The Demon King Davian

He remained stoic as he said, “If you think I’ve been reading yours, you’re wrong. At least, not for some time, as a rule.”

“Not last night?”

“That would be the exception.”

Jade’s heart beat faster. “I had a dream about you. A man I’d never met. And yet the image in my head was true to form.”

“I did that,” he admitted, though his dark features hardened, as if he was tormented by his confession—or the fantasy they’d woven together. “I can influence the visions in a human’s mind, though I don’t do it on a regular basis. I don’t read your thoughts in particular because they’re…extremely painful.”

He shifted away from her.

Jade stared at his broad shoulders and wide back. Last night, he’d given her a sensational idea of what it was like to be naked with him, and her body burned with the reminder.

But she was balancing on the tip of a sword with both theory and reality taunting her. The fact that he wouldn’t tap her brain because of the grisly memories of the lethal attack on her parents and a breakup that had also almost gutted her was a relief, yet he’d still crossed a human boundary by hijacking her dream.

Worse…

“You knew I was thinking of Michael and you insinuated yourself into my subconscious so I wouldn’t fantasize about him.” Another revelation hit her. “It was you outside the tavern. When he was about to kiss me.”

Once again, the king’s muscles visibly stiffened beneath the black sweater he wore. Jade couldn’t deny that she pushed him to the brink of insanity as much as he did her.

As he slowly pivoted toward her, the cords of his neck pulled taut and he said, “Michael Hadley hurt you once before. I won’t let it happen again.”

Jade took a step back as uncertainty skittered through her. “How do you know so much about me if you’re not in my head, as you claim? And what does my relationship with Michael have to do with any of this? We’re losing sight of our purpose. None of this makes sense. All I want to know is—” The big picture suddenly materialized before her. “You are stalking me.”

“Yes,” he finally conceded. “In various capacities.”

“How many can there be?” she demanded, incredulous.

Not the least bit faz

ed by her exasperation, he said, “For starters, I am the king, remember? It’s my duty and right to know the happenings of both my kingdom and the regions I oversee. I also have a sixth sense that helps me to home in on the powers others have cultivated. That’s how I knew your friend, Lisette, has Wiccan gifts and even that Jinx could predict the future.”

A menacing thought crawled through her brain. “He believed the human world would be rebuilt. Not that we’d be able to conquer the demons, but that mortals and immortals would learn to coexist in a modern world, somewhat similar to the one Jinx, Lisette and the elders knew before the war.” This time, he truly could call her insolent when she asked, “Did you fear Jinx was right and didn’t want him spreading that word?”

Davian’s brow jerked and a distinct warning flashed in his eyes. “Are you suggesting I had him killed to silence him?”

“You are the king,” she said, ignoring the imminent peril presented by once again challenging this man.

He glowered at her. “Do you have any idea what risky territory you’re in?”

“Of course.” She swallowed hard. “But Jinx was my friend and I want to know why something so horrific has happened to him. Clearly, those of us who have abilities that could pose a problem for your kingdom are under observation.”

Davian let out a low, anguished sound. Took a moment to seemingly collect himself. Then he waved a hand in the air in a manner meant to appease her—or dial down the intensity a bit.

He said, “Jinx Cromley was never a concern for me. He was optimistic and waxed poetic. He never created trouble. As for Lisette Bordeaux, I don’t want her practicing witchcraft any more than I want my vampires drinking human blood from the source. It taints the civility I’ve fought to establish since the war ended.”

“And what about me?” she repeated.

“I was…mistaken.” He shoved his hand through that gleaming black hair she’d tousled in an imaginary vision. Sauntering to the fireplace, he jabbed at the logs with the metal tool from the rack alongside the hearth, stoking the flames. For her benefit, she surmised. He hardly appeared to notice the frigid temperature.

“What was the mistake?” she queried. “Following me? Or what you did to me while I was sleeping?”

He replaced the rod and faced her.

“I had you watched by a wraith from my army because I sensed a new power building within you. I needed—I need—to know what it is. I followed you personally when I couldn’t sort out the root of the power, what the actual gift is. What I did was wrong. It went against the rules I implemented and I am sorry for that.” His gorgeous amber irises glowed from the candlelight and were rimmed with blood-orange, giving them a fiery effect that captivated her. He said, “As for last evening, that was no mistake. I knew what I was doing. Out of the dream as well as within it.”

Her jaw fell slack. But she hastily recovered. “Why would you…?” She exhaled heavily. Was there any recovery from his revelation? “I mean, what on earth were you thinking?”