Seduced by a Demon King

by Heaton, Felicity

  What they had shared had been a lie, even though his feelings had been true.

  She had carved his heart out and crushed it before him.

  So he would do the only thing he could to purge the pain, to satisfy his deep need to tear down everything and make everyone suffer as he was.

  He would go to war, hurling himself into the fray and praying to his ancestors that he would find the relief he needed there.

  He strode across the courtyard, through the archway in the black wall that enclosed it, and along the wide path between the three storey square buildings that acted as a garrison for each legion whenever they were at the castle.

  At the end of the road, a four-storey building stood, guards patrolling the roof, appearing and disappearing in the gaps between the high broad merlons of the battlement. Golden light glowed from several of the narrow windows on each floor, and torches burned on either side of the arched entrance in the centre of the building.

  Several warriors milled around outside. All of them hastily saluted him as they noticed him.

  “Send word to the legion commanders to assemble.” Tegan waited for each male to nod and disappear before he started to pace, his boots loud on the flagstones as he wore a trench in them.

  After a few minutes had passed and no one had appeared, he growled and shoved his fingers through his hair, impatience getting the better of him.

  Finally, two commanders arrived. A third followed, and then a fourth and a fifth. The commanders of every legion other than the first, his Royal Legion, were present and the itch to go to war would no longer be denied, even when he knew he should wait for Ryker.

  “The Royal Legion and the Second and Third legions are to prepare for war. The elves have requested our presence in their kingdom. We are to fight a dragon and his army. I will know more about what to expect when I have spoken with Prince Loren.” He looked at the two commanders to his right, both seasoned warriors he could trust. “The Fourth will pull back to protect the castle while I am gone.”

  Everyone tensed and he glared at them all, daring them to say something about the fact he was going to be leading their warriors in this war.

  He looked to the remaining male to his right. “The Fifth will split their forces and protect the borders in the stead of the other legions, using the trainees to bolster their numbers.”

  Ryker arrived.

  He felt his brother’s gaze as a searing streak of heat across the back of his head.

  “What the hell is going on here?” his brother barked, not even a shred of respect in his hard tone as he moved around him, coming to stand between him and the assembled commanders.

  Tegan kept his cool. Barely. It wasn’t wise of his brother to challenge him, not in his current mood.

  “You will remain at the castle while I lead the legions.”

  Ryker just glared at him and Tegan waited, watching as his brother’s black eyes gained a violet-red corona and his senses warned Ryker was about to lose his temper.

  Before his brother could speak, Raelin and the rest of his advisers appeared.

  “My king, word has reached us that you are speaking of taking the legions into the elf kingdom to fight a war there. We must advise against this course of action.”

  Rather than calming Tegan, Raelin’s words and snide aloof tone made him want to punch the male.

  “I take your advice onboard.” Tegan turned to tower over him, Sylas, Eryt and Balkan. “And I am still leading my warriors. Ryker will remain here, as my next in line.”

  “I should go,” Ryker put in.

  Tegan growled at him, flashing fangs. “No. You will remain at the castle.”

  Ryker squared up to him, fire burning in his eyes. “I should go in your stead. Brother… listen to reason.”

  The soft look that entered Ryker’s eyes tore another growl from Tegan’s lips, because his brother was suggesting he wasn’t strong enough to fight, that he was still weakened by what had happened to him, and he was sick of everyone questioning him at every damned turn.

  “You will remain here and that is an order, Ryker. I will not let you answer this call. This one is mine to answer.” Tegan glared down at him, his horns curling, flaring dangerously as his mood darkened. Anger that was part of him now surged to the fore, rage so black it clouded his thoughts and had him wanting to strike his brother for questioning him, even when he knew in his heart that Ryker was only worried about him. “I must do this. Know, brother, that it is not because I want war. I owe Loren and Melia, and I intend to repay that debt.”

  Ryker’s expression shifted, morphing from anger, to resignation, to a clear need to say something.

  Tegan stared down into his brother’s eyes, willing him to see that he needed to do this. He needed to fight. He had to release the rage somehow.

  “A word with my king.” Ryker seized his arm and pulled him away, into the Royal Legion’s building and through to the back, where he pushed Tegan into a room.

  His brother’s office.

  Ryker had barely closed the door behind Tegan before he rounded on him. “Are you sure this is wise? Just think for a moment about what you are doing and if you can tell me that you are not doing this because you are hurting, then I will stand aside and let you go.”

  Let him go?

  Tegan was the king, not Ryker. It wasn’t up to his brother whether he went to war or not, just as it wasn’t up to his advisers.

  He stared Ryker down but couldn’t bring himself to lie to his brother and tell him this burning need to go to war had nothing to do with Suki.

  “This violent and heavy-handed male who looked ready to physically fight his advisers and is looking at me as if I’m next in line for a good beating is not you, Tegan.” Ryker held his gaze, not flinching when Tegan bared fangs at him.

  “What is me?” Tegan bit out and paced away from his brother, needing space before he did exactly as Ryker had suggested he would.

  Ryker sighed and scrubbed a hand over his wild black hair. “You are a good king, and I know you feel you owe Prince Loren and the First King, but this war isn’t about that, is it? You are angry, and you are hurting, and that is making you destructive. This is not you. The Tegan I know strategizes, considers all the angles and comes up with a plan… he does not go off half-cocked looking for a fight… looking for death.”

  Tegan stared out of one of the two windows that lined the back wall of the office, watching the warriors in the training arena as they kicked up sand and fought hard, battling each other when they should have been fighting an enemy. They were warriors. Demons. War was in their blood and it was time he gave them one.

  It was time he fought in one again.

  “I am tired of it all,” he said quietly, unsure whether he really wanted his brother to hear that. He loosed a long sigh, ploughed his fingers through his hair and pulled it back as that weariness pounded down on him, beating in every fibre of his being. “I am tired of having to be someone else… someone I am not. I am not Edyn.”

  “You do not need to be Edyn—”

  He turned on Ryker with a black snarl. “I do! Because I was not made for this… and Edyn was.”

  A flare of regret shone in Ryker’s eyes, pity that had Tegan growling at him because he didn’t want his brother looking at him as if he was weak, lost.

  Even when he knew he was.

  “I know things changed when Edyn died,” Ryker started and Tegan bared his fangs again, warning him to be silent because he didn’t need to hear this, not today. Not now.

  His brother had told him too many times that he felt sorry for him, that he had altered the moment Edyn had died and he had been thrust into the role of king. One time, Ryker had dared to say that it was as if part of him had died along with their brother.

  Tegan hadn’t spoken to him for several months after that.

  “You are a good king, Tegan, whether you pretend to be Edyn or not.” Ryker cautiously edged around to the other side of the desk and stopped in front
of the window beside the one Tegan occupied. “You know Edyn wouldn’t be heading into war. He would uphold his vow of peace over the alliance that created it.”

  Tegan frowned at the warriors. “That is not true. Edyn believed in the alliance.”

  “Edyn believed in peace,” Ryker countered, his tone even but unyielding. “He hated war. He had not been made for battle, not like you or me. He never had the stomach for it. It was the reason Edyn always let you do the fighting. He didn’t want to get his claws bloody.”

  “He just knew how much I loved fighting.” Tegan believed that, but as he listened to his brother, he started to believe him too.

  “I speak the truth, brother. Once, I caught Edyn vomiting at just the thought of having to fight. Remember the time he was meant to lead the legion?”

  Tegan did remember that day, because Edyn had ordered him to remain at the castle as heir to the crown, and Tegan had been as angry with him about that as Ryker had been with Tegan just minutes ago. Tegan had fought against his brother’s decision and, in the end, Edyn had decided they should both go.

  And then Edyn had changed the plan again at the last minute, mentioning that the kingdom needed him at the castle and the council had tied his hands by advising him not to have both him and Tegan, his next in line, on the battlefield together. He had told Tegan that he would let him go instead as he clearly wanted to be there.

  Tegan had bought that excuse at the time.

  Now, he could see it had all been a lie to cover the fact Edyn hadn’t wanted to go.

  “Sometimes, not everything is as the eyes see it.” Ryker diligently kept his gaze fixed on the world outside, blatantly avoiding looking at him as Tegan scowled in his direction.

  He was talking about Suki now.

  “I am not so sure about that.” Tegan pivoted to plant his backside against the black sill of the window.

  “You know your advisers will try to make me convince you to let me go in your stead.” Ryker leaned against the wall beside his window and folded his arms across his chest. Tegan knew that, was fully expecting it to happen and was already figuring out ways to counter them. Ryker grinned. “I won’t do it.”

  Tegan was surprised to hear that.

  His brother’s dark eyes softened and warmed.

  “I know taking the throne and running the kingdom has taken a heavy toll on you. I might not be home often because you give me so much freedom and you seem so annoyingly disappointed whenever I don’t make use of it, but I am home enough to see how you are slowly slipping… coming to despise the throne that has been your shackle for a thousand years now.” Ryker shook his head and growled, “The court could give you a little more freedom, before they drive you mad through boredom… so I will stay here like the dutiful brother I am so no one can deny you this chance to hit the battlefield… because you look as if you need to get your claws bloody.”

  Ryker shrugged when Tegan smiled, unable to hold it back as he realised how deeply his brother cared about him. His advisers would give Ryker hell while he was away, demanding he attend meetings and give them regular reports on proceedings, and he appreciated his brother for putting himself through that and for giving him the freedom the court refused him.

  His brother clasped his shoulder, gripping it as a grave expression tightened his features. “Promise me you will come back though.”

  Tegan mirrored him, clutching Ryker’s shoulder as he felt the gravity of that request and saw the love that had birthed it in his brother’s eyes.

  He nodded. It was hard to deny the darkness inside him, the thorny tendril of it that kept trying to snake around his heart to squeeze the life from him, but he would fight it and keep his head during the battle. He would do his best to survive because the kingdom needed him, and Ryker looked terrified of the thought of having to lead it.

  “Thank you, brother.” Tegan pulled him into his embrace and slapped his back as their horns struck each other. “I just need to be away from this place for a time… hopefully it will help clear my head.”

  And his heart.

  Ryker stepped back when he released him and nodded. “Just remember that vow. No dying. Because this kingdom would go to shit with me in charge and we will be living in squalor before the season was out. No pretty windmills and fancy electricity. I would probably rip the truce up too. Maybe go to war with a few kingdoms. Probably get myself killed… and then I think our cousins would be in line for the throne. Imagine that.”

  Tegan’s grimace tightened with each word Ryker spoke, with every image of his lands in ruin that they placed in his head. All of them helped purge that dark, desperate need that had been inside him. He had plans for his kingdom, and he would see them through.

  Plus, he was damned if his uncle’s line was going to rule. They were worse than Raelin when it came to ideas about taxing the people. Everyone would starve and Tegan had sworn his people would never suffer another famine.

  He nodded again. “No dying.”

  Ryker slapped him on his bare chest and grinned. “Great talk. Have fun. Send daily reports. Do not forget to wash, because cleanliness is important, and always watch your back. If I do not hear from you every six hours, I will send men to bring you back to the castle.”

  He scowled at his brother. “You may leave now.”

  Ryker shrugged his wide shoulders and gave a regal, mocking bow, twirling his hand as he bent forwards. “My king.”

  He backed to the door while still bent over, straightened when he reached it and shot Tegan a grin before turning towards it and opening it.

  Ryker paused to look back at him.

  Hit him with one last blow, this one striking him right in the heart.

  “For what it is worth, I truly believe she loves you.”

  CHAPTER 32

  It had been so long since Tegan had set foot in the elf kingdom that he had forgotten how bright and green it was. He tried to keep his focus on the three-dimensional map of Hell that filled an enormous table before him, but the verdant outdoors drew his gaze to the rows of tall windows on his left and right that filled the space between each glittering pale grey stone column and allowed light to flood into the room.

  To his right, green hills rose up beyond the pale castle walls, lush and alluring, beckoning him with the peace they offered. It had been too long since he had lazed amidst nature, letting the ripple of a stream or the rustling of a forest speak to him and calm him, stealing away all the stress and strain.

  To his left, beyond the six windows there, the landscape was just as green, undulating and spotted with woods and forests that were equally as vibrant, some of which glowed with ethereal blue flowers. There was a village in the distance, one with three windmills that had been tugging at his focus since he had set eyes on them.

  The elves often sold grain to his kingdom, including some of what they milled into flour. If he built such windmills, ones designed to mill rather than produce electricity, he could reduce the need to buy in grain and flour for his people. Some of the power produced by the windfarms could be used to light and heat fields of wheat and other grains.

  He frowned as he felt someone staring at him and did his best to ignore them.

  His gaze traced the map, studying lands he knew like the back of his hand as he listened to the chatter that filled the air, a nervous sort of talking that had the war room buzzing with energy as they waited for the last of the people to gather before proceeding with the meeting.

  King Thorne’s deep baritone rolled over the softer feminine voices, interrupting the conversation between his black-haired mate, Sable, and the blonde female on the other side of the table to her, on Tegan’s right.

  Rosalind.

  The witch’s eyes landed on him again.

  And that dark sensation of being mentally eviscerated by someone followed it.

  This time, a vicious snarl peeled from her mate’s lips.

  Tegan glared at the witch, silently pleading her to stop staring at him and provoki
ng her mate. She didn’t relent. She casually flicked her golden waves over her shoulder. Her blue eyes sparkled as they always did whenever he dared to glance at her, a wicked glint in them that said she was waiting for him to regret what he had done.

  Or perhaps she was imagining him naked wrestling her mate.

  Vail towered behind her, the black scales of his figure-hugging armour blending with her dress as he stood with both hands on her shoulders, a protective gesture that he backed up with a flash of his fangs in Tegan’s direction as his ears grew even pointier and his violet irises gained a black edge, a sliver of the darkness he held within him showing in them.

  “Vail,” Prince Loren chided. While his brother had chosen to wear his armour to the meeting, Prince Loren wore black formal attire of an embroidered knee-length tunic, tight trousers, and polished boots. The two were similar in height and appearance, but Loren’s blue-black hair had been neatly trimmed and styled, and Vail’s was wild and tousled. Loren sighed. “Rosalind has assured us that King Tegan apologised for what happened and she was returned unharmed. I do not need war between my allies when I have a war with an enemy ahead of me.”

  Vail issued his older brother an apologetic look and Tegan breathed a little easier. It wouldn’t stop Vail from threatening him forever, but it would buy him a few minutes without the elf looking at him as if he was one step closer to playing with his entrails.

  “How much longer must we wait for your man?” Tegan did his best to keep the bite from his tone, but it was hard when the tension between him and Vail was building and he was beginning to fear they would come to blows if the meeting didn’t begin, and end, soon.

  “Not much longer.” Prince Loren smiled tightly. “He is not always this late.”

  That wasn’t a comfort.

  Thorne smoothed his hand over his mate’s long black hair, gazing down into her golden eyes in a way that had a restlessness coursing through Tegan. The female smiled up at her demon and settled her hands on the waist of his deep burgundy leathers before sliding them up over his bare chest.

  Tegan had seen enough.