Touch of the Demon

Chapter 13

I thought it was early evening when I woke. Except that the sun slanted through the windows that faced east, and my bladder was about to damn well burst. No, not evening, I realized with a fair amount of dismay. This was the morning of the next day. Holy crap. Even with Rhyzkahl easing a considerable amount of the drain that occurred when he used the mark to stop me, I’d still slept close to a full day. I didn’t even want to think about how long I’d be down if he hadn’t come and relieved that crushing fatigue.

I rolled over to get out of bed and froze at the sight of a flower on the other pillow—large, fragrant, and as vividly violet as a syraza’s eyes. I had zero doubt it was from Rhyzkahl, but…wow. He’d cuddled me, and now this. Actual displays of affection. I smiled. It was weird, but also pretty darn cool.

Musing on the entire scenario, I made my way to the bathroom to take care of the most urgent matter, then came back out and nibbled a couple of grapey-blueberry things from the big bowl of fruit on the table to quell the insistent pangs. Other than being hungry, I pretty much felt back to normal, so apparently sleeping for a godawful long time was all I needed. Not that it made any of this easier to figure out.

I stuck the flower in a glass of water and set it on the nightstand. It had an exotic scent that reminded me of the grove. Perhaps that was why he’d left it for me, since I couldn’t actually go there.

Sighing, I plopped onto the couch in the main room to brood. Being barred from the grove was definitely upsetting, but it didn’t take a lot of navel-gazing to figure out that it wasn’t the actual ban that bugged me the most. I mean, sure, that part sucked, but I also understood why he’d done the arcane version of tackling me before I walked out into traffic. If I left his realm, then any lord would be free to snatch me up and do whatever they wanted with me.

It was the means that bothered me the most. Great, I had a magic tattoo that could be used to drop me in my tracks. That was fucking wonderful. Plus, the big-strong-man-takes-care-of-helpless-woman vibe wasn’t exactly my cup of tea. Why the hell couldn’t he have simply told me why he didn’t want me to go to the grove instead of telling my guardian to not let me near it? Yeah, I could be stubborn, but I usually tried hard to listen to reason. And after my oh-so-pleasant time with Mzatal, I had no desire to go back to being some lord’s prisoner.

Two faas burst into the room without knocking, startling me out of my thoughts. They each bore trays of food though, so I decided to forgive them. More hyper than usual, they burbled about visitors and preparations, then slid the food onto the table and were back out the door before I could even thank them.

I grinned and settled down to eat. There were some things I liked about being in the demon realm, and I could definitely get used to nonstop room service. And not having to clean up or do laundry. Yeah, that pretty well rocked.

A tingle at the back of my neck told me that the grove was activated, which meant someone was arriving. More lords. Curious, I quickly yanked on pants and a sweater, grabbed my mug of chak and stepped onto the balcony. This was how I preferred to deal with any other demonic lords, at least for now: three stories up and far out of reach.

A reyza, a kehza, and a pair of faas emerged from the tree tunnel, followed by a dark-skinned lord, bald, with a goatee and no mustache. Gold glinted from his earlobes, and a chain of red-blood gems the size of my thumbnail hung around his neck. Flowing robes of gold and blue swirled about his feet as he walked up the path toward the palace. The grove resonated with calm spiced with a hint of…adventure?

I continued to watch with naked interest until the lord passed out of sight through the main entry below and to the right of my balcony.

Tucking my bare feet underneath me, I sat on the chaise. I’d barely made myself comfortable when I heard the door. A heartbeat later I felt Rhyzkahl’s presence. Good. One way or another I was going to get some answers and get my doubts sorted out.

Rhyzkahl’s gaze went to me as he stepped out onto the balcony. “You slept deeply.”

The look I gave him was uncertain. “Well, you kinda sucked the life out of me.”

“I did,” he said. “A last resort.” He sat beside me on the couch, not quite touching me. His eyes searched my face, assessing. “You are much recovered, though still disturbed.”

My mouth twisted. “Yesterday was disturbing on a number of levels.” I said. “I didn’t know you could do that with the mark. That’s pretty frightening.”

Rhyzkahl reached out and laid his palm over the mark. “There is a deep connection with the mark, even damaged as it is by Mzatal’s interference.”

I gave him a wary look. “Could you kill me with it?”

“No,” he replied without hesitation. “The mark is not woven for such.”

That was certainly a relief, but I wasn’t quite ready to fully relax. “Are there any other features I don’t yet know about that might still bite me in the ass?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“No.” He traced his fingers along the mark, sending a light shiver through me, though it wasn’t completely unpleasant. “I anchored the disrupted strand upon your arrival, but it must be removed and reworked to repair the damage.”

Still uneasy, I pulled away from him, stood, and moved to the railing. The grove’s trees moved in hypnotic undulations in the low wind. My tension slipped away as I gently touched the grove. I couldn’t go out to it, but it was still there for me. The deep calm stole through me like the warmth from a fire, and I exhaled a soft sigh of comfort.

He moved up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders.

“I want to go home,” I told him. I knew I sounded like a broken record, but, well, too bad.

“This I know,” he said, giving my shoulders a light squeeze before gently turning me to face him. “It is of your disposition I came to speak.” He smiled down at me. “A solution has arisen.”

I held back the burst of hope, still cautious. “What sort of solution?”

“It is fortuitous that this is the time of the conclave,” he said, taking my hands in his. “There are debts to be paid and agreements to fulfill. With the cooperation of another lord, I can and will prepare a ritual to send you home. I have made arrangements, and it will take place two days hence.”

“And I’ll go home?” I asked. “That’s it? You’ll send me home?”

He squeezed my hands. “Yes, I will send you home,” he assured me. “You were not brought here by my will. Had it been my desire to do so, I could have taken you at any time.”

“You mean, when I summoned you, if you’d wanted to take me back you could have?”

“Yes,” he said. “You, dear one, summoned a demonic lord.”

“Well, duh,” I said. “You were willing.” But I realized it made sense that he could bring me back at any time. After all, he’d brought me back with him when I’d been bleeding out and dying. I exhaled in relief. “Home. Wow. Thank you. I miss home so much.” I chuckled softly. “And coffee. I really miss coffee.” Then my smile slipped, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “What did that creepy lord mean about payment?”

A flash of what might have been annoyance lit his eyes for an instant before it was gone. “You experienced Kadir,” he said. “You felt him. He chooses words to elicit fear and unease. He cares nothing for the truth.”

I peered at him. “So all that stuff about you giving me to him in payment was bullshit?” I asked. “And what would it be payment for, anyway?”

Rhyzkahl shook his head. “The qaztahl have had millennia to forge agreements great and small,” he said. “Favors and payments are always owed, but you are not slated as payment to Kadir.” He scowled as if the mere thought was repulsive. “You have my oath on this.”

“Good.” I allowed myself to relax a bit. “He’s a bad monkey, that one.”

“What is the meaning of ‘bad monkey’?” he asked with a frown.

I rubbed my arms, chilled at the mere thought of Kadir. “Someone who’s not right. Someone who doesn’t think and feel the way most other folks do.” I shook my head. “I’ve seen it before in sociopaths, but he takes it to a whole other level.”

“Yes. He is Kadir,” Rhyzkahl said, and I realized that he’d known Kadir for thousands of years. This was nothing new to him. Kadir was simply…Kadir; a part of the natural order of things as far as he was concerned. The other lords no doubt handled him with the same sort of care one did with any potentially dangerous creature. They knew what to do and what not to do with him.

Rhyzkahl shifted to face me more fully. “Kadir is one of the reasons I had for halting your departure through the grove,” he told me, face serious and intent. “He would have very literally hunted you,” he continued, “and had he found you before I did, he would have taken you to his realm without regard for consequences from me.”

A sliver of cold terror slid through me at the mere thought. I shuddered, mind shying away from even wondering what would happen to me in such a scenario. “You mentioned an oath last night,” I said. “Has he given it to you? Will he harass me again?” I sure as hell didn’t want to be stuck inside in order to avoid another encounter with the creepy-as-fuck Kadir.

“Neither he nor Sehkeril will approach or harass you while you are here,” he assured me. “I have his oath. He is not one you need fear.”

“Okay, then what about the collar?” I asked with a challenging lift of my chin. “If you have his oath then why am I still wearing this fucking thing?”

“Because all those who will be within these walls for the next few days are ruthless and would seek to delve into your being,” he replied without hesitation. “The collar offers protection from that.”

Anger and frustration flared as my patience with all the shit about my protection evaporated. “Collars are for slaves and pets. So, which am I?” I dropped to my knees before him. “Hell, might as well do this right. Okay, master, what’s your fucking command?”

Something dark and dangerous flickered over his face. He reached down with both hands to seize me by the upper arms and haul me to my feet, then held me in place, his face inches from mine.

“You are not to kneel to me,” he said with an intensity that seared through me and set my heart pounding. “Not as a requirement, nor in jest. You are not now, nor have you ever been my slave.” His grip tightened, though not quite to the point of pain. “You saw the need to bind me by oath to not bring you harm in your world, nor to challenge the laws of your land, nor bring destruction. Consider well that you are in my world now and the wearing of this collar for a short time goes far in protecting not only you but also this realm—and me—from the machinations of unscrupulous qaztahl. I will not remove it prematurely to prove a point.” He released his grip and took a step back from me, but his eyes never left mine.

I swallowed hard. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “But swear to me that as soon as they’re gone, the collar’s gone. Please? I hate this thing.”

Rhyzkahl stroked the back of his fingers over my cheek. “I swear that, as soon as the conclave is over and the lords have departed, I will remove the collar.”

I felt the grove activate again, with yet another, a different, “feel”—confirming my suspicion that each lord had his own signature resonance.

A few heartbeats later Rhyzkahl looked up and lifted his chin toward the grove. “Amkir arrives.”

I turned to see three reyza exit the tree tunnel and leap into the air, followed by a pair of faas who immediately darted toward the palace. After another few seconds, a syraza stepped out and took flight, and finally a lord with a faintly olive complexion and short dark hair emerged. His resonance with the grove wasn’t calm like the previous lord’s or peaceful like Elofir’s. This Amkir had a harsh feel that seemed be confirmed by his unsmiling expression and narrowed eyes. He wore a deep green, long-sleeved robe, belted at the waist. The three-quarter sleeves were decorated with bands of gold, and the whole outfit reminded me vaguely of a Russian fresco I’d studied back in college as part of my mostly useless Art History degree.

“Do you expect Mzatal to come?” I asked Rhyzkahl after Amkir disappeared from view.

Rhyzkahl gave a low snort of derision. “I doubt Mzatal has the tebakh—” Which I somehow knew meant “balls” or something damn close to it. “—to come to my domain now.”

I shivered, remembering Mzatal’s face and what he’d said before he’d retreated down the tree tunnel: I will retrieve you. I rubbed my arms in an attempt to dispel the memory of his scary-intensity.

Rhyzkahl moved to a place beside me on the rail, watching as Amkir’s reyza rose to meet Kehlirik in either greeting or challenge. I couldn’t tell the difference.

“Tell me of your time with Mzatal,” he said. His eyes were still on Amkir’s approach, but I had no doubt his attention was fully on me.

The last thing I wanted to do was go through all of that shit, but at the same time I completely understood Rhyzkahl’s desire to know what happened. It was a post-incident debriefing, I figured. Plus, maybe something I’d seen or experienced could give Rhyzkahl an advantage over Mzatal somewhere down the line.

I gave a fairly emotionless recounting of the summoning and the damn purification ceremony. Told him about Idris and his skill, and my exploration of Szerain’s palace. I watched him for any reaction when I told him about my connection to Elinor, but his expression remained one of polite interest.

“Did you know about that whole Elinor thing?” I asked.

“Yes, you carry something of her,” he replied with complete calm. “It is part of the reason you required extra protection in the form of a syraza guardian.”

I straightened, frowning. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean, she damn near destroyed this world.” I felt the grove activate again, but I resisted the urge to look toward it.

“I did not choose to distress you with unnecessary information,” he stated. “It seemed but a mild whisper of memory to you. More awareness, more knowledge on your part, increased the risk of other qaztahl discovering you and seeking you, as occurred with Mzatal.” His gaze shifted to the grove as another lord exited. “Vahl,” he said with a slight frown.

Vahl’s demonic contingent consisted of a reyza, two faas, one kehza, and a graa—a scuttling, crab-spiderish-looking demon that could fly with lightning speed. It had only been a little over a week ago that I’d been attacked by a graa. I knew there was little chance it was the same one, but I couldn’t help eyeing it somewhat dubiously as it flew to the top of a squat broad pillar near the grove, already occupied by over a dozen reyza, kehza, and zhurn.

The lord was another matter. Tall, dark-skinned, and broad-shouldered, he wore a close-fitting long-sleeved grey shirt and dark jeans that showed off a build that was muscular in all the right places. His hair was closely shorn, and he sported a perfectly trimmed mustache and beard. His aura was welcoming and dangerous at the same time, and I watched him with avid interest as he approached.

Dark eyes lifted to mine as he strode down the path, and a slight smile touched his mouth. A moment later, the demons on the pillar erupted in an uproar of bellows, snorts, trumpets, and squawks that carried clearly in the crisp air and gave the strong impression of laughter. They engaged in groups of two and three with mega-rock-paper-scissors and other apparent games, lending a party-like atmosphere to the assembly. “They sure like their games,” I said.

Rhyzkahl looked over at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Everything is a game to them.”

I smiled and continued my tale. Rhyzkahl’s eyes narrowed when I told him about the shrine and how I freaked out when I saw the image of the blade. But it was when I told him of falling with Safar and crashing into the grove—and the grove’s incredible response—that he truly reacted.

His lips parted slightly, and red-gold potency flickered briefly in his eyes. “And when you passed through the grove after that, was it the same?” he asked, gaze and presence intense. “Did it still respond to you?”

“When we went through the grove to go to Mzatal’s realm, it simply felt incredibly peaceful,” I told him, smiling a little at the memory. “But the next time we went through, I knew I could use it. That’s how I escaped and kept Mzatal from removing your mark.”

An unusual, faraway look lit his eyes as he looked out past the rail. “Yes,” he said softly. “Clearly you have a very special connection to the groves.” A few heartbeats later he returned his focus to me, faraway look gone. “And what of your injuries once Mzatal had you again?”

“He healed me,” I replied, then told him of the healing and the return to Mzatal’s realm, the attempt to remove the mark and, finally, of his conviction that Rhyzkahl sought Szerain’s blade and of Mzatal’s drive to get it first.

Rhyzkahl remained silent for a moment after I finished, then turned to face me. “Mzatal is arrogant and knows little of what I want,” he said as he stroked the hair back from my face. “That he seeks Vsuhl is valuable information. Very valuable.” His hand stilled, resting against my cheek. “The chekkunden had hopes to make you his own. He did not kill you upon attaining you, and kept you whole.” Anger darkened his eyes. “And then he sought to remove my mark,” he said, nearly snarling the words. “It is an unforgivable offense.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, grimaced. “Well, he came close to killing me more than once.”

Rhyzkahl nodded. “And he sought to slay you through the implant.” His other hand curled into a fist atop the railing. “He now curses his weakness for not killing you while he had you fully in his control.” He sneered. “Foolish that he would think you could ever be his.”

I smiled tightly. “Yeah, well, I’m not his. I won’t ever be his.”

His eyes shifted to me. “No. No you will not.” He pulled me to him before lowering his head and brushing my lips with his. “You belong with me,” he said, voice compelling and resolute.

I slowly relaxed against him as he deepened the kiss. This was what I’d been needing all along—the nice, caring, and sensual Rhyzkahl instead of the badass lord. I needed a damn hug, and if a curl-your-toes kiss came along with it, well, that was fine, too. His arms encircled me, holding me close. I slid my hands around his neck and through the white-blond silk of his hair as I eagerly returned the kiss. I’d been way too stressed these past few days, and I knew exactly how I wanted to relieve it.

He slid a hand to the small of my back, pulling me hard against him and showing me his own stress that needed relieving. His other hand tangled in my hair, lightly fisting as he pulled my head back. I groaned as his mouth traveled down over my throat, teeth grazing my skin. I felt the grove activate but I didn’t care. I wanted to have sex, not watch lords.

But, Rhyzkahl, damn him, lifted his head and looked out toward the grove. I tried to pull his head back down to mine, but he exhaled and shifted away from me. “The last two, Rayst and,” he shook his head slightly, “Seretis.”

I did my best to control my pesky libido and looked out at the approaching lords. These two had a scattering of reyza and faas with them, but also at least half a dozen syraza. Rayst had a swarthy complexion and what seemed to be a stocky build beneath nondescript robes, though he moved with a grace and ease that told me the thickness of his body likely wasn’t due to being out of shape. Wavy brown hair swept back from his face to the nape of his neck, and the smile on his face was broad and genuine as he conversed with a syraza beside him.

The other lord, Seretis, was tall and rangy, with chiseled cheekbones and dark, wavy hair that brushed his shoulders. He totally looked as if he belonged on a Spanish-language soap opera. The fact that he wore a frilly RenFaire type shirt, black breeches, and boots only added to the impression. These two exuded patient kindness and a subtle strength—unless I’d missed something. Why did Rhyzkahl shake his head when he saw them?

I did a mental head count of the lords. Process of elimination meant the first one today had been Vrizaar. At least now I had faces to put with names, except for Jesral.

“So Mzatal won’t be coming,” I said, relieved.

“He could arrive under protection of the conclave,” Rhyzkahl replied, “but he will not. You need not trouble yourself with that.” He stepped back, adjusted his clothes with a twitch of his hands, and shook his hair back into perfect place. “There is much I must attend to,” he said with a smile, eyes still carrying a hint of a smolder.

Oh, well. So much for de-stressing. I summoned a faint smile in return. He turned to go, then paused and looked back at me. “What of after Mzatal was thrown back, and he failed to remove the mark?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “What happened then?”

I grimaced and ran a hand through my hair. “He wanted to find a way to block my contact with the grove, so he decided to take me to some place in the middle of nowhere so that he could have some time to work without you finding him.” I gave a low chuckle. “And that’s when I got my ass out of there and used the grove to come here.”

“Yes, relocation to a remote grove would have caused delay,” Rhyzkahl said, “though I would have found you.” He lifted the hand that had been so bloody the night I arrived. “I was in the final preparations for it when you so cleverly escaped.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought there was an approving glint in his eye.

“Just in the nick of time, too,” I said with a chuckle. “Mzatal was getting…um, weird.”

Rhyzkahl lowered his hand and frowned. “Weird? What did he do?”

“He kissed me,” I said. “But it was weird and, I mean…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain it.

Red-gold potency abruptly shimmered around him. “Kissed you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. I took a step back in surprise at the vehemence of his reaction. “Mzatal kissed you?” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He had no right to touch you thus!”

“Well, yeah, he didn’t have the right.” I said. “Not without my permission.” I frowned and watched him, wary. “Look, it was just a kiss, and an odd one at that. I mean, it lasted a few seconds at most.”

The flare of potency faded, but his eyes smoldered again. “Nothing with him is without purpose.” He closed the distance between us again, eyes traveling over me. “Nothing.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” I said with a wry smile.

He moved in and gripped my head firmly in his hands, wound his fingers in my hair.

I laughed low in my throat. “I thought you had lords to attend to?”

“I am unavoidably detained.” He tightened his hands in my hair with the perfect amount of intensity to send heat rushing through me. “I have far more pressing business here.”

His mouth came down on mine, fierce and possessive, as if to remind me what a real kiss was like. His arms came around me, and he lifted and carried me inside before near-throwing me onto the bed. I let out a surprised yelp, then grinned as he took hold of my sweater and pulled it over my head. I hadn’t put on a bra earlier, and I was damn glad of it now as he lowered his head to my breasts. He continued to suck and lightly bite as he undid the fastening of my pants, then sat up, grabbed the waistband, and yanked them off me in one fluid motion.

“I do not like that Mzatal touched you,” he growled before lowering his head between my legs. I groaned and dropped my head back as he began to work some lordly magic with his tongue. Mzatal certainly hadn’t touched me there, but I was totally okay with Rhyzkahl doing whatever he felt necessary to fuck the Mzatal off me, so to speak. More than okay. In no time at all I was crying out and clenching in orgasm. Mzatal who? I don’ know any Mzatal….

Rhyzkahl was far from finished. He straightened up, eyes still lit with a possessive fire that made my loins spasm and shudder in all the right ways. “You are mine,” he snarled. “My summoner.” He pushed his pants down only enough to free his erection, which somehow turned me on even more. Yet even with my libido raging like a nuclear reactor in meltdown, I forced myself to hold up a hand. “Wait,” I gasped.

To my surprise he went still, though his eyes narrowed in question.

“Swear to me that you won’t get me pregnant,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. Back at home I was on the pill. Here, I had no such protection, and I did not want to take the chance that a lord/human hybrid was possible.

He gave a low snort, though I couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or derision. “I have no desire to get you with child,” he told me. “I swear I will not do such without your consent.” Before I could do more than nod in acceptance, he seized my hips, flipped me onto my stomach, then pulled me up to my hands and knees and entered me in the same movement. With one hand he pushed my head down to the bed as he drove hard into me, wringing low guttural cries from me with every thrust. He knew me so damn well, knew what I wanted—what I needed right now. I didn’t want lovemaking. I wanted some hard and mindless fucking, and he was damn well going to give it to me.

His hand tightened in my hair and his other slid around to massage my clit. Before I knew it I climaxed yet again, giving a hoarse scream as I bucked in his grasp. Rhyzkahl continued to thrust deeply as I shuddered, but as soon as I was finished he pulled free and turned me onto my back. He kneed my legs apart and entered me again. His mouth came down on mine as I wrapped my legs around him, yet this time he kept his pace slow, almost teasing as he kissed me. I moaned against his mouth and slid my arms around to stroke the smooth muscles of his back.

He broke the kiss to nuzzle below my ear. “I am deeply pleased you escaped to come here,” he murmured.

“You just like staking your claim,” I replied with a low laugh.

His teeth grazed my neck. “Dahn. I have no need to claim what is already mine.” He began to thrust harder, and my desire for any sort of conversation fled. I lifted my hips to him, already feeling another orgasm building. Was it some sort of demonic lord trick that made that possible? If that was the case, I was totally ruined for human men.

I clutched at him as the pleasure built between us. He came first, with me only a few seconds behind, in a frenzied tangle of limbs and hair and sweat and musk. Eventually he slowed and stopped, still lightly pulsing within me.

“You are my summoner,” he said, looking into my face.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said with a throaty laugh. I lifted up my arm. “I even have the tat to prove it.”