Bat Out of Hell (Promised to the Demons Book 2)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  I knew the legends. I was no fool. I would help my toad bride to recover, and learn what I could of her people, to please her. Then I would whisk her away from here.

  Chapter Three

  Lord Variel

  After a little while, a handsome faery man came to the door. At least, I thought he was very handsome for a faery, maybe because he shared my dark hair and grayish pallor. ”Lord Variel. I'm Lord Cyrus, one of the queen's healers. Bevan watched the girl’s beside for hours, and now it's your turn. She has not been conscious yet, but we need someone to keep watch over her in case she wakes and change her treatment as needed."

  "This sounds very serious."

  "It is. I do think she'll pull through."

  "She must. I haven't made it clear to her that I accept my destiny to wed her."

  "It sounds like you are all trying to challenge each other for the title," the man said, giving me a wry half-smile. "Good luck with that."

  "The fates have shown me my bride, and I have decided not to fight it anymore."

  "Ah," Lord Cyrus said. "The fates, the fates. Whoever they are, they must find us very entertaining. Well, here we are..."

  My rooms were just down the hall from Jenny's sickbed. The smell of medicinal herbs was pleasant, but concerning, and sunlight fell on her in a huge airy bed. I was shocked to see her looking so small and deathly pale, with a compress on her head.

  "How could the swamp sickness have affected her this badly? Have you checked her for other ailments?"

  "She was also bitten by a poisonous fish," said a female healer sitting at Jenny's bedside. She stood up and washed her hands in a basin as she spoke, then removed her apron. "But...I think the real trouble is that she is a very Ethereal personality. Bevan told me her warlock was actually initiated into Sinistral, but her character remained resolutely Ethereal, and since he never asked her to do magic, she never had to bend her nature to his will. Thus, she is susceptible to a very bad case of Sinistral illnesses. Cyrus, are you taking over as healer on duty?"

  Cyrus nodded. "I don't have anything better to do. Get some rest."

  I went to Jenny's side. A very sickening feeling was descending on me like a storm cloud. I had never felt anything like it, as if my life had become entwined with hers, and if she died, I would have a difficult time moving on from it. I swallowed.

  "Is there anything I can do, since this illness came from my own lands?"

  "Well," Cyrus said, appraising me with narrowed eyes. "Far be it from me to involve myself in your affairs, but it sounds like you generated a considerable amount of chaos in her life just before this happened."

  "I am a demon," I said. "And much like any ruler of a domain, I have responsibilities. I had to demonstrate to my servants that they serve at my pleasure."

  "And it seems like her response was to demonstrate to you that it might just kill her," Cyrus shrugged. "You might have to decide if it's worth it to you to apologize.” He turned to a work table with herbs and small bottles. I took ahold of her small hand, and she felt even more small and fragile than I imagined. Even in human form, she hardly seemed more substantial than a small animal. My claws could have gashed her even accidentally.

  Her skin burned with the fever. Her breathing was strained. Her death was not at hand, but it lurked closer than I liked.

  I didn't believe that an apology would cure swamp sickness, but I wondered if I owed her one anyway.

  If I became the man you wanted me to be, I would never be able to return home.

  That thought should have been enough to scare me into resisting her, but instead I found myself gazing at her delicate face, far too sweet and unassuming for a demon's bride. The smattering of freckles on her nose stood out even more in her illness. Her hand remained so limp in mine that I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for each slow breath of her own.

  "The best thing you can do for her is simply to be here for her,” Lord Cyrus said. “Every hour, we're changing the cool cloth on her head. It's infused with a particular blend of magic that helps with the fever and also provides her with nutrients while she's in the coma. Occasionally the spell causes the subject to wet the bed, so check the sheets now and then. The queen has told me to trust you alone with her, but she says that you will be judged for anything you might do to her. I'm sure you'll be a gentleman..." It seemed a casual threat.

  "I want her to be entirely aware of it the first time I touch her," I said. "So you don't need to worry about that."

  "I'll check in frequently," Lord Cyrus said. "Ring the bell if you need me."

  He left me all alone with Jenny. I kept holding her hand. The quiet of the room quickly started to feel oppressive. I was left with nothing to think about except her. I didn't think I would have much trouble keeping my hands off of her, because I was really quite controlled with my libido. Over the centuries I had realized how unfulfilling my sexual encounters ended up being, and was less and less inclined to fall into them. The females of Sinistral never offered what I really wanted.

  As the clock slowly moved around the hours, my eyes roamed Jenny's body until I knew every detail of her, and with every hour, I began to feel an increasing yearning for her. It was not just her luscious breasts, although they were an enticing feature, and certainly it was not her unruly hair or the plumpness of her arms and legs. She could have been a particularly attractive gnome maiden. She had never possessed the good looks of a demoness, and I could have easily married an enticing woman with legs for days and breasts every bit as full.

  Gods...it's her. It's her I miss. Not her body. Not even her face. Her…

  I missed the brightness of her eyes, the hop in her step, the humble kindness that she showed to every person, no matter how despicable or stupid.

  I cannot be kind, I thought. But to have such a kind woman...it would bring me great comfort.

  I will never be anything but what I am, a creature of sharp words and sharp edges. She is so very soft...

  The feelings I had for her felt lofty one on hand, like I was worshipping an angelic being. But I couldn't resist peeling down the blanket enough to give me a small peek at her body, and I was given more than I expected when she was wearing a thin linen nightgown, the darker color of her nipples showing clearly through it. With every strained breath, her breasts rose and fell slightly. My cock began to harden.

  That isn't good... Lord Cyrus would return at some point. I forced myself to look away from her and focus on anything else. Dust motes. The distant sound of harp music. The thought of Jameson pleasuring a lonely orcwife. Oh, yes, that does collapse a man’s tower quite quickly…

  As soon as I turned back to her, I was struck anew by how much of a treasure she was, how soft and lovely. It took my breath from me. I wondered if my father hd ever felt this way about my mother. I could imagine it, but I also thought that if Jenny were to love me and then I lost her, as my father lost my mother, I would be a different man. But my father didn’t seem to change at all.

  You never loved Mother as she deserved, did you? I thought to my father, betraying his memory. After eight hundred some years, maybe I deserved a little honesty.

  “I am sorry, little toad,” I said. “I was wrong about you. You are precious as a pearl, in fact—as they also come from the humblest of origins.”

  "Bevan?" she murmured, her voice hardly more than a ragged whisper. Her eyes remained closed. The fever still had a grip on her.

  “Jenny…I believe I have made a terrible mistake and you will not have me as your husband now.” I said the words to her delirium that I would never say to her if she was looking right at me with her eyes bright and aware. “In fact, I was trying to push you away because I didn’t think you would make a suitable wife. I am not a suitable husband. I don’t understand my fate. Most of all, I don’t understand how it is that I feel…as I feel about you. My body desires you, but I think my heart desires you more.”

  Her eyes opened very slowly. “Variel…I think I’m dreaming. Are you sa
ying that you…”

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  Her face was a sickening pale color, even her lips drained of pink, while she was covered in sweat. Her eyes were so glazed. But she smiled, and her smile was so beautiful.

  “I’m scared. I don’t want to die,” she said, her eyes searching.

  I wondered if my mother looked like this on her deathbed, drenched in sweat from giving birth to me.

  “I’ll protect you,” I said. “Lord Death is no match for Lord Variel.”

  I took her small hand in mine, and she gripped one of my fingers and tugged my hand against her chest as she drifted back to unconsciousness. My palm was resting against the swell of her breast, and she was so very soft, but I didn’t dare move, or even consider how alluring she was. I simply wanted her to be well.

  She slept for hours upon hours, and occasionally my left hand reached for one of the other cloths that Cyrus had left in a basket on the nightstand, but I let her keep holding my right hand as long as she needed to. Her skin was so hot, but she was very much alive, and the longer I sat there, the longer I could think of nothing else but my focus on her. I began to treasure this moment, knowing that once she was well, she would be angry at me again, as she slept in Bevan’s arms.

  Somewhere in the palace, harp music played. I started to drift into a light sleep myself.

  "You!" Her voice snapped me back to reality. "Were you...touching me!? Watching me?” Her hands, weak as they were, snapped the covers up to her chin.

  Chapter Four

  Jenny

  "I was holding your hand while you were ill," Variel said. “You—you took my hand.”

  My nipple was hard, my skin tingling in the wake of his touch. “Your hand was resting on my breast,” I said, and then I was wracked with coughing. “And how long have you just been…here?”

  It took me a minute to realize I wasn't in Variel's bed anymore. I didn't recognize this place, but it was very nice. Could it be some temple of healing? Why was he here?

  I glanced at his massive hand, thinking of that hand caressing me. My breast was still tingling, as if my body was a lot more excited by Variel than my brain was.

  "I should not have touched you at all. I wanted to bring you the comfort of someone’s company…”

  “Surely you know I don’t want yours!”

  “I wouldn’t have taken your hand if you had not taken mine,” he said. “But I see it was offensive to you.”

  "Is Bevan here?" I asked.

  "Bevan took the first shift caring for you," Variel said. "It's my turn to watch over you now. You've been very ill. I'm glad to see you feeling better."

  "I never asked to be your servant," I said. "All I wanted was to be Bevan's apprentice. I still started to like you. I thought my cooking made you happy. I thought maybe we'd learn to be a family, and I wanted that more than I cared to admit." I had to pause to cough more.

  "My lady," he said, offering me a glass of water.

  "My lady!? I'm not! I'm trying to tell you that I know what you did to us. You thought Bevan would force himself on me, and you...you wanted to see the man I love hurt me." I swallowed. "I expect you will force me to come back with you and serve you, and make me and Bevan have babies or whatever it is you really want, but--"

  “I don’t want to hurt you, quite the opposite,” Variel blurted. "Lady Knucklebones foresaw that you were meant for me, and I was too much a prideful ass to admit that my bride should be a toad shifter. But...I was terribly wrong. You are the finest girl I have ever met. The only girl to truly stir my flesh and bring joy to my soul. Jenny, I adore you." He lowered his head. "I will make you mine."

  My mouth fell open. In some way this was even worse. "I'm already in love! You know that! If you adore me, you'll just let me be happy and...and acknowledge that you did something very cruel to us."

  "It was a mistake," Variel said. "I will offer an apology for my actions that night. It was a cruel deed."

  "Well, I do appreciate you saying that." I sipped the water, sinking into my deep pile of pillows as the fever started to overcome me again.

  "But I…I must try to win you,” he insisted. "You are to be mine and I will do everything in my power to make you happy to be with me."

  "That isn't how it works!"

  "I have never felt so strongly about anything." He stood up with a note of finality, but he gazed down at me for a moment from his full height, his eyes that eerie glowing red, his horns making him look dangerous at all times, even when he was trying to be a little more gentle.

  Of course, the way he looked was an accurate reflection of who he was inside--a man I could never trust not to treat me like he owned me, the same way Bernard did. After all the emotional pain of leaving Bernard, I would never run right into the arms of someone even worse.

  “Well, I’ve never felt as strongly about anything either.”

  He smiled a little, showing off the edges of his fangs. “So it will be a test of our wills. I expect you will give me a challenge. In fact, I hope you will, as I do not want a meek bride, and I’m sure you want a husband who is willing to prove his affections.”

  “I already have someone who’s proved his affections! Please leave me alone," I said. "If you want to show me that you care, at least let me see Bevan while I'm sick."

  "I am here to tend to your every need.”

  "Then, I need Bevan."

  “The fae queen asked that we should tend to you in turns.”

  "What? We're not in the faery palace, are we?"

  "We are."

  I looked at the room with fresh eyes. Now the warm feel of the plants by the window and the natural decor made sense, and I took a moment to appreciate that my life would lead me to such interesting and beautiful places after so many years of confinement.

  "If the queen considers you an enemy, then why are you alone with me?" I asked.

  “Well….I like to think she recognizes my devotions and senses the destiny between us,” he said. “Although—“

  Suddenly I just felt completely irritated with this stubborn man who insisted I was going to love him instead of Bevan. "I'm done with people who tell me who I should be," I said. "Please go away or--or I'll throw this water at your face."

  His lips twitched. I think he wanted to laugh. "If you are that angry, you should just do it and not warn the victim first."

  "Uhh..." He was right. I should have just done it. Maybe if I'd been more firm with Bernard I wouldn't have become Jenny.

  He took my water and threw it at his own face. ”See? As you wish, my lady, I will go."

  I was so exhausted as he left that I thought I might slip back into unconsciousness, but I was also hungry and I had that dull, sick feeling that only happens when you oversleep. I should have asked him for some food before he left...

  I also wished I had asked him if his horses were okay. Maybe I was still upset at him, but I was sorry I hadn't checked on his horses.

  I hate being sick. I would love to see what the faery kitchens look like and see what special pastries are only made here... Bevan and I could visit the bakeries and patisseries, if faeries have such things, but they must!

  In fact, I'd be very disappointed if faeries didn't have the best bakeries in all the realms.

  As I was losing myself in a delirium of tarts and cakes and cream, the door opened again and a fair-haired man walked into the room.

  My heart suddenly leapt with fear as I placed him. "What--what are you doing here!?" I barely sputtered out the words before I choked on them and started coughing with an awful dry cough.

  "It's me--Piers," he said, taking the cup Variel left empty and quickly filling it for me. “Go on and drink; that won’t do. Variel asked me to take care of you."

  "But--you're Piers? You were at the fight with Bernard! I didn't realize you were that same man! You led the attack on the familiars when I was staying with Helena! You were trying to get the Way of Paths!"

  He glanced away from me pen
sively. "I told you I knew Bernard," he said.

  "You didn't really tell me that exactly."

  "I didn't connect you with that evening either," he said.

  "This is too much..."

  "Jenny, right now, all that matters is that you get proper rest and are able to fight another day." I knew he meant that metaphorically, because I wasn't a fighter, but seeing him now, I guessed that was where his mind always lived--in a world of fighting and struggles for power. He had a very military bearing, arrow-straight and controlled. His clothing was stained but it looked like he had tried to clean up to see me. The face, I remembered all too well now--short blonde hair that was brushed back but getting a little long and falling out of place in every direction, cold blue eyes the color of ice, burn scars marring one side of his face from temple to cheek.

  "If you're well enough to speak, you'd probably better eat something," he said.

  "I am hungry." I knew the avornax I had fed under the cabinet probably was going to turn into some villainous character, based on all I'd heard of him from Bevan, but I wasn't sure to make of him anyway. He certainly wasn't what I'd call friendly, but his formal distance was easier to deal with than Variel's fervent attempt to convince me that I'd marry him whether I liked it or not.

  Piers ladled out some soup from a pot in the corner that was hanging over a low fire to keep it warm. He only used his right hand, while he kept the left tucked in his jacket.

  "Are you injured?"

  "Variel ate my hand," he said.

  "Ate it!?"

  "I suppose 'devoured' is the proper term."

  "You weren't injured before! When? Why?"

  "Apparently I was whole when he gave me a different body, but not now.” Piers took the chair, but he still kept a good five feet between us. He took a pained breath and looked at me. "Jenny, I'm sorry. You were very generous and I would have starved to death without you."