Kiss of a Demon King

9

Without a word, Sabine climbed into bed with the demon.

Though she sensed his instant tension, she lay on her back beside him, not touching him, but close enough to feel the heat from his big body.

For long moments, they lay side by side in silence, as if they'd called an uneasy mice. They both stared at the ceiling, so she made it appear to fade away, revealing the night sky.

He tensed even more. "Your power is great." His voice was rumbling.

In the dark, she seemed to feel it. "It is."

"Is this all illusion or did you make the ceiling disap­pear?"

"My vanity tells me that you're impressed with my goddesslike gift and curious about it. Experience tells me you want to learn my strengths and weaknesses so you can kill me."

"I'll spare your life, if you free me now," he said.

"You've served me ill. But you've done nothing irrevocable yet."

"Demon, give me time." How could he be so warm? Unbelievably, she felt herself growing relaxed. "To answer your question, all is illusion. Optical and auditory."

"You can't make others feel things?"

"I have no tactile illusions. Not yet. Which is a shame because I could decimate an army with anows I imagined. But I can make others feel things, just the same."

"Like what?"

"I can make you see your worst nightmares or your most coveted dreams. And I can control them."

"Do you have other abilities?"

"Dozens," she lied. The only other one was Lanthe's birthday gift from so long ago-communicating with and mesmerizing animals. "I wield many."

He seemed to take that in. Finally he asked, "Have you thought about what you seek to do? What it would be like to bear and raise a demon child?"

In truth, she hadn't thought much about that what­soever. She didn't allow herself to imagine her preg­nancy, delivery, or the upbringing of a demon prince. If she ever began wondering what their halfling would look like, she forced herself to think of something else.

The agenda had been set, the plot hatched. The rest was just details.

But Omort's visit was throwing a kink in her plans.

She answered the demon's question with one of her own. "How do you know that I don't already have a lit­ter of demon children?"

"Do you?"

"No, I have no offspring."

"What if you bore a female? The kingdom of Rothka-lina is patrilineal."

"Don't remind me. You know, in the Sorceri sept, females can inherit the crown. Morgana is the current Empress of all Sorceri." Sabine turned on her side, and he did as well, his arms still chained behind his back.

"The people wouldn't accept a female here. I wonder if I'd be kept alive long enough for another go?" A lock of his thick black hair fell over his forehead, but he could do nothing to move it from his eyes.

"I'm fated to conceive and deliver a healthy boy for your heir."

"A son." Had his voice roughened? "One I'll never see if you have your way. Never to teach or protect."

She fell silent. Contrary to popular belief, Sabine didn't relish hurting those who'd never done anything to her. But she didn't rule the world-yet-and so she couldn't change the outcome of this situation. For her and Lanthe to be safe at last, a demon was going down. This demon beside her.

He was collateral damage that couldn't be helped.

"Wait... if you know you're going to have a healthy boy, then you could assassinate me as soon as you find out you're pregnant."

She'd camouflaged her face and expression with an illusion, so he never saw her glance away.

"I won't leave behind my child to be raised here, in blood and hatred. I've heard the rumors of depravity going on in Tornin. Blood sacrifices and perversions. In my home."

"Omort does so enjoy his blood sacrifices."

The demon's lips parted. "Listen to yourself! You're so inured, you can't even realize how sick your world is."

She narrowed her eyes. ]ust because I don't flinch doesn't mean I'm blind.

Sabine knew how sick it was all too well. That was why she was determined to get above it.

"You'll never get my vow, sorceress."

"I won't stop until I do."

"Are you going to keep me chained the entire time? I know better than most that this cell is inescapable."

"Security isn't the only reason I'll keep you bound. I want to be certain you don't release any steam we build together, so you'll be in a bad way." When she traced a finger down his chest, the muscles in his torso con­tracted in response. "But it occurs to me that if you're so adamant about not wanting your offspring here, then you must be accepting that I am yours."

"Have you ever thought about what that would have meant for you? If you hadn't resorted to this?"

"You mean if we'd met under different circumstances? Would you have been good to me? True to me?" Her tone was amused. "If I hadn't been called to capture you this eve, I'd thought about setting myself up as a waitress at your favorite restaurant. I would have been the winsome but down-on-her-luck Lorean, who wears dresses with floral patterns and who needs just one little break to beat the rat race-or a male to save her." She chuckled at that. "I'd planned to serve you pie and let you peek up my skirt."

"If I hadn't known differently, then, yes, you prob­ably would have found yourself with an honorable male who would've been true and good to you."

"They say a lie never leaves your tongue."

"You sound disbelieving."

"Because I am. I've never known a male who didn't use the truth as it suited him, bending it and changing it at will."

"I don't."

"Then tell me, am I everything you'd hoped for physically?"

He did that silent challenge thing with his eyes, then said, "Morally you're not. I hadn't expected to be saddled with one of the most evil females in the Lore."

Omort's words from earlier resonated within her. How disappointed the demon must be . . .

"One of the most? Not number one?" She pouted. "Well, everyone needs aspirations. Interestingly, I've never considered myself eeevil. Just because I occasion' ally steal."

When he scowled at that, she amended, "Or kill someone who gets in the way of my stealing."

"Why do you have to steal?"

She blinked at him. "How else would I get gold? Join the typing pool?"

"Maybe you could do without."

"Impossible. You must have gold." Gold is Ufe . . .

"You're hated by more than can be imagined."

"Do you hate me?" she asked.

"I don't yet, but I believe that it's inevitable."

She laughed softly. "Hating me is like hating a

sharp sword that cuts you. It can't help the way it was formed."

"A sword can be refashioned, shaped anew."

"Only after it's broken down. Imagine how painful the forge fire and hammer blows would feel-as ter­rible as when it was first fashioned. Why repeat all that pain?"

"To get it right this time."

She let that drop. "Tonight, you called me tassia when I was in the midst of exquisitely fondling you. If it means wicked female, is there no male equivalent?"

"You don't know this? You can't speak Demonish?" he asked, incredulous.

"It's considered uncouth to learn that language, and it's forbidden to be spoken in the castle. I already know five other languages, anyway. Five is my limit; the slate is full."

"So you didn't understand me when I was cursing you?"

"Not at all. But you've called me evil and bitch enough times in English that I can glean-"

The castle bells tolled then, ringing out in the dis­tance.

"They ring at midnight and three now?" His tone was laced with disgust. "Why three? Does that mean you have a malevolent god to go worship? One greedy for those blood sacrifices?"

"Should I worship reason? Like you do?"

"You could do worse."

"Do you want to know a secret, Rydstrom?" she said. "I worship Illusion."

"What does that mean?"

She reached for his forehead, stroking his hair to the side. "Illusion is Reality's coy lover who cheers him when he is grim. Illusion is cunning to his wisdom of ages, sweet oblivion to his knowledge. A bounty to his lack. That is what I hold sacred."

"You see yourself as Illusion?"

She gave him a slow grin. "Do you want to be my Reality?" When his piercing green eyes dipped to her lips, she said, "Are you musing about our kiss, demon? I hope so, since I keep thinking about it. I liked the way you kissed me."

The line between his brows deepened. "Why did you come here tonight?"

To dilute the disgust Omort makes me feel. "To warn you. I'm going to be taking off the gloves for our next encounter." Or, rather, putting them on. "I will show you no mercy the next time I come here." She couldn't, since every day that passed made it more unlikely that she'd conceive.

The Sorceri simply weren't a prolific species like oth­ers in the Lore.

The demon was studying her face, intently, as if try­ing to delve beneath the mask of her illusions. "Sabine, I don't believe you're as bad as you seem."

"With me, nothing is as it seems. It's always much, much worse."

"No. I don't think you truly want to do these things to me, or to my people."

"Do what things? Make a bid for power? Capture a demon?" When he didn't answer, her tone grew cold.

"You think you can change me, don't you? Into some­one who's good? Maybe rehabilitate me?"

"In my circumstances, I have to believe that. You can be made to see things differently. I can teach you-"

As she rose, the room appeared to rock from her fury. Above them, in the illusion of sky, a cascade of shoot­ing stars blazed. "I beheaded the first male that tried to turn me toward good." At the cell doorway, she added, "I was twelve."