Claimed by a Demon King

by Felicity Heaton

  She sat on his chest, her knees either side of his horns, a wicked goddess within his reach yet too distant at the same time.

  He planted his hands on her backside and shoved her towards him. She arched and cried out as his tongue speared her soft folds and found her moist centre. She tasted delicious, ambrosia of the gods, and he wanted to feast on her until she cried his name and shattered into a thousand pieces.

  He licked her and swirled his tongue around her pert nub, loving how she writhed and rocked, undulating her hips and riding his face. His female was wicked, strong, commanding. He couldn’t understand why many of his kind wanted soft females. His was a goddess and the way she warred with him, the way she made him fight her for control, thrilled him.

  Sable grabbed him by the horns and shoved his head hard against the mattress. She rose off him, her eyes flashing wickedly as she held him fast. He groaned as she softened her grip and stroked his horns, sending fire burning through every inch of him and ratcheting up his need for her.

  She leaned down and he thought she would kiss him, craned his neck to reach her lips, but she diverted course. Her cheek pressed against his and she clutched his horns, keeping him from moving.

  “You think I’m just going to lie down and let you have me?” she whispered into the shell of his ear, a husky murmur that only made him burn hotter. “You don’t know me.”

  He didn’t, he knew that, but he wanted to know her. He wanted to know what she loved and what she hated. He wanted to know everything about his future queen.

  He wanted to know this in reality.

  Would she be as wicked with him there? Would she be as wild and enthralling? Would she fight him for dominance as he claimed her?

  He hoped so.

  He loved how wild and rough she was in this vision, and how she sought to overpower him and have him at her mercy.

  She nipped the pointed tip of his ear and he growled. He tried to get up, to roll her over and show her that he was determined to have her, but she shoved her hands against his chest and pushed all her weight down onto him, pinning him to the bed.

  “You’re going to lie down and let me have you,” she murmured into his ear and licked the lobe.

  Gods.

  Thorne’s desire to resist burned away and he could only obey her as she rose off him again, her fall of black hair cascading over her bare breasts. Her nipples poked through the inky strands, taunting him as she shuffled backwards. She raked her nails over his chest, ripping another moan from him and making his horns curl further and his claws grow sharper. Much more of that and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from changing completely.

  He wasn’t sure he could stop himself now.

  She meant to mount him.

  In all of his dreams of her, he had been on top or behind her, in control.

  She was nothing as he had thought she would be, and he loved it.

  Her heat brushed his hard length and he fisted the furs, groaning as she brought them into contact. She rubbed herself up and down, coating him in her warm wetness. Every inch of him tensed as he clutched the bed, fighting for control, going mad from anticipation.

  Sable smiled wickedly again and raked her nails over his stomach muscles. She purred low in her throat, the sound of her approval making his cock jerk beneath her, and her purr became a moan. Her gaze turned hooded and she rocked against him again, killing him slowly with each stroke of her slick heat. He couldn’t take it.

  “Sable,” he whispered, a plea to her this time.

  She took mercy on him and rose onto her knees, and he hissed as she grasped his length.

  She positioned it beneath her and inched backwards, and his hands shot to her hips as she took him into her, slowly, torturing him to the brink of insanity. Pleasure rolled through him, fierce and overwhelming. She moaned with each inch she took into her, her heat scalding him and making him throb with need, steel hard and painful. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. Just the thought of her riding him had him close to coming.

  “Sable.”

  She moaned but ignored his urgent plea, maintaining her slow pace.

  He growled and her gaze met his, her lips curled at the corners and she pressed her hands into his stomach.

  “Patience, Big Boy.”

  That sounded like a definite euphemism. He grinned, flashing fangs at her, his chest swelling with pride over the concealed compliment.

  She grinned too and pressed down onto him, seating herself and forcing him deep into her. Thorne choked and his eyes widened as she flexed around him, gripping him tightly.

  Sable wriggled and he moaned, inching his head side to side, warning her not to push him. He clutched her hips and held her still, giving himself a moment to find some balance. Even in a vision, it was possible to make fool of oneself, and he was damned if he was going to climax before she did.

  “Holy hell… you feel good inside me.”

  Thorne scowled at her. She was saying naughty things on purpose, trying to drive him over the edge.

  “Not as good as you feel wrapped around me.” He grasped her hips and lifted her off him, and pushed her back down, ripping a harsh cry from her throat. “As tight as a glove, soft as silk and as hot as smelted steel.”

  She blushed.

  He loved the colour red on her.

  Her hands pressed harder into his stomach and she began to rock on him, wiping the smile off his face as she rode him with slow, unhurried strokes. He stared up at her, watching the pleasure flitting across her face, her expression changing with each second. Whenever she reached the height of him, close to pulling free of his shaft, she raised her eyebrows and then they would furrow as she sank back onto him, her lips parting on a breathy moan.

  “Thorne,” she husked and he took the hint and began to guide her on him, easily lifting her up and then curling his hips as he brought her back down. He groaned together with her every time their bodies met. The sounds of their pleasure mingled, the heat rolling off their bodies curling together around them, and he moved her harder and faster.

  Sable’s head fell back, her long straight black hair sticking to the fine sheen of sweat on her breasts and neck.

  Thorne stared at the fluttering pulse in her throat and his fangs grew longer. Saliva pooled in his mouth.

  She caught him off guard when she jerked forwards, captured his horns and yanked his head to hers. She kissed him hard, her lips mastering his as they writhed against each other, scorching him as her wet heat burned his length. He groaned and moved her harder, faster, until she was panting and trembling in his hands, moaning his name each time she broke for air.

  Thorne screwed his eyes shut and rolled them over, and she wrapped her legs around him, locking them together. He grasped the nape of her neck with one hand and her hip with the other, and drove into her, making her feel every inch of him and the strength he commanded. She moaned and tugged on his horns, and his wings burst from his back, tangling in the canopy of the bed.

  He didn’t care.

  He couldn’t stop.

  Not when Sable’s feet were locked behind his backside, her body flexing each time he withdrew and she used her full strength to drive his cock back into her.

  He growled into her mouth and bit her lower lip, drawing blood. She jerked against him as he sucked on it, every bone and muscle locking tight, and he rocked deep into her. She cried long and loud into his mouth, her body convulsing and quivering around his.

  Thorne followed her over the edge, plummeting into bliss as her climax drew his from him. Seed boiled up from the base of his cock and he grunted as release exploded from him, making his whole body tremble and shake. He throbbed deep and hard, spilling himself for longer than he ever had before, and kissed her, losing himself in the moment and his female.

  Thorne drew back and looked down into her beautiful, mesmerising eyes.

  She smiled, a sated edge to her expression but warmth there too. Warmth that made him want to wrap his arms around her and n
ever let go. She felt something for him.

  She swam out of focus and disappeared, his room replacing her.

  Thorne lay on his back on his bed, his limbs and wings tangled in the furs and his heart pounding. He tried to claw back his vision, didn’t want to let it go just yet. He wanted longer with Sable as she had been in that dream world. Sleep refused to return though and he stared up at the canopy of his bed, reliving every delicious moment of the vision in his head.

  He wanted to see his female again.

  He needed to see Sable.

  He needed to see in her eyes that she had been in that vision with him, had experienced everything as he had, and that she knew now that she was his forever.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sable stood in the middle of a warmly lit large room on the first floor of the main section of the castle. She leaned against one of the thick dark stone columns that supported the vaulted ceiling high above her, her gaze scanning the crowd, keeping an eye on her team as they mingled with the elves and kept their distance from the werewolves and vampires, and the demons too.

  Men with trays moved through the crowd, passing drinks to everyone. She had refused all of them, fearing even a sip of the same alcohol she had drunk at the feast. People were already talking about her. Evan had reported to her after leading the training session and he had made it painfully clear that her team doubted her abilities and her reason for being here, and they weren’t the only ones.

  When she had first entered the gathering, she had skirted the edge of the crowd and had overheard both the werewolves and vampires discussing ‘Thorne’s little mortal’ and that she wouldn’t remain mortal for long if the big demon king had his way.

  A way he would apparently get if the bets she had heard the demons placing were anything to go by. None had bet that their king would end up alone. All had bet on him claiming her within a timeframe between the next three hours and ten days.

  Apparently, she was a dead cert.

  She rubbed her wrist and let her gaze roam the crowd again. Besides the mortals and the elves, there wasn’t much socialising happening between species. The vampires kept to the corner to her right, near the arched doorways that led onto a balcony. The werewolves remained firmly at the opposite side of the room, behind her.

  The demons milled around the room, most of them following the slutty court females.

  Sable looked over her left shoulder when familiar voices rose above the din and smiled at Olivia. Her friend looked beautiful in another long elven dress, this time in sky blue, with her chestnut hair twirled and pinned at the back of her head. Her flushed cheeks told Sable that Loren had got his afternoon delight after all. Sable had sort of had a little of her own in one hell of a hot dream and was having trouble shoving it out of her mind.

  It had been hotter than any she’d had of Thorne before and she had awoken trembling and aching in a good way, her bones liquid and body sated, as if she had experienced everything for real. She hoped Olivia didn’t ask her anything probing about Thorne tonight because she wouldn’t be able to keep the blush from her cheeks and her friend would instantly know that she had been making out with the demon king either in her dreams or reality.

  Loren walked beside Olivia, dressed in a mid-thigh-length elegant black jacket with sky blue embroidery and knee-high boots over his tight black trousers. They suited each other perfectly, a couple who looked as if they were made to rule the world together.

  Sable pushed away from the column and tucked her long black hair behind her ears. She had opted to keep away from posh dresses tonight and had chosen to wear her favourite black leather trousers and a dark blue t-shirt with silver scroll wings on the back.

  Bleu stepped out from behind Loren and Sable’s palms sweated as she clenched her hands.

  He approached her, his step unfaltering, each stride shifting the tails of his long black jacket but his boots silent on the stone floor. He stopped barely inches from her, close enough that she had to tilt her head right back to meet his purple gaze. His black eyebrows pinched together and then his expression softened, his eyes losing their hard edge.

  “I have been rude,” he whispered and she shook her head and tried to stifle the turbulent emotions that swirled through her. “I have… and I am sorry if I upset you. It was wrong of me… pathetic.”

  He lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek, flexed his fingers and lowered it back to his side.

  His gaze darkened.

  “Bleu,” she said before he could speak and ruin the moment by voicing what she could see in his eyes. She couldn’t change his feelings or his determination to have her, but that didn’t mean she had to let him put them out there, because then he would expect a response. She couldn’t respond in the way he would want her to and he would leave again, turning cold towards her and twisting the knife in her heart. She sucked at diplomacy but she was a fast learner. “I’m glad you decided to speak to me again.”

  He nodded and opened his mouth, and then closed it again. The action reminded her of Thorne and she realised she hadn’t asked him about that night in Archangel’s cafeteria yet and that she still wanted to know what he had meant to say.

  Bleu’s hand brushed hers and she tensed, her gaze leaping up to his.

  A familiar burn went through her, the shivery ache setting her nerve endings alight. She withdrew her hand from Bleu’s and turned to look across at the main entrance. Thorne strode in and her heart beat harder, her dream rising unbidden into her mind again and quickening her pulse, heating her blood.

  That heat rose onto her cheeks as he stared at her and she remembered what Loren had told her.

  Mates shared dreams if they were sleeping at the same time.

  The hunger tinted with satisfaction in Thorne’s dark crimson eyes and the way his lips curled into a wicked smile as his gaze slowly drifted over her, burning her with its intensity, said that she hadn’t been the only one to see that hot vision of them together.

  Was that the reason it had felt different this time? Had he been there with her, experiencing everything that she had?

  Would he be so rough and delicious in reality? She shoved that thought away before it could plant roots and grow, demanding she take the risk and find out for herself.

  His eyes shifted to Bleu and brightened, a corona of fire emerging around his irises. His pupils narrowed and his eyebrows knitted into a hard scowl. He flashed his fangs at Bleu. Bleu bared his own in response, the pointed tips of his ears growing as they flared back against the sides of his head.

  Sable stepped into Thorne’s line of sight and he huffed, his nostrils flaring, and said something in the demon language to Fargus. The male nodded and walked on ahead, and Sable rubbed her wrist as he glanced at her as he passed.

  Thorne slowed and her heart beat harder, anticipation setting her on edge. He didn’t stop. He raked his gaze over her again, possessing every inch of her until she ached to feel his hands on her body, and then moved on, heading towards the vampires.

  Sable exhaled the breath she had been holding, her shoulders sagging with it.

  Bleu muttered something in his own language and Loren responded, a sharp edge to his tone that matched the warning in his expression.

  Olivia looked as if she wasn’t sure what to say. She fidgeted with the silver metalwork corset over her dress.

  Sable did her best to pretend that things weren’t about to go south again and stepped back so she could see both Bleu and Loren, and could sneak a glance at Thorne.

  He stood with the vampire leader, deep in conversation. He ran his fingers over his left horn, the action causing his white shirt to stretch tight over his biceps, and then lowered his hand. Sable itched to stroke his horns as she had in her dreams, steering him with them, forcing him to kiss her. He had liked it. No. He had loved it. He liked her wicked and she loved him rough.

  She quickly looked away when his gaze sought her.

  “So… give me intel,” she said to Loren and the tall beautiful ma
le rolled his eyes in the same way he always did whenever she tried to wheedle information out of him.

  He viewed her as a nuisance but Olivia had told her to ignore it because he secretly liked feeding her snippets about his world, breadcrumbs that always had her on her tiptoes and eager to hear more. He would never dish up anything vital, but she lived in hope that one day he would slip up and tell her something major.

  Besides, Loren always seemed clued up about all of the species. She supposed it was because of his position. Bleu was the same, but he was even more tight-lipped than Loren. Even her sweetest smile and best attempt had ended with Bleu telling her that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss such matters. Looking back now, she thought he should have been more eager to give up some information. She was sure a man who was serious about pursuing her should have been willing to do anything to get into her good book.

  Maybe he wasn’t as serious about her as she thought.

  Olivia had said that Bleu had the hots for her. Was he looking for a short-term deal, the sort of dalliance she used to indulge in herself?

  Loren spoke, chasing away her thoughts. “You seem uneasy.”

  Sable looked at Olivia, catching the wary look she cast at the vampires across the room. Sable couldn’t blame her for being twitchy around the vampires, not after everything her friend had been through because of that species. Loren slipped his hand into Olivia’s and clasped it, and her friend lifted her eyes to meet his, a grateful warmth colouring their dark depths.

  A prickle ran down her spine and she looked around, trying to find the reason her gift had thrown another warning through her. No less than six men had their eyes on her, a mixture of demons, werewolves and vampires. It was impossible to tell who was the source of danger her gift had detected.

  Her eyes locked on the werewolves and the handsome man staring her way.

  He appeared around her age, in his mid-thirties, but looks were deceiving with most of the non-human species. Archangel had studied werewolves, trying to determine their true age based on their appearance, but had yet to complete the data. Werewolves, like most shifter species, were reclusive, rarely making themselves known by stepping out of line amongst humans or socialising outside of their packs. On top of that, they were notoriously difficult to catch when hunters did run into a rogue one.