She really shouldn’t. He had been training the troops while she had been away and had been sparring for nearly thirty minutes solid with the two who had just gone inside. She had a distinct advantage over him, and she didn’t like that. She preferred to play fair.
Besides, if she lost, she would never hear the end of it. Not from Evan. He wouldn’t taunt her about her losing a match to him even though he had been fighting for hours. The others would find out about it though and she didn’t need to give them any ammunition to make them doubt her abilities as a leader. Losing to Evan in a sparring match would be the last straw, she was sure of it.
Sable glanced at the archway to the outer courtyard. No sign of Thorne and the others returning yet. How long were they going to be away? It had been hours since Loren had teleported her back to the castle and she was beginning to worry about her friends. She couldn’t care less about Grave. She wouldn’t mourn if the vampire met with a grisly end. She would just be upset she had missed the show.
She decided to risk the humiliation of defeat and nodded. Sparring with Evan would take her mind off things and she didn’t want to go back to her room. If she did, she would only end up worrying even more, and not only about her friends. She rubbed her wrist. The ache in it had lessened but it hadn’t disappeared completely, and it bothered her.
Sable rolled her shoulders to warm up and bounced on the spot, preparing herself for the fight ahead.
Evan stood opposite her, motionless and cool, his pale hair slicked back against his head.
“Bring it.” Sable crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to her.
Evan grinned.
The arched wooden doors to the outer courtyard opened.
Sable’s gaze shot there and pain exploded across her jaw. She staggered right and caught Evan’s muffled curse through the ringing in her ears.
She shook her head, trying to clear it, and held her hand up to stop Evan from fussing over her. He had caught her off guard.
She straightened and stared across the empty courtyard to the group of men sauntering into it.
Thorne led them. The state of him had distracted her from her fight and drove the pain from her mind now as she watched him.
A long gash cut across his cheek and streaks of blood had rolled down to his jaw and onto his neck. Blood stained his shirt too and slashes in the white material revealed a bandage beneath. The other side of his jaw bore a black bruise and had swollen, and there was a groove in his right horn.
What the hell?
The answer became clearer when Bleu stepped out from behind him, looking just as battered and bruised. Loren entered the courtyard, his expression locked in dark, grim lines.
Sable moved forwards, her gaze focused on Loren, seeking an answer from him.
Loren shook his head and pinched the bridge of his slender nose, giving Sable the feeling that she didn’t want to ask and that she was witnessing the result of those feelings he had told her about—Thorne’s need to deal with any male who might steal her from him and stand between him and claiming his fated one.
Thorne trudged over to her, swung his left arm and dumped a huge dead something that vaguely resembled a deer—it had antlers anyway—at her feet. He tipped his shoulders back and his chin jutted upwards.
Sable bit her tongue to hold back her desire to mention that it was rather medieval of him to bring her a dead thing and expect her to shower praise upon him. He was old, beyond medieval in years. This was probably demon courting at its finest.
Everyone stared at her. Waiting?
“Um. Thank you?”
Sable looked down at the beast. Were those claw marks on its furry black flank? And what had happened to its ravaged throat? It looked as if something had torn it out with its teeth.
She swallowed. Not something. Someone.
Her gaze lifted to Thorne and his bloodstained chin.
There were stab wounds in the carcass too, in keeping with the size of the blades on Bleu’s spear. Both males had gone after the same animal with equal gusto, and she suspected that Bleu had attempted to accidentally take the king down with the beast.
How many times had he stabbed Thorne?
Sable really didn’t want to know.
Her throat closed and chest tightened as polar emotions duelled in her heart, tearing her in two directions and igniting a barrage of thoughts she couldn’t suppress or ignore.
One stood out amongst the torrent, driving her emotions firmly towards panic and kicking others into life that collided within her.
It was all getting out of hand.
She recalled what Grave had said to Thorne—that a woman wasn’t worth his kingdom.
It hit her hard. If she stayed here, things were only going to get worse. Thorne was driven by the same deep, primal male instinct that had controlled Loren and she had seen just how out of hand it could get. Loren had tried to kill demons, vampires, and even Bleu because of his need to keep every male away from his female, Olivia.
That same madness gripped Thorne. That same drive to claim his fated one. He would lose sight of the war and lose his kingdom, and she refused to be responsible for that happening. They were meant to be at war with the demons of the Fifth Realm, not with each other.
She wanted Archangel to see her worth and her ability to lead, and bestow upon her the rank she had always desired, but not at the cost of Thorne’s kingdom. It was her promotion or his realm, and she knew which she had to choose.
She drew her hand down her face and exhaled hard. She could do this. It was going to hurt them both, and she didn’t want to leave, but it was for the best. She couldn’t let Thorne throw away his kingdom for her.
“You are not pleased?” Thorne said in a low gravelly voice and stepped towards her.
Sable stepped back.
Thorne’s expression darkened and his lips pressed together into a grim line.
“This isn’t going to work.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it and her chest ached in response to the words and the flicker of hurt in Thorne’s dark crimson eyes.
He growled and staggered backwards, as if her words her been a physical blow.
Sable looked to Loren for help.
The look in his purple eyes pleaded her to reconsider.
She glanced at Bleu and then at everyone else around her. More had gathered, come to watch the spectacle.
She knew what she had to do. It went against every instinct she possessed, but it was the only course of action open to her. She had come here to help save Thorne’s kingdom and she was going to do just that.
Sable turned her back on Thorne.
“Where do you go?” he growled, a dark edge to his voice. His pain beat within her. He knew where she was going and it was killing him.
It was killing her too.
“You have command,” she said to Evan as calmly as she could manage through the emotions clogging her throat and stinging her eyes. He nodded, his steady gaze offering her little comfort. She was giving him what he wanted and what he probably felt he deserved. She couldn’t blame him for seizing the chance she was surrendering.
She began walking towards the castle.
“Sable.” Thorne’s deep growl rolled over her, loud in the quiet evening. “Where do you go?”
Sable closed her eyes and forced herself to keep walking when all she wanted to do was turn to him and ease his pain. “Home. If I stay here, allies will become enemies before the real enemy attacks. I won’t be responsible for a war between the elves and the demons. Evan will lead Archangel’s team in my place. It’s for the best.”
Thorne roared, the sound sending a shiver tumbling down her spine. It spoke of his fury and his pain, and she couldn’t bear it.
She quickened her pace.
“You cannot leave.” Thorne’s heavy footfalls echoed around the courtyard and she could feel him closing in on her. “I will not allow it!”
Sable turned on him, her eyes enormous and heart pounding out a h
ard rhythm against her chest. “I told you before. I am not one of your court whores for you to order around!”
She resumed walking, faster now. She shoved through the demons gathered near the castle, watching their king fight with his little mortal, no doubt enjoying it and expecting Thorne to put her in her place.
Sable looked back and caught Loren’s gaze. He shook his head, a silent warning in his purple eyes, telling her again not to do this. She knew she was on thin ice. Enraging a demon king? Not good. Not good at all.
She had to do it though and could only hope that Thorne would understand when he calmed down.
It wasn’t goodbye forever. Just goodbye for now.
Sable swung her focus back to the castle and it hit on Bleu directly in front of her. Before she could open her mouth to ask what he was doing and tell him to leave her alone, he grabbed her and darkness swallowed them both.
No.
The shadows evaporated to reveal her room at Archangel headquarters.
Sable shoved Bleu away. “What the hell do you think you were doing?”
“Taking you home, as you wished.” He stood over her, tall and darkly beautiful, no trace of malice in his expression. He honestly thought he had been helping.
Sable groaned. “No. All you’ve done is make the whole situation worse when I was trying to make it better! Now Thorne will be furious with the elves… with you. Loren is going to be pissed at you… you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t send you home too.”
Bleu’s expression shifted, revealing a flicker of concern. “I did not realise. It was not my intent. You desired to leave, were clearly distressed, and I fulfilled that wish.”
She wanted to hit him. It would satisfy her immediate desire but she would only regret it later. He had been trying to help, had seen her distress and completely misinterpreted it.
“Immortal men need to get a damn clue,” Sable ground out instead and looked deep into his eyes. She had hurt one man already today. Why not go for the full set? “I was upset… you’re right about that… but I was upset because I didn’t want to leave Thorne. I didn’t want to hurt him, Bleu, and now you’ve made his pain worse. You’ve made him think I wanted to leave with you… when I didn’t really want to leave him at all.”
His face fell, a shadow of hurt flittering across it before he schooled his features.
“Bleu.” She reached for him and he moved back a step. “Bleu… be honest with me. Do you love me?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed and he frowned down at her.
“Am I the mate you’ve been waiting for all your life?” She advanced a step and he backed off one, edging closer to the main door of her small apartment.
A myriad of unreadable emotions played in his eyes and then he looked away from her. “No.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Bleu… and I love you as a friend… but I can never be in love with you.”
“Because you are in love with the demon… with your mate?”
She wasn’t going to answer that, even though it was true. She wasn’t ready to voice her feelings for Thorne to anyone. Bleu lowered his head.
“I understand,” he said in a quiet voice and heaved a sigh. When he looked at her, all trace of emotion was gone, erased from his face and hidden behind impassive amethyst eyes. “I am sorry, Sable. I will return and apologise to my prince and to the demon king.”
“Thank you.”
He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek, staring down into her eyes. He whispered something in his own tongue, something laced with intense emotion, and then green-purple light flickered over his body and he disappeared.
She didn’t need to speak elvish to know what he had said to her. It had been there in his eyes for her to read. He could have loved her. He had wanted to love her.
Sable closed her eyes and sighed.
She couldn’t have loved him though.
She was in love with a demon king.
An unholy roar shook the building.
Thorne.
Sable pulled the door of her apartment open and raced towards the centre of the building, to the only place Thorne knew in it. The cafeteria.
It took her back a month to the first time she had met Thorne. She hoped he wasn’t making such a grand entrance again.
She bolted down the stairs and along another corridor, the cafeteria in sight ahead of her.
Sable burst into the room and ground to a halt.
It was worse than she had anticipated.
Much worse.
Men and women hung off Thorne’s arms, trying to get him under control as he fought in the middle of the room. Tables and chairs lay toppled and shoved away, forming an open space around him and the hunters fighting to subdue him.
Thorne growled and swung one big arm outwards, sending the hunters flying across the room. His wings battered others, immense and lethal, making it difficult for anyone to get close to him. His horns had curled around, flaring forwards beside his temples, and his eyes blazed crimson.
He was fully demonic and she had never seen him so far gone, or so big.
He shoved another hunter away, sending the dark-haired male to the ground, and bared huge fangs at him. The man scurried backwards as Thorne advanced on him. Blood rolled down Thorne’s bare torso, pumping from gashes and from crossbow bolts still jutting out of his flesh. Hunters at the edges of the room readied more crossbows, preparing to embed more of the toxic darts into him.
“No,” Sable snapped and raced forwards, every instinct she possessed screaming at her to protect Thorne. “Just back off and leave him alone.”
She tore one of the hunters away from him and shoved them behind her.
“Back the hell off!” Sable pushed more hunters away. “You’re making him worse. He’s not a threat.”
She really hoped he wasn’t anyway.
Thorne snapped and snarled at the hunters closest to him, lashing out with his long talon-like claws. The hunters edged away from him as quickly as they could but many took angry blows in the process. When they were all beyond his reach, Thorne roared again, the sound laced with irritation.
Sable bravely edged closer.
Thorne whirled to face her, raising his claws to strike at the same time, and froze when his eyes met hers.
He huffed like a beast and his face twisted as he spoke to her.
In the demon tongue.
“I don’t understand,” Sable whispered, keeping her voice quiet in the hope it would calm him. Frustration rolled off him and over her, his emotions more tangible to her than ever. He knew she couldn’t understand.
He took a step towards her, hunched over and with his dark dragon-like wings bent at awkward angles over his shoulders, scraping along the ceiling tiles. She swallowed to wet her drying throat and stood her ground, slowly tipping her head right back to keep her eyes locked on his. She hadn’t expected him to be so enormous in his true demonic form. He stood over three feet taller than she was, his entire body now twice as wide as before and his muscles bulging. A formidable sight. She had never seen him like this and it scared her a little.
The hunters around the room kept their weapons directed at him. She couldn’t blame them for being cautious. It wasn’t every day that a fully turned demon dropped into the Archangel building. It wasn’t every day that they met a demon as big and as dangerous as Thorne outside the building either.
Sable steadied her heart, not wanting to provoke him and knowing he could feel her emotions and that meant he could sense her underlying fear. She raised her hand and held it out to him. He huffed again and dropped to his knees before her. Even then, he was still taller than she was and the immense breadth of his body made her feel tiny and fragile. Weak.
Thorne leaned towards her and pressed his cheek against her palm. His glowing scarlet eyes closed. His breath heated her skin.
She stroked his cheek, her eyebrows furrowing as she studied his face. The gash from the hunt was still there on his cheek, and new ones
had joined it, angry red and still seeping blood. He had come here to fight Bleu for her and instead had been faced with two dozen shocked hunters armed to the teeth.
“I have no interest in Bleu,” Sable whispered and his eyes opened, locking on hers. He breathed out slowly and relaxed against her hand. “That doesn’t mean I have any interest in you, either.”
His red eyes brightened again, burning like coals and narrowing on her.
“I’m accustomed to battles… but those battles make sense to me. This doesn’t. This is madness. I belong to neither of you. I’m not a possession for one of you to claim or a victory to be had. Can’t you see that?”
His expression softened and something in his eyes spoke to her, telling her of his regret. She wanted to believe that sanity would return to the world now that she had made her feelings clear to Bleu and now that she had told Thorne that she didn’t want the elf, but she knew that if the two males were around her, things would go south again. Not because Bleu would flirt with her, but because Thorne would always see him as a threat, a rival for her affection, until he had claimed her.
And she wasn’t ready for anyone to claim her.
“Return,” Thorne gruffly growled, great effort behind it.
He was fighting his darker nature, clawing back control so he could speak with her in a language she could understand.
Sable shook her head. “I can’t go back with you. Your kingdom is at risk. I won’t be responsible for your downfall.”
Thorne snarled, his expression turning vicious, and then softened again.
“Return.” It was pleading this time and she felt his pain, his need, beating within her.
“No. Not until this war is over or you can swear to me that you will no longer behave so rashly and ridiculously.”
He shoved to his feet and turned away from her, his shoulders tensed and fists clenched. Sable’s chest ached, a fierce pang lancing her.
She reached out to him, driven to reassure him and herself that this separation was only temporary.
Thorne jerked backwards, stumbled, shot a hand out to grab the table to his left and hit the deck hard. Sable gasped and looked beyond him, and frowned. Fargus stood opposite her. His eyes glowed blue. What the hell? The table legs squeaked against the linoleum as Thorne tried to pull himself up.
Claimed by a Demon King Page 21
