The Demon King Davian (Deadly Attraction Book 1)

by Calista Fox

  “Not at all a viable scenario while the king’s still alive,” Toran said.

  That reversal of fate being one she couldn’t even begin to ponder now that she’d been the recipient of the king’s generosity—and sinful lovemaking.

  With the blaze Walker built warming the small house, she repeated, “I’m all right here. But you both need to be cautious in this blizzard.”

  Toran chuckled. “A little snow never hurt us.”

  Her gaze lifted. “I know you’re modern-day superheroes. But it’s freezing out there, Toran. And the visibility is horrendous.”

  “We’re not amateurs,” Walker said. He headed toward the door. “Just stay safe, Jade.”

  Yes, her reputation preceded her. Her stubborn and independent streaks, to be exact. But on the heels of the horrifying encounter with the menacing fire wraith, she knew better than to do anything that might put her in jeopardy. Plus…she’d sworn an oath to Davian.

  After the slayers left, she started another blaze in the bedroom hearth to ease the biting chill from that portion of the cottage. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with herself until the storm broke, but sleep wasn’t possible—her mind raced with too many thoughts. As night fell, her gaze remained on the windows lining the back wall.

  The image of the fire wraith was burned into her brain, and the fear it would return was not as easily dismissed as she’d implied with the slayers—or as she’d tried to convince herself. Losing her house was still a tormenting notion. And being alone at the cottage during a whiteout only added to her sense of isolation…and her loneliness.

  Although she knew the slayers would keep an eye on her, and Morgan and his troops would be in the vicinity, she suffered a much deeper feeling of seclusion and separation following the degree of companionship she’d experienced within the castle walls. Morgan’s concern for her wellbeing. Sheena’s acceptance of her human state…and the vampire’s friendly gestures. Even Jocelyn had cleaned up after Jade with nary a blink of an eye.

  And then there was Davian.

  She tried her best not to think of their time together. What would be the point? It had been a bizarre twist of fate, but one without any potential for transcendence beyond those few days.

  So Jade passed the time scrubbing the charred marks from the stone fireplace, mending clothes and tidying up the cottage. The snowfall slowed and the dense clouds eventually dissipated. Three days later, she was ready to get out and about when Toran made his scheduled visit.

  “Any news?” she asked as she used a tree stump to help her climb onto the back of his horse.

  “Nothing we’ve heard. Though the general said he’d give us an update in the morning. You sure you want to work tonight?”

  “I can only spend so much time alone at the cottage. Turns out I’m not that great a conversationalist.”

  He snorted. “Oh, you have plenty to say, Jade. We all know it.” When they arrived at the tavern, he added, “I’ll be back at midnight to see you home.”

  The diligent shovel brigade had taken to the walkways, not completely clearing them, given the massive amount of snow that covered the cracked concrete, but they’d made it possible to navigate the village. She entered the building, the noise level a bit more amplified than normal, likely because no one had come in during the storm and they were making up for lost time from weather-related captivity.

  Yet the din faded as she ritually crossed to the coatrack, hanging up the cape Sheena had given her. She wore it over her own jacket because the combination provided substantial warmth.

  Suddenly swarmed by patrons, Jade had to assure everyone she was in perfect health and also offer what little information she had about the entire incident. When she finally made it to the bar, Michael stared at her in exasperation.

  “You’re trying a lot of nerves.” Regardless, he gave her a hug. “You really need to move into the town proper.”

  “Please, don’t start with me. Everything’s okay. Let’s forget about it.”

  Lisette, who surprisingly sat at the bar—she wasn’t a regular—said, “You were taken to the castle after being assaulted by a fire wraith and we’re not supposed to worry about you?”

  Jade sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be nonchalant about this, and I do appreciate your alarm over what happened to me. I just don’t have much to say about the whole event. The king and his general rescued me and I recovered under their protection—though I was unconscious most of the time. Regardless…I was very lucky.”

  Her friends eyed her skeptically as she busied herself by refilling beer mugs. Lisette had been drinking red wine, so Jade poured a bit more into her glass.

  Michael looked as though he wanted to quiz her. Incessantly, no doubt. Skirting his inquiries, she grabbed a tray and trolled the room for empty pints and more orders. The activity helped to divert her mind from her time in Davian’s care and kept her from lying to anyone. She’d held much back from these people during her lifetime, out of necessity, and didn’t like deceiving them further.

  However, despite her conviction to bury thoughts of the Demon King, they lingered. Comforting her in a way, yet also taunting her, because her entire being reacted to the remembrance of their night together. It was hardly a fair hand to be dealt. One she couldn’t play.

  The evening progressed smoothly, as it typically did. A relief to Jade. Unfortunately, Michael watched her a bit too closely, as though he were looking for some sort of suspicious behavior on her part. She didn’t think she’d given him reason to doubt anything she’d said about her hellish experience with the fire wraith. But he cornered her in the storage room nonetheless.

  “Something’s different about you,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

  From a high shelf, she grabbed an oversized bag of pretzels the bakery delivered twice a week. “I had a very dangerous altercation with a demon, Michael. Naturally, my nerves are still shot to hell.”

  “That’s not it. Although, yes, I can see you’re unsettled. But you also seem to be deep in thought.”

  Actually, she was deep in concentration as she blocked her thoughts. “I’m just focusing on my job. Don’t read anything into it.”

  He skipped right over her dismissive explanation. “What happened while you were within the kingdom?”

  “I told you, I was unconscious for the most part. Then the slayers came for me.”

  “Walker and Toran claimed they saw blood in the snow outside your cottage. You were hurt?”

  “Yes, but I’m fine now.” How many times did she have to reassure everyone?

  “I heard there was a lot of blood. But you don’t have any scrapes or scars.”

  “Not that are visible.” Her statement was a true one. As was the case with Davian, her battle wounds had healed—the scars were strictly internal. But she’d meant to imply that she had been injured somewhere her clothing would conceal. She stared at Michael a moment, wondering if he’d buy into her fabrication.

  Eventually, he lifted his hands and said, “I know you keep some things from me, Jade. But not everything. I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  “And I wish you’d stop interrogating me.” There. She’d made her first wish. Though she knew by the determined look in Michael’s eyes, it wouldn’t be granted. Why had she even bothered?

  He took a few steps forward and said, “I saw how he looked at you in the meeting hall.”

  “He, who?” She feigned ignorance. The subject matter inched a bit too close to the bullseye.

  “The Demon King.”

  Michael said this as though he needed to remind her the king was not of their species. And perhaps she did need the reminder. Admittedly, it was difficult to think of Davian as some evil entity who’d waged a war against her kind. Her ancestors. He had a quick temper, yes, but it seemed to be a direct result of his territorial nature. And it wasn’t just his alliance he was possessive and protective of, but also her.

  He’d demonstrated much em
pathy and kindheartedness toward her, a human. He’d been extremely gentle with her while she’d healed.

  When he’d made love to her, however… He’d been fiercely passionate. Davian had shown her what desire and intimacy were all about. Jade knew innately and with certainty that she would never experience such powerful emotions with another man, not even Michael.

  The very reason she shifted away from him when he reached out to touch her cheek.

  “Please don’t,” she said in a low voice. Although she suspected Davian would stay out of her head, it wouldn’t bode well for Michael if the king slipped and inadvertently learned of this exchange through her own thoughts. It would torment Davian as well.

  “Jade,” Michael said. “The night you were followed—when we were outside the tavern… I intended to kiss you.”

  She nodded. “I assumed.”

  “Yet you didn’t move away.”

  “No. But things have…changed…since then.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “What things? How? We haven’t seen each other in a week.”

  “Michael, I was in grave danger. I couldn’t very well let that transfer to you. I still can’t.” She heaved a sigh. How else was she to explain this other than with a direct approach? “Look,” she told him in a compassionate tone, “I think it’s best if we remain friends. No more than that. For all our sakes.”

  She walked past him and reached for the doorknob. Michael halted her in her tracks as he said, “You’re infatuated with him, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” she scoffed. But her hand shook on the brass knob.

  “You challenged him at the meeting and it seemed to intrigue him. Clearly, though, he was interested in you before that. He was the one watching us on the sidewalk, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he kept us from kissing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he wants you for himself?”

  “No,” she lied, though it pained her to do so. Yet he wouldn’t understand her relationship with Davian. Nor did she want to throw it in his face. “There is a degree of fascination on both our parts, I’ll confess, but that’s it. Nothing more, Michael.”

  His jaw clenched as he mulled this over and likely tried to choose his next words judiciously. Finally, he said, “Be careful, Jade.” He stalked toward her. Her hand fell from the knob. His replaced it and twisted. “Your eyes give you away when you speak of the Demon King.”

  He yanked on the door and marched past her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Davian was in his study a week later when Morgan reported to him.

  “The renegades that had set up camp on the Canadian border have disbanded,” the general told him. “No trace of the fire wraith. They’ve either retreated and have given up on assassinating you, or they’re out searching for reinforcements.”

  “Likely the latter,” he said. “But there aren’t enough rebellious demons in the region to take on my army. Not even if he were to import them. The fire wraith needed me in the village to get to me. He knows he’ll never breach the woods on our side of the river without being detected and captured. He can’t penetrate our patrols around the castle or scale our walls.”

  “We should do a large-radius sweep,” Morgan suggested. “Ascertain if they’ve regrouped elsewhere.”

  “Yes. And I want reports from the regional stewards on any activity outside their own boundaries, in human villages as well as in uninhabited, remote areas.”

  “Of course.”

  Davian paused, his brain churning with a disconcerting, yet highly tempting thought. “If I’m to go into Ryleigh, now would be the time to do it.”

  He wasn’t worried about his own safety. He’d taken on the fire wraith and proved he had more skill with a sword. Yet if he was going to protect Jade, he needed to disassociate himself from her so the renegade demon wouldn’t have a reason to return to the village. But before he completely severed the ties, he needed to see her one more time.

  “Davian.”

  His gaze fell on his friend. “Yes?”

  Morgan shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think it would be wise for you to visit Jade.”

  Davian massaged the nape of his neck where a ball of tension seemed to have settled in permanently. “I don’t disagree with you. However, something has come up, which I’d like to investigate further.”

  Morgan crooked a brow.

  Davian said, “I saw a marking on her skin that is familiar to me. I couldn’t pinpoint where I’d seen it before, until last night, when I was thinking about her father.”

  “Liam?”

  With a nod, Davian said, “He homesteaded and designated the community for the humans he considered to be in his charge at the end of the war. We both selected a similar location around the same time. I staked my claim atop the cliff; he chose his at the base, with the river dividing us. I was fascinated by his nerve when he didn’t move on once he’d learned where I intended to establish my kingdom.”

  “I recall he had quite a stubborn streak.”

  “One he passed onto Jade. Along with a few other traits.”

  Davian reached for a book on his desk and flipped it open where he’d flagged a section. In the center of the right-hand page was a sketch of three dots in an inverted triangle, though set slightly at an angle.

  “The first time I met Liam and assured him my law of peace between the demons and the humans would be upheld by my alliance, he had short, military-style hair. I noticed the marking on his neck, below his right ear. Every time I saw him thereafter, he had long hair that covered what I’d assumed were freckles or moles. I never thought of the pattern again—until I saw an identical one. On his daughter. So I researched it this morning.”

  Morgan slid into a chair on the opposite side of the enormous desk. “Are you going to tell me Jade has the same configuration in the exact same spot?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s a sacred symbol. A very simple one, so as to not draw too much attention to it or spark speculation as to whether it’s more than freckles naturally aligned. But it’s the mark of a demi-demon.”

  Morgan’s head jerked back. “A what?”

  “I knew there was something different about Liam, but I never delved too deep. He was clearly human, clearly mortal. Despite his willfulness and skill, he always took great care and precaution with his life. He didn’t operate in a reckless manner.”

  “But it did take an effort to murder him, when the shifters attacked him.”

  “That’s true, because he had the ability to self-heal, as Jade does. The wolves mauled him, then ripped his arms and legs from the sockets to keep him from repairing the damage. For good measure, they decapitated him. They’d done the equivalent to Jade’s mother, though it hadn’t been necessary. She didn’t possess similar talents as her husband and daughter.”

  It had been a grisly scene to come upon, when word had reached Davian. But it had been infinitely more horrifying for Jade.

  He’d later learned, the first time he’d invaded her thoughts, that she had witnessed the entire ordeal from the woods. In addition to her agony, fury and terror, guilt had besieged her. She’d never forgiven herself for not doing something—anything—to thwart the attack or call for help.

  Reasonably, she’d known she couldn’t fight off the shifters herself and had been too traumatized to even try. Hiding in the forest, she’d been immobilized by grief, shocked into stunned disbelief, and had not made a peep.

  That was as far as Davian had been able to make it in her dark, clouded mind as it related to her parents’ deaths. He’d felt all of her emotions almost as acutely as she had; they’d been insidious for him to experience through her thoughts.

  The attraction he’d felt toward her and the understanding of the depth of her emotions when she was eighteen and weeping on the riverbed over her breakup with Michael Hadley had somehow
connected Davian to her. From that moment on, her pain had become his. Making it imperative to stay out of her head. He’d go mad if he knew the full extent of her suffering.

  Which brought him to his next point. “Demi-demons are similar to ancient demi-gods in some respects. They’re human, but they possess extraordinary abilities. They’re descendants of demons, but their blood has been so diluted over the centuries, their human nature reigns. And they can be killed, by human or demon hands. Even if they have the capability to self-heal.”

  “I always wondered why Liam would say not all demons are evil,” Morgan mused. “Do you think Jade knows her true heritage?”

  “No.” He was certain of it. “She believes she’s one-hundred percent human. I’m not sure she’d want to know the truth.”

  Morgan speared him with an intent look. “And you’d prefer that as well, correct? Otherwise, she might decide she has some higher purpose and take her father’s place in the village, thereby putting herself at risk.”

  “I do have my reasons for not telling her, yes. But beyond that, I don’t think she’d handle the reality well. Her parents had a greater understanding of the immortal world, but she was raised to fear and loathe demons—for her own protection. Not to mention…we’ve given all humans ample cause to be alarmed by our existence; our presence so close to their borders.”

  His general regarded him thoughtfully, then said, “Jade neither fears nor loathes you.” He inclined his head to the side and amended, “Well, there might be some fear there. She’s smart enough to know her mortality is threatened by our kind. But she certainly doesn’t loathe you.”

  “She should.” Davian stood. “The fact that she doesn’t creates another problem.”

  He crossed to the wall lined with built-in shelves and cabinets, a counter running the length at waist height. He opened one of the intricate glass-and-wood-framed doors and retrieved a box from the back of the shelf. Returning to his chair, he set the well-crafted case on the desk and lifted the lid.