Kiss of a Demon King iad-7

by Kresley Cole

  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.

  30

  Rage demons were everywhere. By sunset, she and Rydstrom had followed a pair of demons-camp guards-until they'd reached a bluff overlooking a sea of tents spread out below.

  When the guards had come upon them earlier, the two had wanted to know what they were doing outside the boundaries "when there are beasties about."

  Rydstrom had merely demanded to be taken to who­ever was in charge. He'd been shirtless and still had blood on him, but he was outwardly-if not calm- then at least stable.

  Now, as she and Rydstrom trailed the guards down into the camp, through a crowd of what must be hun­dreds, Sabine stared around her.

  The demons stared back. Whispers sounded, females glaring at her lack of clothing. The women here appar-ently favored excessive clothing-unnecessarily long sleeves and skirts.

  A lesser sorceress would have been discomfited by

  the fact that she wore a swath of cloth, a micromini, and sand-and had her hands tied. Sabine glanced around, her demeanor bored.

  When males leered at her body, Rydstrom's hand fisted on her arm, his horns already straightening.

  As she surveyed her surroundings, Sabine had to exhale in exasperation. Medieval castle, and kingdom, and people. Why should she be surprised that this place looked to be straight out of a Renaissance fair?

  The "housing" consisted of pavilion tents, each with elaborate valances hanging from the roofs and topped with pennants flying aloft. She recognized several of the noble families' colors. These demons had come from all over the kingdom.

  The guards took them to a sizable round pavilion. Inside, well-dressed males milled about, clearly noble­men.

  One asked Rydstrom, "What were you doing outside the boundaries? Everyone has been informed of the dangers of this place."

  "We aren't part of this group. We came from out­side."

  "Well, we've no more room here," the man said. "We can barely feed everyone as it is."

  "Make room. I'm Rydstrom, your king."

  Instant silence was followed by an uproar.

  -"Rydstrom hasn't been back to this plane in centu-riesr

  -"But the scar . . . ?"

  --"There were rumors he'd been captured by a sorcer­ess."

  Sabine said, "Only a sorceress? Try the sorceress-"

  "I am your king," Rydstrom spoke over her. "And I grow weary of this."

  "It's true," a woman's voice said from the back. "He's Rydstrom." A demoness strode forward. She was beauti­ful, with long chestnut brown hair and petite horns that shone with health. Ah, but she was a pastel-wearer. She was forever dead to Sabine.

  Rydstrom narrowed his eyes at the female. "Do I know you?"

  She seemed taken aback. "I . . . yes, you do. I'm Durinda. I was a lady-in-waiting to one of your sisters at Tornin." A young demon boy of maybe six years peeked out from behind her roo-long skirts. "And this is Puck." She ruffled his blonde hair. "He was my best friend's son."

  Puck was missing a baby fang, and he stared at Sabine with owl eyes. Which seemed to distress this Durinda, because she sent him outside at once.

  Sabine had just become the pink elephant in the room. When their gazes fell as one on her, Rydstrom said, "My prisoner, Sabine. From Castle Tornin."

  Jaws dropped, and another uproar sounded.

  -"Omort's sister?"

  -"The Queen of Illusions?"

  -"She'll kill us all in our sleep!"

  Sabine jerked her chin up at Rydstrom. "So now I'm only your prisoner? Why didn't you introduce me as-"

  "Silence." His grip on her arm made her wince and keep her mouth shut, for now.

  Rydstrom asked the apparenr lead noble, "Is this where the portals off-plane will open?"

  "Yes, my liege," the man answered. "In four days."

  Sabine noticed then that Durinda seemed spellbound by Rydstrom's muscular chest. There was something in that demoness's eyes that made Sabine step closer to him, leaning her body into his so much that he frowned down at her.

  Sabine might not be keeping her husband, but for now, Rydstrom was hers, and Sabine had never learned how to share.

  Durinda said, "I'm sure you're fatigued from your journey, my liege. You can have my tent, and we'll find a place for ... her."

  "She stays with me," he commanded.

  Durinda's face paled at his fierce tone. "O-of course."

  Sabine said, "Durinda, we accept your hospitality." As our due.

  Though the demoness's shoulders stiffened, she showed them to a spacious tent. The canvas was col­ored a subdued blue with a steel gray fringe on the valances. Tracery scrolled over the sides. The effect was striking-and denoted wealth.

  Inside, the color scheme continued. A pallet in the corner was gray, with lush quilts in blue. Paper lanterns decorated with matching tracery hung from the roof supports.

  Sabine's pavilion would be bold crimson and jet with a gold fringe. Real gold. Because I'm worth it.

  The demoness removed some bags, then hesitated at the entrance flap.

  In' her crispest tone, Sabine said, "That will be all, Durinda."

  With an indignant huff, she whirled around.

  As soon as the flap closed, Rydstrom said, "Do you have to act like that?"

  Sabine rounded on him. "Yes. As a matter of fact." She was ogling my husband!

  "She's doing us a kindness by letting us sleep here."

  "No, she's not. They believe you're their king, which means that this tent and anything in this camp and in the whole bloody kingdom is yours. Since I'm your queen, that means all is mine as well. Why would I show gratitude to people for giving me what's already mine?"

  When he began dousing the lanterns, she said, "And why didn't you tell them I'm wed to you?"

  After all she'd put up with, he wouldn't even acknowl­edge her as his queen? She couldn't help recalling Omort's words. How disappointed the demon must be. . . .

  Was Rydstrom shamed to claim her as his wife? "People will find out. You might as well admit that we're wed."

  "Sabine, we're both injured and exhausted," he said, capturing her hand and dragging her down to the bed' ding. "We'll speak of this tomorrow."

  Sabine was out of sorts in every way. They'd been less than four hours from reaching this place; maybe they could have done without her meltdown. No, she should still be furious with him over her treatment and her continued captivity-

  Damn it, is he embarrassed of me
?

  She'd noticed two things when she'd slept with him during the last couple of nights. When he wrapped his arms around her, he clasped her as tightly as he would

  his most treasured prize. And whenever he did that, she fell into a deep numb sleep.

  Sabine welcomed it now. The heat from his body was so palpable, it seemed to stroke her in the dark. The world soon fell away.. . .

  She woke in the night, blinking her eyes to find him watching her, his face so weary.

  "No more bad dreams, love."

  Had he seen her dream? She didn't remember it-

  He pressed his lips to her hair. "You're safe, now." He eased his hand to her face so slowly, touching her cheek with the softest caress she'd ever received. It was almost as if he'd practiced how not to startle her.

  Her last thought before sleep claimed her once more: If I'm not careful, I could get used to having a demon hus­band. . . .

  31

  "Retro-Amish. How . . . charming," she said when Rydstrom brought her changes of clothing the next morning. He was relieved to see that her face and body had healed overnight.

  Though she'd just awakened, he'd already bathed in nearby hot springs, dressed in new clothes, and met with the head noblemen, who were all too eager to turn over the governing-and the problems-of the camp to him.

  They'd been rife with curiosity about Sabine. Was she the king's concubine or prisoner or both! Rydstrom wouldn't volunteer anything, just commanded that while she was not to be freed, she was to be shown the utmost respect- and that everyone here be apprised of that order.

  Sabine gave a nod at the clothes. "Let me guess- from Durinda?"

  "Yes, they're courtesy of her." After Rydstrom's meet' ing, the demoness had guided him around camp, with the boy Puck following. He was an orphan that Durinda

  hoped to foster in the future. Though the demoness clearly knew Rydstrom, he couldn't seem to place her. But she was friendly enough, and the boy reminded him of Cadeon at that age. The exact age my brother was when I sent him away.

  "Durinda-and many others-noted your lack of clothing last night. They favor more conservative gar­ments."