The Demon King Davian

Shoving away from the doorframe, she strolled over to the bed and ran her hand along the satin sheets and the soft, suede duvet. In her mind’s eye, it was easy to conjure images of her and Davian making love. Their limbs entwined, their bodies joined, their lips tangled.

As her palm continued to sweep across the fabric, her gaze fell to her hand. She stopped stroking the duvet and removed Davian’s ring. A wave of emotion washed over her as she placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. Then she left the room.

Curling up on the sofa in the living room with a throw that matched the ice-blue drapes in color and was made of warm chenille—all gifts from the vampire Sheena—she rested her head on a pillow and her eyelids dipped. The consternation she felt over angering Davian and the tension and fear she’d experienced most of the night mixed with the physical fatigue from battling the fire wraith.

Though she tried hard to not obsess over defying Davian and attempted to keep that enraged and deceived look he’d given her from her mind, she couldn’t hold it all at bay. Tears seeped from the corners of her closed eyes. Pain ripped through her.

Davian must have been horrified when the wraith had taken that last swing at her. And her disloyalty clearly cut deep.

Despite her best efforts, for some reason, Jade was unable to push her jagged emotions into that black abyss in her core. Rather, they engulfed her and squeezed tight, constricting all around her so that she could barely breathe. Harsh sobs wracked her body as she wept for all that she’d just lost.

Davian’s love.

Sheena’s friendship.

Likely the respect from the kingdom if the demons also thought she’d acted irrationally, foolishly.

And what of the villagers? Michael and Lisette? Even Toran was angry with her relating to everything he’d learned of her relationship with the Demon King.

Could she ever smooth the waters with them?

Jade had no idea how long she cried. It was excruciating. A thorough gutting of her insides.

Thankfully, exhaustion eventually consumed her. She was too tired to think, too tired to analyze, too tired to separate all her feelings.

She drifted into a tumultuous slumber, filled with nightmares of vicious demons and lost love.

And a brutal ache built deep within her soul…

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Regardless of the overwhelming desire to remain huddled under her blanket and forsake the outside world, Jade cracked an eye open and half-heartedly greeted a new day.

Her muscles were ridiculously sore and her eyes burned from her tears.

Interestingly, though, a heightened sense of purpose seeped through her veins.

Jade had dedicated herself to something she fully believed in. And she intended to see it through.

Although it took some effort to get herself moving, she rose and tidied up, then dressed in the black pants, riding boots and royal blue sweater Sheena had given her. Even styled her hair with a low ponytail pulled over one shoulder as she had done when she’d been at the castle.

She wouldn’t say she looked daisy-fresh, but the vibrant color from the sweater helped to brighten her appearance and her sapphire eyes.

Steeling herself for this next phase of her life, Jade left the cottage.

Her first stop was the meeting hall, where she found Toran.

Although she still experienced an abundance of emotional strife over her tenuous—or thoroughly decimated—situation with Davian and Sheena, those feelings had to take a backseat for now. Jade had important work to do.

“You look like hell,” was the first thing Toran said, not helping her plight in the least.

“That’s really so kind of you to point out. Thanks for being such a pal.”

He smirked. “Fine. You did great yesterday. Excellent tactical and combat skills.”

“Better. Thank you. Except… I got distracted by Morgan ripping out the wolf’s throat—I was a bit too relieved I didn’t have to do it myself.”

“You need to keep practicing, Jade.”