Demon from the Dark

If only he could communicate with her freely. Yet the more he remembered of her language, the more punishing nightmares of his childhood and torture surfaced.

Still he pushed himself, needing to understand. At times, just before he brought her pleasure, she'd murmur at his ear. What was she telling him when her voice was almost sad? It made him crazed.

And he wanted to ask her why she'd been showing this affection to him. Was it just so he'd protect her? His confidence that she would want the strongest male had now turned to desiring more from her.

Until they could communicate, he'd decided to learn as much as possible about her. Life with the witch was wondrous ... and odd.

She seemed to have a fixation on cleanliness, scrubbing their eating utensils with her magic and continually washing their clothes.

Each morning and night she'd used the blue stick brush to rub her teeth. She kissed him madly each time he did the same. The scent was sharp but pleasant, and the brushing felt good, as if his mouth were being petted.

He'd stopped swallowing it the second time she'd crinkled her nose and muttered, 'Ooh.'

And every day, she'd given him writing lessons. He could potentially live for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, and he'd recalled what Kallen had once told him: 'Of course you're intelligent enough to read! Who the devil convinced you otherwise?'

Malkom might not be learned now, but he could be. And whenever Carrow praised his progress or regarded him with undisguised admiration, it brought his mind back to a very brief time, long, long ago, when he'd been proud. He'd commanded armies of demons—and he'd been skilled at it.

I'd almost routed the vampires from this plane with battles I'd won.

In the end, Malkom had done it by himself, assassinating the Viceroy so gruesomely that his vampire followers had fled Oblivion in terror.

Despite this, the Trothans had clamored for Malkom's death. At least now he was giving them reason to....

Though his nightmares had returned with a vengeance, these were occasionally quelled by dreams of her memories, always scenes from her childhood. In each one, she'd been indoors, playing by herself in an echoing building. For years, she'd been alone, miserable.

As I was. It seemed fate had paired Malkom with a woman who was perfect for him.

Too perfect?

He ruthlessly tamped down his doubts.

Because he not only wanted her. He needed her.

Whenever they kissed and touched, he was able to shut out thoughts of his past. Everything about his sensual new mate kept him firmly—and feverishly—in the present.

The now familiar scent of her arousal, the look in her glittering eyes when she was needing, the way she nibbled her bottom lip whenever her thoughts grew wicked.

The sound of her abandoned moans as he kneaded her breasts.

She went wild when he licked them, or her sweet sex. He'd wake her from slumber with his tongue delving hungrily.

The witch had brought him more sexual pleasure in moments than he'd experienced in all his centuries. Her kiss alone ... it made him feel close to her, almost as much as taking her neck had.

Yet Malkom had stopped pushing to claim her. Now he wanted a bond first, because with all the new possibilities between them, one filled him with fear.

Begetting another bastard like himself.

Sometimes he scorned his father more for leaving his son vulnerable than he did his mother for selling hers.

Malkom would never risk the same happening to his own offspring. He intended to wed Carrow at the earliest opportunity—

'Demon,' she murmured, finally turning to him. 'Portal next night?'

Portal. He knew this word. She used it often enough. 'Next night,' he agreed. She was keen to get back to her home, had explained that they would leave tomorrow at exactly the middle of the night.

Had he figured out why she was here in Oblivion, or why she believed a portal would open to welcome her back?

No. All he knew was that he was going with her. For now, that was enough.

Chapter 22

T-minus sixteen hours until they were to leave. And Carrow had feelings for the demon she was planning to betray.

In a moment of desperation yesterday, she'd tried to explain her situation to Malkom, to ask for his help— even though he didn't understand the words mortals, blackmail, kidnap, or daughter. Eventually she'd drawn a stick-figure Carrow that held hands with a stick- figure little girl, then she'd pressed her hand over her heart.

He'd thought she wanted a baby. When she'd emphatically signaled that wasn't what she wanted, he'd seemed hurt, yanking on his boots and storming off to go hunt.

Now, this morning, she couldn't pay attention to his lesson, was racking her brain for any alternative to deceiving him. Maybe she should have set out on her second day here to find other demons to help her.

But at that time, Malkom had been so brutal, so incomprehensible to her. Betraying him would've been nothing to her. She'd had no idea she could ever come to care for him.

What would Ripley do? She'd definitely rescue the orphaned girl from the island.

Break down the facts, Carrow.  Even if she could communicate with Malkom, revealing her plot would have to decrease her chances of getting him to the portal. He might balk. After all, she'd only known him for the better part of a week.

She decided then that revealing everything was an unacceptable risk.

And even if she were certain he'd do it, she'd never be able to convey all the inherent dangers for him. He'd go into that portal either completely unknowing, or partially so.

Carrow pinched her forehead. For a woman not used to feeling guilt over her actions or fear for someone who depended on her, she felt overwhelmed. Am I doing the right thing? Most of the time when people were under duress, they could talk to someone, friends or family who could help them make the right choice.

Carrow was flying blind—in uncharted territory.

'Ara?'

She jerked her face up. 'Huh? Where were we?'

But his expression had grown serious, the lesson forgotten. He interlaced his fingers and said, 'We are bound.'

'Bound?'

He collected a piece of rope, knotting it.

'Oh, you mean bound?'

He gave a nod, then drew in the sand.

An infinity symbol? 'Clever demon, how did you know that ... ?'

He was gazing at her with a question in his eyes.

'Bound forever?' And somehow she met his gaze and lied, 'Yes, demon. Bound forever.'

As if to make her feel even guiltier, he gathered her into his arms, cupping her face against his broad chest. His voice a deep rumble, he said, 'Carrow is Malkom's.'