The Demon King Davian (Deadly Attraction Book 1)

by Calista Fox

  “What about something softer, smoother, that might not stick?” Davian indicated the pillowcase and Morgan quickly whipped one off the many pillows on the bed while Davian unhooked her bra.

  “That should work.” Schaeffer placed the silvery-blue satin over her back, and Davian eased her down to the mattress, draping a towel over her breasts.

  As the doctor prepped the syringe, Davian cautioned, “Not too much. She has to be able to feel something specific beyond the combination of all her wounds, but be sedated just enough to reach past the pain to heal.”

  “Yes,” she concurred, though her eyes remained closed and her voice was barely audible.

  Davian delicately removed her pants and Morgan handed him another towel so he could pat down her wet skin. Then he pulled the sheet and comforter over her, up to her ribcage, trying to warm her.

  “I’ll tend to the fires,” Morgan said. “Then I’ll alert Sheena.”

  Schaeffer told him, “I’ve never taken care of Jade before. Or her father. He’d never been sick a day in his life, nor has she.”

  “She possesses some exceptional gifts. Her secrets must stay within these walls.”

  The physician’s chest puffed. “I’ve been practicing medicine for nearly fifty years, your Majesty. I value doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “Good, because you’re going to get an eyeful this evening.” He dragged a chair over to the bed for the doctor. “Just be extremely gentle with her,” he warned.

  Schaeffer looked duly advised—and now a bit unnerved.

  Davian sighed. Bring it down a notch. Don’t scare the hell out of someone who can assist Jade.

  But he was on edge. So much so, he paced the foot of the bed as the doctor tightened a leather strip around Jade’s upper arm and then rubbed alcohol on the inner crook of her elbow. Locating the vein he wanted, he pricked her with the needle.

  Jade screamed bloody murder.

  Davian pinched the bridge of his nose. The physician did not give up his post, but administered the drug, tidied up and then stood. That was when Davian saw how pale he’d gone.

  “It was just a needle,” Schaeffer said in his defense.

  Davian fought the wave of protectiveness that made him want to strangle anyone who caused Jade pain.

  “She feels sensations acutely,” he explained between clenched teeth. “Probably more so tonight because of the multitude and severity of her wounds.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I know.” He waved a hand dismissively, more so to help calm himself than the doctor. “I should have told you. Or thought about…a drinkable form?” Damn it, dealing with human painkillers wasn’t his forte.

  “I’ll leave something with you,” the other man said. “In the meantime, I have to stitch the chest wound. Immediately.”

  Davian could see by the look in Schaeffer’s eyes that he was reluctant to hurt Jade further—especially when it might set-off Davian—but that he ultimately refused to be sent away before he’d finished what he’d started.

  Davian continued his pacing. But hastily made his decision. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  He toed off his boots before reaching for the towel he’d discarded. After drying his black leather pants, he hauled off his drenched shirt so he didn’t soak the linens. He climbed into bed next to Jade, on the opposite side of where the doctor prepared to work on her.

  The prospect of tapping into her mind wasn’t an appealing one at this point. Already knowing she was in extreme pain, he didn’t relish the idea of experiencing exactly how much pain she was in.

  He stretched alongside her, vigilant about neither jarring her nor touching her. His eyes closed and he pushed past her suffering, which clouded his own mind. Her agony was nearly debilitating for him—because it was Jade’s. The woman…the human…he loved.

  It took some effort on his part to conjure a soothing mental image in which to engage her. The key was to occupy her subconscious and create some sort of peaceful state for her, as he’d done the last time she’d been badly injured.

  Choosing a gorgeous locale, he envisioned them in a lush, tropical hideaway. A tepid, turquoise pool at the bottom of a tall waterfall, surrounded by rich, vibrant foliage—knowing her love of color. She swam toward him, though the pool was shallow enough for her to stand in it when she reached him, the water rib-high for her.

  He visualized her with her beautiful face completely healed, not a scratch on it. Her long, raven hair was wet and slicked back. Droplets rolled down her throat and between the valley of her bare breasts. The cut on the left side of her chest had sealed and her skin was flawless. He reached a hand out to her and lightly trailed his fingers along her collarbone.

  “You’re perfect,” he told her.

  She smiled at him.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. A slow, deep lip-lock. Her body melded to his and she wound her arms around his neck. Davian let the kiss go on and on. His hands roamed her backside, along her spine and down to her ass. He kneaded the flesh, while keeping her tight against him. His erection pressed to her belly, but he was in no hurry. He enjoyed the feel of her body and the taste of her warm, supple lips.

  When she jerked in his arms, Davian knew the doctor had started stitching her up. In his fantasy, Davian ended the kiss and floated on his back to a smaller waterfall. Her arms were still around him and she drifted with him. He sat on a flat rock with the water flowing behind him, breaking against his shoulders. She straddled his lap, her palms splaying over his pecs.

  “You’re more breathtaking than ever,” he said, willing her to see herself healed. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. His hands cupped her breasts and he tenderly massaged them before sweeping his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. She sighed lustily and sank onto his hard cock, taking him deep within her.

  Davian groaned. “I love how you feel. So tight and wet. So enticing.”

  Moving with him, her hips undulated and her head fell back. He kissed her throat. Having her in his arms was pleasure enough, but with her pussy clenching and releasing his cock, his arousal soared. His lips skimmed over her skin, just below her ear.

  “I meant what I said at the church, Jade. I do love you.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, and clutched him tighter. He wasn’t experienced enough with using a fantasy to calm her mind to fully understand the nuances, but he suspected that if she spoke, it would pull her attention away from her other efforts, so he didn’t expect her to answer him.

  Though she was clearly capable of responding to him with her body. She rode him slowly as the water cascaded over them, the gentle flow creating a soothing sound. The sky above was cloudless and bright blue. The rustling of leaves from a summer breeze and the chirping of birds surrounded them.

  The environment was serene and sensuous and he would have prolonged their time there as long as possible, but she gasped. Davian’s eyes flew open.

  “I’m finished,” Schaeffer said.

  Davian glanced down at the stitches over Jade’s left breast. The physician had apparently dabbed the wound with iodine, which was likely what had caught her off guard.

  Her sooty lashes fanned in crescents under her eyes with the lids closed and her breathing was choppy. Schaeffer checked her pulse and recorded it on a sheet of paper.

  “A little better,” he said. “It should continue to get stronger. Some of the cuts on her face have already healed.” He stared at her in awe.

  “Michael?” she whispered.

  Davian’s jaw naturally tightened at the other man’s name.

  “He’ll be fine,” the doctor assured her. “He has a dislocated shoulder, but I’ve already seen to it. Walker brought him to me earlier.”

  Davian asked, “What happened to him?”

  “Wraith’s horse,” Jade said.

  He didn’t have to ask her why Michael had been at the cottage earlier. It was Jade’s birthday, after all. A
nd they were friends.

  He told her, “Dr. Schaeffer says Michael is fine. Now you’ve got to help yourself along.”

  She swallowed hard. “I need to sleep.”

  Not exactly what Davian wanted to hear, since it slowed the healing process. But he could understand how exhausted she’d be.

  The physician deposited a bottle of morphine on the nightstand and packed up. Then he said, “Check her pulse regularly. She’s improving, but should be monitored closely for the next twenty-four hours or so.” He studied her a moment longer before adding, “I don’t understand how the blood soaks into her skin.”

  “It’s a strange phenomenon for a human, obviously. But she can repair herself if she has the energy—and needs the blood to do it.”

  “This is…extraordinary.”

  “Yes, she is.” Davian glanced down at her again. “She just needs to believe it.”

  “Well. There’s nothing more I can do for her right now, but if anything erratic does happen tonight, send for me.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to have my assistant pay your bill expeditiously.”

  The doctor spared one more look at Jade. “I’d like to continue to follow her progress, if you wouldn’t mind, your Highness. And tend to her burns as soon as it’s safe to move her.”

  “I’d prefer that, in fact. But she does seem to require lengthy sleeping periods when she’s injured.”

  “I’ll leave my visits to your discretion, then.”

  Davian experienced a moment of hesitancy as his concern for Jade’s condition caused him to wonder whether he and Sheena could aid in nursing her back to health this time. Her wounds were much greater this evening than with the broken hand and wrist.

  But as her breathing turned steadier with sleep, not as labored as it had been previously, he said, “Please come by late morning. That should give her some time to heal more—you’ll likely be able to remove the stitches at that point.”

  “Very good.”

  Davian saw Schaeffer out of the cottage and then noticed the bottle of wine on the accent table in the living room. He found a collection of small juice glasses in her tiny kitchen and poured a hearty amount of the merlot into one. He sat bedside, trying to gauge Jade’s improvements.

  The laceration on her chest still appeared angry and red, despite being laced up. He couldn’t see if she’d made any headway with her back, since she lay propped against the pillows. From the way she occasionally squirmed on the bed, he deduced not.

  He sipped the wine and tried to get his anxiety under control. When he felt he could speak calmly and rationally—without his deepest fears of whether she’d live or die edging his tone—he leaned close to her and spoke. It was a gamble when trying to help her recover, like every other chance he’d taken along that vein. But perhaps his voice might keep her fighting…

  “I told you I’ve regretted the result of the war,” he quietly said. “But I didn’t tell you why.”

  He pulled in a full breath. Held it in his lungs for a spell. Then exhaled on a long stream, steeling himself for another confession.

  “My great-grandfather attempted to rally the first revolution against the humans in the late 1300s. His reign, however, eventually passed without any success toward his mission. Centuries later, my grandfather felt he was in the position to take up the quest, when settlers came to North America and the territory wasn’t so heavily populated with humans. Sometime thereafter, my father followed suit with his plans for war. All three failed in mobilizing a substantial—and cohesive—enough force to accomplish their goals. Or persuade others of military influence and importance to rise up and join the movement across the continents.”

  Davian sipped before continuing.

  “Transporting demons from landmass to landmass in order to build armies proved too challenging an effort to undertake. The vampires couldn’t resist the human blood on the ships that crossed the ocean. The shifters couldn’t survive the captivity. And other preternatural beings had difficulty going undetected. There were many demonic possessions during those times and most of the passenger ships began carrying priests on board to perform exorcisms.”

  Sailing the Atlantic from Europe to America in the mid-1800s had proved difficult for Davian as well, mostly because he’d abhorred the isolation and lack of physical space.

  “The demon world hadn’t been able to form a war strategy with all the disjointed factions and their idiosyncrasies. Not to mention their various politics that couldn’t be reconciled or coalesced. Each group had their own idea of the power they purportedly possessed and how significant they thought their kind was. Unity had not been possible.”

  With a sigh of irritation over the demon drama, he told her, “Then I came of age, so to speak, around my two-hundredth birthday. I studied the potential of the demon community for a long time and it suddenly fell into place for me. I realized that every type of demon also requires what humans thrive upon—leadership. Whether the dominant political stance is fully agreed upon or not, every species looks to a leader to guide them. I merely had to find common ground to band them all together.”

  Jade stirred and her head rolled toward him. She didn’t open her eyes, but she said in a scratchy voice, “You told me you didn’t agree with any of this.”

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I didn’t. Yet it was my destiny, according to my father, to discover the key to unleashing the demons on the human world in order to conquer it.”

  “What was the common ground?”

  “You’ll cringe at the irony of this.”

  She licked her lips, reminding him to dab balm on them, which the doctor had also left. “Tell me.”

  When he was done with the moisturizer, Davian let out a hollow laugh and said, “Freedom.”

  That one word held numerous connotations.

  “For the demons,” he continued, “if we usurped human power, the various species wouldn’t have to hide in the woods or attempt to conceal their true identities to avoid being hunted by slayers—or become caged, experimental subjects for government research or private agencies. They could roam the lands and take advantage of everyday life without always looking over their shoulder. They only had to follow a few simple rules when the conflict was over, and I found a vast portion of them in agreement with my laws, because they no longer felt threatened by the human populace.”

  She was clearly groggy, but asked, “Why destroy all the cities? Burn the buildings?”

  Davian winced with more regret. “I never advocated that sort of mass destruction, but it went well beyond my control. Demons are simple creatures. We don’t care for modern technology or advancements. Most immortals hoped to restore the region to the way it had been even before the Pilgrims arrived. We like nature, not skyscrapers. Fresh air, not smog.”

  “Pictures,” she said. “I’ve seen pictures of the brown layer along the horizon. It’s rather disgusting.”

  “Doesn’t exist anymore. But then again,” he said, reflective, “neither do a lot of the comforts your kind was used to.”

  “Hard to miss what you never had.”

  He tried to take solace in that statement, but it didn’t fully register.

  What about the humans who had experienced those comforts? What about medical equipment that would outfit a hospital capable of caring for someone like Jade—or her friend Michael—at a time such as this?

  Obviously, Davian could drive himself mad contemplating these things. Instead, he said, “Back to sleep.”

  “Okay. But…keep talking. Please. Even if you’re just reading to me. Your voice is soothing.”

  After retrieving Alice in Wonderland from the living room, he settled next to Jade again. She was soundly out, but he did as she asked. Would do anything she asked of him, Davian already knew, short of helping her to end her existence prematurely.

  Several days passed, with Sheena joining the convalescence effort. She served Jade water and broth when she was awake. Then Davian carried Jade
to a cool bath to relieve some of the sting of her burns, which she hadn’t yet been able to heal—and they didn’t seem to be improving on their own.

  The doctor advised him not to disturb the blisters or peel the dead skin away, reiterating the layer beneath would be too vulnerable to infection. Unfortunately, it was difficult trying to keep her back cool and the rest of her warm.

  Davian remained vigilant, though. And Sheena was no less supportive. Sometimes, she even sent him away when he was wound too tight with emotion. He went, not because he’d ever taken orders from anyone other than his father, but because he knew it was best for his own sanity. Sheena never wavered in occupying the chair next to Jade’s bed, reading to her as he’d done.

  A week after the attack, Jade’s pulse was strong and steady, satisfactory to Schaeffer. Her stitches had dissolved into her skin before the physician had even had the chance to remove them and there wasn’t a trace of a scar. The cuts on her face and arms had also disappeared, and her cracked rib seemed to be only mildly tender. Yet her back was still ravaged, because it didn’t heal at the accelerated rate.

  In fact, both Schaeffer and Davian noted the injury seemed barely to heal at all. The doctor eventually cut away the skin from the popped blisters, but the raw layer beneath continued to bleed. He gave Davian a heavy antibiotic cream to slather on her skin, now that Jade was able to lie on her stomach.

  Another week went by. Davian stretched alongside her on the bed one afternoon. Sheena always returned to the castle before dawn and then came to the cottage after dusk, usually with a fresh set of sheets and another clean comforter for Jade.

  The house was quiet, save for Jade’s breathing and the crackle of the fire. He’d finished Alice in Wonderland and three other books Lisette had sent over with one of the slayers, since they’d informed the villagers Jade needed to recover without interruptions.