Claimed by a Demon King

by Felicity Heaton

  “It’s worth a try though, right?”

  “Wrong.” Bleu shook his head. “The elves the council sent to cross the border into the land could not enter that way. They met with resistance upon their return too. The First King was not pleased that they had crossed the First Realm without prior request.”

  “We could go and speak with this First King though, couldn’t we?” Sable set her glass down on the wooden table. “That has to be worth a shot. Maybe we could find a way in then.”

  “No. It might be best we find a potential method of forming a hole in the barrier or restoring a pathway first.” Thorne picked at a piece of bacon, craving the saltiness of the grilled meat. Sable cooked well. His female had talents he had not known of before. What other things could she do?

  Sable took another mouthful of wine and then sighed. “So we need to find someone who can get us through the barrier.”

  He and Bleu nodded.

  Her face fell again and she stared at the map.

  Thorne looked down at it too, at his kingdom in particular, and the lands bordering it. The elves had chosen wisely. The First Realm was the best route back to his one, but they would have to gain an audience with the First King before attempting to breach the barrier. The First King would be less willing to allow them passage now that the elves had crossed the realm without permission.

  That wasn’t an insurmountable problem. He could convince the First King to grant them passage.

  The problem was finding a method of breaching a barrier made by dark magic.

  Thorne frowned. “Rosalind.”

  “Who now?” Sable glared at him and he placed his hand on her knee to reassure her, sensing her need for it.

  “The little witch I came to meet with to see my future… the evening we met. You recall it?” He looked at her and she nodded, reached across the table and picked up a device similar to the one she had used that evening in the cafeteria.

  She touched the screen and it came alive with colour and light, as if she was the witch and her touch was magic. She made a rapid series of taps in different places, as she had the night they had met, and then presented him with a picture of the fair-haired witch.

  “This Rosalind?”

  He nodded. “She is a practitioner of light magic. She may be able to help us reopen the pathway to my land.”

  She twisted the device to face her and studied it.

  Bleu stood, catching her attention and his. “I will go and speak with my council of our plans, and will see if they have been able to make contact with my prince.”

  “Return at dawn. We shall leave to see the witch then.” Thorne rose to his feet and Bleu nodded before disappearing.

  He looked down at the hastily drawn map of the realms and the portal pathways.

  Sable stood and he spared her a glance, and then his gaze slowly roamed back to her.

  “We’ll find a way back into your kingdom, Thorne,” she said in a low voice, one that teased his ears and soothed him.

  She was reassuring him?

  Thorne nodded but didn’t feel so certain. He had never wanted anything as much as getting back to his realm. He looked at Sable again. Perhaps there was one thing he wanted above all else.

  “You seem different tonight.” She glanced away. “I was listening to you talking to Bleu while I was cooking… and you were different.”

  Did she prefer the male she had seen this night? The one who strategized with others as an equal and didn’t argue over a female? The male who took charge for the sake of his people, even going as far as giving up the one thing he desired most of all.

  The one thing he might have gained by giving up.

  Sable leaned closer, her body bare millimetres from his. Her hand slipped into his, her fingertips grazing his palm, and she looked up at him, brooked desire in her golden gaze.

  Thorne exhaled heavily, unable to resist the lure of her beauty and the hunger in her eyes. He lowered his head, cupped the nape of her neck with his free hand, and kissed her hard.

  CHAPTER 20

  Thorne laid claim to Sable’s sweet mouth, tangling his tongue with hers as he clasped the back of her head, holding her immobile. She moaned, the sound filled with pleasure that detonated a burst of male pride in his chest and drove him to master her and tear another breathless groan from her lips. He wanted to satisfy her, to pleasure her until she was boneless and sated, and then he wanted to crush her to his chest and sleep with her in his arms.

  She tiptoed, her palms scalding his bare chest, making his blood burn and thrum in his veins. He groaned and angled his head, deepening the kiss and leaving no part of her untouched by it. He slid his free hand down to the small of her back, teased her top away from the waist of her trousers, and caressed her bare skin. It was soft beneath his touch, silky and warm, and was almost his undoing.

  Thorne moaned and clutched her tighter, drawing her closer until her softness pressed against the hardness of his body.

  Sable uttered another murmur of pleasure and her short nails dug into his bare chest, sending hot shivers skittering across his muscles and causing them to tense. She moaned again, deeper and more wanton this time, and he sensed her arousal spike. She liked it when she felt his muscles, felt his strength beneath her questing fingers.

  She dragged them down, catching his pebbled nipples in the process, ripping another throaty groan from him. He shuddered and quaked, verged on digging his own claws into her soft flesh to anchor her and stop her from pushing him close to the edge. He wanted to give her pleasure first. He wanted his female to cry his name as she found release, experienced bliss from his touch, his kiss and his body within hers. He wanted—no, needed—to ruin her to all others and make her forever his.

  His Sable.

  His queen.

  Thorne growled and swept her up into his arms, not breaking the kiss. She gasped into his mouth, her arms linking around his neck. He carried her back towards the bedroom, intent on laying her down on the bed and crawling on top of her, pinning her beneath him. He needed to feel her there, feel her skin-to-skin with him. The need was too strong to ignore, too fierce to resist.

  She tunnelled her fingers into his hair, twining the longer strands around her slender digits as she kissed him harder, her lips clashing violently with his, speaking of the need he could sense in her. Desire, fierce and intense, unstoppable, drove her just as it rode him mercilessly, controlling his actions and urging him into giving himself over to his carnal needs.

  His unquenchable thirst for Sable.

  His shins hit the end of the bed and he lowered her onto it, covering her soft curvy body with his and driving her down against the mattress. She didn’t release him. Her grip on his hair tightened, her kiss growing fiercer and more passionate. She rocked against him, rubbing her stomach across the steel-hard bulge in his leathers.

  Thorne couldn’t take it.

  He groaned and arched his back, lifting his already aching shaft away from her undulating body. She whimpered and continued to rock against the air, her grip on his hair tightening until it stung his scalp.

  He slowed the kiss, wanting to bring them down onto a more even keel, a place where they were no longer slaves to their need and could draw out this moment, making it everything he desired it to be.

  She wriggled beneath him, a noise born of frustration grating in her throat, but loosened her grip on him too. Her fingers sifted through his hair, stroking and caressing, driving his thoughts towards her doing that to another part of his anatomy, a part that demanded her attention and craved it.

  He lowered himself again, holding his weight on his elbows as they pressed into the mattress on either side of her ribs, and slowly drove his hips forwards, grinding his caged cock against her stomach. He growled, the need for more, to thrust against her soft warm skin, overriding the part of him that kept chanting to go slow.

  He couldn’t.

  Thorne grabbed the hem of her dark t-shirt and paused at the stiff feel of it. He
pushed himself up with his other hand and looked down at the material he grasped. He drew in a deep breath and caught the faint scent of blood. His blood.

  He pushed the material upwards, revealing the taut plane of her stomach. Dried blood marred her soft skin too. She had been so focused on his welfare that she had neglected her own. He frowned and rose to his knees, caught her left wrist and pulled her up with him.

  She looped her arms around his neck and went to kiss him again, and he turned his cheek to her.

  “Wait,” he said, battling his need to give in to her and claim her mouth again, struggling to focus on another desire.

  The one that demanded he bathe her, washing the blood from her skin and making her feel better in the process. She needed a moment of comfort, and he intended to give her one by cleansing her, erasing all signs of what had happened to him and what she had been through, and easing her tired body with the heat of the water.

  “I don’t want to wait,” she whispered against his cheek and peppered it with kisses that almost persuaded him that he didn’t want to wait either.

  He growled and swept her up into his arms.

  “No, put me back down.” She pushed against his chest but he held her tighter, containing her.

  He began walking.

  “Where are we going?” She looked ahead of him and then swiftly faced him again. Her pupils dilated, the raw need in them calling to him. She had figured out his intention and judging by the desire shining in her eyes and flowing through the connection between them, and the way she relaxed in his arms, she liked his idea.

  He carried her into the bright white bathroom and set her down on the small vanity unit.

  Thorne arched a brow at the glass cubicle that ran the length of the wall to his right. Not a bath as he had expected. He had thought to lay her in the hot water and sit on the edge of the tub to wash her.

  His groin throbbed against his leathers, his balls tightening at the thought of stepping into the shower with her and washing her, running his hands over her soapy body while she explored his.

  Would she desire to wash him too?

  She was already ahead of him, hopping down from the vanity and sliding the door back so she could enter the cubicle. She reached around and turned a knob on the silver box on the wall. An electric whirring filled the silence and then water burst from the showerhead.

  Sable closed the cubicle door, turned her back to it and smiled wickedly.

  He was about to ask her what she was thinking when she tugged her t-shirt up, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach and her black cotton bra. He groaned as she removed the bra, revealing her beautiful pert breasts, and his cock pulsed behind his leathers at the sight of her. Everything male in him demanded he go to her and rip her clothes from her body, place her in the shower and make love with her under the water.

  He took a step forwards, pulled towards her, drawn by the desire to be the one to strip her down to nothing. She paused with her hands on her belt and looked up into his eyes, her golden ones beguiling, enchanting him as they darkened with desire, need that spoke to him and silently commanded him.

  He obeyed.

  Thorne grasped her hands and shifted them aside, away from her belt. He unfastened it, popped the button on her combat trousers and eased the zip down. She toed off her boots, kicking them away, and her gaze remained locked on his face, her eyes darkening by degrees as he inched her trousers down, revealing the plain black cotton underwear she wore.

  He groaned and pushed her trousers to her knees, falling to his before her. A gasp left her as he showered her stomach with kisses, tasting her soft skin and a trace of his own blood. She ploughed her fingers through his hair and grasped him, holding him to her stomach, as if he would ever leave. He wanted to spend hours here, exploring her with his mouth, learning all the spots that made her gasp and whimper, and quiver for more.

  He kissed lower, marking a path past her navel, and ran his palms up the outside of her thighs at the same time. She trembled under his caress, her breath coming quicker, her desire heightening as it flowed through the connection between them. He listened to it, using it as his guide as he trailed his lips down her, edging closer to the waist of her underwear.

  She moaned as he palmed her buttocks, gently kneading them one moment and clutching the next as he alternated between soft and hard kisses, between light nips and tender bites.

  Thorne hooked his fingers into her underwear and shimmied them downwards, drawing back at the same time so he could drink his fill of her beauty as it was revealed to him. His hungry gaze devoured her, from the soft arch of lean muscle over her hipbones to the dark thatch of curls covering her mound.

  The glass behind Sable shuddered as he dropped a kiss on her curls and breathed her in. Her scent drove him crazy, near blinding him with a need to rise before her and devour her mouth as he plundered her body, claiming all of her this time.

  He dropped another kiss and she moaned, the sound loud in the small white tiled room, rising above the noise of the running water.

  “Thorne,” she husked, her fingers tugging on his hair, and a soft whimper escaped her as she arched towards him.

  He growled and delved lower, thrusting his tongue between her feminine lips and tasting her desire. The sweet nectar bloomed on his tongue, flooding his mouth with her flavour and driving him onwards, filling him with a fierce need to possess all of her at last, just as he had in their dreams.

  She pulled on his hair again, yanking him upwards. Thorne looked up the length of her and groaned at the beautiful sight. The curve of her back thrust her breasts upwards and their dusky dark buds called to him, making his mouth water and his cock twitch. He wanted to taste her there too. He wanted to lick and nibble her everywhere.

  He rose before her and went to drop his mouth to suck the firm peak of her left breast into his mouth but she stopped him with a hand against his chest.

  Thorne stared down into her eyes, captivated by the hunger shining in them and the need that echoed through their link.

  He kept still as she slowly grazed her hand down his body, her dark pupils expanding as her gaze followed it, devouring his body and making him burn wherever she touched. He shuddered as she ran her fingers through the dark hair that trailed down from his navel and her gaze lifted to his, the blatant want in it ripping a moan from his throat.

  Her fingers made fast work of the lacing on his trousers and he tipped his head back, moaning at the ceiling as she slipped her hand inside, running her palm down the full hard length of him. The heel of her hand rubbed the broad head and he sank his fangs into his lip, his hips thrusting forwards against his will.

  Sable moaned and shoved his leathers down his hips, over his backside. She dug her nails into his buttocks, another throaty appreciative groan leaving her sweet lips.

  “Hell, I love your body,” she whispered and he was about to answer her with a chuckle when she pressed the first kiss to his chest, shattering his ability to speak.

  She swirled her tongue downwards and around his right nipple, her fingers clutching his sides and her thumbs pressing into his hips. He groaned, sank his teeth harder into his lip, and frowned as she worked her magic on him. Each swirl, lick and kiss propelled him closer to the edge, until his need for her reached a crescendo, maddening him and pushing at his self-control.

  He clamped his hand down on her head, entwining his fingers in her silky black hair, and guided her downwards, towards the place where he needed her most, ached for her attention. She giggled and wrapped her lips around his flesh, sucking the head of his cock.

  Thorne growled, the sound ripping up his throat, feral and animalistic, shocking him.

  He pushed her down and rocked his hips forwards, gently thrusting into her hot wet mouth.

  Her moan vibrated along his hard shaft and her grip on his waist tightened. Her teeth scraped over his sensitive flesh as she withdrew and he shivered, lost in the bliss of her mouth stroking his length, teasing him towards a
climax he knew would be earth-shattering, leaving him as boneless and sated as he desired to leave her. He reached for it, rocking into her mouth, giving himself over to the pleasure and letting it take him.

  No.

  He wanted her to feel pleasure too. He wanted her in his arms this time, their bodies as one, both of them finding bliss together.

  He withdrew from her, breathing hard and fighting the urge to let her continue her ministrations, bringing him to climax.

  He needed to do things right.

  He needed to make Sable his.

  “Thorne,” she whispered huskily and tried to lick him again. He held her back, pressing a hand to her shoulder, and she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

  He placed two fingers under her chin and made her rise before him, groaning low in his throat as the action revealed her breasts and then the sweet spot between her thighs.

  “Want you,” he murmured and caressed her hips, skimming his fingers inwards towards her mound. Her stomach quivered as he slipped two fingers between her petals. Hot moisture coated his fingers, slippery and divine, confirming what he already knew. “You want me too.”

  She hesitated and then nodded.

  Thorne lost his head.

  The shower forgotten, he pulled her to him and turned with her, pinning her against the cold tiles. She moaned and arched forwards, forcing her body against his, every delicious soft inch of her driving him wild with a need to have her, to lift her and wrap her legs around his waist and take her.

  He trod on the crotch of her trousers and underwear between her feet and lifted her, pulling her free of the garments. Sable instantly wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him. Her legs looped around his waist and her feet pressed into his buttocks. He growled as she tensed her muscles and forced him towards her. His hard aching cock met soft wetness and his growl became a deep groan.