Kiss of a Demon King (Immortals After Dark 7)

"What news?" Omort said when she reached the steps to the dais. As usual, Hettiah simpered by his side-a pale imitation of Sabine. Though her features

and Sabine's were similar, Hettiah's coloring was tepid in comparison to the glamorous and beautiful Sabine.

Lanthe cleared her throat. Sabine went demon-hunting and bagged a two-pointer! No, too blase. "Our sister was successful," she said instead. "She's taken the demon

captive."

At her words, Omort's fingers went white clutching the arms of the throne, bending the gold. Hettiah noted the reaction with a doleful look.

His eyes darted to the east wall of the throne room- which was covered with stone tablets. They were covenants, tablets made with the blood of those enter' ing into any of a variety of dark pacts, with the terms inscribed in the stone for all to see.

The four main players of the Pravus had signed one, vowing allegiance to each other-Omort, Lothaire, the viceroy centaur, and the king of the fire demonarchy.

But now, Omort's gaze was fixed on Sabine's tablet. It was a Sanctuary-an ancient Sorceri covenant that ensured as long as she kept her body "pure," no male could "taint" it. For centuries, she'd suffered her virginity instead of any intercourse unwanted or unnatural.

If a tablet fell from the wall and broke, all would know that someone had violated the terms of the agreement. Omort was waiting with dread for Sabine's to break- proof positive that she was having sex with Rydstrom.

"The demon's here in my dungeon?" Omort asked absently. "For how long?"

Lanthe shrugged. "Half an hour, I guess." "I see your sister isn't having as easy a time as she'd predicted," Hettiah said with a smirk.

"No, that's not true, Hettiah." It hadn't happened yet, but of course it would soon. "I'm sure Sabine is find­ing this diverting-playing with him like a cat with a winged bird... ."

The demon ran a shaking hand over his mouth, then seemed to catch himself doing it.

With his gaze raking Sabine's body, Rydstrom began stalking toward her with slow, menacing steps. His eyes were growing black once more, but with desire or rage or both?

She assumed that he would try to escape, would likely seek to use her as a hostage, unless she could

seduce him to forget himself. She thought she still had a chance-he couldn't hide his body's reaction to her. Yet the conflict was plain on his face.

Rydstrom didn't know whether to claim her or kill her. "What do you hope to gain from this?"

"I told you."

''No, you personally. Your kind looks down on mine. Why would you ever want to wed a demon, to bear one a child?" He narrowed his gaze. "Is Omort holding something over you to compel you to do this? Has he imprisoned a family member? A ... lover?"

Sabine could tell how much he hoped she was being forced into this. "No, he has no one that I hold dear imprisoned. I was quite eager to fulfill this duty." And to begin the prophecy.

Foretold centuries ago, it stated that if the Queen of Illusions bore the heir of the fallen king of the rage demons, that prince would unlock a source of incon-

ceivable power. If she didn't, the Pravus would fall to

its foes.

"Eager?" he bit out.

Earlier the demon had inhaled deeply, exercising more patience than Sabine had seen in a male in ages. But she sensed that with the possibility of her coercion gone, Rydstrom had just given up reasoning with her and had reached the end of his patience.

She could see him shutting down. A muscle ticced in his scarred cheek, and his eyes glowed fully black. In a flash of insight, she realized she was seeing a side of] Rydstrom that few had encountered before.

"You have no idea what you're playing with," he said,

his tone cruel.

"Tell me."

"You won't win this."

"No? Just imagine it, Rydstrom. I can give you what­ever you want. I'll fulfill every secret desire you have."

"What do you know of my secret desires?" Had his voice roughened? Again she probed his mind but couldn't get through.

When he was directly before her, he made no move to touch her. This close to him, she felt so small next to his great height. She could perceive the heat coming off

his body.

Without warning, his hands shot to her camisole, fisting the material. She stifled a gasp as he ripped it off her, exposing her br**sts to him.

Collecting herself immediately, she asked in a femme fatale voice, "Do you think them pretty?"

As he peered hard at them, his brows drew together in answer.

"Won't you touch them? You've waited all your life to pet your female like this."

Just when she thought he would succumb, he wrapped her hair around his fist. He yanked her close until he was staring directly down at her.

"A little girl like you shouldn't toy with a demon like me," he said with another yank, until her hands flew to his broad chest. "You're going to lose, and when you do, I'll make you pay for this."

"Is that so-"

He cut off her words with a brutal kiss. It was so dif­ferent from the first time when he'd been striving to please her. Now he seemed intent on punishing her. But she liked how bold and firm his kiss was. She liked that he didn't fear her, though many males did.

She felt herself getting caught up, lowering her defenses. When she moaned, he seemed to be losing him­self as well, a growling sound breaking from his chest.

Grazing his torso with her bared br**sts, she mur­mured against his lips, "Rydstrom, put your hands on them. You know you want to feel me once more."

With a defeated groan, he covered her flesh. The heat and texture of his palms shocked her. A warrior's hands, callused from his sword hilt. As he kneaded her, he took her mouth again, flicking her tongue with his.

When he pinched one nipple-hard, angrily-she gave a cry, anticipating pain; instead, pleasure flooded through her body.

What a surprise.

He pinched the other one until both peaks were plump and swollen. Then he grazed his flattened palms over them, up and down, his callused skin rasping her tender flesh.

He drew his head back. "Your eyes are turning blue." A timbre of pure masculine satisfaction marked his tone. "You like my touch, female."

I do. They were strangers, he knew nothing about her, but the way he stroked her was perfection.

Her br**sts grew heavy under his ministrations, her sex damp. She'd waited so long for this. For him. She was so close to finally knowing what it would be like to have a man moving inside her. "More, demon."

He turned her so that her back was against his chest. Still fondling her br**sts, he leaned in to run his face against hers, his breaths hot at her ear. When his big shaft prodded her, he ground it against her.