Kiss of a Demon King

22

Sabine's breath left her when she spied Rydstrom in her mirror's reflection, with his eyes wild. And Lothaire, too? The vampire was working with him? That traitor!

She raised her hands to cloak herself, but Rydstrom lunged across the room and captured her wrists behind her back. Did he know that would prevent her from casting illusions? She shrieked once before he covered her mouth with his other hand.

Would it be enough for the Inferi outside to call for the guards?

While Rydstrom tied her wrists with a length of cord, Lothaire traced over to help him. She fought the two as. the vampire secured a gag around her head.

With muffled curses, she berated the traitor. He shrugged.

Shouts sounded as the castle raised the alarm. Sec­onds later, guards burst into the room with swords raised, a mix of revenants, Sorceri and fallen vampires. The latter nodded at Lothaire and traced away.

Rydstrom tossed her behind him, sending her tum­bling to the ground, then faced off against at least ten guards. His horns flared ominously, the color of his skin deepening in his rage. His muscles expanded and flexed before her very eyes.

She watched in awe as the demon launched him­self at the guards, slashing with fangs and claws. That dragon tattoo seemed to come alive, snaking its move­ments over sweat-slicked flesh.

Lothaire casually stood beside her place on her floor, drawing a knee up and resting his boot on the wall. "We could simply trace," he said, "but then, you'll likely want him to work some of this out of his system. And I'm hungry."

She cursed him again behind the gag, but his atten­tion was fixed on the melee.

Rydstrom was tearing the soldiers apart with such a ferocity, that even she was stunned. And that's my hus­band.

Lothaire himself quirked a brow, glancing from Ryd­strom to Sabine and back again, linking the demon's savage reaction to her. He muttered, "Noted."

Two Sorceri guards charged her and Lothaire. The vampire pushed away from the wall and fought them, seeming to enjoy the battle, easily dodging their swords with his tracing.

He slew one, then clasped the second's flailing body tightly to his own, piercing his neck. His blonde brows drew together with pleasure. Between his and the demon's brutality, Sabine stared in horrified fascina­tion.

She shook herself, scrambling to her feet to escape them. Almost to the door . .. But the demon was clash­ing with two more revenants, and the three barreled toward her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sword hilt rushing toward her head.

When she cried out in pain, the demon roared with fury. Then . . . nothingness.

His thoughts were dim-any part of him that was ratio­nal was muted. His demon instinct was ruling him.

Take my woman . . . get free.

More shouting soldiers charged up the stairs. With Sabine draped across his shoulder, Rydstrom hissed, "Trace us, vampire!"

Lothaire dumped the guard he'd been draining, then clutched Rydstrom's wrist once more. "Hold her tight."

After an instant of blackness, Rydstrom saw moun­tains soaring in the distance. The moon glowed off the sand of a barren plain. The vampire had traced them to Grave Realm.

Rydstrom was free-and Sabine was in his possession. He drew her from his shoulder into his arms. She looked innocent, but it was a false face. She'd tormented him again and again.

His mind was burdened with confusing hatred, his body with aggression and primitive need.

My woman. So pale and perfect. To use as I please.

He bent down to lay her limp body in the sand, then checked her head. A knot had risen, but nothing her immortality wouldn't rapidly shake.

"A blade," he grated as he untied the cord he'd bound her with. When Lothaire handed him a dagger, Rydstrom cut lengths that he tied around her wrists like cuffs, then he secured the two together with another line.

Once he'd finished, Lothaire tossed Rydstrom a black tunic and the pack. "There's a canteen of water and sup' plies to camp for a few days." From his waist, he unfas­tened a sword belt. "And a weapon-to defend against the beasties," he said, seeming amused by that.

Rydstrom drew on the tunic, then strapped the sword

to his waist.

"You've got a week at the most to locate a portal Strike out due west from here-you'll likely begin to find rage demons, refugees who will know the way."

Rydstrom lifted Sabine once more. "What will you ask of me?"

The vampire's pale-eyed gaze locked on Rydstrom. "Something that will be worth what I've lost here by breaking my pact with Omort."

"When?"

"When the time comes. In a week, a decade. Maybe a millennium."

"You're still my enemy," Rydstrom said. "I could sim­ply hunt you down and kill you."

"I'd expect nothing less. You're an honest king, but you're still a ruthless one. Now go. The clock ticks."

When Sabine woke, the moon had not yet set.

She was greeted by a pounding pain in her head, and since the demon had thrown her over his shoulder, each

of his long strides was increasing that ache. Her hands were still bound behind her back. Which meant...

I'm powerless.

Glancing up through her braids, she could see they were in a different region of Rothkalina-gone from the seaside castle and verdant forest to a desolate plain. There was only one region in Rothkalina that wasn't replete with green forest-the aptly named Grave Realm.

Where the wild things are . . .

She was out in the middle of a perilous territory with a madman, Lanthe must be out of her head with worry, and Sabine had no morsus-if she didn't get back to the castle, to Omort, she truly would be condemned.

All of this was because of that traitor Lothaire! And the bastard had traced them to Grave Realm. She'd stake him herself!

Sabine could only imagine how Omort was taking this betrayal ... or who he was taking it out on. She believed Lanthe would be safe, but she hoped her sister would protect their Inferi.

Gradually, one head-pounding stride of his at a time, the plain gave way to a gnarled forest of petrified wood. Shadows from the moon slithered over the ground. Unseen things scurried in the dirt.

More alarming, her skirt was riding up to her waist, leaving her ass in no more than a thong. The hand he used to pin her to his shoulder now covered her curves completely, and he'd begun kneading them.

What will he do to me? She didn't want to have sex with him again, especially since he was in this agitated state. For one thing, her plan was foiled. For another,

the pain was too fresh. When she'd decided to return to his cell, she'd had every intention of being on top... .

Rydstrom abruptly halted and dropped her to her feet. In the waning moonlight, his crazed eyes held a look of expectation, his lips drawn back from his fangs.

Steady Rydstrom had snapped.

Apparently, Sabine had grabbed a tiger by the tail. And she'd just become its prisoner.

Not for long.

"Rydstrom," she whispered.

"What?"

She whispered more faintly. When he leaned in, she butted her headdress against his nose, then launched her steel-toed boot between his legs-

He caught her by the ankle and flipped her onto her back. He was on top of her in an instant. "You're a vicious little female." He crushed his face into her hair, inhaling. "Treacherous."

When he began kissing her neck desperately, she frowned up at the sky-he was kissing her as if he'd missed her. Just as his loneliness had called to her, now his yearning did.

"But you won't be for long."

He was already erect, and when he ground his shaft against her, a shock of pleasure jolted through her. She was getting caught up, his excitement fueling her own.

Wait . . . What did he mean by won't be for long? Planning on converting her to his side, changing her? Always wanting to change me!

He took her mouth, his firm lips crushing hers.

Before she got lost in the frenzy of his kiss, she nipped his bottom lip hard.

He hissed a curse as he bolted to his feet. Grabbing her by the waist, he hauled her over to a flat boulder. When he sank down on it, he laid her across his legs.

"What are you doing?" With her hands tied, she could do nothing to prevent him.

"Keeping my promises." Just as she realized what he was talking about, he shoved her skirt up to her waist.

"Rydstrom, just wait!" She wriggled when he yanked her panties to her ankles. "Demon-"

He brought his palm down with a loud slap. It stung, but it sounded worse than it felt.

This was his revenge? Would he mind if she slept through it? "Is that all you've got, demon? Was that punishment or affection? I'm confused-"

Whap! She whistled in a breath on that one, writhing over his lap. Another slap, followed by stinging pain, then another. His other hand was kneading her thigh. He was excited by this, heaving his breaths.

And something began to happen to her. To her amazement, she was growing aroused. What was it about the demon? Would there ever be a time when he couldn't make her want him? Maybe like right now, when he was spanking her ass and seemed a razor's edge away from throttling her?

But she was hyper-attracted to strength, and the demon was the strongest male she'd ever encountered. She'd never forget him fighting those guards-the ferocity within him. . . .

With his next slap, her cry turned to a moan, bewil­dering her. Even he hesitated.

She was a true daughter of the Sorceri-a hedonist who would take her pleasure where she found it. Here she was in the wilds of the realm, captive of a demonic being, receiving blows-and her illusions of fire were already lighting the night.

What a surprise, she thought, with the faintest smile.

She maneuvered over his lap, easing her knee to the side, spreading her legs. His body grew still. His hand hesitated in midair. All she could hear was his ragged breaths.

Then he gave a harsh groan as he leaned back to see between her legs. "Touch you ..."

She nodded. At the first contact, she cried out, then moaned when he delved one of his big fingers inside her. Had he just freed his shaft? She could feel that he'd begun stroking himself beneath her.

In and out went that seeking finger. "Getting so wet" he rasped. "Sorceress, you drive me . . . mad. ..."