Kiss of a Demon King (23 page)

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Authors: Kresley Cole

BOOK: Kiss of a Demon King
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36

New Orleans, Louisiana

W
e have to walk?” she murmured, exhausted from the rough crossing.

The coordinates Rydstrom had given the portal jockey hadn’t gotten them directly to his house.

“It’s not far. Just six houses down.”

She could tell he was anxious for her to like his home. She admired what she’d seen of the posh neighborhood, but she was too tired and chilled to be excited for him.

The portal they’d just come through had felt as if it had been hacked through space. Compared to it, Lanthe’s thresholds were seamless masterpieces. No wonder she could only create one every so often.

“Are you sad about Puck?” he asked.

“Just tired.” In truth, she might like to see the little punk again. He’d been bawling for her. Which shouldn’t have shocked
anyone
.

“Chin up, demon boy person,” she’d told him with an awkward pat on his head. Then she’d given him a note that she’d had translated into Demonish. When he’d read it, his eyes had lit up, and he’d nodded gravely.

“What did the note say?” Rydstrom had asked.

“It said that if he is bad enough, they will send him to come live with me.”

Rydstrom had given her that look—the cross between perplexity and bewilderment, the one she believed he used only for her. The one that said,
“Surely, you’re kidding. I really want you to be jesting.”

“Here it is,” he said when they came upon an estate with towering wooden gates and stone walls covered with ivy.

The grounds were immaculate, the mansion stunning with its Corinthian columns and wraparound veranda. The effect as a whole was opulent but tasteful. The sultry air was redolent with the scent of gardenias.

“How big is this place?”

“Plus or minus twenty-thousand square feet.” At the front entrance, he said simply, “I want you to like it here.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it if the inside is anything like the outside.”
So tired.
Sabine shivered.

He held her hand as he opened the door. At once, the smell of sour beer and cigars wafted over them. She put her free hand over her mouth.

“What in the hell?” he muttered as they journeyed deeper inside.

In the sitting room, beer-soaked Playgirl magazines lay over clearly expensive antique furnishings. Cartons from drink mixers were strewn over a wooden floor. Two empty kegs floated in barrels of melted ice—atop luxurious oriental rugs.

She followed Rydstrom’s gaze up. Above them hung a resplendent
bronze d’ore
chandelier with chains of rock crystal gracing filigree arms. From one of those arms dangled a…
thong
.

He was growing more and more furious. “This looks like Cadeon’s pool house.”

Sabine didn’t care what it looked like. She just wanted a bed—in a place that didn’t smell like this.

Surveying the destruction, he absently said, “Maybe Rök did this?”

“Who’s Rök?”

“Cadeon’s roommate.”

When they heard laughter outside, Rydstrom stormed toward the sound, dragging her along to a terrace that overlooked manicured grounds—as well as an oversize pool that was chock-full with dazzling females. They were all clad in bikinis. Or less. Topless chicken fighting was currently underway.

“Your friends visiting?” she asked archly.

“I don’t know half of them. Looks like Valkyries and witches.”

Witches?
Usually, she’d be on guard around a group of them, but these females were tanked. Out of habit Sabine probed for their powers, not finding anything there she’d get out of bed for.

But Rydstrom’s attention had narrowed on one woman—a petite beauty sitting on a chaise longue, smoking a cigar and talking on a cell phone.

She wore a red string bikini, stilettos, and a tiny T-shirt that said,
“Heels Tall…Bikini Small.”
Her hair was as black as night, shining in a glossy mane over her shoulders.

Sabine could hear her say, “No, we’re not paying for him!” A pause. “Because you sent him to the wrong house! He stripped for the elderly widow next door. From what we understand, she’s keeping him
and
his plastic nightstick.” Another pause. “Do I sound like an anatomist? How should I know—Hello? Helloooo?”

“Who is
that
?” Sabine asked Rydstrom.

“Going to bloody kill her,” he muttered.

Before Sabine could ask again, the female caught sight of Rydstrom. “Demon! You’re back.” She tossed her cigar into the pool, hurrying over to them. “And you poached the sorceress from Team Evil. I knew you could do it!”

When she drew her sunglasses back to rest on her head, she revealed pointed ears—and vacant golden eyes. But Sabine still sensed great power in this female.

To Sabine, she said, “I’m Nïx, the Ever-Knowing, Soothsayer to the Stars.” She extended a hand.

Sabine raised hers, ready to fight the notorious Valkyrie. “Rydstrom, what in the hell is this? You know we are enemies.”

“Nïx won’t do anything. I promise you.”

“Won’t I?” Nïx asked, her expression deadpan. Then she smiled, flashing small but noticeable fangs. “I’m in no mood to kill the demon king’s love today!”

“Kill me, Valkyrie?” Sabine scoffed. “I can make you see things that will turn your brain to soup.”


A-gain,
” Nïx sighed, unfazed by the threat.

Sabine probed the Valkyrie’s mind, finding easy access—With a stifled gasp, Sabine just as rapidly withdrew her probe.
Chaos, utter chaos.

“Welcome to my world!” Nïx said with an exaggerated wink. “Now, sorceress, I’m trying to win you over, so let’s not quarrel. And let’s not speak of you-know-who. I’ll even grant you a boon, a foretelling.” Nïx briefly gazed at the sky, then back at her. “Your sister will receive your avian-dispatched message in two hours. Though covered in pigeon poo, it will be legible.”

The Valkyrie knew about the message! “Is Lanthe worried? Is she safe?”

“She’s safe,” Nïx said. “As of right now. That’s a real-time quote and might not be applicable to the future. Is she worried? Lanthe senses you’re safe with the demon—she doesn’t believe Rydstrom will harm you in any way.”

Sabine experienced so much relief, she almost felt like she owed Nïx.

“Wow. You sorceress-es-eses always had the most enviable garb,” Nïx said. “And the makeup!” She ran a forefinger under her eyes and then down her cheek.

In response to the compliment, Sabine said, “I thought you’d be…
bigger.

Rydstrom stepped between them. “Nïx, do you want to explain to me what the—”

“A dorseri!” the Valkyrie suddenly exclaimed. “Yes, yes, of course!”

“What’s that?” Rydstrom asked, as if he were used to interruptions like this from the soothsayer.

Nïx nodded sunnily. “That’s what we should call a Sorceri and demon halfling!”

Sabine cast Rydstrom a look askance, but he shrugged. “Yes, Nïx that sounds about right, but for right now, I need to know what’s happening here.”

“We heard that the folks were going to be gone for a bit,” she explained. “And by folks, I mean you, Cadeon, and Rök. We don’t have a pool at Val Hall, and they don’t have one at the Animal House of Witches.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder at the swimming witches. “So we moved in.”

“Then move out! And get my house cleaned up.”

She gave him a military salute, then snapped her fingers at a pair of witches, sprawled on nearby loungers. “You two. You can do a cleaning spell.”

One slurred, “But Nïxie, I’m really pre-hungover.”

Nïx’s eyes went wide. “Do it, or the photos go live!”

The witch shook her fist to the sky, crying, “Damn you, Valkyrie! Damn you and your digital ways!”

Nïx turned to the rest of them and called out, “Party’s over, because the demon king’s lame. I mean
home
. The demon king’s
home
!”

The crowd grumbled, most of them unsteadily filing out of the pool. A buxom dark haired witch strolled by topless. “Hiya, big guy,” she purred. “You remember me? Carrow? Mariketa’s best friend.” She ran her finger over his chest as she passed.

The only reason Sabine let “Carrow” live was because Rydstrom didn’t turn to ogle her from the back.

As soon as the cleaning witches started chanting, power surrounded them. Sounds drifted from the house. The grounds grew immaculate, the litter vanishing. In minutes, the pair was done. They went for a high-five and missed.

“There, all better now,” Nïx said as she turned to Sabine. “Dearling, you look peaked. You should rest.”

“Yes, I’ll show you to our room.” Rydstrom put his hand on Sabine’s lower back. “Nïx, I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder as he whisked Sabine inside.

Now that the odor was gone and the mess cleaned, Sabine noted other details of the mansion, like the rich wood paneling and high ceilings throughout. Fans lazily circled overhead. The demon had taste.

When they reached a spacious room upstairs, he said, “This is ours.” It was so large, it had a sitting area. A balcony overlooked the pool.

The bed was immense, and she eyed the rich beddings hungrily. When she sat at the edge of it and removed her boots, he strode to a chest of drawers, pulling out an undershirt.

“Here’s something for you to wear for—”

By the time he’d turned back, she’d already stripped and crawled under the covers, half asleep.

When Rydstrom returned, he told Nïx, “She didn’t need this commotion, Valkyrie.
I
didn’t need it.” He ran a hand over his horn.

The crossing had been grueling. And he didn’t think Sabine would admit it, but he suspected she’d been upset by Puck’s teary good-bye. She’d frowned and said,
“This is…uncomfortable. The demon boy makes me uncomfortable.”

“Dirty Rydstrom, you wore your sorceress out!” Nïx appeared as mad as ever. “She’s not like your typical demure demonesses, you know.”

“I know this.” Gods, he was glad of it. “Damn it, Nïx, some of your
guests
are still in the pool.”

“I’ve got this.” To the others, she called, “Hey, witches, did you see that redhead who was just here in the wicked cool clothes?”

One called back, “The one dressed up like a sorceress?” while another declared, “I’d do her.”

“Well, she’s a
real
sorceress. She’s
Sabine
the Queen of Illusions—”

That got them surging for the sides of the pool, some of them crying out: “The bitch will gack our powers!”—“She’ll make us insane!”—“Where is my intoxibong?”

With a contented sigh, Nïx said, “I think Sabine’s introduction into New Orleans Lorekind will be fraught with moments like these.”

“Is Sabine safe here? When will Omort strike?”

“Well, there actually was a benefit to our invasion of your home—the witches put a protection spell on the perimeter. Something about a probation officer coming after Carrow.” She shrugged. “Anyway. No one but those who live here can enter your property without invitation.”

He’d been planning on setting traps. This was better. “How long will the spell last?”

“As long as you don’t cancel the credit card I found in your drawer.”

He inhaled for patience.

“I also had them put a spell on your weapons armory so that it can’t be broken into. You know, getting ready for the arrival of The Sword.”

Rydstrom had a sizable stone armory in his study. It had been lockable. Evidently, it was now
invulnerable.
“Then my brother is on his way here. Is he safe?”

“Yes, yes, enough with your abject thanks, Rydstrom. I already know my help is priceless, and that you should name your firstborn daughter Nïx. To answer your question, Cadeon is fine. He claimed that sword at great risk to himself.” She tapped her chin. “He also wrecked your million dollar Veyron—”

“He did
what
?” That car had been Rydstrom’s pride and joy. There were only three hundred of them in the world, and he’d expressly forbidden Cadeon and Rök from even touching it.

“Actually it was Holly, my niece, who crashed it. Which, naturally, has made her a hero among Valkyrie everywhere. Totaling the demon king’s seven-figure ride? She’ll never pay cover again—”

“Why did you let Holly go with Cadeon in the first place?”

“Because I’m
impish
?”

“Did Cadeon…give Holly up to Groot?”

“Yep. Cadeon chose bro’s before ho’s. But Holly, the little trooper, managed to get free all by herself. Don’t look so astounded. She
is
my niece.” Nïx fluffed her hair. “And then Cadeon rubbed out Groot.”

“So Cadeon and Holly are together, then?”

“Cadeon gave her up to a psychotic murderer. She’s not exactly chipper with him. But don’t worry. She’ll come around when she finds out he always planned to come back to save her.”

Rydstrom was relieved to hear that, but he was still tense about his own situation.
Six days to win Sabine.
He’d taken his woman to his home, where she lay naked in his bed. He believed she would receive him tonight.

And he was nervous.
I want to make love to her…to get it right for her.

“You’re going to do fine tonight, tiger. Relax.”

He hated that Nïx could read him so easily. “Are you saying that as a soothsayer?”

Nïx shook her head. “More as a female who’s lived three thousand years. So I have to skedaddle now.”

“Contact me if you hear anything else about Cadeon.”

“B’okay. Will do.” Over her shoulder, she murmured, “There’s a thunderstorm brewing, Rydstrom. A bad one. Better be ready.”

He surveyed the sky. Not a single cloud marred the blue.

37

W
ake the hell up!”

Sabine shot up in the bed, blinking around her. “Is someone here?” she murmured, seeing no one in the luxurious room with her. How long had she been out? It was already dark outside.

“Are you up yet?”
a voice said, laying words in Sabine’s mind.

“Lanthe?”

“Ah, gods, Abie, I’ve been searching this city for you!”

Sabine swung her legs over the side of the high bed.
“You’re…
here?”

“I got your message at Tornin and opened a portal here. I’ve been scouring this place hour after hour.”

“The Vrekeners—”

“Are everywhere. But you have to get back for your dose—now! Where are you?”

“With the demon. In his home.”
In
our
home.

“Can you escape him?”

“Things are
different
between us,”
Sabine admitted.
“We’ve kind of reached an understanding.”

“Good! I’ll make you another portal in six days, and you can return then. But for now, you have to come with me!”

“What has happened?”

“Omort lied—the morsus will hit you a week before you’d thought.”

“He did what?”
That bastard! When she faced him again, she would make him meet his nightmares, would show him scenes that even he couldn’t bear.

“It’s true. He admitted it to me himself. Abie, it’s a mess at Tornin. The vampires bailed. The fire demons are squirrelly. And Omort nearly took my power and killed me.”

“Then you can’t go back there!”

“I convinced him that you would never accept him if he harmed me. Omort still believes the two of you will wed. Now, find your way out of the house, and follow my voice to the portal. We can’t waste any more time.”

“I can’t just leave Rydstrom without a word,”
Sabine said.

“Are you jesting? As much as I hope it works out for you kids, now is
not
the time to start confiding in him.”

When Sabine heard the paneled bedroom door creaking open, she quickly cloaked herself in invisibility, then cast an illusion of herself sleeping soundly.

Rydstrom looked in on her, gazing at her sleeping form with an unmistakably proud expression. She probed his mind, just a touch.

—My woman…in my bed. At last.—

Then his expression changed once more, that line between his brows deepening.

“Oh, my gods, Lanthe. Rydstrom is looking at an illusion of me—and he appears to be…in love.”

“You saw
that
look?”
Lanthe sounded wistful.
“Did he have his brows drawn with feeling?”

“Yes. And as he walked out of the room, he kind of rubbed his chest a little.”

“Like his heart hurt?”

“I’ve only ever seen that on TV before!”
Sabine said.
“Lanthe, I have to tell him—about everything.”

“So he can do
what
exactly?”
Lanthe demanded.
“And while you’re informing him that you are going to a place he will
never
let you go, I’ll be Vrekener bait.”

If Sabine explained the poison to Rydstrom, he wouldn’t likely allow Sabine just to waltz back to Omort. And if she told him that she would probably die if she didn’t make it through this portal, he’d insist that he could find help for her here. But there was no one on this plane who could prevent the morsus from striking.

Even knowing this, Sabine bit her lip, torn about what to do.
“Sneaking out of his house seems so wrong.”

“You are without a doubt one hundred percent in love, because it’s making you
stupid!
It’s not reasonable even to consider this. You can come back in mere days.”

“I could write him a let—”

“Abie, I just heard wings.”

Sabine was on her feet in a second.
“I’m coming!”
She hauled on her boots, then snatched up her clothes. Leaving the illusion on the bed, she kept herself cloaked in invisibility and slipped from the room.

She heard Rydstrom walking the house and eluded him to find her way out of a back door. As she hurried off the property into the night, she hastily dragged on her top and skirt.

The demon would follow as soon as he discovered her missing—she could only hope to make it to Lanthe’s portal before then.

“Lanthe?”

“Sabine, just follow my voice. I’m in a park somewhere.”

The streets all looked the same, like a labyrinth. Rain began to fall, lightly at first, then intensifying. Soon, lightning fractured the skies. Thunder quaked. As though poured from a bucket, rain pounded down.

“Lanthe?”

“I’m here. This weather blows.”

Sabine caught sight of a park in the distance.
“Talk to me.”

“You’re close.”

“I can see a—”
Sabine stumbled when she heard the demon roar her name, the sound echoing like a cannon’s boom.

He’d started the chase. And he sounded enraged.

“Lanthe, he’s coming for me!”
No answer.
“Lanthe? Where are you?”

When she answered, her voice was fainter.
“Kind of had to make a detour.”

“You’re getting farther away from me? What are you doing?”

Her voice was a scarce whisper.
“Right now I’m running from winged monsters. You?”

“Fleeing a seven-foot-tall rage demon….”

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