Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

I startled, then turned with a mild scowl. “She was a pretty girl. Why do you hide her away like this?”

Face tight, he passed by me and picked up the red silk. “Because I prefer it that way,” he said, reaching high and re-covering the painting.

I folded my arms over my chest. “Why? Because you want to forget all about her?”

He remained with his back to me, hands gripping the sides of the frame. “I cannot forget her,” he said, voice low and dark. “And I require no reminder.”

I stayed silent for a moment, feeling the pain in his voice. “How did she die?” I finally asked. “I’ve been told it was because of the gate, but…” Flickers of memory stirred in confusing patterns. “But there was more. I know it.”

Rhyzkahl gripped the frame hard enough to dislodge the cover again. Elinor smiled out as the silk puddled to the floor like a pool of blood. “There was a disruption in the ritual and it spiraled out of control.” He seemed to force the words out between his teeth. “She could not stop it. Szerain could not stop it, and she died.”

“And you have no idea what that disruption was?” I persisted. “Was it something she did? Or was it Szerain?” I knew I poked at a tender spot, yet my lingering anger about the incident in the main foyer urged me on. “Did you train her? Was she prepared to do this gate? Mzatal said she wasn’t much of a summoner, so why was she doing something like this in the first place?”

Rhyzkahl let out a shuddering breath. “Mzatal released her from training.” He lifted the cover back over the portrait, then turned to face me. “Szerain and I trained her. She was well enough prepared for her part in the ritual.” He paused, anger flashing briefly over his face. “Szerain failed in his support.”

My eyes narrowed. “What was her part in the ritual?”

“Simply to open the gateway,” he said. “Nothing more. Szerain had all other aspects.” His right hand clenched into a fist and a muscle leaped in his jaw. “He proceeded without my leave.”

I snorted. “Seems a lot of lords do things without your leave.” My cheek still ached with the evidence of that.

“Amkir,” he murmured, as if only now remembering that I’d been struck. He came closer and laid a hand on my cheek. “They do not do so without reprisal.”

“Oh, please,” I said, scowling. “What, you’ll give him a slap on the wrist? He was a complete dick to me, for no reason! He’d have seriously hurt me if you hadn’t grabbed his damn arm in time. Then what? ‘Oh, Amkir, you naughty boy. You broke my toy!’”

But Rhyzkahl shook his head. “It is not a ‘slap on the wrist,’ as you phrase it. He suffers my retribution even now.”

“And what would that be?” I asked, dubious.

“It involves power flows and is not a matter for humans…even you, dear one. He suffers.” Anger stirred behind his eyes, and I found myself believing that Rhyzkahl truly had smacked Lord Asshole down.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Why did he do that to me?” I asked, still utterly baffled. “I mean…it was like he hated me from first sight. Did I do something?”

Rhyzkahl dropped his hand from my cheek then crouched and ran it over my thigh, easing the sting from the lashes. “Amkir needs no reason,” he said, straightening again. “He can most assuredly be harsh with humans.”

“Then why did you leave me alone with him?” I asked, annoyed again. “He was hostile from the start, even while you were still there.”

“He has been long from humans and overstepped bounds he would never have touched in the past. I misjudged his response.” Regret colored his voice. “He will not err thus again, nor will I.”

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I need to know I’m safe here,” I said. “That’s the whole damn reason I came here when I got away from Mzatal.”

He caught my face between his hands. “You have nothing to fear now from these visiting lords,” he said. “I have seen to it.”

“All right,” I sighed, then put my arms around him. “I’m trusting you on this.”

He tipped my head up and kissed me, a slow and tender show of reassurance that quickly deepened. Whatever the hell kind of relationship Rhyzkahl and I had, even if everything else was weird as shit, this part was pretty damn decent.

He slid his hands beneath my shirt to stroke my back, then broke the kiss to nuzzle my neck. “I once told you I wished to fuck you in every room of my palace,” he said, lips moving against my skin. “This one is as yet un-christened.”

I laughed low in my throat, already fired by his words. “So you did.” I gave a mock sigh. “But I don’t know if sex in a library can be all that exciting.”

He pulled my shirt down over one shoulder, lowered his head and bit gently. “Then you do not know much and require tutelage.”

I dropped my head back. “And I suppose you think you can teach me?” I breathed.

His hand slid up to fondle my breast. He bit again, harder this time, then moved to catch my earlobe in his teeth. “Most definitely,” he whispered.

And he did.