The Demon King Davian

Davian wanted to shake her. The desire was unrelenting, but he resisted the overwhelming urge, knowing he’d hurt her because he was so fired up. Letting go of her, he stalked away. Only to pull up short and then spin back around.

“This is a joke, right? You’re teasing me, the way you sometimes do.”

She squared her shoulders. “Does it look as though I’m teasing?”

The anger seized him again. He whirled once more and clasped the wooden mantle with his hands, wanting very much to tear it from the stone fireplace.

“Please don’t break my house,” she pleaded. “I understand you’re mad, but—”

“I am not mad,” he said between clenched teeth. “I am furious. And I want to strangle you, Jade. Toran too, for swearing you in.”

“It was my choice. Leave him out of this. I had to convince him to do it, Davian.”

“Why would you even want this?” he demanded. “After the wraith attacks? Goddamn it. You know how susceptible you are to pain, and yet you’ve gone and put yourself in the most vulnerable position imaginable! Why?”

He couldn’t bring himself to face her. She was smart enough not to try to placate him with a hand on his back or some other gesture. In fact, she knew to keep her distance while his anger boiled in his veins.

“Slayers are born, not just cultivated,” she said. “I’ve always known I had the capability to fight—I was a natural from the first time I picked up a sword. But I needed more specific training, so I started working with Toran months ago, after the fire wraith broke my hand and wrist. I didn’t like feeling so helpless, so I asked Toran to instruct me. But that led to more advanced training, and then Walker got mauled and—”

She faltered. Had to take a breath before plunging ahead. Emotion tinged her voice as she asserted, “I knew I had to do something, Davian. The only expertise I didn’t possess that’s required by a slayer is the knowledge of how to kill a demon…and the ability to do it.”

Finally, he jerked around and glared at her. “The chicken?”

“I ripped its throat out with my bare hand. First try.”

The fury within him continued to burn. “Toran’s idea of protecting you is to teach you how to take on a shifter? A deadly shifter.”

“It’s something I need to learn, Davian. I am a slayer now.”

Holy. Hell.

She intended to stand her ground with this suicidal idea. But he had a say in the matter. “You’re not a slayer until I sign the documents for the registry.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t reject them.”

“Oh, I most certainly would. I will.” He marched past her and collected his cloak.

Scurrying after him, she said, “I don’t need your permission to do this!”

“But you need my signature to make it official. And Jade,” he said with a clear warning in his voice, “if you kill a demon without officially being a slayer, that violates my law.”

“And what? You’ll try me before a demon jury?”

“That’s the procedure for anyone who crosses that line.”

Glaring at him with an incredulous look on her face, she asked, “What if I’d killed the fire wraith?”

“That would have been under alternate circumstances. You weren’t hunting it, it hunted you. But if you seek out the shifters that injured Walker, that makes you the stalker. There will be ramifications.”

Of course, Davian was the king and could pardon her—particularly since the beasts had made the first move, with Walker. Yet he had to get his point across. The last thing Davian wanted or needed was to upset the current balance between the humans and the demons, even if it would always be a tenuous one. Nor did he want to lose confidence from his alliance because he’d demonstrated mercy on someone who’d defied his rules.

Unfortunately, when it came to Jade, he’d found himself in an even more precarious situation than before. He wouldn’t back down, though. Beyond the politics, her safety was at stake.

Donning his cloak, he reiterated, “I won’t authorize the documents for the registry. And if you continue training with Toran, I just might rescind his registration as well and strip him of his authority as a slayer.”

Her jaw fell slack. It took several seconds for her to recover. He waited patiently, prepared to respond to any retort. The tension between them escalated.

When she’d composed herself, she said, “You can’t do that.”