Wicked Abyss

by Kresley Cole

  "You were spying on me?"

  Constantly. But once she had finished with her escape preparations, he'd given her privacy to bathe and dress. "I can scent something is amiss with you."

  She turned from him with an irritated huff, then raised a dainty foot to the chair. After reaching beneath her skirts, she turned to toss her hidden bag onto the table.

  He reached inside it and pulled out a weapon: a shard of glass with cloth wrapped around the base to create a handle. "A fair enough knife."

  She jutted her chin.

  A smaller drawstring bag held an ashy powder. "I suspect you used the mirror and sunlight to cook the fire vine into a portable toxin. Had you intended to throw that in my eyes?"

  Shrug.

  He pulled free a set of sharpened sticks that she'd threaded into a swath of cloth for accessibility. "You used the boning from your corset to make throwing sticks."

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  With a wave of his hand, he disposed of her bag and implements. "Save yourself any future efforts at escaping. Your ring"--he pointed to the gold band on her finger--"has a confinement spell as well as healing. As long as you wear that, you can't exit the castle."

  She scowled at the ring, then at him. "All you've done is give me a problem to solve."

  The little firebrand was just getting warmed up. His pulse quickened at the idea.

  Smoothing her hair, she asked, "What are you going to do to me now?"

  "Nothing. Though I won this round, I'll replace these items in your room, and we can start this evening over."

  What's his game?

  The demon had just caught her red-handed, yet he wanted to continue their dinner? "Sure. Why not?" What else could she do? All her efforts had been wasted.

  And sneaky fucking Abyssian had shoved at least two spells into her ring. She could have burned herself on the fire vine for weeks, and she still wouldn't have been going anywhere.

  But she had to believe another chance to escape would come her way. Tonight she would learn as much as she could. Tomorrow she would regroup.

  After seating her, he traced to his chair at the opposite end of the long marble table. Even the table surface had chiseled Demonish inscriptions. Would he notice if she read them? "Is all the furniture stone in this castle? And the doors gold?"

  He nodded. "We have only one slow-growing forest here, with trees so large lumber production would be difficult. But we have limitless igneous rock and ore." As a golden goblet appeared before her, he said, "Try the wine. Unless you'd prefer demon brew." He raised his own cup.

  "I don't drink." She'd never been able to afford a misstep in the mortal realm.

  With steel in his tone, he said, "You do tonight."

  Pick your battles. She took a sip. Nice enough wine, she supposed. She gazed around the room, then back at him. In the firelight, he looked less monstrous. Surprisingly, she found aspects of the king . . . not off-putting.

  The flash of white teeth against his reddened skin. His prominent cheekbones. The clarity of his gaze.

  Even his large black horns were striking. They emerged from his temples to flare back along his head. Ridged at the base, the lengths grew smoother toward the tips.

  Naturally the king of hell would look to his best advantage by firelight.

  He might be beastly, but he had pride in his bearing. He should; he was a king, a primordial--and a member of the most powerful alliance in existence.

  A Morior sat right down the table from her. Though she was boldly assessing him, he said nothing, letting her look her fill.

  His lips even curled. "That color suits you."

  Compliments and wine? Again, he was putting forth an effort to make her more relaxed. At any moment, she expected him to say, And for my next trick . . . Her gaze flicked upward. "The crown of the hell demonarchy is understated." Unlike Saetth's fey crown.

  "Because it serves little purpose. The demons of Pandemonia instinctively recognize and revere a monarch's horns. Mine are identifiable to them above all others."

  She'd never read that. "I'm surprised His Highness invited me tonight. We didn't seem to get off on the right foot." She bit her lip and took a sip of wine. He might not have feet, Lila.

  "I want you to call me Abyssian."

  Another order. "Very well, Abyssian." She had a brief thought that he was trying to seduce her--he must want to be free of his demon seal--but she dismissed the idea. She'd made no secret of her hatred of him.

  "I am curious about my prisoner." With a wave of his hand, he made the table shorter, teleporting her chair closer.

  "Oh!" She blinked.

  He noticed her hand shaking on her cup. "Nervous?"

  "I'm suspicious. Before the night's through, you'll probably make me run for my life from hellhounds or something."

  "You're in no danger this evening. I vow to the Lore that you'll be safely returned to your tower after dinner," he said, adding, "And there's no outrunning hellhounds."

  Dick. "Good to know."

  "Where did you live before your current home?" He sampled his drink. For a sinister demonic king, he had nice lips.

  She dragged her focus back to his intense green eyes. "I was born in Sylvan."

  "Are you close to your parents?"

  "I wanted to be." Her upbringing had been so different from the ones she'd read about among other species. Maybe that explained why she wanted children so much: to shower them with the love she'd been denied. "But it wasn't in the cards," she said, her voice sounding sad, even to herself. Her scheming and cold parents had been consumed with acquiring ever more power. "They died years ago."

  "How many years?" Abyssian asked, as if the number was significant.

  "Eleven."

  "You were thirteen when they ceased guiding you? Then what happened?"

  "I went to the mortal realm to live." Wanting away from this subject, she asked him, "What were your parents like?"

  Tone abruptly curt, he said, "I've already answered this question for you in a past life."

  She drew back her head. "So am I never going to discover more about you? If so, I guarantee you'll hear nothing more about me."

  Seeming to grind his fangs, he finally said, "My sire was a warrior and explorer, known for his wiliness. My dam was darkness personified."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means she was beyond most beings' comprehension." He drank from his goblet, his unreadable gaze taking her in. "She was a creature of shadow, born from the ether."

  How wild. "Is that where you came by your magic?"

  "Possibly some, but this realm fuels the king's magic, tying it to the ruler's life force. The king in turn controls the land. Pandemonia and I are symbiotic."

  Fascinating. "So you don't wield magic off-plane?"

  "It's a luxury I enjoy in my own kingdom--one I have no need of in others."

  "Did Kari come to this realm? Is that how you met her?"

  He shook his head, seeming to debate how much he'd reveal. At length, he said, "When I was sixteen, that rift between Sylvan and Pandemonia had just been discovered. Back then, the fey were known as elves. They and the demons were such dissimilar species that mistrust simmered on both sides. So the king of Sylvan and my brother, King Gourlav, agreed that I would be fostered in the elven dimension for a season, learning about their culture. Kari was to be my guide."

  "And then what happened?" Would he finally tell her how she'd "betrayed" him? She braced for his answer.

  His claws lengthened around his goblet. "You were a devious spy for Sylvan."

  Oh, shit. Her deadline had just gotten real. If he found out Lila's ill-fated mission . . .

  "You manipulated me into revealing my realm's weaknesses to you. I told you how defenseless the outland demons were, how they'd rarely learned to teleport or mind-read, preferring a simpler way of life. I admitted how vulnerable Gourlav was, his new powers still developing." Abyssian's fangs sharpened. "And you reported those secrets
to your father, the king. Armed with that knowledge, he broke his treaty of honor and launched a surprise attack against Pandemonia."

  "Why?"

  "To capture and enslave outland demons. Because of your treachery, Gourlav was forced to seal the portal for good--like a tourniquet to stem blood from a ruined limb--abandoning those demons." No wonder Abyssian had tensed earlier when she'd brought up the rift. "Families were torn apart."

  Realization dawned. "You're talking about Princess . . . Karinna."

  Nod.

  "That's not the story I was taught."

  "This I must hear."

  "According to the history books, when the Pando-Sylvan rift opened, a demon prince found Karinna playing with her friends. He abducted her, dragging her back to hell." Myths of Persephone and Hades were said to have arisen from Karinna's legend. "A demonic army invaded Sylvan for more females and treasures, but Karinna figured out their weaknesses and escaped. Back in Sylvan, she gave her father all the information he needed to protect the realm. The worst of the captured marauders were enslaved as punishment."

  Karinna had been a rallying cry for millennia, a type of fey martyr. Her name was a reminder never to forget the mindless violence demons were capable of.

  Am I Karinna?

  Abyssian bit out, "The fey history books have it wrong. The elves attacked us."

  "Why should I believe you?" she asked, though she . . . did, despite her feelings about Abyssian. He had no reason to lie, would just baldly say, Yes, we struck.

  And Sylvan had a long history of enslaving invaders. Strange, though: for a pastoral realm with few natural resources, Sylvan had been "invaded" constantly.

  "Believe me because I was there. And if I'd abducted a female and dragged her to hell--she'd fucking still be in hell."

  Instead Karinna had gotten pregnant by another male and died. "Who did she marry?" Lila had never read anything on her husband.

  Abyssian drank deeply. "A king of another fey realm."

  If--when--this demon found out about Lila's betrothal to a fey king, he would lose his shit.

  "And now you know your past crimes." His version of the story did make the princess sound treacherous.

  Even so, Lila was sick of paying for others' sins.

  Because of her parents, Lila had been exiled. Because of Karinna's actions, Lila had been captured by a Morior. Because of Magh, she'd been hunted all her life by Rune.

  While Lila could understand the archer's vendetta, she didn't want to pay for it with her life. Her worst crimes had been snobbery and ignorance, and she'd shed those weaknesses in her teens.

  I never did anything to the archer.

  She would take responsibility for her own actions, but she was done shouldering undue blame. At least in this life, she was trying to hurt someone--yet only to strike back against an enemy. "What happened to you back then?"

  "A trusted general smuggled me back here just before Gourlav sealed the portal."

  "If what you say is true, then I'm surprised you've never retaliated against Sylvan in all this time."

  "I made a vow to wait for this Accession. The Morior's attack is imminent."

  Just as Nix had said. Lila had to warn Sylvan. Her escape just became that much more critical. "In this conversation, you've revealed weaknesses to me. Aren't you afraid history will repeat itself?"

  He bared his fangs. "Don't you understand? I want a fey invasion. The weaknesses of old no longer exist, and my power is vast. If your kind step into hell, they'll be trapped in torment." At his words, the lands rumbled.

  She swallowed. "Why would you confide in Karinna? Were you two lovers?"

  "We were . . . not. Fey and demons don't belong together."

  "Why?"

  Her question seemed to take him off guard. "Because they beget dark fey."

  Also known as banebloods, those poisonous creatures had demon fangs and fey ears. Their logical minds warred with their base instincts. "Dark fey like the Morior's archer? I wager he's glad his parents didn't feel the way you do."

  "The way everyone does."

  Not her. She hated Rune for what he threatened to do, not for what he was. And more, Lila believed in fate. If a theoretical demon was destined for a theoretical fey--and the fey accepted the bond--then fate intended for banebloods to be born.

  Abyssian asked, "Would you mate with a demon?"

  She said nothing, because she didn't want him to get any ideas. She would never accept a bond with Abyssian Infernas.

  "I have no idea what you're thinking, and it vexes me to no end. You must've practiced constantly to hone your blocks. Why would you have?"

  Because her cousins used their demon servants to mind-read at court. She shrugged, which just made Abyssian madder.

  "If you're so blameless, open your blocks to me."

  "Sure thing." She did for a split second, blasting out one thought.

  He raised his brows. "I'd be happy to get fucked. Are you offering? If so, I'm accepting."

  It was disturbingly easy to picture Abyssian in the sexual positions described on the tower walls. Pandemonia was getting to her. Or overstimulation!

  She refused to be attracted to a Morior who'd tormented her and kept concubines. "I'd have to be dead first."

  "To fuck me?"

  "To open my blocks. Because I don't trust you."

  "So fucking is still on the table." Eyes gleaming, he said, "Or perhaps fucking on the table is still on?"

  Though his play on words turned her imagination to a sizzling scenario--him, naked over her on this table, pistoning between her thighs--she managed a bored look. "Pass."

  "You doubtless want to stay faithful to your former intended." Abyssian steepled his large fingers. "Tell me about this male who inspires such devotion. Does he live in the mortal realm?"

  "In Sylvan."

  "How did you meet him?"

  "My parents introduced us."

  "And you were enthralled with his looks."

  "Looks aren't everything."

  "Sayeth the beauty." The demon's lips curled into a smirk that other females--not her--would consider sexy. "Had you planned to have offspring with your fey male?"

  Abyssian's voice made her ears twitch. She didn't have a lot of experience with demon kings, but this one was jealous. "We've talked about it. I want a large family."

  What kind of father would Saetth be? She still debated whether he had set her up. Why not just kill me . . . ?

  With each moment she floundered in hell, her lifelong dream of being queen of Sylvan grew more distant.

  No. She'd still fight for that future. She would be a good ruler, had absorbed so much knowledge growing up at court. She'd taken her first steps amid power scuffles; her teething ring had been tasty intrigues. She'd learned to dance at the same time she'd grasped political footwork.

  Her first word: queen.

  Then her experiences in the mortal realm had given her a broader mind-set.

  She'd once read descriptions of the different types of ruling styles, everything from benevolent father to tyrannical dictator. She'd liked the protector of the realm/service to the people style.

  "Now what are you thinking about? Your eyes went distant."

  "This and that."

  Her answer clearly irritated the demon. "You were thinking of him." Abyssian's eyes flickered. "Two perfect fey with their perfect feylings. Sounds like a match made in hell to me."

  TWENTY-TWO

  You've asked me a lot about my personal life, but what about yours?" Calliope leaned back in her chair, her breasts straining against her bodice.

  The sight enthralled him. His arousal had been simmering since he'd first seen her in that gown. Even speaking of her betrayal hadn't dimmed his need.

  Ten days ago, he'd been sleepwalking; now everything felt so visceral.

  She followed his gaze and tugged up her bodice in a vain attempt to cover more flesh. Kari would've worn that dress like a second skin, using the garment to play up h
er beauty--her favored weapon.

  If this fey ever recalled her wiles, Sian would be doomed. "What do you wish to know about my personal life?"

  "Do you want a wife and kids?"

  "I do want pups," he said honestly, "but a male like me needs his mate for such things. At least for the first time. Do you know about a demon male's seal?"

  "Vaguely."

  "I won't spill semen until I claim my destined female. But after my seal is gone, I can plant my seed in any field--except a fey's."

  "Because of banebloods."

  Sian nodded. For millennia Rune had cursed his nature. When members of the Morior had delved into the archer's mind to be brought up to speed with this time, Rune couldn't conceal the depth of his frustration and shame over his black blood.

  Sian's looks might be repulsive, but Rune had been poisonous to everyone, always on his guard not to harm another by accident.

  Now the archer's entire existence had changed. "My friend Rune believed he would never have a mate, but he has found his female at last."

  "Another dark fey? I thought they were rare."

  "They are." Banebloods were usually killed at birth. "But his mate is a halfling who is immune to him." Rune's vampiric female couldn't get enough of the black blood running through his veins.

  "And you never found your mate in all this time?"

  Sian waved to the seat at his right. "Do you see a queen by my side?"

  "What if you never find her?"

  "I could wed. I might make some lucky demoness my queen through a binding ceremony." Would Pandemonians recognize another female as queen while his mate still lived? Would his red-blooded heirs be recognized?

  Not that Calliope herself would ever be. The Vrekeners might accept a sorceress for their queen, but the hostile hell demons would never--could never--show fealty to a monarch without horns.

  In an impudent tone, Calliope said, "Or perhaps you prefer to stick to your harem?"

  "I plan to wed and keep my harem of twelve."

  Her lips thinned.

  Nettling her amused him to a surprising degree. "Do you oppose the institution?"

  "Of marriage?"

  "Of harems."

  Her eyes flashed. "In your case, I find it--how should I put this?--predictably antiquated."

  "Antiquated?"

  With a challenging arch to her brow, she said, "It seems that servicing twelve females would require a lot of time and devotion. If satisfying them was a priority." She leaned in and added in a confiding tone, "But then, older males don't often aspire to impossible goals."