already has one. Unfortunately, Cade-on's fated female-the one he'd spent over a year pining for-was the Vessel. A woman named Holly Ashwin was the payment Groot wanted.

Once Rydstrom's vision cleared, he focused on Sabine as she sat on the side of the bed, grinning at him over the rim of a wine goblet. He was relieved that she'd covered her chest. Then he frowned. Her top was white and so small and tight that he could see the bot-

toms of her breasts. Hadn't he ripped that one from her? Losing my mind . . .

"What I don't know is if you gave your tosser brother enough information to send him on this fruitless quest."

Groot had established parameters to make the trade, a system of checkpoints, with each supplying additional details about how to find his hidden lair. In their phone call, Rydstrom had given Cadeon enough information to make it to the first checkpoint and continue on the mission.

"Not fruitless," he said, but with Rydstrom miss­ing and unable to send word, was it even possible that Cadeon would do what was right?

"Even if your brother somehow managed to find the Vessel and locate Groot's secret fortress, the sword just won't work. The Sorceri worship metal, and Groot the Metallurgist forges and enchants it. That makes him very powerful. But not enough to give death to the deathless."

As Rydstrom began to regain his strength, he strug­gled against his bonds.

"You can't break them. They've been mystickally reinforced."

"Release me, Sabine!"

"But I've just caught you," she said in a pouting voice.

His gaze darted, scanning for a means to escape. She'd trapped him in the largest cell. When he'd ruled Tornin, he'd used this jail for political prisoners. Inside were a sink and facilities, a small bed stand, a rug on the floor, and hearth tools by the fire. Nothing to aid him.

But then, he well knew . . . No one escapes the dun­geons of Tornin.

"It looks like it's time to get back to the business at hand." She set her goblet on the bedstand.

"Business at hand? Still haven't come to your senses?"

"No, I'm even more determined than before. I don't lose, Rydstrom."

He lunged up against the bonds, snarling, "You are

about to."

"Ah, here's that notoriously strong will of yours. Almost as strong as your rational mind and your sense of right and wrong. But then, was it right to strangle me as you did?"

"You're an enemy to me." The maddening tension from before redoubled. "An enemy I'll kill at the earli­est chance."

His words were now strong, his tone lethal. Yet he alone knew how close he'd been to continuing his exploration of her, to wringing an orgasm from her responsive little body. Every inch of her had been more exciting to him than the last. "Do you have no hesita- tion being used like this? As a tool for Omort?"

"You seem to think me either cowed by Omort or suf-fering qualms about screwing someone for reasons other than pleasure or love. Neither is true of me."

"So you're just a cold, heartless bitch."

"As much as you're a self-righteous, miserable prick." Her lips curled into a smirk. "But that doesn't mean we

can't have something meaningful between us."

He kicked his legs and thrashed his upper body.

"You need to understand that you're not getting

away. It's impossible." She crawled on her hands and knees toward him, giving him a view of her cleavage. She noticed his hard-eyed staring, and suddenly the top disappeared, revealing breasts that would bring a lesser demon to his knees.

The garment had been a mere illusion. And now her stiffened nipples were an inch from dragging across his chest.

In a breathy voice, she said, "Do you want our skin to touch, Rydstrom?"

When she leaned down and grazed the peaks against him, her lids went heavy, and he had to bite back a groan. He renewed his struggles, which only increased the contact.

"These chains are reinforced, as is the cell door. Accept it, Rydstrom, you're mine."

"Sabine, you fucking unchain me-"

"Shh, demon." She placed her forefinger over his lips, and yanked it back just in time to miss his snapping teeth. "I know exactly what you're going to say. You'll say that I had better release you this instant, or you will throttle me or some such promise of violence. And then you'll pepper that with a threat about the future. Maybe something with a qualifier like 'when I get free.'"

She'd shushed him! "You see, my darling demon? We're so in tune, you don't even need to voice your thoughts to me." She gave him a smart-ass grin. "It's like we're already one."

"A threat about the future?" He raised his head, bar­ing his lengthening fangs. "I won't just hurt you, Sabine. I'll kill you." So much at stake.

Another futile attempt to power free from the chains left the manacles cutting into his skin, blood dripping.

He was truly trapped. Which meant he couldn't get to his brother. To the sword.

To be this close to what he wanted, prevented by bonds even his strength couldn't break . . .

This sorceress had stopped him-she'd done this to him. She was the obstacle standing in his way. One small female would undermine centuries of toiling, of warring.

"You'll kill me?" She lightly raked her nails from his chest to his navel, then sifted them through the trail of hair running down from it. He just stifled a shudder of

pleasure.

With her, his skin seemed a thousand times more sensitive, his body hungering for release like never before. And yet at the same time, he felt on the verge of rage, beginning to turn demonic.

Though his breed of demon was prone to mindless rages, he'd always kept them at bay. Now being with her was making him crazed, making him lose reason so easily. "Yes, kill you," he grated. "You Sorceri are physically easy to destroy. If I strangle you long and hard enough ..."

"Just as you had begun to do. Know this, demon, nothing makes me more cross than attempts on my life. I have a particular aversion to being murdered."

What in the hell was she talking about?

Kneeling between his legs, she leaned over him, ] placing her hands flat on his shoulders. As she lowered her head, she said, "Besides, would you really want to kill the mother of your future offspring?"

"You little bi-" Her tongue on his chest silenced him, the words dying in his throat.

Inhaling deeply, he wrestled for control. He'd begun turning, his rage building in time with his sexual hun-ger. Never had he felt both the turning and lust at the same time.

What is happening to me?

She began kissing down his body, her silky hair trail' ing over his heated skin. He needed to bury his face in her long hair. Why hadn't he done that before? No, he needed to kill her.

A ticking bomb. And she's just returned it to her lair.

She raised her gaze to his but continued to dip lick­ing kisses to his torso, like a creature drinking from a pool. Then her hands were on his pants.

As they stared at each other, she slowly lowered his zipper, the sound so loud in the silent chamber. Against his will, his hips rolled with his need.

"You felt how wet I was," she whispered, giving him another lick. He could feel her breaths hot on his skin, traveling lower. "Wouldn't you want to sink this into me?"

Just as she was baring his cock, he bucked his hips. "Release me!"

Scenes of things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind. Pin her to the ground and shove into her. Pumping his seed into her pale body again and again. Till she begs me for mercy. More fantasies, more rage tangled in his mind.

Her eyes widened at his shifting visage, at the demonic changes he could feel. She finally drew back.

He twisted around, driving his horns into the chains over his head, gouging his arms in the process.

"Calm, demon," she murmured, her mesmerizing voice washing over him. But he fought her pull-

She took his cock in her firm grasp; he jerked in surprise. He'd been getting himself off for so long, the softness of her hands stunned him.

She began working him steadily, and thrashing his body only made his cock shove in and out of her fist.

Fighting, twisting, hating her, even as she continued stroking him. Blood poured from new wounds at his wrists and ankles-

Like a lightning bolt, a shock of pleasure shot through him, unfamiliar pleasure. Dazed, he lowered his

eyes.

Moisture had beaded on the swollen crown, and she'd blown on it, cooling the hot pre-semen that had collected there.

When his shaft pulsed in her hand, seeming to strain toward her parted lips, she stared with eyes shimmer-ing once more. She was excited, her breaths panting, reminding him again of how aroused she'd been before, how she'd wet his fingers. "I can see it throbbing,

demon."

He believed her-he had never felt this kind of ach­ing pressure in his entire life.

Contusion welled, because he craved feeling her gaze on him, wanted her to lust for what she saw. He wanted her to desire him, even as he needed to kill her. The conflict within him grew stronger.

She dabbed her tongue to her bottom lip. "I think you want me to lick you there. To close my mouth over the head and suckle you."

As he groaned at her words, his cock jerked, and another bead arose. When he arched his back from the astonishing pleasure, she murmured, "Only your female can bring forth your seed. Have you ever been this close?"

I . . . haven't.