The Demon's Deception

by Lisa Alder

  "Perhaps," she answered lightly. Her gaze tracked him as he paced the cell, as much as he could. The heavy chain stretched about eight feet. He thought through the events that lead them to this point. She had been looking for him. And he had been looking for her father. The irony was not lost on him.

  "What did you hope to find out?" Perhaps he could give her some information. Perhaps they could trade.

  "None of your business."

  "What if we play a little game?" Barbas rubbed his fingers together and ignored her block.

  "What kind of game?" she asked suspiciously.

  "For each answer I give, you must take off a piece of clothing."

  Her pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat. "That sounds as if I will be naked very quickly."

  "Ah but for each answer you give, I will take off a piece of clothing."

  "You have on far less clothing than I," she argued.

  "True, so I will be naked and defenseless far more quickly."

  She snorted. "You are hardly defenseless. I watched you fight the guards."

  "And you are hardly defenseless either. You forget, I watched you perform your katanas. Naked."

  She swallowed again.

  He'd seen her glance longingly through the bars at the sounds of revelry in the forest. Light flickered on the dungeon walls as a bonfire of hawthorn branches roared in the night sky. The sensual game began in earnest as Barbas considered the possibilities. She was nervous. But composed. And she was very, very confused about why she was in this dungeon with him.

  Join the club, sweetness. Why had the king put them in here together?

  "Fine." She tossed her curls away from her face and cocked a hip against the stone wall. "Me first."

  "Absolutely."

  "Why were you in the clearing?"

  "I had been enjoying the charms of a local wench but I was tired and decided to rest there." He answered but hoped the misdirection of himself with another woman would distract her.

  She removed the over tunic, the outward symbol of the Fir Bolg. The sheer white panels of her under tunic revealed her dark areola and pert nipples. "Ah, Princess. You are a sight for these captive eyes. Now, it's my turn."

  He considered what question he should ask first. Tactical questions. Questions about the Fae. Questions that might lead to the traitor. But what came out of his mouth surprised them both. "Why me?"

  Aine studied him closely. She was no idiot minion. He had purposely provoked her father. He had wanted to come to the Fae Realm which begged the question. Who was he really? And why wasn't he freaking out about being in the dungeon? His question was also far from anything she expected. It was personal. Her answer could have no bearing on whatever his purpose might be.

  She tested her theory and trailed a finger along the curve of her collarbone. "Why you what?"

  "Don't play coy," he snapped. His gaze was glued to her hand as she leisurely trailed her finger back and forth. "You know what I mean."

  "No one else would bed me."

  "You lie." He shook his head and loosened his breeches. His cock pushed at the placket, already erect. Ready for her. How could that be? "Tell me the truth."

  How could he know? She hadn't even realized herself, until she'd been riding him with his cock buried deep inside her, that she could have compelled almost anyone in the Fae Realm to have sex with her. Her father might even have forgiven them because her power of persuasion and sexual appeal was almost as great as his.

  But she had only played at sexual temptation until she'd seen him stroking his cock in the wooded glade. Because she knew, knew that she hadn't compelled him to want her.

  "Because." Her voice was hoarse. "You wanted me."

  With her honest answer, he shoved his breeches off and tossed them on the threadbare cot. His erect cock bobbed in the late evening air. A sliver of moonlight shone through the bars of the tiny window, the beam spread across the stone floor. "Better."

  She tossed her hair again and let the strands come to rest against her chest, covering her breasts from his view.

  He scowled. "Your turn."

  She contemplated his cock. Contemplated all the reasons why her father might have thrown her in this cell with him. Close enough to talk but not close enough to touch. Nothing good came to mind. And so she turned his question around on him. "Why me?"

  He was silent, solemn. His body still as if he poised for flight, which was silly because he couldn't go anywhere. He was chained to the wall. With iron which would hold the Fae more effectively than a Human but still. The moonlight shifted closer to his foot, as if drawn to his body.

  "Ah, you intrigued me." He skimmed a strong hand over his hairy thigh. "Aroused me. Distracted me. And believe me I was damned sick of sex at the time."

  He laughed awkwardly and captured her attention by stroking his cock. Moonlight limned his body painting him a fantastical silver. His bald head shimmered and his body nearly vibrated with energy.

  If she hadn't been a Demon divining rod she would have sworn he was calling the power of the moon. But she could always sense a Demon. Always. And he did not give off one single Demon vibe.

  Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow using the moonlight. She peered through the darkness. Was his black eye less purple than a little while ago? Impossible.

  He'd answered her question but only engendered more. But a bargain was a bargain, until she was done playing the game. Gods, she wished she could touch him. Then she would know the truth.

  "Take off your undershirt," he demanded, his attention firmly fixed on her chest.

  Just to be contrary, she stepped out of her breeches and felt pretty smug. Until she noticed his dark grin. He'd played her.

  "Just look at that beautiful thatch, glistening in the enchanted moonlight," he purred. "Are you wet for me?"

  Her body quickened and her heart boomed in double time. He was across the room, safely chained. They were separated by two sets of metal chains, his and hers, and still he'd managed to arouse her. The man was sex personified. "Are you an incubus?"

  "A sex demon? No." He laughed low and deep. "I'll give you that answer for free. Next question."

  Her sex throbbed with a deep piercing arousal as she watched pre-cum pearl on the head of his cock. The sounds of revelry swirled around them. The heavy aphrodisiacal scent of hawthorn blooms perfumed the air. And the musky aroma of an orgy lingered in their cell.

  "Fine." But her breathy voice gave away her desire.

  He stroked his cock once and the iron cuff clanged down around mid-forearm. A vicious burn marked his wrist where the cuff had rested. She gasped. He'd been burned by the iron? She hadn't been able to sense Fae either, but as she thought back to the tavern she realized that he had been using glamour to blur his face from the humans there. The thought made her mad. What game was he playing?

  "What are you?"

  Barbas paused. He wondered how to play this. Dammit, he'd meant to use the moon power to heal himself without her noticing the damage the iron inflicted on his skin. His strength was almost regenerated. He would be able to break free of the bonds that held him but he still wouldn't have the answers he needed.

  Barbas knew that he had to gain her trust. This was the moment. He needed to know who the traitor in the castle was. Needed to know how the Fae were spying on the Demons. His mission was on the line. Sickness twisted his gut. He wasn't sure if he could utter the words. He'd never said them aloud. And he hadn't wanted to lie to her. For some reason, the lies that usually came so easily to him balled in his throat with regret.

  "Tell me again what were you doing in the village?" She had been surprised to see him in the tavern. She hadn't been looking for him. She'd been there for another purpose.

  "Trying to find whoever was looking for the Fae."

  And he knew what he had to do. "I was."

  "What?"

  The game forgotten she stood straight. Her gaze narrowed, suspicion in their chestnut depths. "Why?"


  "I am...." he hesitated. His body revolted at the idea of voicing the words aloud. He'd never uttered them before, never even admitted his secret shame. But he needed to gain her trust. And in this he had to be completely truthful even if the truth roiled his stomach. Barbas forced himself to reveal his deepest, darkest deception.

  "I am half Fae."

  TEN

  "What?" She stepped back as if to distance herself from his confession.

  "My mother was Fae. And I was looking to find them, you," he forced the truth from his very tight throat. He tried to continue and say he was looking for her. His mother. But he couldn't.

  He'd promised he wouldn't lie to Aine. He never wanted to see his mother. She had abandoned him and his father to the depths of their prison. Once he'd been born she had given him away, given him up to his father's Demon care. For that reason alone, he hated the Fae. Forget that they had imprisoned his entire Demon race for over a thousand years. That he understood. That was simply a bid for power. But to give up your child. To renounce your blood was the deepest betrayal.

  He hated the Fae for that sheer fact.

  "Why didn't you just say so?" Suspicion coated her every word.

  "Honestly?"

  "By all means."

  "I'm not sure I want to meet her," Barbas confessed.

  Aine studied Barbas. She finally realized why her father had put her in the dungeon with him. He'd known Barbas was hiding something. And her job was to get the truth out of him. If only they were close enough to touch.

  But she also figured out that he had just given her a gift. The gift of trust.

  She needed to clear her head because something else was going on here. And without another word she pulled on her breeches. This was a conversation she needed to be dressed for. She had a feeling that he used sex the way Fae compelled, as trickery against an enemy. Because if he were engaging in sex, his opponent couldn't be thinking. "Why were you really in the clearing?"

  "What?" His head jerked up, as if he'd been lost in contemplative thoughts of his mother. His mouth curved down and his eyebrows crunched into a frown.

  "The clearing."

  "Known place for Fae to appear."

  She snorted. "So you figured you'd just show up and see what would happen? Were you planning on shouting for us?"

  "I don't know," he sniped.

  That was the truth. As she analyzed his answer she realized one mystery was solved. His parentage explained how he could walk freely into a warded stronghold.

  She wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to lie to her or if he really didn't know what he was looking for. This whole conversation was crazy. He dropped down onto the cot. "Instead I found you."

  Oh, as if she would fall for that sappy line. Except she was totally falling for it.

  "Why were you in the clearing?" he asked suddenly.

  Because of what she'd seen there. She'd been observing the assassination team sent to try to kill the Demon Prince. She'd been beyond the circle of the ward, watching the Fir Bolg attack the prince and the woman. Her father had been there to incapacitate the prince. Except then they'd seen the Demon of Battle in the tree and her father had made the decision to level him first. Unfortunately, after her father blasted his energy toward the Demon in the tree, he'd been in an extreme state of lethargy. The original burst had taken all of his strength. His bodyguards had assisted the king back to the Fae Realm. And Aine had stayed, hidden and out of the way. She only left when she saw the water rising, assuming that the other Fir Bolg would make it out of the clearing in time. That hadn't happened and some of the Fir Bolg had perished.

  She'd never told a soul that she'd stayed to watch the Demon Prince with his lady. Stayed to watch the prince's devotion not only to the Human woman but also to the frozen Demon statue. Her whole life she'd been told Demons were evil. They were near beasts. But what she'd seen that day didn't support the things she'd been told. And she'd wanted to observe. To understand. To form her own opinions about her enemy.

  What she'd seen made her think that the Demons were not so different from the Fae. But she wouldn't reveal that to this man. She hadn't managed to broach the subject with her father either.

  "I like to practice my katanas there." But the truth was far more complex. She'd been drawn to the clearing that day. As if fate had sent her. A shiver of premonition skittered down her spine. Fate. There was a reason that she'd chosen Barbas to be her first lover.

  He stared at her with new eyes. "Fate," he murmured. He'd had the same thought she had. "You changed me. Changed my beliefs about the Fae."

  "I'm glad." Aine wrapped her hands around the bars again wishing she could wrap her arms around him as easily. But between their restraints, the closest they could get might be a few feet away.

  Barbas watched her curl her fingers around the bars as if she could pry them open and free them both from this cell.

  Not iron, he realized, since she wasn't displaying any pain. If only he was close enough to kiss her.

  Barbas leapt from the cot and stood, shoulders back, chin canted. He studied her as if he'd never seen her before. "You changed...everything."

  Barbas's mission had been to find the traitor. Then use the traitor to infiltrate the Fae and strike against the Demon's enemy. She should be his enemy but she wasn't. He didn't want to strike against her. "I want to linger in a bed covered with silk sheets and drape your body in satin," he said in wonder.

  He strode closer. "I want to drown in your kisses and sate myself on your essence."

  She clung to the bars. Her body sagged as if caressed by his declarations. Another step, another promise. "I want to spend days making you come. And then days more sparring with you."

  Each realization was like a dagger to his heart. He couldn't betray her. Wouldn't betray her to the Demons. He stalked closer until there was no more give in the chain holding him to the wall.

  Aine stepped away from the bars, her face a mask of hope as she walked toward him. "I...want that too."

  Barbas took the last step and beckoned to her. A Fae flute trilled a haunting tune as she too strained the bounds of her chain. They stood, chains taut, the chasm between them nearly three feet. But Barbas refused to be deterred. He lifted his free hand, stretched across the yawning space and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. "I want to lay with you in a field of heather and love you until we are bathed in it's scent," he breathed. Her lips parted and her hand slipped from the cuff that held her. He didn't have time to wonder at how she had gotten loose.

  "Okay." Free of her bonds, Aine made the final move, wrapped her arms around his torso, and slanted her mouth over his. The first brush of her lips was soft, sweet, innocent.

  "I want to wake up with you every day for the next thousand years." He sipped from her mouth as if he could convey all his emotions in this one kiss. His hand on her face was reverent.

  She framed his face, crowding closer to his body until they touched from their toes to their mouths. I want to love you for eternity. But he didn't speak those words aloud. Too soon. Too crazy. And he still had to get out of this prison.

  "Well isn't this touching." Her father's mocking voice ripped them apart.

  Aine broke away from Barbas. Whatever her father had wanted of her, she'd failed. As an incandescent joy spread through her, she didn't even care. Barbas wanted her. Not the Princess. Not access to the King. Not power in the Fae Realm. He just wanted her. Aine.

  She'd been touching him. So she knew. Every word he'd spoken had been imbued with truth.

  "Father." She inclined her head.

  Barbas had shifted so that he partially blocked her body with his. Trying to protect her from her father's wrath. Again. But she didn't think that she was the one who needed to be protected. Ready to defend their king at any moment, the guards hovered behind her father as if uneasy with whatever he planned.

  "You disappoint me, girl."

  "It happens," she said flippantly. He had disappoint
ed her as well. So she guessed that made them even.

  The king pointed at Barbas. "What is your connection to the Demons?"

  Aine answered before Barbas could speak. "I've told you--"

  "I can't trust what you've told me lately," the king interrupted. For he was the king right now, not her father. Still her blood boiled. As if she would put herself above the good of the realm. Did he not understand her at all?

  "Your judgment is compromised," the king said.

  Aine defended her abilities. "No. If anything my ability has grown."

  "What is your connection with the Demons?" the king demanded again, ignoring her.

  Barbas yawned. The move seemed to enrage the king. Aine watched the fire in his eyes change and morph into a cold, killing rage and her heart thudded. What was he planning?

  "You seem to think he is our link to the Demons," Aine said desperately, hoping to stave off what she feared.

  Aine didn't like the way her father was looking at Barbas. She could feel his frustration and rage growing with each word he uttered. "He was their volley."

  "I sense nothing," she argued.

  "You are wrong." The king said harshly, "He sent word to the Demon Castle that he had made contact with the Fae."

  Barbas didn't move a muscle. But she could tell that something had shifted within him. On the surface, he seemed content to observe the argument between the two of them, but he was hiding a powerful emotion, which confused Aine more. Why wasn't he defending himself?

  Instinctively, she clasped his fingers. No emotion bled through for her to analyze.

  Then, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

  The king lifted his arms and aimed his hands, palms flat, at their prisoner.

  Barbas drew up his chest and shoulders as if preparing for attack. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. He was comforting her? That wasn't right. This was all wrong. She couldn't let Barbas pay the price for her need to explore the pleasures of the flesh. Her need for touch.

  "It matters not," the king said. "He has outlived his usefulness."

  "No, father!" Her body was rigid as she gauged the malice in her father. He had finally lost his senses. She watched him gather his energy and she begged. "You cannot. Please."