by Kiersten Fay
“I can’t believe how many are loyal to her. It sickens me.”
“Not to worry, Nakul. Once the true queen and I are wed, I will cleanse the palace of these traitors. Now take this.” Tamir placed the rebel’s dagger in Nakul’s outstretched hand.
“You honor me, My Liege.”
“Wait till she sleeps.” Tamir put a warning in his tone. “If you’re caught—”
“I will not be.”
* * *
It was obvious to Marik what was happening. He didn’t need Jedar’s parting words, “Guess I won’t need your help after all, demon. The false queen dies tonight,” to know they were going to murder the woman who was their queen.
Marik didn’t understand why the idea sat in his stomach like a heavy weight. This political animosity was none of his business. His first priority was to find Nadua, and he was only tagging along with these people for convenience.
He could leave now, go it on his own, but he still had no idea where he was, or where to find civilization, or where he should begin his search. Even if he did come across a town, the people there would probably only try to kill him.
A thought sparked in his mind. He could warn this queen of the plot against her. Save her life—again. Perhaps this time she’d be more inclined to help him. At the very least, he could demand some food for his service. They hadn’t bothered to feed him. And if they didn’t yet know it, they soon would: a hungry demon was a dangerous being.
The two Cyrellian betrayers quietly left. Marik waited a few moments before snapping the rope around his wrists. Easing toward the flap, he peeked through the small opening. The campsite was almost fully shaded in darkness, but for a few lit tents.
The storm had died down to a thick, but otherwise peaceful, snowfall. A few distant shadows drifted about. Possibly guards on patrol.
Feeling secure no one was close, Marik stepped from the tent and weaved his way through camp.
Of the few brightly lit tents, only one featured a guard posted outside. Marik spied another one patrolling on the other side of camp, coming his way. All others were likely on the outskirts, keeping watch for another ambush.
Sticking to the shadows, Marik moved closer. The fine coat of the newly fallen snow helped hide the sound of his footsteps. Just as the patrolling guard approached, Marik crouched behind a tent. To hide the white puffs from his breathing, Marik sucked in a breath, held it, and waited.
Clearly in no hurry, the man strolled by, his attention on the dark patch of trees just ahead of him. The man stilled for a moment, listening, and then turned back the way he came. Marik exhaled slowly.
Now was his chance. He shot toward his target. The guard only had time to widen his eyes before Marik knocked him unconscious. Holding the man’s weight, he dragged him into the tent, and tossed him to the side.
The urgency to explain himself stuck in his throat the moment Marik caught sight of the queen.
His throat went dry and the only words he could manage were, “Oh shit.”
Chapter 7
The welcomed heat of the fire warmed her body, freed from the confining furs. She had traded the skins for a lighter, more comfortable outfit: a sleeveless tan shirt and loose fitting trousers tied at the waist.
Nadua found these fabrics were easier to sleep in. Once under her edisdon fur blanket, she would be adequately warm through the night. She kept her boots and gloves on, however, not only for added warmth, but just in case she needed to quickly dress. The rebel menace was still looming.
The location of camp wasn’t what she had hoped. The cliffs were still half a day’s ride away and, in her opinion, they were too close to the mountains—where the Caves of Kayata held any number of threats. But the storm that was now but a tickle on the wind had beaten them to a stop. Even the Cyrellians had been shivering. The men had put up their tents in record time.
Staring into the burning embers, as she often did when she had much to think about, Nadua brushed a thick strand of hair behind one pointed ear.
Why had the demon hesitated to kill her? By the speed with which he took down those rebels, he’d had plenty of time to do it.
The fire popped and tiny sparks floated up before quickly burning out.
She’d inspected the cage lock after the fight. It had been cracked, almost clean through. She supposed it could have been faulty. Age combined with constant chill could cause almost any material to break down.
Or was it the demon’s strength that had broken the lock? He was obviously much more powerful than she initially thought.
Nadua had questioned Tamir about this, but he assured her that the demon was secure. Besides, if he could have escaped so easily, why would he not have done so sooner?
His actions today had been ruthless, fortifying all the horrible stories she’d been told by those who had witnessed the brutality of his kind long ago. Never would she forget the savagery in his face as he dispatched those rebels without mercy. But when he turned toward her afterward, she recalled that his expression had changed. Became softer. As if he truly had been fighting for her.
Maybe he wasn’t as horrible as the old stories suggested. But then she remembered his fierce anger from the night before and shivered.
It was too confusing. Nadua decided the demon needed further study before she let Renzo have him.
The tent rustled and someone pushed their way inside. Odd, usually they called for permission before entering.
Nadua rose to greet whoever it was and gasped at the sight of the demon dragging...a body? Spikes of fear shot through her.
When the demon caught sight of her, he froze, looking almost as shocked as she was.
* * *
Marik couldn’t believe the sight before him. A description of Nadua hadn’t been provided in the book, but he knew instantly that it was her. Her oddly shaped ears were prominent, the most obvious trait. Her eyes...how could he have not seen it before? They were nearly identical in color to Anya’s.
Marik couldn’t keep his gaze from followed the line of her body. Glossy red hair fell softly over sleek bare shoulders, leading his eyes to her breasts, rising and falling with every breath.
Her body—Marik had to stifle a hungry groan—was full of luscious curves that made his lower regions take immediate notice.
A creature from his deepest fantasies stood before him.
She recovered from the shock faster than he did and bent down, reaching for something. Whatever she was going for wouldn’t be good for him—her eyes said as much. He was to her in a second, yanking her away from the dagger she’d pulled on him the other night.
Tricky female.
As soon as he had his arms around her, she began to thrash. Marik covered her mouth as she prepared for a scream that he was sure would have alerted the entire camp. Still, she hollered through his palm while continuing to struggle. The sweet scent of her filled his nose and a wave of desire swept through him, so strong he nearly doubled over. And the way she was moving her body against his wasn’t helping.
Simultaneously kicking her legs and screeching like a wild woman, she smashed her elbow into his stomach, which helped to dampen his baser instincts. It also helped him to focus on the seriousness of the situation.
Nadua was the queen to be murdered! How the hell was that possible?
He no longer needed her help. She needed his. Only she didn’t know it, and the way she was trying to scratch his eyes out told him she was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say at the moment. If he didn’t get them both away from here, the Cyrellians were going to kill him. And then her.
Marik pulled her out of the tent and tore for woods. The mountain in the distance might provide a place to hide until he could get her calm enough to explain everything. If only she wasn’t fighting so ferociously.
A voice shouted from behind. They must have found the guard knocked out and Nadua’s tent empty.
Marik hurried his steps, slowing every so often to regain his grip on his captive, who was doing everything
in her power to get away from him.
“Calm yourself, woman, you’ll thank me later.”
She made a doubtful noise and squirmed harder.
More voices rose from behind, but Marik was already deep into the trees. He got the sense that these Cyrellians didn’t have the kind of night vision he did. Nadua’s however, might be a little better, because she was continually trying to drive him into a tree, with surprising accuracy.
A sharp pain shot through his finger and he pulled it away from her mouth with a curse.
The wench bit me!
“I’m here! I’m here!” she screamed.
Silencing her once more with his hand over her mouth, Marik paid more attention to where her teeth were headed. Unfortunately, her outburst was successful in alerting her guards of their location and the voices began to grow louder.
At the same time, Nadua was doing too a good a job of slowing him down with the combination of her thrashing legs, whipping body, and trying to find the soft spot of his nose with the back of her head. If she had been captured by anyone other than him, she would have freed herself by now.
Finally, they reached the base of the mountain and he began dragging Nadua up the rocky incline. She managed another bite, but he swallowed the pain.
There was a cave about twenty feet up. Hopefully it would be large enough to hide them.
When the wench bit him yet again, he contemplated knocking her unconscious.
“Damn it, woman!”
The voices from behind seemed to be moving off into another direction, growing distant. Nadua must have realized it too because she began to whimper as her struggles grew weaker, her breath labored.
At the entrance to the cave, Nadua gave one last desperate burst of energy, flailing and bucking her body. Marik held tight, waiting for her fatigue to kick in. When it did, he moved them deeper inside.
After a few minutes, the darkness almost became too much for him, but his eyes adjusted and he could still see well enough to push them forward. There was a maze like quality to the cavern, it broke into many chambers.
Marik used his sense of smell to decipher the best direction, one where the air flowed free and wouldn’t turn stale or poisoned. Nadua had gone limp, and she was shaking uncontrollably.
Finally, they were far enough into the cave that he didn’t think her voice would carry to the entrance. He removed his hand from her mouth.
Cyrellian insults flew from her like water down a slope. Marik understood a few words and had to laugh when she called him an edisdon dicksucker.
“Calm yourself. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No, you’re g-going to k-kill me!” Her shivering was growing worse. “I’m f-freezing. I n-need f-f-fire!”
“I can’t make a fire just yet. They may see the light and find us.”
* * *
Gods, if only!
“We need to keep hidden or they’ll kill us both,” came his voice from somewhere in the sea of black. “I’m not going to let that happen. You’re safe with me.” He sounded like he was trying to reassure her.
The demon is psychotic!
Nadua tried to tell him so, but the piercing cold leached away her voice. Wrapping her arms around herself wasn’t enough to keep the last of her warmth from slipping away. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer.
The demon cursed under his breath.
She heard a rustling and then something came around her—the demon’s coat, which she had so graciously allowed him to keep. It was huge on her, falling past her knees. The thing might help a little, but it was in no way equal to her usual garment.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
As if she had a fucking choice! She couldn’t see two inches in front of her face. They were deep in the Caves of Kayata, where no light was allowed.
“D-Demon?”
Apparently he was already gone. The only sound left was her own shallow breath and the chatter of her teeth. Who knows if he would even return for her?
Suddenly, there was another noise. Footsteps? Was she imagining it?
“D-Dem-m-mon?” she called again. No response. Gods, it could be any manner of creature that the demon had left her with. There was a reason why the Cyrellians avoided these caves.
The spike of fear had her stumbling toward what she thought was the exit. Blindly, she inched forward, placing her arms in front of her. Her legs ran into something and she used her hands to identify it. A large boulder.
Feeling her way around it, she attempted to walk again but came to what must be a cavern wall, or possibly an even larger bolder.
Weakness filled her bones along with the frigid air. Her fingers burned and prickled. She shoved them against her mouth, blowing as much warm air on them as she could. When her shivers overtook her, Nadua curled into a ball, hoping someone would find her in time.
So tired.
Somewhere in her dreary mind she realized her exhaustion was a bad sign.
The sound of falling pebbles roused her. Too cold to be afraid, she waited for some cave dwelling creature to attack.
“Are you alright?”
She let out a relieved sigh, though she didn’t know why. It was the demon. Probably had come back to kill her. The sound of sticks hitting the floor echoed around her. It seemed as if the demon was methodically breaking them up and moving them around in a pile.
“This will keep us off the cold floor.”
Us?
“It’s the best I can do for now.”
She heard him stand and move toward her. Obviously, the demon didn’t have a problem seeing in this darkness, because there was no running into boulders for him.
In one easy swoop, he pulled her off the ground. Nadua didn’t even have the strength to protest. As it was, her traitorous body instinctively curled into him for the heat he was giving off.
After he laid them on what turned out to be some sort of pallet, he slipped his arms around her. She weakly tried to push away, but at the moment she couldn’t have pushed a snowflake off of her.
“Put your arm around me,” he said.
“Fuck you!” she managed, though she did move closer. The heat of his body was already starting to sooth the chill in her.
And he smells good.
She was losing it.
“Use my body for the warmth you need. I tried to get back to your tent to find those skins you wear, but there are too many guards. I’ll try again in the morning. This is what I can offer till then.”
With her mind reluctant, but her body screaming for warmth, she placed her arms on his chest, burrowing into him as close as possible. Thick biceps cradled her.
Eventually, the worst of her shaking abated, while her mind began its exhausted descent. Her last thought—which later she blamed on her delusional state—was how wonderful it felt to be within his arms.
Chapter 8
Rising from a heavy sleep, Nadua adjusted her position on the bed, which, for some reason, was less comfortable this morning, and snuggled deeper against the warm...muscular chest? Stiffening, she opened her eyes to a wall of black.
Her heart jerked as the events from last night played back in her mind. The side of her face was pressed intimately against the demon’s bare chest, his musky scent and heat enveloping her.
Afraid she’d wake him, Nadua tried to remain still.
Unexpectedly, his grip tightened around her. Panic nearly engulfed her, making her pulse burn through her veins. She had to get away, get back to camp, signal her soldiers. But how was she going to do any of that? She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d slept, but she assumed there should be some light outside by now—or perhaps it was already midday—yet the cave was still pitch black. He must have taken her farther inside than she thought.
Somehow, Nadua would need to get the demon to lead her out. Without him, she might never find her way. The Caves of Kayata were said to be a complex labyrinth of passages, mos
tly unexplored due to the many dangers. Pitfalls, cave-ins, and toxic air. And those were the non-superstitious obstacles.
“How are you feeling?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest.
Nadua tensed in surprise. She hadn’t realized the demon was awake. His voice was soft and drowsy, which probably made it easier for him to fake the concern she heard in it.
“Take me back, demon, and I promise not to have you killed.”
He touched his chin to the top of her head, pulled her closer, and breathed deep. “You’re not going back there, ever.”
“Is that a threat?” Preparing to push away from him, Nadua placed one palm against his skin, but as she felt the ridges of his muscles—the first warm flesh she felt in a long time—a completely inappropriate surge of desire came over her.
Am I so deprived of another’s touch? And where is his shirt!
Then she realized there was some kind of fabric wrapped around her legs. He must have given her his shirt at some point during the night.
“Completely the opposite. I plan on keeping you safe and alive until Marada comes for us.”
“Marada? Is that one of your gods?”
His body shook with amusement, which brought back the awareness that she was still pressed tightly against him. His hand was on her back, lightly rubbing.
It felt odd arguing with someone, fearing him, while holding on to him for dear life. The air around them was still as cold as it was the night before.
“Marada is my home. It’s a ship.” He sounded so reasonable, but what he was saying was that he planned to abduct her and take her away.
“So you want to take me there, and what? Have tea? Introduce me to the family?”
“Aye. Mine and yours.”
That got her attention. “What?”
“Your sister Anya is...well, was aboard the Marada.” His tone went serious with heavy sorrow. “Hopefully, Sebastian got to her in time. We found her—or rather, she found us a few months ago.”
