“I apologise,” he grumbled, in the demon language again. He drew down a slow deep breath and tried again to speak her language, but the words refused to line up on his tongue, so he spoke in his own language. “Until I calm, it is beyond me.”
A failing he almost didn’t want her to know about.
When she looked as if she might speak, he scooped her up into his arms and tucked her against his chest. She didn’t resist him, had heat pouring through him to ease his tight muscles as she leaned her side against him, relaxing into his embrace.
Trusting him.
He was gentle with her as he carried her, aware of his size compared with her now, and how monstrous he probably looked to her. She peered around, not seeming to care about the change that had come over him or her pain as she took in her surroundings.
“Is this your place?” Her eyes didn’t leave the mansion as they neared it.
He nodded.
“It’s nice.” She winced again and pressed her hand against her bloodied shoulder.
He gentled his grip on her, afraid he had caused her pain, and shouldered the door open.
Someone rushed from a corridor to his right as he entered the main vestibule, one that was the height of all three floors of the house. He bared his fangs at the young demon, his horns curling as the male skidded to a halt on the dark stone floor and his black eyes fell on Tegan’s precious cargo.
The male swiftly averted his gaze, pinning it on the floor near the door. “Greetings, my king.”
Tegan really hoped Suki had been telling the truth and didn’t know enough of the demon language to understand the servant. He risked a glance at her. She was busily taking in the foyer, her eyes dancing over everything, including the huge gold chandelier that hung above them between the middle and top level of the building, the candles casting warm light over the dark wooden staircase that wound its way up to each floor.
“Leave us,” Tegan grunted at the male. “Remain in your quarters until called.”
Because he didn’t want the male accidentally revealing things to Suki, and he definitely didn’t want the demon looking at her, not when he was finally clawing back control. He was liable to lash out and hurt the male, the instinct to keep her to himself making him view the male as a threat, one liable to attempt to steal Suki from him.
“In fact, stay in the gatehouse.” He turned away from the male and mounted the steps, taking Suki up to the first floor, and banked left, the wooden floorboards creaking under his extra weight as he headed towards the drawing room.
He sensed the male leave and another wave of calm washed over him, easing his mood.
His rage finally began to ebb enough that he could regain control, and Suki squeaked in his arms as he began to shift, his bones shortening again and muscles shrinking back to their normal state. He sent his wings away and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension from them.
He carried her into his favourite drawing room, one at the rear of the house that had a view over what passed for his garden. The neatly trimmed shrubs in the elegant borders were almost black rather than green, and he had never gotten around to tapping into a spring in the mountains just beyond his estate in order to fuel the series of fountains he had installed along the path between each section of the garden, but it was his favourite view in the kingdom.
What would Suki think of it?
He set her down on the middle of three gilt-framed dark violet couches that surrounded the huge white marble fireplace.
She didn’t pay attention to him as he carefully removed her ruined shirt and used it to clean the blood from her wound. Her eyes continued to leap around, swiftly taking in everything, fascination shining in them. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at her injury.
It wasn’t as deep as he had feared.
The last remnants of his fury faded and he eased to his knees on the pale cream fur that filled the space between the couches.
“You live here?” Her gaze settled on the plum coloured walls with their gilt-framed panels, the oak sideboards with their delicate crystal decanters and glasses, and the bookcases filled with some of his favourite reads. “It doesn’t look very demony.”
Because it wasn’t all black and grim like the Hell she imagined?
He moved to kneel before the fire, stoked it and then placed another log on it, waiting for it to catch before he pushed to his feet and lit the oil lamps on the mantel above it. He took one and placed it on the wooden table near to her that formed a corner in the semicircle of couches.
His gaze flickered to the wound on Suki’s chest and lingered. She glanced down at it, frowned and prodded around it.
“It’ll heal.” She took the shirt he had discarded and dabbed at a drop of blood that cascaded from it, darting towards her small black top that hugged her breasts.
This time, when the words lined up, they came out in the common tongue, bringing a glimmer of relief to him and to Suki judging by the way her features softened.
“How quickly?” He sank to his knees before her again, the need to see her healed firmly at the helm as he stared at the wound and it felt as if someone had plunged a blade into his chest rather than hers, right into his heart. “I want you healed now. If I kissed you, would you heal faster?”
His eyes leaped up to hers, his brow furrowing.
“I will not lose control again. I swear it, Suki. I did not mean to frighten you… and I hate that I was so… rough with you.”
Her soft smile struck him hard in the heart. “I know. I pushed a little too hard and took a little too much I think.”
“I did not feel so weak after… after I—” He cut himself off, unable to think about what he had done let alone speak about it.
“I’ll take a little kiss as an apology.” She shuffled to the edge of the couch and he did his best not to stare at how her crimson plaid skirt rode up to flash dark lace panties at him.
Her boots hit the fur on either side of his thighs, she gently cupped his cheeks and leaned towards him, so slowly that anticipation stole his breath and had his heart thumping against his ribs.
When her lips finally met his, her kiss was gentle, soft in a way that lifted him from the mire of his thoughts and the bleak abyss of what he had done, had him filling with light inside as she drove all the darkness back. After his dream of her, the kiss was too restrained, too sweet by far, but gods, it was what he needed. This gentleness. This tender connection to her.
It told him that he hadn’t ruined everything.
Reassured him in ways he hadn’t even realised he needed.
He felt the moment she began to take energy from him, sensed the subtle drain on his strength as she moaned and moved closer, kissed him deeper, as if she couldn’t get enough of his taste. He reached for her, aching to hold her close as he kissed her, but she pulled back, a sigh escaping her as her eyes slipped shut and she sank into the violet couch, a satisfied smile curling her rosy lips.
His female was sated, and gods, she was beautiful.
He drank in the sight of her, enjoying how relaxed she looked in his home, alone with him, and the fact she already looked brighter, some of the colour returning to her cheeks, and her wound had stopped bleeding. The skin around it was paling now, no longer red and angry. He had done that for her. He had given her strength in his kiss, boosting her ability to heal the wound. He had protected her and now he would keep her safe.
Here with him.
Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled lazily as she looked him over.
“Are we going to talk about this house?” Her gaze left him to take in the room again. “Because I get the feeling I have to amend my notes about you. You’re not rich. You’re filthy rich.”
He shrugged that off, uncomfortable as a feeling ran through him, a fear she might probe about what he did for a living.
“It is my family’s home.” Would that be enough to convince her that his wealth was inherited and stop her from probing further? “My brother still
visits from time to time, when he is not training those under his command.”
“But you do live here?”
“When I am not at the castle.” He hoped she didn’t probe too deeply into that either, but he didn’t want to lie to her. He just wanted to deflect a little until he was sure of some things.
Like she was falling for him as he was falling for her.
She frowned and pushed up, so she was sitting rather than lounging on the couch. “Are you often at the castle?”
He nodded. “My duty is there.”
“Ah.” She wriggled and pressed the soles of her boots to his thighs, and he didn’t mind her stepping on him like that, quite enjoyed the strange intimacy of it because he had the feeling she liked being connected to him, in contact with him in a way. “Because you’re planning all kinds of things for the kingdom, right?”
He nodded again. “That is part of the reason. I have other duties.”
Duties seemed like an understatement.
“What are they?” She leaned towards him and winced.
Tegan took the out. “Did you take enough energy from me?”
He could feel that she was hungry, could see it in her eyes whenever they leaped to his mouth too, her irises brightening briefly before she dragged her gaze away again. Their chaste kiss hadn’t been enough for her. She wanted more, but was denying herself. Why? Because she feared he would hurt her again?
“I could do with a top up,” she murmured huskily, stirring his blood, and then tossed ice onto it. “But maybe a rest first. I want to know more about this place.”
She dropped her feet from his thighs, pushed onto them and toed off her boots, leaving them in a pile on the fur beside him as she moved off. When he turned, he found her looking at the black leather wingback armchair he had moved beside the fire when he had visited a few years ago.
She sat in it, brought her feet up and twisted her knees to her left, her eyes on the flames that danced on the logs, the warm light flickering over her face and her colourful hair, brightening the shades of green and blue, and the hints of violet.
Gods, she looked good in his chair, all curled up as if she belonged there.
“It’s not what I expected.” She took in everything on the other side of the room to her, from the bookcases between the windows to the black grand piano that occupied a space near the door on the right of the room.
He hoped she didn’t ask him to play it. He hadn’t practiced in decades and his skills were a little rusty.
“Better or worse?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know as he stood and turned to face the fireplace and her where she sat to the left of it.
She smiled. “Far better.”
Her tone said he was a fool for thinking her answer would be anything else.
She pointed to the windows. “You have glass and everything. I didn’t expect that. I’ve visited a couple of towns in the free realm and it’s mostly open holes for windows there.”
Her gaze skipped over the room again, taking in the paintings this time. When they reached the painting hanging above the fireplace, she paused. Her eyes widened. She leaped to her feet on his armchair, using it as a stool as she grabbed the mantelpiece and peered closer at the seascape.
She whipped to face him. “You’re shitting me, right? That does not say Van Gogh!”
Tegan looked at the painting, one that captured the sea and sailboats battling gentle waves near the shore. He had spent more hours than he could calculate staring at that painting, enjoying the drama and blend of colours, and the craftsmanship.
He nodded.
“So, it’s a copy… right?” Her wide eyes searched his. “Right?”
He shook his head.
She whistled low. “Damn, when I said you were filthy rich, I meant like… normal filthy rich. This is billionaire playboy level filthy rich.”
He didn’t really grasp the difference.
“I liked it. I like the ocean.” He looked at her again. “You must too. Your hair is like the sea and you took me to a beach.”
She sank back into his armchair and crossed her legs. “I do like the ocean. There’s something wild and untamed about it. It speaks to me.”
He moved to sit on the end of the couch opposite her. “Strange. I find it calming and peaceful.”
But he liked that they had something in common.
CHAPTER 19
Suki wanted Tegan closer. The sight of him battling the incubi for her and the fact he had come rushing to her rescue had roused a fierce need inside her, one she was barely keeping a lid on as she sat with him in his home.
Alone.
She was deeply aware of that as she studied the oil painting, shivering under the intensity of Tegan’s gaze as it devoured her. Warmth spilled through her, but chills washed it away whenever his eyes landed on her shoulder. It throbbed, a constant reminder that she had been wounded.
It wasn’t the first time she had been cut or been in a fight, but it was the first time she had been bone-deep afraid, had locked up so tight she had only been able to watch as the dagger had come zooming at her. Her heart had almost stopped in that moment. She had been so convinced her life had been about to come to a horrible end.
Just when it had been getting good.
That realisation had struck her like a thunderbolt, a million volts that had poured through her and left her reeling when she had survived.
Her eyes lowered to meet Tegan’s, their dark depths drawing her deep under his spell.
The lessons she’d had as a youth had been a lie.
It was possible for a succubus to love.
It had to be.
Because there was no other explanation for how she changed whenever she was around Tegan, filling with warmth and light whenever they were together, or how she ached whenever they were apart, filled with a need to see him again, to call him and hear his voice.
She had watched enough movies and enough couples in the real world. What she was experiencing with Tegan was what those people went through.
She was falling for him.
Was he falling for her?
He had come rushing to her rescue, had fought in her corner. No one had ever done that for her before. Not even her sisters. Did that mean he liked her? More than liked her?
A flush darkened his cheeks and he looked away, frowned at the fire and moved to it, sinking to his knees before the grate. She was unnerving him. It was strange to have such a power over such a strong male.
She tried to think of a subject other than his enormous wealth, because it was clear she had unsettled him by asking about it and about the house. He had mentioned a brother, one who was in the military by the sounds of things.
“So the Second Realm still has an army?” She smiled when he looked across his bare shoulder at her and tried not to melt into a puddle over the way his deltoids and biceps flexed as he curled his fingers around the fire iron.
His eyes were guarded again. What had his barriers coming up this time?
She wanted to poke, but let it go, because the ground beneath them still felt unsteady after what had happened at the cove, and she didn’t want to sour things between them. She wanted things to be good again, as it had been before he had gotten carried away.
Her study in the clan library hadn’t turned up anything new about shadowed males. No explanation for the things he could do other than the usual labelling him as dangerous because of the abilities he possessed. But it had turned up a few interesting titbits about demons. Apparently, the First and Second Realms had some sort of peace treaty happening between them. A strange sense of relief had washed through her on reading that.
Tegan had fought in so many wars, was very obviously a warrior at heart, and the thought of him fighting in battles against hordes of enemies frightened her. She was glad his kingdom was a peaceful one. Although, she wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
He finally nodded, set the poker aside and stared at the flames. They danced in his dark eyes, the
sort of fire that she associated with this realm. Hell. From what she had seen of it outside, it was as black and forbidding in the Second Realm as it was in the free one. But the mansion had been beautiful, a gothic vision cut in obsidian stone, and the inside looked much like any other house in the mortal world.
Or at least the immortal part of the mortal world.
His taste ran the gothic route inside too, rich but dark colours paired with wood and elegant accents.
But it was a world away from the drab black basic home she had imagined he owned.
“What’s it like to you?” she said and a confused crinkle formed between the dark slashes of his eyebrows. She probably should have picked better words. She had started the conversation in her head. It wasn’t a surprise that he didn’t know what she was asking about. “Being at peace. Demons like war, don’t they? You fought in a lot of them and last I heard, the demon realms are always at each other’s throats. It’s like a game to you guys.”
Tegan shot to his feet, his expression blackening as that corona of violet-red flared around his pupils. “War is no game. It is a serious affair and not to be undertaken lightly. Kings who enter wars without considering the consequences of their actions or while regarding them as games should not sit on the throne.”
She had hit another sore spot.
She cringed at that and cursed herself for speaking so lightly of battles and war.
He had been forced to fight for his life in them as a youth, had been shaped on the battlefield into the warrior stood before her with fury blazing in his eyes, his muscular torso tensed and firelight chasing over his skin, revealing the silvery scars that hid beneath the fine dusting of dark hair.
“Sorry.” She picked at the arm of the leather chair, doing her best not to shrink under his steady hard gaze. “I just meant that war seemed to be a fact of demon life.”
His tone gentled. “It is something we are accustomed to. A part of our existence that has led to my kind becoming warriors at heart.”
“It must have taken some balls for your king to pick peace over war.” She lifted her eyes back to him, gauging his feelings on the subject as best she could without being able to read his aura.
Seduced by a Demon King Page 21