Sable spun to avoid the rakshasa’s swing and came to her feet nearer to Thorne.
She winked at him. “The elves make some bitching poisons.”
He would have to remember to thank them. She whirled to face her opponent, bringing her short sword down at the same time, and it sliced through Evan’s shoulder.
The rakshasa cried out and leaped backwards. A mistake on his part. Bleu was there, a cold smile on his face as he drove his spear forwards, skewering the creature.
Thorne punched Frayne hard on the jaw, knocking him backwards, further into the clearing. The Fifth King growled at him, sweat breaking out across his brow. It wasn’t quite the victory that Thorne had desired but he wasn’t about to castigate Sable for her underhand tactics on the battlefield. The Fifth King had no doubt commanded the rakshasa to poison him after all. It was only fair the bastard had a taste of his own medicine.
Frayne growled, exposing his fangs, and lashed out with his claws, slicing across Thorne’s chest. Thorne ignored the sting of the lacerations and kept driving forwards, landing blow after blow on Frayne, weakening him at the same time as the toxin.
Frayne signalled again.
Who was he calling?
A tall woman with jet-black eyes appeared beside him, her long black dress hugging her curves, torn in a few places.
She attacked immediately, blasting Thorne with a glowing blue orb that exploded against his chest and sent him flying through the air. Thorne growled through the pain, unleashed his wings and spread them, halting his ascent. He shook off the agony that seared his ribs and beat his aching wings, shooting back towards the witch and Frayne.
The female threw orb after colourful orb at those around her, each one striking someone from his team. Screams rose above the din of battle and the clang of weapons clashing. He fixed his sights on her and she looked up at him, a smile curving her black lips, and tossed her hand towards him and blew across her palm. A swirling vortex of black extended from her hand, the funnel growing as it rocketed towards him.
Thorne rolled in the air and beat his wings harder, trying to evade it. Tendrils of black shot from the wide end of the vortex, reaching for him. He growled and gritted his teeth, flying as fast as he could to outstrip them before they could snag his feet and pull him into the funnel. He wasn’t sure what the spell would do to him and he didn’t want to find out.
He swept lower, over ranks of his enemy as they closed in on his men, and the funnel tore through them, the black tendrils grabbing any within reach and pulling them inside. Cries echoed across the battlefield and died in an instant, the moment their owner disappeared into the vortex. Blood sprayed across the untouched.
Thorne decided he definitely did not want the vortex or the tendrils to catch him, or any he cared about.
He looked back at the witch, searching for a way to take her down and destroy her spell with her.
Frayne grinned up at him and beat his own wings, gaining momentum with each powerful stroke.
Another spell hit Thorne’s feet, sending him toppling heels over head. He dropped hard, landing a short distance from Sable as she fought the rakshasa with Bleu. Loren hauled Thorne onto his feet and Thorne met his steely gaze.
“I am beginning to despise witches,” Loren said, a grim look on his face. “I will deal with her.”
“And I will finish this.” Thorne grabbed a blade from the ground and Loren disappeared.
Loren appeared close behind the witch and she lowered her hand, her spell disappearing as she turned on him. The dark elf prince grinned, flashing fangs at her, and attacked.
Thorne rushed to assist him by luring Frayne away. The Fifth King looked well again, no trace of the fever that should have gripped him on his face or in the fluid way he moved as he joined the witch in battling Loren. The witch must have cured him. He had called her to him to aid him and give him time to recuperate, distracting Thorne.
Bleu teleported to join his prince, driving Frayne back.
Frayne disappeared and the hairs on Thorne’s nape rose. He turned as quickly as he could and was almost facing the Fifth King when he appeared. Frayne’s claws raked down Thorne’s chest, slicing deep, and Thorne roared as fire blazed through him.
Poison. The bastard had coated his claws in his own poisoned blood. The toxin wasn’t enough to kill him but it would slow him down, giving Frayne the advantage.
Thorne stumbled backwards as the inferno swept through his veins, burning up his blood and making his head spin. Frayne advanced on him, his chin tipped up, looking down on Thorne as he lifted Thorne’s own broadsword with both hands, raising it above his head and preparing to strike.
Thorne staggered and tried to keep upright but his heel hit a rock and he tripped, landing hard on his backside.
Victory flashed in Frayne’s green eyes.
Thorne stared at the blade as it cut a silver arc through the darkness, coming straight for him.
It stopped.
Frayne roared in agony.
“Die, demon filth.” The female voice was familiar but edged with cold and cruelty.
Darkness flowed through Thorne, desire to dismember the wretch towering over him, the demon scum. Hunger awakened within him, a pressing need to coat his hands with the blood of his enemies and bathe their souls in the fire of purity, sending them into the forever after to be judged.
Sable.
She stood between him and Frayne, her back to him and her hands clutching Frayne’s wrists, holding them above her head. She had halted his attack. She had saved Thorne.
Orange light shone from beneath her fingers where they pressed into Frayne’s flesh and the demon roared again, his agony palpable as his skin blackened and a fiery glow pierced the fractures growing in it.
Frayne threw his head back and roared.
Silence swept across the battle as all eyes turned their way, seeing Sable in all her glory.
Light burst from beneath her silver cuff around her right wrist and twin points on her shoulder-blades glowed beneath her t-shirt. The material covering them smouldered and smoke rose, curling upwards. The twin points stretched into glowing lines.
Sable grunted and wavered, and agony tore through the link between them, throbbing in his bones and where his wings joined his back.
She was hurting herself.
Her grip loosened.
Frayne’s blade fell, cutting straight towards her.
Thorne threw himself at her, his heart pounding as he raced to reach her in time and every inch of him on fire as he battled the poison weakening his body. Her knees hit the dirt and he kicked off, launching himself forward with every ounce of strength he could muster, reaching for her. He placed his right forearm above his head as he covered her with his body. The sword struck hard, slicing through his leather vambrace and deep into his forearm.
He didn’t wait for Frayne to pull the blade free. He released Sable, grasped the blade with his free hand, and shot upwards, knocking his broadsword from Frayne’s grasp.
Thorne growled as he felt Sable’s pain, heard her moan as she held herself. It drove him on and red filled his vision, a haze descending that purged the weakness from his body and drowned out the world, leaving only Frayne behind.
He would take the bastard’s head.
He grabbed the hilt of his sword and it singed his palm, hot from where Frayne had held it in his burning flesh. He dragged the blade free of his right arm and let the useless limb fall to his side as he spun on his heel and swung hard at Frayne.
Frayne raised his blackened forearms to protect himself and the metal vambraces shattered beneath Thorne’s blow. The sword sliced through his arms and straight through his neck, sending it bouncing across the dirt. Frayne’s body slumped sideways and crumbled to ash as Sable’s gift consumed it.
A call went out, rising long and loud above the battle.
Thorne dug the point of his broadsword into the earth, breathing hard as it hit him. Months of fighting had come to an end. His k
ingdom was safe at last.
None of it mattered to him as he stood there on the battlefield, bathed in the blood of his enemies, every laceration on his body stinging like cold fire and the weakness from the poison returning.
All that mattered was Sable.
He dropped to his knees beside her, rolled her over, and gathered her into his arms. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks and her eyes fluttered open. Bright gold shone in her irises, dazzling him.
“Don’t touch… I’ll burn…” She tried to push away but he held her closer, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, grimacing as the deep wound on his right arm burned.
He paused and frowned as something tickled that arm and leaned to one side.
Feathers.
They were small and grey, coating delicate arches of bone and muscle that protruded from her shoulders.
“Don’t,” she whispered and swallowed hard. “Don’t let them—”
“Shh. Save your strength,” he murmured and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.
His female didn’t need to speak for him to know what she desired. He could feel it in her, knew her well enough to understand what she wanted him to do without her even asking. He carefully tucked the newly born wings inside her t-shirt. They trembled beneath his touch and shrank, slowly disappearing into her back.
Sable moaned and clutched him with both hands, gripping his shoulders. “Hurts.”
He could remember the first time his wings had emerged and how painful it had been, and how he had felt sick to his stomach, ready to vomit as the new tender bones grew. They had been sensitive to the slightest touch, aching whenever anything brushed them. He waited for Sable’s to disappear and then rose with her, holding her in his arms and only stumbling a little as his knees threatened to give out.
He sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled hard, trying to shut down the pain lancing his bones and refusing to let the toxin render him unconscious. Sable needed him strong. He would be strong for her.
He grew aware of everyone around him. Loren and Bleu were closest, with Kincaid in mortal form behind them, tugging on a pair of trousers he had stolen from one of the dead demons. Grave stood off to one side, barking orders at his men to search for survivors. Several of his demons were working with him, scouring the fallen for their injured comrades and teleporting with them whenever they found one. The remaining elves joined them in their search.
Thorne held Sable closer as Bleu and Loren approached him.
“Is she hurt?” Bleu said with concern in his purple eyes and Thorne shook his head.
“She is still unused to her new abilities. Using it to protect me while wearing the cuff that dampens her powers only served to awaken more of them. The strain was too much for her, but she will be well soon.” Thorne looked down at his fierce little female. His queen. “Will you not?”
Sable muttered something dark in his language.
Thorne smiled.
His little angel had a demon’s tongue.
He looked around the battlefield, taking a moment to check on those he could see and ensure that those who needed aid received it. He had scored one victory, seeing his kingdom safe for now, but he feared his greatest battle remained unfinished.
Thorne looked down at Sable.
Would she stay with him and take her rightful place at his side as his queen?
Or would she desire to return to her world and Archangel?
CHAPTER 31
Sable sat on the bench in the infirmary and grimaced as fire blazed a trail across her chest. Thorne growled on the bed beside her, his anger directed at Olivia. Olivia ignored him and continued to clean his wounds, each one she tended hurting Sable too. This was part of the bond that she could definitely live without, and Olivia had told her that she shared that opinion.
Sable reached up and took Thorne’s hand in hers, staring at it as she tried to ground herself again, using him as her anchor. Her world had tilted on its axis again and her footing felt unstable, liable to drop out from beneath her at any given moment. Her stomach somersaulted whenever she thought about what had happened on the battlefield.
“Olivia, a moment.” Thorne’s deep voice curled around Sable, comforting her and chasing the chill from her bones.
Olivia moved off to check on her other patients and Thorne sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the low bed. He shuffled closer to her and she kept her gaze on their joined hands, avoiding his inquisitive look.
“When I was young,” he whispered in a low voice and moved closer still, until he was all she could feel, smell, see and hear, capturing all of her attention. She looked up into his eyes, seeking the calm she felt whenever she stared into their rich crimson depths, the steadiness that she needed now more than ever. He leaned down, bringing his face close to hers, and continued, “When I was young, and my wings first emerged, I vomited.”
That made her smile.
It was strange having someone who knew what she was going through but it also made her feel blessed to have Thorne in her life, to have someone by her side who had experienced what she had on the battlefield.
“I was close to being sick,” Sable admitted and then wrinkled her nose. “But I manned up and kept my shit together.”
Thorne frowned now, his handsome visage darkening with it. “I was very young.”
“Younger than thirty-five?”
His expression soured. “Very well. You are more of a man than I… for now.”
The look in his crimson eyes said he was tempted to say more than that. He wanted to tease her, saying she would likely throw up at some point before she was used to her wings emerging.
Wings.
Mind fuck.
“Guess we know who my dad was now. Not really much room for doubt anymore.” She toyed with Thorne’s hand and he settled his other one over hers, clasping it between his.
“There is still much for us to learn though. I mean to keep my promise, Sable. I will go with you to meet the angel female again and together we shall discover more about your lineage and what it will mean for you.” The earnestness in his eyes and his tone touched her and she smiled again, letting him see it even though she knew he could feel it within her through their bond.
At least someone was on her side. She wasn’t sure Archangel would feel the same.
If she returned to them.
That was still up in the air, the topic of a constant debate in her mind.
Loren hobbled past and paused, backtracking to them. He looked down at her. “Have you seen Olivia?”
Sable nodded. “She was just torturing Thorne. She went that way.”
He went to leave and then stopped again as Olivia bustled over to them and caught him in a tight hug. He flinched and Olivia loosed a muffled grunt.
“Sometimes, this bond thing sucks.” Olivia pushed back and sighed at a long gash running from Loren’s right thigh up over his hipbone. She pointed to the bed Thorne sat on. “Sit.”
Loren did as he was told, settling himself next to Thorne. “It seems I am due some torture.”
“Telling her that you are immortal and will heal seems to have little effect,” Thorne said and Loren stifled a smile, and so did Sable.
“I can hear you,” Olivia muttered and set about cleaning Loren’s wound through the cut in his armour.
“Where’s Bleu?” Sable said because she wanted to thank him for helping her with the rakshasa. She only wished she could have made the son of a bitch suffer more as payment for what it had done.
Loren flinched again as Olivia dabbed at the wound on his side with cotton wool. “Returned to the mortal world. A messenger was able to teleport into the castle and delivered a request for Bleu’s assistance elsewhere. I granted him leave since it was Kyter and the communication stated that the jaguar male had an elf in need of assistance.”
“The pathways are open again?” Sable tried to keep her thoughts off Bleu and wondering whether he had been eager to go because he liked th
e jaguar bar-owner or whether he had gone because of her and Thorne.
Olivia slid her a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure that a little time spent in Kyter’s company and a few shots of Hellfire will have Bleu forgetting his troubles.”
Sable smiled at her friend’s poor attempt to make her feel better about the whole situation.
Loren’s attempt only made her laugh aloud, drawing a few odd looks from the men and women in the infirmary.
“Bleu will be fine and will find himself a female to slake his urges on and then he will be back to normal and his regular visits to the mortal world when the mood strikes him.”
Olivia slapped his arm. “You’ve been around demons for too long. You’re becoming uncouth.”
Loren frowned at her and then a smile worked its way across his lips. “You have been around me too long, Sweet Ki’ara, if you are beginning to use words such as uncouth.”
Sable grinned. “Next thing you know it, you’ll be saying yonder.”
Thorne arched an eyebrow at her. Loren did too.
“Yonder is a perfectly good word,” Loren said and grimaced as Olivia went back to tending to his wound.
“Never said it wasn’t.” Sable played with Thorne’s fingers again and sidled closer, until her knees brushed his. “I sort of like the word yonder.”
A sexy smile tugged at Thorne’s lips. He slipped his arm around her waist, hauled her onto his lap and kissed her. Sable melted into it, losing herself in how good it felt to be in his arms and know that he was safe now, and so was his kingdom.
He drew back too quickly and she pouted and tried to kiss him again. Thorne made a very weak effort to stop her and then he was kissing her again, clutching her closer this time, his fingers pressing into her sides. The possessiveness of the kiss thrilled her, sending a shiver down her limbs, and she leaned into him, capturing his shoulders with her palms and holding him in place.
Someone cleared their throat.
He groaned and broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers for a second before turning to speak with the demon who had arrived beside them.
Claimed by a Demon King Page 36
