Kiss of a Demon King

32

Rhydstrom had never thought he would be so happy to see a female's jealousy. Sabine was jealous of Durinda. Over the past two days, she'd displayed it repeatedly.

This was an indication that his female might truly feel something for him-an indication he'd never expected.

Again the puzzle deepened.

Rydstrom did spend most of the days with the demoness since she helped him organize the upcoming portal crossings. They were arranging groups based on destination. Most would go to one of a few Lore-rich cities like New York or Savannah. For extra money, one could give the portal keeper exact coordinates.

There were difficulties inherent in assimilating so many Lorekind into human societies. If a thousand demons suddenly showed up in Savannah, someone was bound to notice.

As he worked with his people, preparing them for this new world, he grew shamed that he'd resented

them, resented his responsibility. He found them to be industrious, hardworking, and down to earth.

Durinda was an invaluable help as they readied for the exodus, but Rydstrom also enjoyed her company. She was someone from his past who shared memories of Tornin from better times. He liked talking to her about the castle, recalling it in its glory, trying to erase what he'd witnessed of the court just days ago.

They also talked of Mia, Zoe, and Cadeon. Durinda said one of the reasons she was so protective of Puck was because he reminded her so much of Cadeon at that age. He did Rydstrom as well.

He remembered his brother as a towheaded little boy. His new horns had driven him crazy, itching as they grew. He'd run them against everything, even against the walls of the castle, leaving little gouges, all three feet high.

Rydstrom had never thought he'd miss Cadeon, but he did. Through the centuries, they had battled against others together, and routinely against each other. Before Sabine, Cadeon had been the only one who could pro­voke Rydstrom's ire. He gave a laugh. The two of them would get along perfectly.

But even with the contention between Rydstrom and Cadeon, they rarely separated. They were so often together that many in the Lore simply called the two of them The Woede. Cadeon presently lived in his pool house.

Today Rydstrom had learned that many rebels were rallying because of his brother's continued success in his quest for the sword. He was proud of Cadeon- shocked-but proud....

Rydstrom and Durinda shared another commonal­ity. She was reluctantly journeying off-plane to marry a male she refused to believe was hers. "At least he's con­vinced we are a pair," she'd said. "I'm not certain at all. We have absolutely nothing in common. I don't think two more dissimilar beings could be paired."

Durinda had no idea.

Rydstrom and Sabine were nearly complete oppo-sites. But now there was no doubt that Sabine was his. Although Rydstrom burned to bed his sorceress again- and for her to carry his mark-he would take things slowly, earn her trust.

Rydstrom was in this for no less than eternity.

Every day she was here, Sabine grudgingly grew more attracted to the demon.

Now as she watched him readying to go out, she realized she hadn't truly seen him as a potential mate until he was out of his chains. She respected power, was attracted to it, and he'd been powerless. Now he was so commanding, so delightfully in charge. People gazed at him in awe whenever he went out.

Yet even when he was among many, he still seemed . . . lonely. Kingly demon, holding himself off from everyone.

Unfortunately, Sabine's increased attraction wasn't mutual.

Each day Rydstrom spent more time with Durinda, leaving Puck behind to irritate her. They must figure that the boy would be safe from her influence since he didn't speak English. And she couldn't get the little

punk to leave. He would shyly enter her tent, bringing her a "gift" each time. One day she received the husk of a dragonfly, the next day, a rock.

Rydstrom still took Sabine to the hot springs each morning. When they passed Durinda and her clique- draped in the same stupid long skirts that they'd forced on her-the demoness acted very familiar with Ryd­strom, which made Sabine bristle.

And each night, he still held her tightly in bed. Because she was sleeping five or six hours a night, she had multiple nightmares. Whenever she woke, he was there, tenderly stroking her hair.

Last night, he'd rasped, "Shh, baby. I've got you." That made her toes curl every time she recalled it.

But he'd made no move to get sexual with her again, even though she'd felt him erect, pressing against her back. His self-denial disconcerted the hell out of her, and she wished she could talk to her sister about his behavior. Lanthe was a love guru. She would under­stand what Rydstrom's game was.

Gods, she missed her sister so much. They'd never been separated for this long. But just as Rydstrom had promised, he'd arranged for her to write Lanthe.

That second night, the demon had brought Sabine a piece of parchment and a quill. Though if she'd thought she would have an opportunity to get free, she'd have been mistaken. He'd released one hand and pinned the other behind her, glancing over her shoulder as she wrote.

"Just tell her I'm taking you off-plane," he'd said. "This won't get to Tornin until after we've gone."

"She'll know you're going to New Orleans. Omort will send assassins there." "Yes," he'd said simply.

When she'd finished and Rydstrom had retied her, she'd said, "I was almost moved to hug you for this, Rydstrom, but alas, armless hugs lose a little something. So instead, I'll do you a favor. I'll help you with your brother."

"Cadeon and I are beyond a sorceress's help. Besides, I did this for you because you were cooperative about the teens' punishment. Then for you to grant me a boon back? I don't want us to get into that habit."

"Why not?"

"Because you and I are ... we're together" She recalled thinking, Are we together, and what exactly does that mean? She had zero experience with relationships. "Oh, no matter, then," she'd said airily. "I was just going to tell you something that might lessen your resentment over the past." He'd gruffly said, "Tell me, then." "The fall of Tornin would've happened regardless of

Cadeon's actions."

"All my brother had to do was answer my dispatch, journey to the castle, and remain within its walls until I returned from the front line against the vampires. Instead, he turned his back on me, choosing to remain with his foster family. I know you won't understand the impor' tance, but there needed to be a royal presence there."

"Oh, I do understand the importance-whoever con­trols Tornin controls the kingdom. Omort did as well. That's why he had five hundred troops, lying in wait to assassinate Cadeon."

Rydstrom had grown still. "What did you say?" "It didn't matter how many guards you'd assigned to Cadeon. If your brother hadn't ignored your dispatch, he never would've made it to the castle alive." "How do I know you're telling the truth?" "Why would I lie about that?" When he'd left her, he'd looked like he'd just been clocked with a gauntleted fist.. ..

Now he was readying to leave her yet again. The demon was wearing a dark green tunic that brought out the color of those remarkable eyes of his. The woven material hugged his broad shoulders and defined chest. His jet-black hair was as tousled as ever.

Had Sabine been one of those women who sighed, she would have right now.

"Where are you going this time?" she asked.

"Hunting."

"Uh-huh. With whom? Durinda?" She sounded like a scorned housewife. All she was missing was a ciga­rette stuck to her bottom lip and a squalling kid on her

hip.

He strapped his sword belt around his waist. "That's

right."

"You mean females are allowed to ride horses here?" She blinked in feigned amazement. "Can they touch weapons, too? Or will they be banished from the Clan of the Cavebear like Ayla?" When he wouldn't rise to the bait, she asked, "What is so interesting about that

demoness anyway?"

"I like that she cares about others above herself," he said. "I admire that she's noble minded and virtuous."

Sabine gave a scoff. "I could be virtuous, if I wanted to be."

In an incredulous tone, he said, "You don't know the meaning of virtue!"

"Of course I do-it means your thong must be white."

He gazed upward, inhaling for patience, then said, "Look, I enjoy merely talking to her, actually having a conversation that doesn't devolve into fighting."

"Ah, you like her conversation?" Sabine walked on her knees over to where he stood. "Then I'm sure with enough of it, you'll forget what / did with my mouth." She gazed up at him. "Dialogue always trumps exquisite oral sex. You'll hardly remember how hot my mouth was and how hungry I'd been for you." She licked her lips.

He swallowed, growing erect right before her eyes. "Sabine, I do remember. I think about it constantly. But there's a lot to be said for comfort with another, for ease and companionship. If I could have all that with you. . ."

"Companionship?" Her eyes narrowed. "You've slept with her!"

"No, I haven't! Why would you say that?"

"Because of the way she looks at you. And at me."

"What's bothering you most about this situation? How quickly the boy is growing on you or how much I'm enjoying spending time with another female?" As he exited, he said, "I'll be back near sunset."

Excellent. She'd sent her husband off aroused and angry on a date with another woman.

She had nothing to do but stare at the roof of the tent and ponder her situation. What would she do if she could escape Rydstrom ? The tales of the beasts that lived in Grave Realm and her recent Teegloth abduc­tion definitely gave her pause about setting out on her own. But she wondered if anything could be worse than facing the morsus withdrawal?

If she somehow made it back to Tornin, with no pregnancy and no demon, Omort might prey on her at once. He could even withhold the poison until she sur­rendered to him.

Yes, that would be the reason why she would hesitate to flee from the demon-not because she was growing attached to him. And not because she thought about kissing him nearly every time she looked at his firm lips.

It took another hour before Puck, the demonling, entered the tent. And he'd brought her another present.

"A lizard. Just what I've always wanted."

When the creature leapt from his hand into her hair, Sabine gave a cry and shook her head violently until it hopped away.

Puck laughed, and it wasn't like that weird high-pitched giggle she'd heard out of children before, the one that begged the question: why would one possibly tickle a child just to elicit that noise?

He had a real chuckle, and she kind of smiled in response. He began scampering around after the lizard, continually glancing over his shoulder with a little wave at her, as if giving her reassurance that he would catch her gift again.

She frowned. He's the only one here that's nice to me.

At Tornin, her Inferi were always fawning. Courtiers kissed ass for concessions. Everyone here openly hates me. Luckily that didn't bother her. At all.

"Hey! Just sit, kid. You're making me dizzy." He hesitated, so she gave a deep nod at the floor beside her. "Sit." When he plopped down, she said, "If you're to be my only friend in this gods forsaken place, I need to get you working for me. And I was only half kidding about the shank."

Incomprehension. He shyly began speaking in Demon-ish, or, as she liked to call it, Gibberish.

"Blah, blah, blah. Demon boy, I can't speak that language. Furthermore, I don't want to pollute my brain by learning it. So it's time for you to learn mine. First lesson-I'm Say-been. I'm oft described as byoo-tee-full and mah-jest'ick."

"Ai-bee," he said.

She stilled. My name the way my little sister has always said it. The sister I'm missing like a lost limb. "Don't you call me that again!"

His eyes went wide. Great, she was about to lose her only entertainment. "Ha-ha. Sabine was kidding."

The little demon tilted his head. She waited for him to bail....

But he didn't. And she frowned to realize she'd actu­ally been holding her breath.