The Demon King Davian

As she slid off the bare back of his cinnamon-colored horse, she said, “I’ll stay inside and wait for someone to tell me the danger has passed.”

Another brief nod. Obviously, something about her bothered him. Likely the fact that she was human and he had to look after her.

“Well. Again, thank you for…everything.” She headed toward the front door, but Morgan finally spoke.

“He might be immortal…”

She drew up short.

“…But he’d still put his own credibility—perhaps even his life—on the line for you.”

She whirled around, pinning the general with a solid look. “Excuse me?”

“The king.”

She knew to whom he referred. “Why?”

“Because,” he said in a measured tone, “not all demons are evil.”

Then he signaled to his horse and they took off with lightning speed, snow flying in their wake.

Jade stared after them, the breath leaving her body on a single puff of air.

Not all humans are good.

Not all demons are evil.

Her mother’s creed.

Jade’s stomach twisted further. Painfully so.

Yet she had no time to consider the unanticipated reiteration as a chill forced her thoughts back to the situation at hand—and the hazardous dilemma she’d inadvertently found herself in. She hurried into the cottage, barricading the entrance.

Chapter Six

Captivity didn’t suit Jade well, but she had so much to mull over that two days passed as though in a matter of hours. She didn’t sleep much, her mind too preoccupied with the bizarre events of late. On occasion, she found it tempting to nap, just to see if Davian would keep his word about staying out of her dreams. Depressingly, he made good on his promise.

Her life had never been particularly full and satisfying following her parents’ deaths, but somehow, being in Davian’s presence—whether in reality or by way of a fantasy—sealed the hollow cracks and crevices. Being alone in her cottage tore them wide open again.

Loneliness was not a foreign feeling for Jade. She’d lived in the modest home by herself since she was eleven. There was no child protective legal system or group homes in the post-war days, so no one had whisked her away to a different shelter against her will.

Yes, the adults of the village had urged her to stay with them and their families. But she’d had no desire to leave this house and all the memories she’d collected in her youth. She felt closer to her parents here and she cherished the quaint cottage.

Above all else, she found a degree of strength in knowing she’d practically raised herself and possessed the spirit and determination to be accountable for her own actions and needs. Well, most of them, anyway. One elusive yearning could not be sated by anyone other than the Demon King.

She sighed as she tossed another log on the fire, which had dimmed as she’d pondered her tumultuous existence. Admittedly, she enjoyed her friendships and she loved reading about civilization before the war. But she’d always felt something was missing. Several somethings, actually. Her place in the new world. A significant connection to someone.

As much as she adored Michael, he was not the man for her. Not after everything she’d just experienced—shared—with Davian.

Yet the almighty Demon King wasn’t a viable option for a companion

either, and he proved he felt the same way by steering clear of her. It was the slayers who checked on her and gave status reports. Not the king. Not even his general.

Davian’s glowing amber eyes and incredible physique—his sizzling kisses and deep, masterful thrusts into her body—were insanely difficult to push from her mind, regardless of the multitude of times she told herself there was no point in replaying every single second with him, dating back to that night outside the tavern. Making her current solitary confinement even more disconcerting.

She poked at the fire with little enthusiasm. The log was much too big and she’d all but snuffed out the flame. As thick streams of smoke ribboned in the hearth, the distinct snapping of branches out back sent a jolt of fright through her.

Her gaze flashed to the windows that overlooked the river. But only for a moment. The wood in her fireplace suddenly exploded into a raging blaze that caused the abundant flames to lick the outer edges of the stone hearth.