Kiss of a Demon King

'No, it's not obvious.' Rydstrom glanced from the bed back to the sorceress before him.

Thoughts ran riot in his mind-suspicions arose and were dismissed. A bed and chains. She'd failed to seduce him to willingly bed her. Was she now intent on taking what she'd wanted?

When he felt a confusing surge of lust at the idea, he realized she must already be enthralling him. Of course she was. He'd seen the road disappear, had seen the bridge abutment move. She had unthinkable power, and for some reason she'd targeted him.

He surveyed the dimly lit space. She'd lured him directly into a large dungeon cell. And one he recog­nized, because he'd kept prisoners here when he was master and king of Castle Tornin.

She's trapped me in my own goddamned dungeon.

When he faced her once more, she met his gaze. Her eyes were unusual-with light amber irises surrounded by a ring as dark as coffee. He couldn't seem to look

away from them. 'You've brought me back to Tornin, so I assume you're working with Omort.'

'That's correct.' Her voice was a purr.

I'm in my own dungeon, a prisoner of my worst enemy. Between gritted teeth he said, 'And when will I get to face him?'

'You will not. You need not. All you need is me.'

'Explain to me exactly what you plan,' he demanded, cursing his reaction to her. He'd never responded so strongly to any woman before her. He'd been kissing her, lost in pleasure, actually thinking, She might be my queen.

Rydstrom had worried what such a beauty would think about his scar, about how much larger he was than she. For her, he'd tried to gentle his touch and kiss. All the while she'd been luring him into a trap.

'I plan,' she began matter-of-factly, 'to become preg­nant with your heir.'

His lips parted. Her very words made his shaft shoot hard as steel as every primal demon instinct inside him seemed to stir to life. This female with her plump breasts and sweet lips desired his seed, wanted to mate with him.

She's spellbinding me. She must be.

He'd studied Omort's family, had read about hundreds of his half siblings. Omort had murdered most of them after stealing their powers. But a few he kept close.

What have I read about this sorceress?. She was aptly called the Queen of Illusions. Rydstrom had just fallen prey to one of remarkable detail. Though she looked to be in her early twenties, she would have to be centuries old.

She was reputed to be even more diabolical than Omort.

Grappling for patience, he grated, 'Sabine, let's discuss this like rational beings.' Rational was the last thing he felt. 'What do you hope to gain ?'

'With me in control of your heir, the last of the rage demon rebellions will be quelled.'

The idea that the rebels amounted to even a thorn in Omort's side was heartening. Rydstrom had thought that the sorcerer's sadistic regime had broken any true momentum. 'There are two flaws to your plan.'

'Enlighten me, demon.'

'First, my body won't . . . give up seed.' A rage demon could take release in sex, but could never spill his seed until he'd claimed his female, and the seal was finally broken. 'Not for any but my fated one-'

'I am yours.' Her eyes held his, and he realized that she, at least, believed what she'd said. Omort had ora- cles, basically his own Nïx at his beck and call.

Sabine could know more than I do. . . .

Rydstrom shook his head hard, even as his mouth went dry. In fifteen hundred years, he'd never felt so attracted to another female. What if she were his? To find his queen after waiting so long? To find her as Omort's sister? 'No, fate isn't that cruel.'

She quirked a brow at that. 'Fate is indifferent.'

'What are the odds that my woman is related to my worst enemy?'

'Omort's sire lived for millennia and begot hundreds of daughters.' She sidled around him. 'Five centuries ago, a soothsayer told Omort that his own half sister,

the Queen of Illusions, would be your fated mate, and that she would bear your heir in a time of war. After the foretelling, Omort searched for me specifically because of what I am to you. And then I merely waited here at Tornin for the right time.'

'Why now? Why do this now?'

She tilted her head. 'I was going to seduce you slowly. But we learned of a plot between you and Groot. I had to prevent you from joining forces with your brother, Cadeon the Kingmaker.'

Did Sabine know the specifics of their plans? Tonight, Rydstrom had told his brother that should Omort learn of his quest to get the sword, he would stop at nothing to thwart them. Rydstrom hadn't known his enemy had a sorceress like this aiding him.

'What do you know about a plot?'

'More than you think,' she replied. 'I always know more than men think.'

Did she know that there was at last a weapon to kill Omort? That Rydstrom had been intent on speeding to meet Cadeon so they could go barter with the psychotic Groot for the weapon? She must.

Cadeon would be at their meeting place right now, wondering where in the hell his older brother was. The brother who was never late, who never missed a meeting.

'Even if you are fated to be mine, Sabine, I'll never

have you.'

'Oh, you'll have me.' Her lips curled in a knowing, sexual grin that made his heart pound. 'Again and again until this deed is done.'

Again and again. Taking her soft body, learning that perfect pale flesh ... No! Resist her.

'Tell me the second flaw.' She lowered herself to the large bed, sitting gracefully on the side. Her mane of glossy red hair tumbled forward, and her scent swept him up. 'You've raised my curiosity.'

He inwardly shook himself. 'For my heir to be legiti­mate, you have to be my queen by marriage.'

'I know.' She ran her fragile-looking hand over the sheet. 'We will wed.'

 She talked of marrying him as if it were an after­thought, while his mind was reeling.

Because he was drawn to her as no other woman before. And there was only one way to determine if she was truly his.

'You'll give your vow to me, demon. And I'll accept it.'

The vow-the recitation that would bind a rage demon king to his queen. No ceremony, no witnesses, just a pact between two to become one. He would vocalize his claim on her, and if she accepted his right to her, then she would forever be his queen. 'My people will never recognize a marriage coerced by sorcery-or a conception fueled by your notorious potions.'

'Rydstrom, let's just be frank here. Considering your reaction to me'-she delicately pointed to his erection-'do you really think I'll need to use sorcery  on you?' He clenched his jaw, unable to deny what was so obvi­ous.'

'Of course you'd kill me after our babe is born?'

Our babe. He'd never said the phrase in his life. Even she tilted her head at the words.

But then she slowly smiled-and it was beguiling and took his breath away. Had she noticed? 'Well, I wouldn't be a very good evil sorceress if I allowed you to live.'

'Then there's one thing I can assure you. You will

never get my vow from me.'

'Then, Rydstrom, I can't let you have me without it.'

At that, everything became clear. She would tease him, sexually tormenting him until he gave up the words. Why did the thought make blood surge to his groin?

This creature taking him to the brink, over and over.