Kiss of a Demon King

25

Heat it, stroke it, beat and grow it. Rub it, twist it, love and kiss it. . ." Rydstrom shot upright, woken by a woman's eerie

chanting.

He gazed over at Sabine, but she slept still, her eyes darting behind her lids. He was forced to leave her as he sprinted toward the sound.

"Gold is life . . . it is perfection," said the woman. Her laughter followed.

When he seemed to reach the source, he swung his head around.

No one is here. A decoy? Had he been tricked into leaving his female? He charged back to Sabine-

She was sleeping just as he'd left her, with her long lashes against her cheeks. Exhaling a relieved breath, he lowered himself beside her. As he gazed down at her stunning face, he realized that his rage and lust had faded enough so that he could reason once more. But he

could come to no conclusions when it came to Sabine and his confusing emotions.

Last night, his demon nature had demanded revenge, a reprisal to placate his wrath. Yet at the end of the night, the demon in him had ached to see his mate in pain.

He didn't know what to think about her, or about himself. Because he was actually considering breaking his vow for revenge. The one that had sustained him in that dungeon, had kept him from fully succumbing to rage.

He was in an impossible situation. If he gave her another two nights of torment, then he was no better than she'd been to him. But if he didn't, he would break his vow-and again, he'd be no better than she was.

Maybe he should accept her rationale that she'd only denied him for two nights total. . . yes, then he'd only have one remaining.

His gaze narrowed on her long mane of glossy hair. Among her red curls was a strand of shining white that he'd never seen before. He grasped the lock, brushing it between his thumb and forefinger. She'd hidden this- why?

The lock fell, forgotten when his eyes settled on her neck, on the scar that collared her. His lips parted as comprehension came. He clutched her shoulders, yank­ing her upright to inspect her skin.

"What?" She blinked against the rising sun. "What's wrong now?"

"What is this scar? Some kind of operation?" he asked, graying that it was. "Answer me!"

Her eyes briefly slid closed as if she were embarrassed. "Yes, Rydstrom, an operation."

"You're lying again!"

"No, I'm not," she said, her tone deadened. "It was an involuntary one, intended to amputate my head."

His mouth went dry. "You were young. How old?"

"What does it-"

"How old?" he bellowed, the sound echoing through the nearby canyons.

"Twelve, demon." She met his gaze. "I was twelve years old the day a soldier from the army of good slit my throat from ear to ear."

"Tell me what happened."

"A clan of the Vreken killed my parents. When I fought back, they tried for me. And before you say any­thing-yes, I did have to fight. You have no idea what they do to children like us."

He shook his head. "The Vrekeners adopt you, take you into their families."

"And separate siblings so their minds are more easily turned. They brainwash the females of our kind to be like theirs-biddable and grave, the exact opposite of our true nature. They brainwash us to think like you!"

"How could you have survived this wound?"

"It doesn't matter. Just that I did."

"You'll tell me!"

She thrashed, but he held her firm. "My sister, Lanthe used to be able to give mystickal commands. I was dead- my heart was still, and there was no blood left in it. But she somehow commanded me to live and to heal."

"Is that why your hair turned white?"

She gazed away. "I won't talk about this any longer." She struggled to get free again. "I don't understand what the big deal is." When he gaped at her, she gave him a look of disgust. "Demon, do you think that was the only time I was murdered?"

No amount of railing would get her to tell him the story of her deaths. The demon didn't deserve to know. He wouldn't understand it, not as he should, because he'd been conditioned to think differently than she'd been.

She glared up at him, and whatever he saw in her expression made him release her.

He ran a hand over his mouth. His appearance was almost back to normal, but he seemed a hair-trigger from turning. "We need to get going," he muttered.

Get going . . . Farther away from Tornin, from her morsus, from her sister. Starting on another intermi-nable day.

Her arms were asleep, pinpricks dancing from her shoulders to her wrists as she clenched and released her fists. Her breasts were aching, her unfulfilled desire from the night before hitting her body as hard and as alien as an illness.

And she'd slept for at least five hours. That hadn't happened since she was a girl! Which meant for all those hours, she'd been vulnerable, her safety com­pletely in Rydstrom's hands.

She resented that.

"I heard something this morning-a woman chant­ing," he-said as he doused the remains of the fire. "But when I went to investigate, no one was there."

"I didn't hear anything." Evidently, she'd been dreaming, but she couldn't remember of what. At least he hadn't seen her dream.

"We have to make good time today." As she watched in horror, he took his sword and lopped off the heels of her boots.

"Don't you think it's time you filled me in on the details of our situation?"

"I'm taking you with me to my home in Louisiana." He pulled her up to her feet. When she stood naked to his avid gaze, his jaw clenched, but he didn't touch her.

His manner brisk, he tugged her skirt up her legs. "We have to meet up with refugees who are going off-plane."

"Omort can tell who comes and goes."J

"Not this time."

"You're taking me to one of those illegal portals, aren't you? How long will we be walking?"

"A few more days."

"He'll find us before you can reach it," she said, mak­ing a muscle tic in his scarred cheek.

Once he'd redressed her in her metal bustier and | altered boots, she said, "What about my hose and j panties?"

"You won't wear them when you're with me."

She bit her tongue. "If you won't free me, then I need you to go fetch my collar and headdress for me."

"Go fetch?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Not a chance, princess."

"But you have to!"

He stormed over to both, swooping them up. "What is so bloody important about them? They almost made you drown!" He twisted around to lob them into the water.

She shrieked, "No!" But it was too late. They were gone.

Her breath left her, and she rocked on her feet. Gold is life . . . The smooth water surface had erased them from the earth, like they'd never existed. Her bottom lip trembled, but she could do nothing to hide it, not emotionally, not mystickally.

"Come, then," he said, his voice gruff.

As he took her arm, she gazed over her shoulder. "I can't believe you did that." Losing gold to another was one thing, but to throw it away . . . ? Incomprehensible. "There's no excuse. None."

"It's worthless out here."

"Not worthless, you oaf! Those pieces protected my Head and neck!"

"Then you'll have to depend on me to do their job!" When he drew her along, she trudged forward in stony silence....

After that, hours passed without event. She found his green eyes constantly on her. He was becoming more attentive, helping her over rough patches in the ter­rain, holding her arm to steady her. But he still wouldn't release her bindings.

And any time she tried to convince him to let her go, he threatened the gag. She wondered how real that threat was, because he clearly wanted to talk to her

today-but only about one topic. He kept asking her how many times she'd died.

Finally she said, "Why do you care? Does it soften you to know terrible things were done to me when I was a girl?"

"I... don't know. Do you want my sympathy?"

She shrugged. "I don't deserve your sympathy." Though this could have been a maudlin statement, she said it as if it was a fact of life. Because it was.

"The strand of white in your hair. I've heard of that occurring when someone knows fear so bad, it shocks their system. What happened to you, Sabine? Did Omort hurt you?"

"He's never hurt me." Physically.

"You are still loyal to him?"

She couldn't tell the demon as much as she wanted to, or needed to. She couldn't tell Rydstrom how she hated her half brother, or how much she agreed with Rydstrom-that Omort had to be killed. Anything she said now could be seen by Omort later when they were recaptured. Her brother would force the demon to open his mind. And my betrayal would be there, plain for Omort to see.

"He's protected Lanthe and me for many years," she hedged. "And besides, should I be loyal to you over him? You keep me bound, risking my life in this danger-ous place. At least he cherishes my life. He'll be coming for me."

"I look forward to that."

"Speaking of loyalty-why would Lothaire betray

Omort for you anyway? Had you two been working together all this time?"

"The vampire wanted something I could give him, and we bargained for my freedom."

"He's the one who traced us out here?" At Rydstrom's curt nod, she said, "When would he ever have had a reason to be in Grave Realm before?"

Rydstrom shrugged. "He said he knew much about the kingdom."

"Is that so? Then maybe he could've gotten us closer to a portal instead of making us tromp through this gods forsaken place."

"The portal openers move constantly. Suck it up, sorceress."

When she stumbled once more, she said, "Demon, come on!"

"Unless you can tell me another way to render you powerless, the bindings stay."

"What if I vowed not to use my power?"

"Your vow?" He gave a cruel laugh. "You'd be gone in seconds."

"You said there'd be parity, but it's not like I tortured you. I never physically harmed you, yet you're killing me out here."

"Under your care," he sneered the word, "I had my spine severed and a hole punched in my chest."

"That wasn't my fault-I saved your life." Her expression lit with realization. "You're most upset about the three who bathed you, aren't you? I'd thought you might like it!"

"No-you-didn't."

She nodded easily. "Okay, that was a lie. But I didn't think you'd hate it, per se." When he narrowed his gaze, she said, "Yes, yes, that might be a lie as well."

"How would you feel if I had three women bathe you?"

She quirked a brow. "Like I was on a date gone well. And actually, according to your parity rule, you have to arrange for it. And they have to be ravishing, because I sent you choice Inferi-and they were all volunteers, believe me."

He snapped, "This is exactly why I will not do that to you-if it's not punishment to you, then it won't be like for like." He increased his pace.

"What exactly does your parity involve again?" she asked, hurrying to keep up. "I'm unclear."

He stopped and turned so suddenly she almost ran into him. Gazing down at her, he said, "You will have one more night where I am going to make you scream with need-unless you beg me to ease you. After that I won't take you again until you say, 'I beg you to claim me. I need you as my master and surrender my will to yours.' And Sabine, I can wait as long as it takes. You will lose if you match swords with me in a battle of wills."

"As long as it takes? Exactly how long are you plan­ning to keep me? When will you release me?"

He gave her a strange expression-part possessive, part aggressive. His eyes turned sharply from green to jet-black. "I won't."