Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

I shiver, pulse thrumming. “Ah . . . you play this game well.”

“I would play it with no other, my precious Elinor,” he murmurs against my lips then kisses me.

I moan as I sink into the kiss. He deepens it, and I lose myself for an eternity.

He breaks the kiss and caresses my hair. “Now it is your turn.”

My breath shudders. “I should do well after experiencing your masterful play.” I nuzzle him, almost touching my lips to his, teasing. He tries to capture them, and I evade but care not to resist longer. I entwine my fingers in his hair and pull him into my kiss.

He wraps me in his arms and kisses me as never before, then pulls back to gaze into my eyes. “You are my lifeblood and my laughter.”

This is, in truth, heaven. I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. “You are my light and my heart.”

“As the stars and the grove are my witness, I will never leave you. I swear to you upon my essence. Never.”

“Nor I, you,” I murmur. “I love you, Giovanni.”

“And I love you, Elinor.” He holds me close, nuzzles the top of my head. “You are such a silly girl. What will I do with you?”

I smile against the demon-silk of his shirt. “You shall grow old with me and sit by the fire as we watch our grandchildren play.”

A hissing growl from the direction of the tree tunnel stills his response. “Come, summoner.”

Giovanni tenses. I try to turn, to face Lord Szerain’s essence-bound demon, but Giovanni holds me fast. “Who bids this, Turek?” he asks.

“I do,” Lord Szerain says.

Giovanni loosens his hold such that I may turn, but does not release me.

Turek crouches, toothy and fearsome, beside my lord. Xharbek, behind them, his iridescent wings folded close. My heart seeks escape from the confines of my breast. What dire need brings all three?

“What do you require of her?” Giovanni demands, his voice unwavering.

“The time for the ritual is upon us.”

“But, my lord,” I say, “it is not meant to be for a fortnight.”

Lord Szerain extends his hand toward me, waiting. “The plans have changed, my dear.”

“Szerain,” Giovanni says, “she is not ready.”

“I am!” I say. “I . . . have worked hard. Studied. Practiced.”

Lord Szerain steps closer. “You have indeed. You are ready. Trust me.”

Giovanni tightens his arm around me. “Elinor,” he murmurs, “tell him no. Not tonight.”

I twist to look into his face. “How can I deny him?”

He moves in front of me. “My lord, grant us until the sun rises. I beseech you.”

Lord Szerain hesitates. Xharbek lays a hand upon his shoulder, and the lord draws a deep breath. “I cannot risk Rhyzkahl’s interference. It must be tonight. It must be now.”

I trust Lord Szerain with my life. Though ice fills my core, I incline my head to him. Trembling, I turn and lay my hands on each side of Giovanni’s face. “When this is done, we shall watch the sunrise from atop the eastern tower.”

“Elinor. Beloved. I will join you there anon,” my love says with such tender earnest that my heart breaks to leave him thus.

Before I can tell him to be at peace, Lord Szerain loops his arm around my waist and propels me down the tree tunnel.