The Demon King Davian

Davian shook his head. Fury tore through him that he’d been the one to bungle such an easy quest.

Then again, no. It hadn’t been easy at all. Nothing ever was when it came to the bewitching Jade Deville.

Davian had come across her years ago, heart-stricken and tearful, and he’d been instantly entranced by her. Though he’d maintained his distance, he’d watched her carefully that evening. Had then studied up on the people she was close to and had learned as much as he could about her.

He knew she’d once had a relationship with Michael Hadley that had gone sour. So tonight, when Michael had moved in for a kiss… Davian had flinched and his horse, Thunder, had been inclined to let him know he was making an ass of himself by reacting to another man kissing a woman Davian had no business lusting after in the first place.

One, she was mortal. That alone erected a steel cage around him that was not to be breached no matter how arousing he found her.

Two, he had no idea what sort of power she possessed or how she’d obtained it, but something mystical built within her. He had the keen ability to sense it, though he had no idea what the budding strength was or from where it stemmed.

She didn’t practice Wicca, Morgan had already confirmed that. But Davian had discovered one of Jade’s acquaintances worshiped ancient pagan gods and their rituals. Yet Lisette Bordeaux had been bound by edict not to practice any sort of witchcraft. This had been Davian’s ruling, when he’d instituted the regulation no demon could harm a human.

In his mind, if he kept to the law of averages, making it illegal for demons to cause further trouble for the humans and making it impossible for Wiccans such as Lisette to use vanquishing spells against the immortals, peace might prevail.

The war had caused too much destruction and had altered not only the face of the planet, but also civilization as everyone—human and demon alike—had known it at the beginning of this century.

In many ways, time had stood still after the last sweep of near human eradication. The intent of the war had been to reduce the numbers significantly, in favor of Davian’s kind. Not completely wipe out the mortal population. The humans still had their uses; though modern advancement in the post-apocalyptic world was not something he supported, leaving this new society with baser provisions that were essentially throwbacks to the 1800s, a simpler time he preferred.

Davian, who’d turned two hundred years old back in 2019 when the war erupted, did not miss the spoils of a high-tech world. He was old-fashioned that way.

“Something—or someone—threatens my reign,” he said to Morgan, elevating his need to determine what was transpiring with Jade Deville. It was too damn bad his libido kept getting in the way.

For fuck’s sake, if he didn’t stop feeling so territorial toward the human, he might end up losing his kingdom!

After taking another sip of the drink Sheena had efficiently refreshed, Davian said to Morgan, “I’m immortal by lineage, but I don’t possess the ability to vaporize. You’re going to have to continue your surveillance on Jade.” It was more than that. He simply couldn’t be objective when it came to this woman.

Morgan said, “Of course, I’ll do whatever necessary. And I will be much more careful in the future, your Majesty.”

It was not necessary for Davian’s best friend to address him so formally in private, but he always did when it came to military matters.

Gripping Morgan’s shoulder with his free hand, Davian said, “I made the mistake tonight, not you.” He gave further thought to the situation and added, “It’s been several days since Jade has visited Lisette and chances are good she’ll be dropping by soon. I need to know what they discuss. If it’s magic I’m sensing, then we have to stop the power from burgeoning. One witch in the village is risk enough. Two, who might be able to combine their talents into a single significant strength, could prove detrimental when it comes to keeping the peace. They impair even one demon and there will be hell to pay. I won’t be able to stop it.”

With a curt nod, the general said, “I understand.”

“There will never be harmony between us and them, but we don’t need another massacre. I am adamant about never again unleashing the demon population on mortals, but my hand might be forced if Lisette—or Jade—breaks my rule and those in my alliance demand retribution. Or seek it on their own.”

“I assure you, whatever they’re up to, I’ll find out about it and report immediately to you.”

A subtle shift in Davian’s demeanor and the tense atmosphere caused Sheena to bustle about, feigning indifference over his new quiet contemplation.

“Is there something more, Davian?” This from his friend, not the general of his immense army.

Conflicting emotions warred within Davian. He was the Demon King. Powerful and revered. Never challenged by others. Never doubted.

Yet he doubted himself these days, an internal plague that could undermine his authority.

Actually, he’d felt the push and pull within him for several years now. Since that night he’d come across Jade and had gazed at her over the river separating them.

She’d sat along the shoreline, tears wetting her cheeks. The moonlight had cast a shimmery glow around her, lending an angelic appearance. Not at all the way she seemed in reality. No, he’d witnessed from afar the raven-haired, blue-eyed spitfire in action when she was riled and he’d been as captivated with her fiery spirit as her emotionally damaged soul.

He couldn’t explain why. It went well beyond her stealing his breath with a sculpted face, high cheekbones and full, luscious red lips. She was also tall and curvy, enticing in a way that made his cock throb at the mere thought of her. But Jade Deville was a peril best avoided because she not only stirred his senses, she also brought out a protective side of him that contradicted his entire existence.

She was human and a commoner living outside his walls. He was immortal and king of the land he’d conquered.

And yet, there was something about that very sentiment that held him hostage. He’d never wanted to be king. He’d never wanted the almost impossible to stop annihilation of humans. He’d been a puppet. A very effective one, because he clearly had the ability to command an innumerable force. But his hands had been tied. He’d done as was expected of him by his dominant, influential family.

And perhaps therein lay the crux of his problem. Maybe his punishment for being cajoled into taking on a task he’d not agreed with from an ethical or a political standpoint, but which had been thrust upon him, was to suffer through an unrequited infatuation that could not possibly, in any capacity, be fulfilled.