Claimed by a Demon King (29 page)

“Wake up, Thorne.”

Those words were a command to his soul, an order he couldn’t ignore.

Thorne reached for her and she came into focus, her backdrop a warmly lit blanket of white and her long black hair hanging forwards, brushing her cheeks. They were reddened and damp, matching her eyes. His female had been crying. Why? What did she fear so much that it had torn down her strength and revealed this vulnerable side of her? He would destroy it, whatever it was. His female had no need to fear any longer. He was here.

A watery smile wobbled on her lips. “You awake?”

He thought he was dreaming to have his angel hovering over him as she was, her golden eyes enchanting him and her hip pressing against his bare side. She brushed her fingers over his brow and the cold came again, moist and icy.

“You look a little dazed.” She moved the wet something across his forehead. A cloth? “You with me?”

He tried to nod and his neck ached. He grimaced instead, a growl rumbling up his throat as he inwardly cursed the weakness infesting him, keeping him from speaking with Sable. Her smile grew, gaining strength and emotion that flowed into him and stilled his heart. She was happy, and relieved. His female felt safe again.

“How long are you going to lay there sleeping, huh?” She mopped his brow and he frowned.

Sleeping?

Memories of his last few moments came flooding back, rewinding quickly to the point when Fargus had stabbed him in the chest with a poisoned dagger.

His hand shot to his chest and Sable gasped. Thorne realised why. She held that hand, her fingers linked with his. His gaze darted to her and her cheeks darkened. She tried to remove her hand from his but he tightened his grip, gently squeezing her fingers between his, hoping to show her that he didn’t want her to let go. It pleased him that she had been holding his hand.

It did not please him that he had been poisoned, and he hated that a loathsome creature had taken his closest friend from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath to calm his emotions before they raged out of control. Any overexertion, whether physical or emotional, would send him back into the dark grip of the toxin, and he didn’t want to let it take him again.

He didn’t want to leave Sable or worry her.

He was the reason she feared. She had been afraid for him, and she had tended to him while he had been unconscious, watching over him like an angel. His female was kind. Beautiful. Precious.

Sable stroked his cheek. “Thorne? I’m sorry about Fargus.”

He was too, and he would make the rakshasa pay for what it had done.

But to make him pay, he needed to return to his land and his people.

Prince Loren would do all that he could to lead the army should there be an attack, but they needed him. He shouldn’t have left. Sable was right about that. Her words had cut him to the bone at the time, unleashing agony in his heart and his soul, but now he saw the truth of them. His place was in his kingdom, leading his men and protecting his people. By following his instincts, his deep need for Sable, and chasing after her, he had left them all exposed and in danger.

“Where is Bleu?” he said and Sable tensed, her shock rippling through him where they touched. He opened his eyes and sought her, finding her expression matched her emotions. She probably hadn’t expected him to ask after the elf as the first thing he said upon waking.

Her expression shifted and he sensed guilt and other emotions awakening within her.

“Sable?”

She looked down at his chest and their joined hands, a flicker of remorse in her gaze. “There’s something you need to know. Thorne… someone has… they closed the pathways to the Third Realm.”

Thorne bolted up into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. His head ached, eyes stung, and chest burned. He clutched it with his free hand, fingers tugging at wires attached to his skin. A steady beep reached his ears as his faculties came back and his senses cleared. His gaze followed the wires that led from his chest to a machine off to his right. His heartbeat. The strange machine echoed it and he despised hearing the rapid rate that warned he was still in grave danger, weakened by his enemy.

He tried to tear the pads and wires off but Sable shoved him back down onto the bed.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Her palm pressed into his shoulder, pinning him to the bed, as if she feared he would try to rise again and would injure himself. “Take it easy. Bleu is trying to find a way to get us back in and he’s trying to get a message to Loren. It’s all in hand.”

That didn’t make Thorne feel any better. While he had been unconscious fighting the toxin, Bleu had been taking steps to get them back into the Third Realm and had been trying to get word to Loren, and Sable clearly admired him for it.

“Your eyes are going red and your horns are curling,” Sable stated and he glanced at her. She looked thoroughly unimpressed. “You had better not be seething about Bleu or thinking that I was going all gaga for him because he’s trying to straighten shit out. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

She was, and judging by the dark semi-circles under her eyes and the fact she wore the same black t-shirt and combat trousers as when she had left his realm, she had been with him the whole time he had been unconscious, tending to him.

He would have found that wonderful once, a beautiful sign that she did desire him as her mate and no other, but it didn’t appease him or ease his frustration this day.

He had left his kingdom in danger and had to find a way back to it.

He needed to strategize.

Sable was right. It was time to put aside his feelings and his desire to claim Sable as his fated one and to form a truce with the elf male for the sake of his kingdom. Together, they could find a way of gaining entry to his realm and he might just be able to save it, his people, and his name as their king.

“How long have I been unconscious?” he said, frowning at the ceiling and conducting a mental check of his body.

The wounds he had gained during the hunt and the fight against Archangel’s people had healed. Only the one from the rakshasa’s dagger remained and it was far from healed. He burned there, the fierce ache stealing some of his senses and dulling them. The poison wracked him still, infesting his body, weakening his muscles and making moving painful.

“It’s been two days maybe… I lost track.” Sable lowered her gaze to their joined hands and swallowed hard.

He felt her pain. Her fear. It swept through him and chased away his shock over hearing that he had left his kingdom vulnerable for two whole days, and brought his focus to rest wholly on her.

He could see the strain in her eyes and feel the fatigue that flowed through her, threatening to render her unconscious in order to force her into resting. She had weakened herself by keeping vigil at his side. He had placed her in danger.

He cursed himself and vowed never to put her through so much pain again, and that he would restore her strength, both physical and mental. He would take care of her as she had taken care of him.

He just needed to figure out what that entailed.

Thorne sat up again and pulled the pads and wires from his bare chest. Sable tried to stop him but her strength was no match for his, even when he was still fighting the toxin.

“You should rest.” She pushed his chest but he refused to budge this time.

She couldn’t order him to rest when she needed to do the same. He didn’t think she would appreciate him telling her that so he kept it to himself.

He gently took her hand and pondered pressing a kiss to it, and then held it instead, brushing his thumb across the back of it. He couldn’t allow things between him and Sable to cloud his judgement any more, or sway him from his path. He had to focus on his kingdom and his people, and put aside his need for her until both were safe.

“I need to find a way back into my kingdom, Sable. You were right, my little huntress. It is time I live up to my father’s name and put an end to the war. It is time I place my kingdom before anything else.” Thorne released her hand and swung his legs over the edge of the bed behind her. Her back pressed against his side. He nuzzled her hair and breathed in her scent, unable to resist lingering a moment to feel her against him, feel her warmth and softness, and then stood. His legs gave out and his backside hit the mattress. The springs creaked under his sudden weight.

“At least let me help you.” Sable stood and offered her hand. “I can help you, Thorne.”

He knew that. His little female was clever, skilled in strategizing and experienced in battle, and the steely look in her golden eyes told him that she was determined to get back to his realm and her friends.

Thorne took her hand and stood again. She held him steady and he slung his arm around her slender shoulders, tucking her against his side and using her as a crutch. She wrapped her right arm around his waist and settled her other hand against his chest, holding him upright.

He couldn’t resist tugging her closer to him, fulfilling the need to hold her and shield her from all harm and the fear that had given him the strength to break the hold the toxin had had on him. She settled into his side and he felt her growing stronger, knew that his embrace comforted her. It humbled him. It always would. His little huntress relied upon him and he knew that she rarely depended upon anyone.

They had both stood alone for so long.

He looked around him, studying his environment. Everything smelled of Sable. Was this her home? The dark coloured fabrics and rich mahogany furniture suited his fated one. He looked back at the bed, at the crumpled dark purple sheets covering the large mattress. He had rested on her bed, alone in her room with her. His heart thumped harder, causing the wound on his chest to ache.

Sable cleared her throat. “I can sort of feel you, remember? That includes when you’re getting wicked ideas that you’re in no position to carry out.”

Thorne’s cheeks blazed and he looked down at her, catching her smiling up at him, a blush on her cheeks too.

Bleu appeared in the doorway to the rest of the curious set of small rooms and cocked a single black eyebrow.

“What is he doing out of bed?” Bleu strode into the room, scowling at Sable.

Thorne growled and bared his fangs at the elf, warning him to keep his distance and to adopt a softer tone when speaking with his female.

“Thorne would like to help figure out a way back into his realm… and you try stopping him from getting out of bed when he wants to. Besides, I’m hardly his nurse.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow at the same time as Bleu. If the male’s thoughts ran along the same lines as his were, imagining Sable in a small nurse’s uniform, he would beat the elf into a bloody pulp, regardless of the danger of overexerting himself.

“Perverts,” Sable muttered and cast a glance around. Searching for another topic to move them away from imagining her dressed rather provocatively? Thorne wouldn’t say no to the change in subject. His thoughts were wreaking havoc on him, making his heart pound and blood rush southwards.

Bleu presented a change of topic. He held a small black glass vial out to Thorne.

“What is it?” Sable took it from him and popped the leaf-shaped lid off. It hit the dark carpet with a soft thud. She sniffed it and grimaced.

Bleu snatched it back. “Not for mortals. It would probably kill you, or at the very least make you sick. It is for Thorne. I took the blade to my kingdom for inspection and our chief pharmacologists believe this will negate the effects of the toxin.”

Thorne was willing to try it. He reached for the vial. Sable blocked him and took it again. He frowned at her.

“How do we know it won’t kill you?” The fear that came through the growing link between them flickered in her beautiful eyes too, speaking to him, demanding he reassure her.

“I have to try, Sable. My kingdom needs me, and they need me to be strong, not weak as I am now and unable to lead the army. I must try.” He wrapped his hand around the one she clutched the vial in and looked deep into her eyes, studying every darker fleck among the gold, letting her feel that he was confident the liquid would cure and not kill him.

He didn’t trust Bleu, but he did trust the elf’s devotion to his prince. He was Bleu’s best chance of reuniting with his prince before anything happened to him, and therefore Bleu needed him alive and strong too.

Besides, he believed that Sable might just kill Bleu if he dared to attempt to harm him.

His little female adored him, although she refused to admit it.

He adored her too.

She loosened her grip and he took the vial from her, lifted it to his lips and prayed to his gods that the liquid didn’t kill him. He wasn’t ready to die yet. Not until he had claimed Sable and spent centuries, millennia, with her.

Not even then.

He wanted to live forever with his fated one.

Thorne knocked the liquid back and grimaced as he swallowed. It tasted foul, like a sip from one of the fetid bogs in the Devil’s realm within Hell, where many decaying creatures lay, melting into the water.

“Still with me?” Sable said and he forced a nod and shuddered.

“The taste leaves much to be desired.” Thorne pinned Bleu with an accusatory glare. The elf smiled. Evidently, Thorne’s suspicions were correct and Bleu had ensured the cure would not go down smoothly.

The effect, on the other hand, was marvellous. Cool flowed through his blood, quenching the fire and strengthening him, revitalising his tired body.

He looked down at the wound on his chest as it ached. He could feel his bones knitting together rapidly beneath his flesh. The angry redness of his skin faded and the long slash closed before his eyes. Elf medicine was incredible. He felt as if the liquid had given his natural healing abilities a mighty shove, accelerating them to an incredible speed. What would have taken him days to heal was almost gone in seconds. His ribs still ached though, his insides sore from the wound and the toxin, but he was stronger now and safe from the poison.

“Better?” Sable looked up at him, her eyes darting between his, and he nodded. “Let’s go into the other room and get working then. I can whip up some food. You must be starving.”