by Jana Downs
“I’m fine!” the Demon Prince called before his bodyguards got the brilliant idea to break the door down…again.
Maybe they treated him like that because they were warriors of true power. They were powerful demons who controlled elements like they were naught but tools in a sack to be taken out for frequent and brutal use. While Salvatore’s command of the warriors was absolute and he could pick them up and toss them about at his pleasure, his powers did not truly lie in the direction of war and fighting. He had tremendous diplomatic skills, courtesy of his father, and a rapier wit, but beyond that, he wasn’t really sure what he was meant to do. He was only fifty years old when his father was killed, and the bulk of his training to be the heir to the Dragon Throne had barely begun.
Supposedly, his line had a tremendous power that was passed down generation to generation. The originator of his line had gone on a quest to a foreign plane of existence before traveling between universes had been a safe or a highly done activity in order to gain power necessary to rule the harsh realm of Demontia, which then had been in a sort of Dark Age chaos.
He’d traveled for seven years before he’d come across a maiden so beautiful and glittering with power than he’d immediately wanted to possess her. Her hair was the shade of crimson and her eyes the shade of blood. She was sly with many great powers which she could’ve immediately slain him with, if she had chosen to do so. But, she found the brave demon warrior to be enchanting, so she allowed him to court her. Their courtship lasted a year and a day, and each day that passed made the demon think less and less of the horrible homeland that he had left and more and more of spending eternity in this realm with his ladylove.
Something, however, kept him from telling her of his feelings for her. Every night his lady would disappear, completely vanishing with nightfall and only returning when the first rays of the sun graced the strange, exotic land. He grew anxious with this pattern, sure that she was hiding another husband elsewhere in the vastness of the forest which she called home. So he decided to follow her as she left one evening without her knowing.
As the sun set, she came into a clearing in the forest, not a fifteen-minute walk from the home he’d built for them out of redwood trees, and stripped off of her clothes. Anger seized him as his worst fears were seemingly coming true with his beautiful wife’s disrobement. Just as he was fixing to jump from his hiding place and confront her about the lover she had to be waiting on, her body shimmered, glowing with a power that made him quake in fear and awe.
The glow intensified until it was too bright to look upon, and he had to shield his eyes from its luster. When at last it faded, he looked back to see a giant creature with iridescent scales the same shade as his ladylove’s hair standing in the large clearing. He knew instantly what had happened.
He rushed forward from his hiding place and knelt on the ground before the tremendous power of the dragon, though he didn’t know what she called herself yet, and begged her forgiveness for doubting her loyalty. He pledged his love and his life to his wife once again, no matter her form. The beast regarded him shrewdly, speaking to his mind and testing him with three riddles which he passed.
She knelt before him and instructed him to climb onto her back. Her red wings spread out, and she took him into the sky, through a bolt-hole between dimensions, and back into Demontia. They dropped from the sky in the southlands and down into the heart of a mountain which became a cave deep in its heart. There she showed him her treasures, innumerable pieces of fine gems and metals, and told him that she would give it all to him if he would restore order to Demontia in her name. She was the oldest demon there ever had been. The first and the creator of their race.
He did as she commanded, and in return she gave him a kingdom more vast than any other’s before, all the treasure of her home in the caves of the southlands, powers and spells of tremendous value which no demon could duplicate or achieve, and lastly, she bore him two sons. Twins. The first members of his line.
Salvatore contemplated the story as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and scrubbed his body with the silk bodywash that Alex had recommended on their last shopping trip. He had a proud heritage and a noble name. He wished it meant more to him than a fairy tale. He was a demon with great potential, but it was unrealized potential and in effect useless unless he learned to use it. If he were half the demon his father had been, he would’ve figured it out on his own by now and somehow used it to enrapture the human he desired with it.
Gods, he was thinking about all manner of depressing thoughts tonight. He suddenly did not feel like going to the club, but he’d promised his concubines he would. If he didn’t, they would all pout and lecture and make him miserable for the next few months until their service ended and they wed. Now, that was a freaking depressing thought, too.
In four months’ time, the number of years they’d sworn to serve as his lovers would be up, and he would be obligated to find them all eligible demon husbands to settle with since they’d born him no children. That task was one he didn’t mind so much because he loved them all and cherished them as the friends they were. There was no passion between them, but it had been nice to be able to have sex at his leisure. Without his concubines, he would be alone. It was too dangerous to bring anyone else home, and going to houses of ill repute was illegal in this realm. Shit. Not only would he be miserable, he’d have to endure forced celibacy.
“Fuck my life,” he said out loud, shutting the shower off.
Chapter Two
Salvatore wrapped a towel around his waist to go into his bedroom. A chorus of “good evening, my Prince” immediately followed his entrance.
“Hi, guys,” he greeted. He went into his spacious closet and extracted a pair of loose blue jeans and a blue button-down shirt. Crap. He’d forgotten his underwear. “Hey, Ally,” he called. “Get into my top drawer and hand me my black briefs, please.” He rolled his eyes as an immediate burst of laughter followed his request. His head pushed forward as it was nailed dead center with a scrap of cloth. His underwear. He gritted his teeth. He was not in the mood to deal with his Ravyns’ roughhousing tonight.
He finished dressing quickly and came out of his closet and into his main room. Tony, the leader of the Ravyns and his second-in-command, sat casually in his favorite chair. When he saw him, he jumped up and bowed to the Demon Prince. Salvatore resisted the urge to shake him. He’d figured after two hundred years of service Tony would drop the formality. But no, not his Ravyn.
Dageus stood by the unlit fireplace texting on his cell phone, the new ring on his finger sparkling even from a distance. Alex had really outdone himself with the quality of the diamond. Of course Salvatore had searched his extensive collection for just the right one, but Dageus didn’t need to know that.
Allasandro was reading through a black notebook, humming the notes to the newest numbers that would be incorporated into Alex’s new play in the fall. He and his lover, Damian, would be singing several duets together. He flipped the page, paused, and then began humming again. Their wedding was only a few weeks away, but the head of the line, Santiago, was not letting either him or his fiancé slack on the work that had to be learned.
Germany sat with his back to the group, scribbling away in his notebook. Salvatore didn’t know if it was a journal or poetry or what, but the Ravyn was constantly writing, crossing out, and rewriting whatever was inside of it.
“My lord, I need to talk to you.” Tony spoke, and Salvatore groaned. Every time Tony began that sentence, he was about suggest a new security measure that would, either restrict him even more than he already was, or, drive him frigging crazy.
“Hear him out, my lord,” Ally seconded unexpectedly. Ally usually hated Tony’s suggestions as much as the Prince himself. “For once, he’s got his head screwed on right.” The jokester laughed as Tony growled in his direction.
“We’ve all noticed that the Ravyns are growing further apart. We’re getting our own priorities and families to take
care of, and it is becoming increasingly hard to arrange a guard schedule that doesn’t leave at least one shift vulnerable to Desmond’s attacks. The Ravyns and I have sat together and come up with a solution that will go a long way in helping us keep you safe while not overly confining you to the house during the duration,” Tony began.
Salvatore wondered what it would be like to just hang out with his Ravyns as friends instead of protectors. He always had fun with them, but he wondered if they’d feel a little freer to joke with him as they did with each other if he was just one of the guys. The throne wasn’t something he particularly wanted. Gods knew that he would prefer just to be an average citizen, but duty dictated that he take up his responsibility because his people were suffering. Desmond had turned the relatively peaceful kingdom into a land full of power struggles and desperation. The combination made the atmosphere volatile. He forced himself to tune back into Tony’s conversation and away from the stress on his shoulders.
“If this is so important, shouldn’t Druas be here as well?” Salvatore wondered as Tony took a breath. He knew that he and the shifters had been around when he’d gone to shower, but now none of them were in sight.
“I’m getting to it, my lord,” Tony reassured. His coal-black hair fell into his eyes as he glanced at each of the Ravyns and received a nod of encouragement. “Our power is amplified by the bond that connects it. It works like an amp to take in and then increase the output of energy, but when we are farther apart or in smaller numbers, the ability to increase our power decreases. Our solution is to add two more permanent guards to your protectors and make them into new Ravyns.”
Salvatore blinked. “Can’t we just increase the guard like we did in Demontia?” he asked.
Tony shook his head. “We’d be running into the same problem that we encountered while trying to guard you in Demontia. We have no way of knowing who is trustworthy, and more often than not, they’re more in the way than any real help. With two new Ravyns, we’d be able to have instant communication, a full squad at all times, and a reassurance of loyalty.”
“It is also harder to maintain the bond when there are more people. The difficulty of remaining in sync with three other people is hard enough. Isolation and determination were used in the past to keep it together. Now it’s determination and love. Do you really think you all could connect with someone other than your brothers?”
They all shared a look. They’d discussed this before coming to him. Salvatore’s stomach tightened. He really didn’t want to admit the real reason he wouldn’t accept more Ravyns.
“We already have two candidates in mind. We all get along with them, and they’re used to our schedules. Their loyalty is unquestionable because the vampires vouch for them already,” Ally cut in. He gave Salvatore a satisfied smile. “In fact, Druas is briefing them now on their new schedule.”
“Michel and Cord?” Salvatore guessed. The two jaguar shifters were perfect candidates if he were looking for new Ravyns. They had been part of the Entertainer house since they were kits, and any of the vampires therein would vouch for their continued loyalty. They had good dispositions and got along well with everyone. Most importantly, they were excellent fighters and had proven themselves time and time again. They already almost matched the Ravyns in stamina and strength.
His Ravyns beamed at his deduction. “Exactly!” Dageus crowed. “It’s perfect, Salvatore.”
Perfect was a matter of opinion, in Salvatore’s mind. He sighed. They’d thought everything out quite well. He cursed himself a thousand times for having to admit this. The Demon Prince looked around at each of his Ravyns in turn and sighed again.
“There is one flaw in your otherwise perfect plan, boys,” he reasoned, stalling. They all frowned in unison. “I don’t have the power to bind and create another Ravyn. My father was the one who cast the spell and used his energy to mold your destinies with mine, and it severely weakened him. In fact, it was fatal because he couldn’t summon enough energy to fight off the assassin that Desmond sent after him. I’m not a tenth as strong as my father was. I’m not even a fully trained member of the Dragon House. It’s not that I don’t agree with you, my Ravyns, or that I don’t wish to do it. It is that I cannot do it.” He hung his head in shame, casting his eyes on the carpet. He felt pathetic. The way his day was going he was going to be slitting his wrists by suppertime.
“Maybe the vampires can help,” Dageus suggested after a pregnant pause. “They’re some of the most powerful creatures in this realm, and they bind creatures, sometimes whole clans, to them on a regular basis. Perhaps Alex or Santiago would have a suggestion.”
“Yeah! What about that?” Ally seconded enthusiastically.
Salvatore shrugged delicately. “If you think they will have suggestions. This magick is rather complex and—”
“Score!” Ally shouted, interrupting his cautionary disclaimer. “Does that mean, if we can do this, they’ll join the Ravyns?” He was like a puppy with a bone.
Salvatore chuckled. “Yes, Allasandro. That’s what that means.”
“Hell yes!” Dageus echoed Ally’s enthusiasm, high-fiving the other Ravyn as they congratulated one another on their brilliant idea that had swayed the Prince.
“We’ve got to celebrate,” Ger piped up. The quietest of the bunch rarely spoke, so he must’ve been quite excited about the prospect as well.
“An excellent suggestion,” Tony approved. This was also unusual. Tony hated taking Salvatore out. “A little celebration is in order, for sure.”
Just then there was a knock on the door, and Druas let himself in. “Hey, guys, how’d it go?” He glanced at the other Ravyns’ smiling faces and gave a whoop of laughter. “Hell yes! Celebrate?”
“You read my mind, bro,” Ally drawled. He was beaming. “Daylight?” he asked, referring to Alexander’s club.
“Daylight!” The others echoed. Salvatore stared at the group helplessly. For once he didn’t feel like going out. It looked like he would be keeping his word to his concubines after all…
Chapter Three
The Ravyns were in especially jovial moods tonight. Even the normally stoic Tony was smiling softly as they piled out of the SUV and shuffled toward the VIP line in the side alley that ran beside the club. It was always a short line. As soon as the vampire bouncers saw Alex’s husband, Dageus, standing in line, they ushered them all forward past disappointed faces and a few scowls. When the Master vampire’s spouse showed up, everyone lost their place in line. It was a nice perk.
Damian, his Ravyn Allasandro’s fiancé, flashed into existence beside them as they filed into the door. He backed his lover up into the pitch-black corner, and they disappeared from view for a few hot seconds.
“Oh, for the love of the gods,” Tony grumbled. He opened his mouth to deliver a scathing remark, but Salvatore silenced him.
“Enough. Leave them be. The club is safe. Grab your beer and a table, and I’ll join you in a bit.” The Demon Prince walked steadily toward the bar where he knew his bartender would be working tonight. The fact that he knew his schedule and beelined for him every time they hit the club would’ve probably been considered stalking in multiple states, but he just couldn’t help himself. He was never too forward or obvious about it and always extremely polite and respectful. He didn’t know how else to be.
“Salvatore.” His younger cousin, Theron, grabbed his arm, his gaze darting around wildly. He was the newest addition to his band of merry men and still wasn’t used to their life on Earth. “Is it safe to be wandering about by yourself?”
Salvatore petted his arm soothingly. “Of course. Daylight is the safest place in the city outside Alex’s house. I promise. If there was any danger, my Ravyns wouldn’t let either of us out of their sight.” He gestured to the table where his Ravyns were seated, loudly talking with one another as they passed around a pitcher of beer. “Go sit with them and try and relax. You’ll feel safer among them.” He didn’t know why Theron had agreed to come out with
him. The younger demon didn’t really seem like the type to hit the club on a nightly basis. He was pretty reserved for royalty.
He sidled up to the bar and smiled when the bartender of his dreams immediately came to him. His black hair was done up in fashionable spikes tonight, making him look impish. His wide white smile was framed with kissable lips which had two metal hoops off-center on his bottom one. His brow was pierced as well, along with his ears and, because Salvatore had stared enough to notice, pierced nipples that showed faintly through his tight Ed Hardy muscle shirt. Tattoos of trees decorated his arms, one tree in the thick of summer, full of greenery and scattered wildlife, and the other in the last vestiges of fall with bright orange, yellow, and brown leaves falling around it. Crows sat among the branches of that tree. Six of them to be precise. It had amused Salvatore when he’d first seen it. The roots of both trees traveled down his arms, forearms, and circled around his wrists.
His body was thin but graceful, and he stood almost a foot shorter than most of his Ravyns, topping five five at most. What muscle he did have was ripped and tight. When he bent over behind the bar, Salvatore often had a hard time not salivating. His ensemble tonight ended in tight, aged, designer jeans that were frayed in strategic places. He was breathtaking.
“Hiya, good lookin’,” the bartender drawled. In their conversations, Salvatore had learned that the accent was one of America’s southern region’s dialects. His bartender was apparently from Georgia. Wherever that was.
“Hi,” Salvatore greeted, leaning forward in his seat.
“What can I getcha?” he asked. “Your usual?”
“Actually, I’d like something sweeter, if you please. A Jack and Coke isn’t what I’m wanting.” Salvatore switched up his drink choice just to get him talking. He loved listening to him talk. His punk rock sex god was impossible not to stare at, but when he talked, he was positively…what was the word Ally used all the time? Fuckable. That was it. He was positively fuckable. His eyes drifted down the other man’s lean frame of their own volition.