Kiss of a Demon King iad-7

by Kresley Cole

  Since last night, word of Sabine and Rydstrom's iden­tity had spread to the entire populace. The people were uneasy about the sorceress within their midst, even as they gazed at him with . . . hope. They thought he was going to make their lives better.

  The responsibility weighed on him. Everywhere he looked he saw work that needed to be done. And food was growing scarce here. All the game in the area was depleted, and hunters were having to go farther afield, which put them at risk for other dangers.

  He wished he had someone to speak with about this. He wished he had Sabine to speak with. But they'd had only had one real conversation.

  "Conservative garments, Rydstrom? Don't you mean stodgy?"

  "Call it what you will."

  "You don't seem as angry as you'd been last night," she observed. "Not still bristling about the baby-or lack thereof?"

  Rydstrom had repeatedly mulled over the night before. At the time, he'd thought she was worried about him, Now he suspected he'd heard and seen things that weren't there, wanting her to be anxious for him, to

  give a damn about him. "I wasn't angry about that, but about the deception. And I've since become glad that you aren't."

  "Is that so?" she asked, her tone disbelieving.

  "I know little of children or of the starting of fami­lies, but I figure there should be no hatred between the parents."

  "Rydstrom, I don't hate you."

  "You did last night."

  "Last night I was furious. Look, whether I deserved the last two days or not, they've still been very difficult for me. And your female is not mild-tempered in the best of circumstances."

  Rydstrom frowned, absently saying, "Maybe a hot bath would be welcome." She'd just sounded so reason­able.

  And he hated that his first thought was, What's her

  game now?

  "Ruffles? Your revenge is devilish and hateful, Ryd­strom." Once she'd bathed, he'd dressed her in an ankle-length flowing skirt and a long-sleeved blouse with-she shuddered-fhuncy things.

  A plain corset and pantalettes served as underwear. Soft slippers covered her feet. She frowned down at them. "How am I supposed to kick with these?"

  "You're not."

  "Have you ever seen pictures of cats dressed up by humans? That's how ridiculous I feel right now."

  "Good. Maybe this will curb your ego," he said as he led her back to the tent.

  "Doubtful. It burns too bright, demon. So do you agree that women should dress like this? Are you old and stodgy?"

  "I think women should dress as they please. Within reason."

  She was about to grill him on that last bit, but she noticed that people were stopping what they were doing to spit on the ground after she passed. "My popularity here, well, it's just embarrassing how they fawn."

  "I can't blame them for how they feel."

  "What?"

  "They're among the hardest hit by Omort's regime- hence their determination to risk Grave Realm to escape his rule."

  "And I'm to be hated for what Omort has done? Have you heard of any specific account where I've gone out of my way to hurt any of the people here?"

  "No, just as I've never heard any where you've gone out of your way to help them."

  "Of course not. I will never aid someone, not unless there's something in it for me. Because I have a brain in my head. Demon, you want things from me that I sim­ply can't give. And you hope to see things in me that just aren't there. I will always lie, cheat, and steal-"

  "And duly kill anyone who defends their gold."

  "You saw my dreams."

  "I did. I saw your mother. And I saw when you were buried."

  She swallowed. Don't you pity me. Don't you dare.

  "You're strong, Sabine. If you could temper that strength with-"

  "Compassion? Kindness? Mercy?"

  "Why not?"

  "Rydstrom, I wouldn't even know where to begin. . . ." She trailed off as they passed Durinda. The pretty demoness smiled winningly at Rydstrom. He gave *

  her a wave.

  Sabine didn't like this little exchange at all. She rec­ognized that she was feeling jealousy. She'd experienced it before Rydstrom, but for things-objects others pos­sessed that she didn't.

  Now she felt as if Durinda had just taken a grab at her gold. Wondering how her gold would feel about that, Sabine gazed up at Rydstrom. "Do you think it's possible to desire another after you've found your female?"

  "I think it depends on how badly one wants his

  female."|

  "Then it's a good thing you're obsessed with me."

  "Why? Are you concerned that I might desire another?"

  She was saved from answering when a tussle broke out among boys nearby.

  Durinda hurried over to snare Puck from the fray. He'd been fighting with much bigger kids-which meant that Puck was scrappy and marginally worth a second of Sabine's attention. For a juvenile demon male, she'd seen less cute.

  He'd probably been teased about his name. "What kind of parents would name their kid something that rhymes with f-"

  "Dead parents," Rydstrom said quickly. "They're both dead, Sabine. And he's having difficulties because he's

  an orphan who hasn't yet been fostered by another family."

  "What about Durinda? Why isn't she his new mother?"

  "Because she is... unwed."

  "The demon made his first funny." He was serious! "It is impossible that you just said that."

  He only ran his hand over the back of his neck.

  When Durinda spoke to Puck in Demonish, Sabine said, "What is she telling him?"

  "That fights solve nothing."

  "Are you ... are you jesting?." Before Rydstrom could steer her away, Sabine called, "Don't listen to her, kid! Fights solve everything! Just be sure to win them!"

  "Enough! The boy doesn't understand English like the others. He was raised in a small farming village and only speaks Demonish."

  "You agree with that twit about fighting, don't you? My dark gods, the world's gone mad! Tell me you wouldn't teach our child that, because it would be a deal breaker."

  He stepped close to her, gazing down at her. His voice was gravelly when he said, "I didn't know you were still in negotiations."

  Sexy demon. She swallowed, again wondering if there would ever come a time when she wasn't affected by him. Inward shake. "Our negotiations fell through before you brought me to this gods forsaken time warp." She turned from him-

  The hits came out of nowhere. She gawked down at her ugly blouse, which had just gotten uglier.

  Some teens had thrown rotten tomatoes at her, splat-ting them over her chest. She stared in disbelief. If this had happened at any other time in her life, someone would be about to die.

  Through gritted teeth, she told Rydstrom, "Untie- me-now!" Her nails were digging into her palms, draw-ing blood.

  He swept a menacing glower in the offenders' direc­tion, and the parents came forth to apologize abjectly.

  Rydstrom told them, "I will return to finish this mat­ter." Then he began squiring her back to the tent.

  "That's all you're going to do? Not good enough, Rydstrom!" She struggled against him. "Untie my bloody hands!"

  "Why? So you can kill some misguided children?"

  "No, I'll just give them nightmares for the rest of their lives." The way people were staring at her eyes, she knew they were glowing blue with fury.

  Once they were back inside, he dragged her over to the bedding in the corner. She was dismayed to see that while they'd been gone, someone had driven a stake into the ground. Attached to it was a length of cord. No, the demon wouldn't dare . . .

  He fetched her a towel from the dressing stand, dip­ping it in the washing bowl. After he stripped her shirt, he rubbed her clean, then redressed her in another awful blouse.

  "How are you going to punish those little punks?"

  "I'm going to tell their parents that you bade me to be lenient with them."

  "Well, aren't you a
cunning demon? Already working

  on my image among them. Too bad that will be a he. And Good King Rydstrom doesn't lie."

  "By the time I leave this tent, it won't be a lie."

  "Never! Not on your-"

  "Then I won't arrange for you to write a message to your sister. Even though I'd found a messenger here who thinks he can get a letter to Tornin."

  "Truly? Oh, fine. King Rydstrom, will you be lenient with the poor, misbegotten sons of curs who threw rot­ten vegetables at me?"

  "I'd be glad to convey that." Was he eyeing that long line attached to the stake?

  "Don't even think about it!" When he bent down to tie her ankle, she kicked out with those useless slippers on her feet.

  But he seized her leg, holding her in places as he knot­ted the line. His task complete, he started for the exit.

  "Where are you going? You can't leave me like this!" He stopped with one hand on the flap and faced her. "You stir up ill-will when you're out. There's much I have to do, and I can't watch you constantly."

  "Then free me."

  "Not a chance." He pointed at her ankle. "There's enough line for you to reach the guard outside."

  "Guard?" she cried. "Do you think I can escape ... ?" She trailed off. "He's for my protection. Again you leave me defenseless."

  "The guard won't let anything happen to you."

  "But what will I do?"

  "Sit in here. Contemplate why others might feel moved to throw things at you."

  As he ducked out of the tent, she yelled, "You leave me tied up like a dog? Then you had better remember that this bitch bites!"

  And then he was gone.

  An hour inched by before the tent flap opened once more. Surprisingly, it was the boy, Puck.

  "What do you want?" Sabine snapped, sitting up on her haunches, scouting for vegetables on his person. "Come to throw tomatoes?"

  As he entered, he pulled a blade from his pocket. Excellent. She was going to be shanked by a pup barely our of diapers.

  Yet then he drew a piece of wood from his other pocket and plopped down beside her, beginning to whittle.

  Oh. "Can you make me an eye-socket-size stake? For Rydstrom?" Puck frowned, not understanding English. "Or better yet, you can use your little knife to cut through these bindings."

  He grinned with total incomprehension.

  Sabine didn't care for children, and after repeated failed attempts to communicate his role in her escape plot, his presence swiftly began irritating her. "Shoo, then. Get out."

  He didn't budge.

  In an exaggeratedly cheery voice, she said, "You've shown me what a good wittle whittler you are!" Her tone normal once more, she said, "So go the hell away. I've important things to ponder."

  Nothing. "Oh, I get it! You're doing some kind of cute orphan stunt. Trying to make me like you so you might get a new mommy because I am wed. Of course,

  your taste is to be commended, demon boy person. Alas, you've got the wrong mark here. I've got nothing to bring to the mommy table."

  He only tilted his head at her. Then he solemnly held out his hand as if he wanted to give her something.

  Sabine did like to be given things. "What is it? Let me see." She rolled her eyes. "I'm tied here, clueless-I can't hold out my hand."

  He laid something on her knee, something tiny and white. Sabine had noticed that he'd been missing his bottom fang. Not missing anymore!

  And he'd obviously been saving it for a long time. "Oh, that's just not right." Her face screwed up into an expression of distaste, and not just because it was disgusting. "Don't you know you can get gold for that tooth? What's wrong with you?"

  32

  Rhydstrom had never thought he would be so happy to see a female's jealousy. Sabine was jealous of Durinda. Over the past two days, she'd displayed it repeatedly.

  This was an indication that his female might truly feel something for him-an indication he'd never expected.

  Again the puzzle deepened.

  Rydstrom did spend most of the days with the demoness since she helped him organize the upcoming portal crossings. They were arranging groups based on destination. Most would go to one of a few Lore-rich cities like New York or Savannah. For extra money, one could give the portal keeper exact coordinates.

  There were difficulties inherent in assimilating so many Lorekind into human societies. If a thousand demons suddenly showed up in Savannah, someone was bound to notice.

  As he worked with his people, preparing them for this new world, he grew shamed that he'd resented

  them, resented his responsibility. He found them to be industrious, hardworking, and down to earth.

  Durinda was an invaluable help as they readied for the exodus, but Rydstrom also enjoyed her company. She was someone from his past who shared memories of Tornin from better times. He liked talking to her about the castle, recalling it in its glory, trying to erase what he'd witnessed of the court just days ago.

  They also talked of Mia, Zoe, and Cadeon. Durinda said one of the reasons she was so protective of Puck was because he reminded her so much of Cadeon at that age. He did Rydstrom as well.

  He remembered his brother as a towheaded little boy. His new horns had driven him crazy, itching as they grew. He'd run them against everything, even against the walls of the castle, leaving little gouges, all three feet high.

  Rydstrom had never thought he'd miss Cadeon, but he did. Through the centuries, they had battled against others together, and routinely against each other. Before Sabine, Cadeon had been the only one who could pro­voke Rydstrom's ire. He gave a laugh. The two of them would get along perfectly.

  But even with the contention between Rydstrom and Cadeon, they rarely separated. They were so often together that many in the Lore simply called the two of them The Woede. Cadeon presently lived in his pool house.

  Today Rydstrom had learned that many rebels were rallying because of his brother's continued success in his quest for the sword. He was proud of Cadeon- shocked-but proud....

  Rydstrom and Durinda shared another commonal­ity. She was reluctantly journeying off-plane to marry a male she refused to believe was hers. "At least he's con­vinced we are a pair," she'd said. "I'm not certain at all. We have absolutely nothing in common. I don't think two more dissimilar beings could be paired."

  Durinda had no idea.

  Rydstrom and Sabine were nearly complete oppo-sites. But now there was no doubt that Sabine was his. Although Rydstrom burned to bed his sorceress again- and for her to carry his mark-he would take things slowly, earn her trust.

  Rydstrom was in this for no less than eternity.

  Every day she was here, Sabine grudgingly grew more attracted to the demon.

  Now as she watched him readying to go out, she realized she hadn't truly seen him as a potential mate until he was out of his chains. She respected power, was attracted to it, and he'd been powerless. Now he was so commanding, so delightfully in charge. People gazed at him in awe whenever he went out.

  Yet even when he was among many, he still seemed . . . lonely. Kingly demon, holding himself off from everyone.

  Unfortunately, Sabine's increased attraction wasn't mutual.

  Each day Rydstrom spent more time with Durinda, leaving Puck behind to irritate her. They must figure that the boy would be safe from her influence since he didn't speak English. And she couldn't get the little

  punk to leave. He would shyly enter her tent, bringing her a "gift" each time. One day she received the husk of a dragonfly, the next day, a rock.

  Rydstrom still took Sabine to the hot springs each morning. When they passed Durinda and her clique- draped in the same stupid long skirts that they'd forced on her-the demoness acted very familiar with Ryd­strom, which made Sabine bristle.

  And each night, he still held her tightly in bed. Because she was sleeping five or six hours a night, she had multiple nightmares. Whenever she woke, he was there, tenderly stroking her hair.

  Last night, he'd rasped
, "Shh, baby. I've got you." That made her toes curl every time she recalled it.

  But he'd made no move to get sexual with her again, even though she'd felt him erect, pressing against her back. His self-denial disconcerted the hell out of her, and she wished she could talk to her sister about his behavior. Lanthe was a love guru. She would under­stand what Rydstrom's game was.

  Gods, she missed her sister so much. They'd never been separated for this long. But just as Rydstrom had promised, he'd arranged for her to write Lanthe.

  That second night, the demon had brought Sabine a piece of parchment and a quill. Though if she'd thought she would have an opportunity to get free, she'd have been mistaken. He'd released one hand and pinned the other behind her, glancing over her shoulder as she wrote.

  "Just tell her I'm taking you off-plane," he'd said. "This won't get to Tornin until after we've gone."

  "She'll know you're going to New Orleans. Omort will send assassins there." "Yes," he'd said simply.

  When she'd finished and Rydstrom had retied her, she'd said, "I was almost moved to hug you for this, Rydstrom, but alas, armless hugs lose a little something. So instead, I'll do you a favor. I'll help you with your brother."

  "Cadeon and I are beyond a sorceress's help. Besides, I did this for you because you were cooperative about the teens' punishment. Then for you to grant me a boon back? I don't want us to get into that habit."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you and I are ... we're together" She recalled thinking, Are we together, and what exactly does that mean? She had zero experience with relationships. "Oh, no matter, then," she'd said airily. "I was just going to tell you something that might lessen your resentment over the past." He'd gruffly said, "Tell me, then." "The fall of Tornin would've happened regardless of

  Cadeon's actions."

  "All my brother had to do was answer my dispatch, journey to the castle, and remain within its walls until I returned from the front line against the vampires. Instead, he turned his back on me, choosing to remain with his foster family. I know you won't understand the impor' tance, but there needed to be a royal presence there."

  "Oh, I do understand the importance-whoever con­trols Tornin controls the kingdom. Omort did as well. That's why he had five hundred troops, lying in wait to assassinate Cadeon."