Kiss of a Demon King iad-7

by Kresley Cole

  Conceived my child. He found himself wanting it to be true-even as he knew the clock would begin tick-ing down on his life. If she was pregnant, they would have no more use for him. More than ever, he had to escape. Take my female, take my child, return for my kingdom. . . .

  Rydstrom needed the sorceress here. He'd hurt her, and he wanted the chance to make it up to her. But he was uneasy over more than the pain he'd given her. Though he'd taken Sabine, she wasn't his wife, and he hadn't completely claimed her as his mate.

  He needed to mark her to satisfy his demon instincts.

  Rydstrom tensed when he heard loud footfalls sound­ing down the dungeon steps. Shortly after, three large males entered the cell, all clearly Inferi slaves. He recalled Sabine's fury-had she left orders for him to be beaten?

  The largest one began unchaining Rydstrom. Which meant a chance to escape. He stilled in readiness. Three Inferi could never control a demon-

  Again a powder stung his eyes. Gods damn them . . . Yet this time Rydstrom remained awake, seeing.

  Only he couldn't move.

  There was something in the men's eyes as they gazed at his prone body. Once Rydstrom recognized it, his heart went cold.

  Lust.

  When they strung him up in the shower and stripped his pants from him, Rydstrom couldn't move a muscle to fight them. As they washed his deadened body, he was impotent to do anything but stare at the ceiling as a scalding hatred blazed inside him.

  She'd done this to him. Sabine had ordered this, knowing how much he would despise it.

  Once he escaped, he'd humiliate her in front of a thousand demons, he'd give her to them to use. As soon as the thought arose, rage erupted in him, possession burning hot. . . .

  He lost himself in that rage, going awash in it, again vowing for the crudest revenge. An exact reprisal tc her, for every wrong she'd dealt him.

  I won't rest until I've made her pay.

  20

  "Didn't get a chance to call off the, uh, bathing?" Lanthe said telepathically, able to sip from her goblet and communicate at the same time.

  "Alas, no," Sabine said, modeling an outfit in front of her oversize mirror, readying for another night with the demon. "And it went. . . badly."

  "Tell me."

  "The Inferi's powder wore off, and Rydstrom attacked with his poisonous horns."

  The trio hadn't intended to do more than bathe him, but he'd gone insane, fighting them like a beast.

  "He temporarily paralyzed one of my poor Inferi before they contained him," Sabine said, selecting another top from the collection recently forged for her. "I mean, I knew he wouldn't like being touched by three males-that's why I ordered it. But to react like that? The thought of being bathed by strange women merely sounds titillating to me:

  "And you're going to him just three nights later?"

  "I don't have a choice." Unfortunately, she wasn't preg­nant. The Hag could divine such things within days, so this morning, Sabine had descended into the bowels of the castle to consult the old crone. Rumor had it that she'd once been a beautiful elven maiden who'd met with some kind of curse.

  Sabine couldn't see it.

  The Hag's basement laboratory was squalid and dis­turbing with all the butchered animals-Sabine had had to bathe twice to get the odor of fried batwings off her body.

  The woman had taken her blood and told her the news-a blow to Sabine because she was nearing the end of her fertile cycle.

  Out of curiosity-and for no other reason-Sabine had asked the woman if Rydstrom would have been poi­soned by the morsus if he'd bitten her neck. The Hag had glared at her with aged opaque eyes. "Not unless you were in the full blown throes of the poison. So there's no excuse for you to deny the demon male some­thing he needs to do. No excuse other than your own selfishness," she'd said, demonstrating her customary insolence. "You take his seed and give nothing...."

  Now Sabine told Lanthe, "Tonight it has to be business as usual." Hettiah wouldn't be out of commission much longer. "I have to conceive so that Hettiah doesn't bear my husband's child."

  Lanthe winced. "That sounds really messed up."

  "Because it is! Over my dead body will that be happen-ing. And you know I don't say that lightly."

  "Have you thought any more about Groot's sword?"

  Once Sabine had told her about it, the two of them had been antsy, wanting to plot, to act, to do something.

  Outcomes and possibilities. Actions and reactions. Although plots usually came to her easily, Sabine was having to work for this one.

  Plus, the memory of Omort's wrath on that Vampire army weighed heavily on them as well.

  "I'm staying the course with the demon." Sabine had ultimately decided the prospect of the sword was too up in the air to even consider a plan of action.

  "I thought you'd sworn off sex."

  "I'm going to give it a second go," Sabine said as she donned a top that had metal cups shaped like actual paws, with claws flared. Knowing the demon would like it, she laced up the leather ties on the sides.

  "You're softening toward Rydstrom, aren't you? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for him?"

  "Lanthe, you know perfectly well that I could look you in the eyes and lie," she said. "But I won't. Honestly, I'm drawn to him."

  Sabine's head had been filled with thoughts of him. She craved his warmth against her body, his scent sur­rounding her. She'd lain in bed, staring at the ceiling as sea breezes rushed in, wondering what it would be like with him here in her bed. Could he touch her slowly at

  first?

  "I keep thinking of him as my husband. It's silly that a few words should affect me like that, but the idea makes me possessive of him."

  "You don't seem too broken up about having to bed him

  again."

  "Upon further reflection, I've realized it wasn't all bad." The time leading up to the pain had been incredible. She wanted more of that excitement, was aching for it. She was a born hedonist, a Sorceri who craved her plea­sures. The demon could give them to her.

  Last night, she'd woken to a chimera of Rydstrom slipping into bed with her, that intent look in his eyes and handcuffs dangling from his fist....

  "The demon Cadeon is still going strong?" Lanthe asked.

  Sabine gave herself an inward shake. "From what I understand, he had four checkpoints to get through, and he and the Vessel have already completed three." She settled a new headdress over her plaits, clasping the back of it to her collar. "But even if he gets the sword, he'll never get close enough to use it."

  "We could. If given the chance, could you personally take Omortout?"

  Sabine's eyes went cold. "In a heartbeat." She smoothed her finest metal fishnet hose up to her thighs, securing them in place with tight leather garters. Then she covered much of the hose with wicked steel-toed boots that climbed up past her knees.

  "You still won't consider uniting with the rage demons?"

  Sabine shook her head. "Omort would kill us before we even had a chance. How quickly we forget his power." Over her short skirt, she draped a belt hung with a dozen blue-gold tassels. "Besides, if we united with them, we'd have to turn around and kill them." When Lanthe raised her brows, Sabine said, "Or we'd be out a castle. And I'm not keen on sharing."

  "Not even with your husband?"

  There was that word again. She hesitated, then said, "Think of what Rydstrom would demand from us- obedience, lawfulness. Yes, it would be better than with Omort. But it couldn't be better than if we ruled."

  "That's true." Lanthe rose to head back to her room. "Try to get some information tonight. Maybe they have a plan of their own."

  "I'll see what I can find out." After Lanthe left, Sabine finished at the dresser, drawing her face paint in blurred streaks of black and gray that covered her eyes and fanned out toward her temples.

  She checked her reflection. Was she alluring enough to tempt him from his certain ire? The mirror said yes.

  But then she
had the most startling thought. More of an impulse, really. And one she readily checked. She gave a nervous laugh, glancing around the room.

  For a second there, she'd thought about telling him she was ... sorry.

  Though he burned with rage toward her, Rydstrom wanted her with him.

  Being separated from her like this wasn't natural-it went contrary to his demon instinct.

  He hungered to have his mark on her, his scent on her skin. He needed to run his horns all over her.

  His fists clenched. Damn it, when will she return to me?

  A male materialized in his cell. Lothaire. Kill.

  "Don't look at me like you'll rip my throat out," the vampire said in accented English. "I can aid your

  escape." He held up a key in one hand and a pack in the other. "Your freedom. And supplies. I can trace you to Grave Realm, but not off-plane."

  "Why aid me?" Rydstrom demanded, wondering what his game was.

  "I want something from you. You'd have to make a vow to me."

  "A vow to do what?"

  Lothaire said, "When I ask you for something in the future, no matter what it is, you must give it to me."

  -Fuck-off."

  "Think about it. Your options are limited at present."

  They were. And in his current state, Rydstrom couldn't think of anything that Lothaire could ask for that would be worse than what he'd forfeit if he remained prisoner here-his female, his child, his king­dom, and eventually his life. "Why help me now?"

  "Because at this moment, Sabine's sister Hettiah is limping her way here to drug you with an aphrodisiac. And that won't do."

  "Not by Sabine's leave?"

  "I would seriously doubt that."

  "What you ask for is too steep, vampire. I'll resist the sister and her potions-"

  "Not if you're unconscious."

  "She could do that?" At Lothaire's nod, Rydstrom grated, "Even if I escape, I'll be found before I can get us off-plane." "Us?" "Sabine. I'm not leaving without her."

  The vampire shook his head sharply. "Come back for her-we'll be discovered, and Omort will never let her go."

  "Wherever I go, Sabine goes. It will be this way from now until I'm dead."

  Lothaire gave him an appraising look, then nodded. "You have a few days before the sorcerer can manage to get all the illegal portals sealed. Especially since I'm in charge of that security measure. Now Hettiah nears."

  The idea of that woman drugging and using him while he was unconscious made Rydstrom shudder with disgust.

  "Make the vow, demon. I know much about this kingdom. And I know much about your intended new prisoner. How to render her completely powerless"

  This time Rydstrom didn't hesitate. "I vow it. Now tell me."

  Lothaire nearly smiled, a mean expression on him.

  "She can't purposely cast her illusions with both hands bound behind her back." He began unlocking Ryd'

  Strom's chains. "Her tower is the west one."

  Heart thundering, Rydstrom said, "I know."

  Lothaire clasped his wrist and traced them into her room.

  Sabine was admiring herself in the mirror, the most beautiful creature Rydstrom had ever seen. Mine.

  "Hello, princess."

  22

  Sabine's breath left her when she spied Rydstrom in her mirror's reflection, with his eyes wild. And Lothaire, too? The vampire was working with him? That traitor!

  She raised her hands to cloak herself, but Rydstrom lunged across the room and captured her wrists behind her back. Did he know that would prevent her from casting illusions? She shrieked once before he covered her mouth with his other hand.

  Would it be enough for the Inferi outside to call for the guards?

  While Rydstrom tied her wrists with a length of cord, Lothaire traced over to help him. She fought the two as. the vampire secured a gag around her head.

  With muffled curses, she berated the traitor. He shrugged.

  Shouts sounded as the castle raised the alarm. Sec­onds later, guards burst into the room with swords raised, a mix of revenants, Sorceri and fallen vampires. The latter nodded at Lothaire and traced away.

  Rydstrom tossed her behind him, sending her tum­bling to the ground, then faced off against at least ten guards. His horns flared ominously, the color of his skin deepening in his rage. His muscles expanded and flexed before her very eyes.

  She watched in awe as the demon launched him­self at the guards, slashing with fangs and claws. That dragon tattoo seemed to come alive, snaking its move­ments over sweat-slicked flesh.

  Lothaire casually stood beside her place on her floor, drawing a knee up and resting his boot on the wall. "We could simply trace," he said, "but then, you'll likely want him to work some of this out of his system. And I'm hungry."

  She cursed him again behind the gag, but his atten­tion was fixed on the melee.

  Rydstrom was tearing the soldiers apart with such a ferocity, that even she was stunned. And that's my hus­band.

  Lothaire himself quirked a brow, glancing from Ryd­strom to Sabine and back again, linking the demon's savage reaction to her. He muttered, "Noted."

  Two Sorceri guards charged her and Lothaire. The vampire pushed away from the wall and fought them, seeming to enjoy the battle, easily dodging their swords with his tracing.

  He slew one, then clasped the second's flailing body tightly to his own, piercing his neck. His blonde brows drew together with pleasure. Between his and the demon's brutality, Sabine stared in horrified fascina­tion.

  She shook herself, scrambling to her feet to escape them. Almost to the door . .. But the demon was clash­ing with two more revenants, and the three barreled toward her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sword hilt rushing toward her head.

  When she cried out in pain, the demon roared with fury. Then . . . nothingness.

  His thoughts were dim-any part of him that was ratio­nal was muted. His demon instinct was ruling him.

  Take my woman . . . get free.

  More shouting soldiers charged up the stairs. With Sabine draped across his shoulder, Rydstrom hissed, "Trace us, vampire!"

  Lothaire dumped the guard he'd been draining, then clutched Rydstrom's wrist once more. "Hold her tight."

  After an instant of blackness, Rydstrom saw moun­tains soaring in the distance. The moon glowed off the sand of a barren plain. The vampire had traced them to Grave Realm.

  Rydstrom was free-and Sabine was in his possession. He drew her from his shoulder into his arms. She looked innocent, but it was a false face. She'd tormented him again and again.

  His mind was burdened with confusing hatred, his body with aggression and primitive need.

  My woman. So pale and perfect. To use as I please.

  He bent down to lay her limp body in the sand, then checked her head. A knot had risen, but nothing her immortality wouldn't rapidly shake.

  "A blade," he grated as he untied the cord he'd bound her with. When Lothaire handed him a dagger, Rydstrom cut lengths that he tied around her wrists like cuffs, then he secured the two together with another line.

  Once he'd finished, Lothaire tossed Rydstrom a black tunic and the pack. "There's a canteen of water and sup' plies to camp for a few days." From his waist, he unfas­tened a sword belt. "And a weapon-to defend against the beasties," he said, seeming amused by that.

  Rydstrom drew on the tunic, then strapped the sword

  to his waist.

  "You've got a week at the most to locate a portal Strike out due west from here-you'll likely begin to find rage demons, refugees who will know the way."

  Rydstrom lifted Sabine once more. "What will you ask of me?"

  The vampire's pale-eyed gaze locked on Rydstrom. "Something that will be worth what I've lost here by breaking my pact with Omort."

  "When?"

  "When the time comes. In a week, a decade. Maybe a millennium."

  "You're still my enemy," Rydstrom said. "I could sim­ply hunt you d
own and kill you."

  "I'd expect nothing less. You're an honest king, but you're still a ruthless one. Now go. The clock ticks."

  When Sabine woke, the moon had not yet set.

  She was greeted by a pounding pain in her head, and since the demon had thrown her over his shoulder, each

  of his long strides was increasing that ache. Her hands were still bound behind her back. Which meant...

  I'm powerless.

  Glancing up through her braids, she could see they were in a different region of Rothkalina-gone from the seaside castle and verdant forest to a desolate plain. There was only one region in Rothkalina that wasn't replete with green forest-the aptly named Grave Realm.

  Where the wild things are . . .

  She was out in the middle of a perilous territory with a madman, Lanthe must be out of her head with worry, and Sabine had no morsus-if she didn't get back to the castle, to Omort, she truly would be condemned.

  All of this was because of that traitor Lothaire! And the bastard had traced them to Grave Realm. She'd stake him herself!

  Sabine could only imagine how Omort was taking this betrayal ... or who he was taking it out on. She believed Lanthe would be safe, but she hoped her sister would protect their Inferi.

  Gradually, one head-pounding stride of his at a time, the plain gave way to a gnarled forest of petrified wood. Shadows from the moon slithered over the ground. Unseen things scurried in the dirt.

  More alarming, her skirt was riding up to her waist, leaving her ass in no more than a thong. The hand he used to pin her to his shoulder now covered her curves completely, and he'd begun kneading them.

  What will he do to me? She didn't want to have sex with him again, especially since he was in this agitated state. For one thing, her plan was foiled. For another,

  the pain was too fresh. When she'd decided to return to his cell, she'd had every intention of being on top... .

  Rydstrom abruptly halted and dropped her to her feet. In the waning moonlight, his crazed eyes held a look of expectation, his lips drawn back from his fangs.

  Steady Rydstrom had snapped.