Kiss of a Demon King (11 page)

15

R
ydstrom was disgusted with himself. One blow job and he’d been ready to capitulate everything. Yes, it was the best one he’d ever received, but still…

He shook his head. It wasn’t just
what
she’d done to him, but
how
. She’d been everything he’d ever dreamed of. And when the room had gone ablaze, letting him see the intensity of what she was feeling…?

What male wouldn’t be tempted to do
anything
to have her?

So close…
He’d almost broken down. If Rydstrom surrendered his will in this, he could impregnate her. And then, what if he couldn’t escape before she killed him?

His child would be raised by her and by Omort, used as a pawn. They wouldn’t understand a demon child’s needs. As if they’d care. He would never subject a child of his to the hell on earth they promised.

She wanted a vow Rydstrom would not give.

For a rage demon king to marry, he would make a claim and a vow of self:
“I claim the honor of protecting and keeping you. You are mine—my consort to touch, to guard, to cherish. You will rule beside me and create our dynasty. Accept my claim, and it will be so, now and ever after.”

If his female accepted him, then they would be wed forever. But Rydstrom couldn’t pledge his life to another under this kind of coercion. He would do it when he was ready.

And when she was worthy.

He heard footsteps, not hers. The attendants had already been here, leaving him free, clothed—

A guard of five vampires materialized in his cell. One was Lothaire, the Enemy of Old. He’d been a Horde general, but Rydstrom had never engaged his troops.

Rydstrom snarled, “What do you want—”

They attacked as one. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t repel them with only his horns and fangs, couldn’t keep them from shackling his wrists and ankles together.

When they traced him, he found himself in the court at Tornin. What Rydstrom saw there made his stomach clench.

The well, that purest power, was strewn with grisly body parts. The most evil beings in the Lore were gathered around it, dozens of breeds—the Neoptera, winged insectlike humanoids, the Alchemists, eternally old men with long, straggly green beards, the Cerunnos, ram-headed snakes….

In my home.

Omort sat upon a gold throne, smirking. When Rydstrom lunged forward, fangs bared, the vampires held him fast.
Can’t break free…

“Welcome to my court, demon. The mighty Rydstrom doesn’t look so legendary now.”

“Fight me, you fucking coward!”

Omort strode for Rydstrom, but then he stopped, turning his attention to the center of the court, as if helpless not to.

Rydstrom’s breath left him in a rush. Sabine! She was surrounded by females, bleeding from her mouth. Every protective instinct within him flared.

When he grappled against the vampires, Lothaire gave him a sharp kidney punch. “Easy, demon,” he muttered, his accent thick.

One of the lackeys with Lothaire said, “Hettiah will just erase Sabine’s illusions. I’ll bet twenty sovereigns on her.”

“A fool and his money,” Lothaire sighed. “Sabine will thrash her. That one burns rage like kerosene.”

Sabine’s eyes did look glazed with a mindless fury. “What is this?” Rydstrom demanded.

“A mere feminine row. Hettiah—the one who vaguely resembles Sabine—and her friends intend to murder your female. They see her failure with you as a weakness. They’ll keep attacking her.” Under his breath, Lothaire added, “Demon, you’re killing her.”

“Release me so I can guard her!”

“Keep watching.”

There were too many of them. She couldn’t hold off a dozen. One snuck behind her with a dagger. “Sabine!”

Like a shot, she dropped down, dodging the blade, sweeping her leg around to take out the female’s feet. Once the woman fell to the ground, Sabine snatched the knife, then raised her booted foot to crush her enemy’s face with the heel.

She quickly turned to Rydstrom—looking shocked that he was there—before she made her face a mask. Their eyes met. Hers held a silent warning. He could do nothing to help her.

In an instant, she made her body appear to dissipate into hundreds of flying bats as she cloaked herself in invisibility. Hettiah raised her hands, seeming to wipe out Sabine’s illusion. But it was too late; when Sabine was visible once more, she already had her claws dug into Hettiah’s scalp.

Holding her in place, Sabine drew back her other gauntlet, made a metal fist, and punched Hettiah’s nose. Bone crunched and blood sprayed with Hettiah’s screams.

Sabine kept her hold, twisting her slim body as she dodged Hettiah’s blows. With her other hand, she aimed her palm at the rushing opponents, exactly as she had with him when she’d pulled secrets from his mind.

The women shrieked in terror, clawing at their own eyes. She’d loosed their nightmares?

Then Sabine spun around with a kick, connecting her boot with Hettiah’s jaw. The woman’s body flew back, leaving a huge piece of her hair and scalp in Sabine’s clawing grip. She tossed it at Hettiah’s unconscious body on the ground, then went invisible again.

The foes still standing darted glances but couldn’t see her. One’s throat suddenly gaped open. When another was stabbed in the temple, she dropped to her knees, then slumped facedown on the ground.

When all were felled, Sabine revealed herself. Rydstrom gaped at her, as did everyone at court, except Lothaire, who was busily collecting coin.

She was sprayed with crimson, out of breath—and smiling. Until she caught sight of Omort storming for Rydstrom, yellow eyes wild with rage.

Rydstrom gave a roar, lunging forward against the vampires’ hold. The sorcerer laughed—with one flick of his hand, Rydstrom was thrown back against the wall, pinned there by the throat.

With a shrug, Lothaire and his vampire guards traced away.

“Does Nïx seek to capture me?” Omort tightened his hold on Rydstrom’s throat. “Tell me what her weaknesses are!”

What in the hell had Nïx done now? Rydstrom gritted his teeth as bones fractured in his neck. He couldn’t move to defend himself.

“Answer me, demon!”

The pressure began to lessen. “Fight me!” It increased once more. Black spots began obscuring his vision.

“What are you doing?”
Sabine screamed as she swept through the crowd. She was like a furie in her wrath, with her bloody face and hair. Her eyes glowed like hot blue metal. Rydstrom focused on her.
Stay alive…stay alive.

“Questioning my prisoner,” Omort replied over his shoulder. “Before I take his arms for the Valkyrie.”

With another snap of bone, Rydstrom’s spine was severed.
No feeling below my neck.
Omort would keep squeezing until his head was forced from his body.

This is how it will end.
His skin began to tear, and scenes from a long and wearying life flashed before his eyes. No woman, no offspring. His only legacy was…failure.

“Release—him—now!”

Omort faced Sabine. After a moment, Rydstrom plunged to the ground.

He lay paralyzed, his body motionless. As his vision began to clear, the court appeared to pitch and rumble, with winds rushing in. Sabine’s wild hair tangled all around her head.

The beings within ran for cover.

“He’s
my
prisoner, brother. And is under
my
protection.” Though so small compared to Omort, the sorceress gazed up at him without fear. “I didn’t want him hurt this way.”

Omort took halting steps toward her, fascination plain in his rapt expression.

Omort…wants her? As a lover?

“Leave this court.” She ordered Omort out, refusing to look at him. And the sorcerer was actually turning to leave.

There had been rumors of incest, tales that Omort loved one of his sisters unnaturally.
Not her. No, don’t let it be her.

But Rydstrom couldn’t deny what was so obvious—Omort wanted Sabine.

Between gasping breaths, Rydstrom laughed bitterly, crazed.
My court, my home…my woman. Everything is wrong, twisted.
He rasped, “That has to sting, knowing a demon will be claiming your possession…knowing she’ll always crave me over you.”

Sabine’s eyes widened. Omort twisted around. With another flick of the sorcerer’s hand, an invisible force punched through Rydstrom’s torso, ripping it wide open.

16

R
ydstrom had no idea how long he’d been in and out of consciousness. He cracked open his eyes. He was on the bed in the cell? Pain as he’d never known assailed him, but only above his neck—below it, he couldn’t feel anything.

“Bring the Hag!” Sabine ordered someone unseen. “Quickly!”

Who knew how much later, an old woman crept into the cell, carrying a roll of bandages and a dripping burlap bag. She sat beside him on the bed, scooping a thick paste of strong-smelling herbs from the bag, stuffing his wound with it. He perceived nothing.

As “the Hag” worked, Rydstrom watched Sabine pacing with his eyes slitted so she wouldn’t know he’d awakened.

“How long will it take for him to regenerate?” Sabine demanded.

“Two days,” the old woman answered, “until you can steal his seed.”

Sabine didn’t seem surprised by the woman’s temerity.

Another female rushed inside. “The castle’s abuzz! I heard you were screaming at Omort.” She had black hair and was furiously biting her nails. Her features were similar to Sabine’s.
Another sibling?
“Damn, Abie, do you want to end up like the oracle?” She swept a glance toward the bed. “Oh, your demon! No wonder you got so riled.”

Sabine began pacing again. “Give us the cure, Hag. I know you can make it.”

“I pledged my covenant.” The woman began unrolling the bandages. “If I broke it, I’d be killed and you’d be given a new concoction.”

“What would it take for you to give it to me?” Sabine asked in a lowered voice.

“One of those who entered into the covenant must release the other. Or die.”

“There must be another way.”

“You dream, sorceress,” the woman muttered. “And dreams belong in slumber.”

“I
plot
. And plots belong in every minute of every day.”

The two stared at each other. What was happening here? Rydstrom blinked his drawn lids, and for a split second, the old crone appeared to be a young, elven brunette.
What the hell?
Sabine didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

A choking sound broke from his throat, interrupting the tense moment.

Sabine whirled around to face him, approaching the bed. “Don’t look down, demon.” Sabine, in all her fury, had prevented his death. For now. But did she not realize that Omort would return, would come after him again and attack like the coward he was?

She easily read his thoughts. “I will keep you safe. This won’t happen again.” She brushed his forehead tenderly, then frowned at her hand. She dropped it, hastily glancing around to see if anyone had caught her. “Sleep, demon.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.
“Don’t read my mind,”
he thought.
“Do not…”

“I won’t,” she said.

“Give me your vow!”

“You have it.” She murmured, “Now sleep, demon. And dream. Dream of what you need most.”

His eyelids slid shut. And he did.

From a chair beside the fire, Rydstrom gazed at his wife in their bed. Flickering light shone over her face as she slumbered peacefully. Their beloved son slept in a crib in their chamber.

Outside, an ocean storm boiled, whipping against the castle; inside, they were warm. Rydstrom watched over the two, protecting them.

Nothing had ever felt so good.

The pup sounded hungry, so Rydstrom crossed to the crib. Gently cradling him, he brought him to his mother’s breast. Half-asleep, Sabine held their babe lovingly and murmured Rydstrom’s name.

My family…

His eyes flashed open.
I need that most. And
she
is the key to it all—

At once, pain assailed him, agony stabbing at him all over with each breath.
My spine’s healed.
How long had he been out…?

Sabine swept into the cell just then. She was dressed in a different metal top than before, and her eyes were painted a navy blue. How much time had passed? “I can’t stay long, just coming in to check on my colossally stupid demon.”

He could tell she was on edge, the affectionate and soft Sabine of before gone. “How long was I out?” he asked with effort. He lay in bed with only one ankle shackled and his arms free, not that he could lift them yet.

“A day. Your body has been mending rapidly. Your spine and neck are already healed, as are your battered lungs if you can speak once more.”

When he peered at the bandage wrapped around his torso, she said, “Your skin hasn’t closed over the wound yet, but it will soon. You’re lucky you weren’t harmed worse. Why in the gods’ names did you have to taunt Omort like that?”

“Because it felt good…to finally do so.”

“If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve died.”

Sabine’s power and cunning had been indescribable. She was as powerful in her own right as Omort—more so even, because the sorcerer wanted her.

But did she return his feelings? Had they slept together? More disgusting things had happened within their numbers. Maybe that was why she allied with him.

Or was it because she couldn’t quite kill him? Without Omort’s deathlessness, could Sabine defeat him? She might be plotting toward it right at that moment. What if Rydstrom convinced her that the sword would work? Would she make her move?

The queen on the chessboard, waiting for her moment to strike.

Rydstrom could give it to her. What did he have to lose?

Sabine crossed her arms over her metal top. “I suppose you feel no need to thank me for saving your life. You’re a very ungracious demon, in addition to being colossally stupid.”

He’d never been more certain that he was about to die, and she’d prevented it.
But…
“It’s because of you and your trickery…that I am here in the first place!” Pain erupted from his wound.

“It’s because of me that Omort has spared you all these years. Have you never wondered why he hasn’t pursued your assassination?”

Rydstrom had wondered, especially since he’d settled in New Orleans, staying for months in the same place. He liked his home there. It sufficed until he could reclaim his kingdom. Until he could take back Tornin—
and scour it clean
. His eyes briefly closed against the memories of what he’d seen last night. “Are you sleeping with Omort?”

“I am not sleeping with him. I’m sleeping with no one. There’s an heir to be had, and I’d rather no one question its parentage.”

She hadn’t denied that she’d
ever
slept with Omort, but he sensed she hadn’t. Or maybe he merely refused to believe it—because that would put her forever out of his future.

“Why did you fight Hettiah?” he asked. Each word was coming more easily now.

“She attacked me. She’s been looking for a way to get revenge on me for centuries.”

“Why?”

“Probably because I made a wreath out of her intestines in front of the entire court. And I’ve plucked out her organs a few times. And I might have kept them in jars on my bedside table.”

“You…you do not.”
And the vampire had said
I
was killing her?

“Yes, indeed. I’m missing her appendix and spleen.” She rose, crossing to the table where a plate of food was laid out. “And on that note, are you hungry?”

He cast an irritated glance at the plate, filled with fruits and vegetables, with no meat to be found. “Now, sorceress, how do you expect me to heal…when you feed me twigs?”

Over the last week, Sabine had yet to provide for him meat and demon brew—a potent fermented drink. The Sorceri drank sickeningly sweet wines and brandies, calling demon brew a
crude concoction
. He couldn’t stomach their sugary creations.

“I keep forgetting that my pet’s a carnivore.” She set the plate down. “Here, I’ll make you more comfortable.” With a wave of her hand, she suddenly made the cell appear to be his old room here.

But this time, she added a sea storm outside. How would she know…? “You read my mind, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she said, her tone absent, although her expression was one of interest.

He’d suspected that she concealed her expressions. In the future, he wouldn’t scrutinize her face, he would watch her hands, the tensing of her slim shoulders. “Do you often break your vows?”

“Constantly.” She nodded. “I’d go so far as to say uniformly.”

The fact that she’d broken her word to him was infuriating—her lack of shame made it that much worse. “No reservations about being known as a liar?”

“It’s not my fault the truth and I are strangers—we were never properly introduced.”

“And what did you learn when you hacked into my head?”

She seemed keyed up, listening for something from the outside. Again she didn’t look anxious, but she paced. “You used to be lulled to sleep by the sea storms here, and have long missed your room in your tower. You have a contentious relationship with your brother that disturbs you greatly. You resent him for losing your kingdom.”

Everyone thought he blamed his brother Cadeon for losing his kingdom. He did partially—was he supposed to act
pleased
with him? But Cadeon also lied, cheated, and he warred for profit. His life had no meaning.

And yours does…?

She continued, “You’ve two sisters, Mia and Zoë, who you barely speak to. They have their own lives, and you wonder if maybe you should have involved them more in your quest. You’re ashamed because you found yourself envious of a friend of yours who’d finally found his mate. A Lykae. I think his name is Bowen MacRieve?”

Rydstrom met her gaze, though he was discomfited by what she’d seen. Because he
was
envious, and he considered that a weakness. A good man would be happy for a friend.

But Rydstrom was one of the oldest in the Lore, and over the long years of his life, it seemed that one at a time, each of his comrades had found their females.

All of them had experienced something he could only dream of…something so vital, they’d each begun to pity him for the lack.

His mien was stoic, but she could tell he was unsettled by all that she’d discovered. “Anything else, sorceress?”

“Lots and lots.” The demon was a solitary male. He had friends but was too obsessed with his mission to enjoy them. He didn’t approve of his disreputable brother or his brother’s crew of mercenaries, so he didn’t spend unnecessary time with them.

Sabine had taken him from no lover.

“Mainly,” she said, “I saw that you are…lonely.” And his loneliness had called to her—which mystified Sabine, only adding to her general state of vexation. Last night, when she’d imagined the pain Rydstrom would feel to have his arms hacked off, she’d been so consumed with
something
that she hadn’t even heard Hettiah approaching to attack. Feelings made people stupid, vulnerable.

And more, she’d been
embarrassed
by what Rydstrom had seen at court. She’d never forget the revolted look on his face when he’d surveyed what used to be his. For some reason, she didn’t want him to think that just because she lived here, she was like them.

Just because I don’t flinch doesn’t mean I’m blind.

“You had no right to be in my head!” He twisted in the bed, his lips thinned in obvious pain. “And then you made me dream of…”

“Dream of
what,
Rydstrom?” She’d missed it. “I bade you to dream of what you needed most. I’d meant
healing
. Did your mind supply other particulars?”

His expression grew closed. “It’s none of your concern.”

She let that drop. For now. “I’ve also seen that you want to take me over to your side. That would be quite a coup. One thing though—I’m not likely to align myself against the most powerful sorcerer ever to live.”

“I saw your power. You’re stronger than he is.”

“Don’t play to my considerable vanity, demon.” She examined her nails. “It will gain you nothing.”

“Ally with me and seek asylum within our army.”

“Asylum? Where? In your castle? Oh, I forgot, you haven’t one. At least with Omort, I’m kept protected from your kind.”

“Become my kind, and no one will ever hurt you again.”

She sat at the foot of the bed. “That’s the difference between me and you. I won’t try to convert you. Do I like that you never lie and esteem things like valor? Of course not. But I don’t try to rid you of those traits. Why does your kind forever seek to change ours?” That was what she hated most about them—not their odd, counter-intuitive beliefs
per se,
but that they would force them on others.

“Because we live more contented lives. We have loyalty, fidelity, honor—”

“All three are overrated. The only chance you have to demonstrate any of them is to deny yourself something or someone that you desire.”

“Then in the same vein, what about your
loyalty
to Omort? Have you been tempted to align with his enemies?”

“Never,” she lied. She was
constantly
tempted to betray him. Even more so now that he was cracking under the pressure of the uprising rebels, the vampires waiting at the castle walls to strike at sundown, the taunting of a foolish Valkyrie.

The idea of Sabine with a demon….

But in truth, Sabine could have been steadfast to Omort. She recalled when he’d first come to find her. He’d seemed gallant as he’d saved her and Lanthe from an attack by ignorant humans. When he’d brought them to live in a plane with no humans or Vrekeners, the sisters had finally felt safe, protected in Tornin.

Until the first time Omort had laid his hand on Sabine’s thigh.

Of course, they hadn’t believed he was their half brother simply because he’d
said so
. But they had known that their mother, Elisabet, had committed some sin that made the noble family of Deie Sorceri disown her. Some transgression had made her feel so unworthy that Sabine and Lanthe’s worthless father had seemed a good catch.

From Omort they’d learned that Elisabet had been the Vessel of her own time—and she’d given birth to an ultimate evil—
him….