My Demon Warlord

by Carolyn Jewel

  In the room she was using, she took a long, cold shower and went straight to bed, and never mind that the bed belonged to someone else. She fell asleep almost immediately, but only a few hours later—not nearly long enough—she awoke thickheaded and exhausted. It was four in the morning, and she’d slept hard and deep. She lay wide awake, trembling, and unsettled by her dreams of running from some unnamed terror or of being locked in a pitch-dark room, unable to see or hear. The emotional detritus tugged at her, threatening to pull her back in.

  She got out of bed, determined to get past this. Four fifteen. Still pacing the bedroom, feverish, hot to touch. At four-thirty, her palms were sweaty, and she was having trouble breathing normally. Her hands trembled when she held them out. Her knees felt like jelly. At one of the windows, she touched the ward Kynan had made in the glass. Nothing. All she felt beneath her fingers was inert glass. There was no sizzle of power.**

  Her body should be vibrating from the magic, but though she could find the wards—she’d not lost that ability—even when she touched them she didn’t feel the slightest echo of the warlord who’d made them.

  She’d always been better at magic than most. Always. Even when she walked away from her training, she’d left knowing she was better than her instructors. Better than the mage who’d agreed to take her on as an apprentice. What if being cut off from Kynan meant she’d always be like this—no better than a dabbler?

  She’d get over this. She had to. There was no way she could be effective like this. She’d learn to adjust to her new normal and go back to working with her newbies and making sure Nikodemus had all the legal work he needed from her. The room was too hot. Too small. Too confined. She opened a window and hoped for a breeze. She could hear the ocean and smell the salt in the fog, but the air was thick and not cold enough. Every few minutes she touched the wards built into the window, but she never responded once to the magic in them. She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t ever going to be okay. This emptiness was a permanent condition.

  She grabbed her jeans and a shirt and put them on with her fingers shaking so hard she could barely fasten the buttons. Panic choked off her breath. What if it wasn’t just that she was cut off from Kynan? What if she was slowly being cut off from her magic? In that case, she might as well be dead. She sent a pulse of power toward a tube of lipstick she’d left on the dresser and watched it roll toward the edge of the table. That wasn’t enough to prove anything. She ran through every one of the training exercises she gave her street witches, and her magic responded. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t effortless.

  This room was too hot. Stifling. She could barely breathe, the air was so thick. She wiped her clammy hands on her thighs. Feeling feverish, she headed for the shower again and stripped down. She turned the tap so the water was ice cold, and it didn’t feel cold enough. She wondered whether Kynan was feeling the same way. Maybe he felt wrong and hollow, too.

  She rested her head on the shower wall. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Alexandrine and Xia had survived a similar experience because they’d worked out the situation between them. They hadn’t tried to go it alone. The difference was that Alexandrine hadn’t had enough magic to endure the separation. Maddy did. She did. She had to. She’d always been the best. The strongest.

  She shut off the water, dried off, and got dressed again. Her vision kept going out, from color to gray and from normal depth perception to none at all. She couldn’t live like this. It was impossible. Not now. Not when she had to deal with Neda Sessani. She wasn’t about to let Sessani go even one second longer than necessary before that breeding program was shut down for good. Now. Not a month from now. Not a year from now. Now. She had to be at the top of her game for that, and she wasn’t anywhere close.

  Objectively, she knew she should stay up here and power through this. Withdrawal only felt like it lasted forever. It couldn’t possibly. Those thoughts and forebodings of disaster whirled through her head while she got dressed. She was halfway down the stairs before she even realized what she was doing. The pull of him surrounded her, and the world came back together the way it was supposed to be. Another few steps and everything would be all right.

  She knew this was due to their proximity. She wasn’t cured or healed or whatever set of words applied to an amelioration of her condition. If she moved far enough away, she’d be right back in that endless loop of despair.

  Kynan was at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting.

  CHAPTER 22

  He shouldn’t be so fiercely glad, but fuck it, he was. His sworn stirred to life as he extended a hand to Winters. With her still cut off from their bonds, she couldn’t react to his frank need. What he saw was her need, raw and practically bleeding. He kept his hand extended. He’d wait an eternity for her. She gripped the railing. “Kynan,” she whispered.

  “I’ll take care of you.”

  “I know you will.” Her voice quavered.

  “You belong here,” he said. “With me.”

  She came down the rest of the stairs. Slowly, she placed her fingers on his palm. “I can’t be like this. I’m no use to anyone like this.” Her ferocity was back, and he smiled to see it. “I will not let this keep me from the only thing that gives my life meaning.”

  Her hand felt too warm against his, but her grip was strong. He released the dead drop he’d put in place, and the bonds flexed between them and locked into place again.

  She took a deep breath. He felt it too, that shiver of their magic meeting. One step forward, closer to her, and she gripped his hand as their magic twinned at the locus of those three bonds. She stared into his eyes and recited the first words of the oath.

  So close to everything he wanted. Her fingers tightened around his. All her defenses against him were gone, gone. Elation slammed through him. After all this time being denied, the bonds slaked the thirst and starvation of these last hours. The connection between them became a river, a torrent, a fucking storm, and he loved that, too.

  “No oath, Winters. We’ll find another way. For now, this is enough.”

  She trembled, and he kept his arms around her. That, too, was right and proper, soothing contact for them both. She’d been sworn to Nikodemus long enough to understand and accept the tactile nature of the kin. Winters wasn’t a newbie witch. The kin touched when they were together, and here he was with Maddy Winters in desperate need of contact.

  He slid his hands over her back, and she hugged him tighter. Well, fuck him. She was crying. “Honey,” he whispered. “It’s all right. Don’t cry. Winters.” Her hands fisted against his back. “You and I will take Sessani down. We’re not letting that asshole Durian in on the action, I promise.”

  Her shoulders heaved, but with amusement. She was laughing, and that had to be good. “We might need him.”

  “Your call, Winters.” She relaxed against him, and he murmured soft words, words of comfort, words meant to soothe. Soon, he wasn’t even speaking English but the languages that suited the need for contact. Physical and psychic. At this point, with them tied so tight, she’d understand him no matter what language he used.

  Her tears subsided as her psychic state evened out. She stayed in his arms for moments that would be etched into his memory to the end of time. His. She’d given in to their bonds at last. She lifted her chin toward the ceiling, eyes closed. He brushed away her tears, still whispering to her. A shudder went through her, and they were in equilibrium.

  She lifted her head. “I was cold,” she said. “So cold. Cold and alone. Nothing I did warmed me up, and the longer we were apart, I just kept getting colder.”

  “I know.” He closed his eyes and soaked up everything. The way her magic worked him, the way she was right, right, so perfect. She smelled good, felt good. Smooth skin, and the sensation of silk under his palms when he slid his hands along her spine. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened. I didn’t know it would be that bad for you. I shouldn’t have let you leave me.”

  “I tho
ught I could handle it.”

  For several minutes they stood close, her forehead pressed against his chest, a position so similar to a bow of acknowledgment that his wishes echoed his sworn in demanding that obeisance. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and asked for patience. Eventually she drew back, though her arms remained loosely around his waist. Her eyes reflected the suffering she’d endured while they were cut off.

  He tightened his arms around her. He didn’t want his mind going places it shouldn’t. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she was no longer sworn to Nikodemus and how close that brought the possibility of her being sworn to him instead, and how much he wanted that. He couldn’t have that without destroying her, but he thought about it anyway.

  “Everything will be all right. I promise. I’ll make it happen.”

  She pressed a hand to his cheek. “It can’t be worse, can it?”

  Already her magic resonated in him, changing him in new ways. He drew her close, sliding his hand up her back as he soaked up elation that came with her acceptance of the changes those closed bonds had caused. He wanted her with a savage intent, and she felt the same fierce desire. “Upstairs,” he said. “In a bed this time.”

  “I am not your sworn, Kynan Aijan. I never will be.”

  He brushed the side of his thumb over her lower lip. Her magic pulled at him, called to him more strongly than ever. “This isn’t about that.”

  “You don’t have that kind of leverage over me.”

  Meaning he couldn’t accidentally force her compliance through a combination of desire and careless speech. Interesting point she was making. “That’s right, I don’t.” He leaned closer. “I don’t need physical submission from you, Winters.” He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t complain if I got it, and it would be sweet as hell if you did, but I can do without that.”

  She rested a hand on his chest. “Let’s get clear on what you want, and what I’m agreeing to.”

  “I want a deeper link than this one. Both ways. I have access to you and your magic, you have access to me and mine.” Anticipation worked through him when she didn’t object. “I want you willing to see where we end up. Us. Without the goddamned need for caution.” He tightened his hands on her. “Me not human. Is that clear enough?”

  “Perfectly.” She had that lawyer look about her. Stern. Adept at seeing and understanding nuance in words and ready to pounce on the slightest ambiguity. And that was all she said.

  “What I showed you before, that’s not gentle or sweet or kind.”

  The corners of her mouth curved up. “Understood.”

  The thought of fucking her when he was like that sent waves of desire through him. “If you decide you’re okay with that, you’ll do what I need to make that happen, right?”

  “If I decide that.”

  “You’ll tell me if you can’t?”

  “As long as you promise you’ll tell me if I do something you have trouble with.”

  “You have my promise.” He kept his hands on the sides of her face, no space between their bodies. She could back away. There was room behind her. She didn’t. “Nothing held back? I get all of you, you have all of me. I come in you when I’m not human, right?” His voice rumbled between them, and their bonds shifted again, taking new shapes, forming new needs. “You know what that means. I’ve been careful about who I have children with. I’m being careful now. Just so we’re clear.”

  “We’re clear.”

  He had his hand on her upper arm, fully focused on her. He’d been waiting and wanting and fantasizing about this for too long. Two steps toward the bedroom and they both reacted to the shiver of kin arriving. Outside, they heard a car come to a stop. The engine turned off.

  A few minutes later Vahid came in, but there were more kin out there, and Winters knew that, too. The tension zinging through her telegraphed itself to him. “I want to stay with you,” Vahid said, three fingers pressed to his bowed head.

  He nodded. “Glad to know that.”

  Vahid also caught the changed resonance, and he touched a hand to his chest. “What is that?”

  “Nikodemus,” Winters said.

  Only the vanguard so far. The first cars were heading down the driveway now. “You’ll be fine,” Kynan told him. “Show respect. Don’t mouth off, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  The warlord didn’t travel alone anymore. Partly for show, partly because the covens and cabals opposed to him had ramped up their opposition to the point where it became impolitic not to have a cadre of bodyguards. The first two cars parked, and the bodyguards exited and fanned into defensive positions as a third and fourth car came down the drive.

  Kynan opened the front door when Nikodemus, Carson, and five others reached the front stairs. He touched three fingers to his forehead as they walked in. Winters did the same even though she didn’t have to except as a matter of respect. He didn’t like it much, that she was bowing to someone else. He couldn’t complain. He jammed an elbow into Vahid’s side. Vahid copied their greeting to Nikodemus.

  “Hey,” Nikodemus said on his way in. Carson put herself between Nikodemus and Vahid. She and Nikodemus were married in the human legal system because it was always best to keep things simple with the authorities. Humans liked taxes that got paid on time and deaths with rational explanations. In return, the kin were fine with claiming any and all deductions and cleaning up after themselves.

  Nikodemus paused long enough for a fist bump with Kynan. His attention slid past him to Winters. Briefly, his eyes flashed silver. “Good to see you still alive.” He stopped in front of Vahid. “Vahid. Nice to meet you.”

  “Warlord.” He managed to sound halfway respectful.

  “Former mageheld to?” Nikodemus always looked like he didn’t give a shit about anything. Kynan hoped Vahid didn’t get taken in by that. He was an inexperienced, arrogant ass, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “Ugo Cifai.”

  “Your father?” A question asked in an offhand manner, breezy, like he wasn’t interested in the answer. “If you know.”

  Vahid hesitated before he replied. “Bejar.”

  Nikodemus and Carson exchanged a look. Power didn’t always come from power, but it was rare for first-generation descendants of one of the Entelechy to be mediocre. Nikodemus would be plenty interested in Vahid. Winters squeezed Kynan’s arm when she caught the tail end of his regret that Vahid wasn’t sworn to him already.

  Others filed in. Tau, Addison, Gray, and Durian were some of Nikodemus’s heavy hitters, ones whose oaths made a statement about the warlord who held them. More kin stood guard outside. In fact, Nikodemus had brought enough kin to make Kynan wonder whether he intended to formally extend his reach just as Winters had suggested. If he did, he’d leave behind enough of his sworn to defend his claim. Then again, maybe they were reinforcements in case he had to deal with a witch who’d broken her oath and a warlord who was thinking of doing the same.

  “Nikodemus. Carson.” Winters lifted her chin. Her uncertainly flowed through to him. She was worried about the change in her relationship with Nikodemus, and Kynan had to concede her right to that concern.

  “You doing okay?” Nikodemus asked.

  She licked her lips. “As good as can be expected.”

  With the bonds closed, Kynan didn’t have to hold back anymore, and he’d always been a warlord unaccustomed to taking any place but the one at the top of the hierarchy. His oath to Nikodemus resolved the ambiguity over rank, and he still believed in his oath. He continued in his unwavering support. If it hadn’t been for Nikodemus and Carson, he might still be Magellan’s mageheld.

  Addison was already giving him a look that was about an inch short of a warning. Fucking Nikodemus bringing Addison here. Nikodemus couldn’t have known about Vahid and Bejar, but he sure as hell knew Kynan and Addison had been involved. They’d been about as serious as you could get when you knew it wasn’t going to last.

  He
didn’t want to go against Addison, but if that’s how things went down, then he’d take her on, too. And the others. All them. Any of them. He clamped his teeth and ignored the streak of pain across his chest. He also ignored Nikodemus’s sharp glance. If any of them thought they’d come here to take Winters from him, that was going to be a problem. Especially now.

  His head filled with images of him killing anyone who opposed him, bathing in their blood, giving the survivors the option to swear to him or die. He’d devour them all. All of them except Carson. If he ended up with Carson too, that was okay by him.

  Nikodemus let go of Carson’s hand and gave her a nod toward the interior of the house. Like this was his house he was walking into wasn’t covered with Kynan’s protections. Those weren’t Nikodemus’s wards all over the property. That specific thought did not sit well with Kynan’s oath of fealty. Too fucking bad.

  “Be with you in a sec, sweetheart,” Nikodemus said. The others kept going, Vahid and Winters included. When he and Nikodemus were the only ones in the entryway, the warlord put a hand to the center of his chest. “How big a problem do we have?”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Big enough to worry about,” Kynan said. There was no point not acknowledging the truth. They were facing it.

  Nikodemus leaned his shoulders against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He looked relaxed, and he was, but he hadn’t let go of any of his power, and his eyes weren’t even close to human. “We’ve been through a lot.”

  “We have.” There’d always been an uneasiness between them. Given what the two of them were, that was just the way things were. Time to confront the problem.

  “From day one, just about.”

  Kynan didn’t look away or suppress the voices of his sworn. They fed his magic, and he had a point to make here. “I’m still your sworn.”