The Demon King's Destiny

by C. A. Worley

  “This arrived just before your return this evening.”

  Favin handed Marrok the missive. The dark green wax seal marked it as King Edward’s. It took Marrok a second to reach for it.

  He’d approached the elemental three times now. The first time, Marrok was very direct, offering an alliance in exchanged for Evelyn’s hand. “Regretfully, I am not entertaining any marriage offers at this time for any of my children” was his short reply. Marrok had thrown it in the fireplace.

  The second reply was plainly insulting to Evelyn. Marrok suspected Edward’s negative view of his daughter’s maturity was just a ruse to get Marrok to back off.

  With the third letter, the last one he told himself he’d send before riding to Gwydion, he’d been honest—mostly. He’d confessed to Edward that he’d had dreams of Evelyn and suspected she could potentially be his saatus.

  It should have been enough for Edward to consider. No beings of Imperium dared to mess with Fate unless absolutely unable to do otherwise. Even Marrok had learned his lesson.

  He simply wanted a meeting with both Edward and Evelyn. If he could get that far, Marrok could emphatically confirm for Edward what he already knew, that Evelyn was his destiny.

  “Well, are you going to open it or burn holes in it with your eyes?” Danil goaded.

  “I don’t recall inviting you in here,” Marrok responded.

  “Standing invitation, Sire. You said it once, some fifty years ago. I didn’t forget.”

  “What a wonderfully long memory you have,” Marrok muttered as he snatched the parchment from Favin and broke the seal.

  Danil quietly approached, more interested than he would ever admit. He and Favin watched Marrok’s eyes scan the lines. Neither had found their own mates, nevertheless, they were happy for their friend.

  Unfortunately, if King Edward could not be brought around, diplomacy would get thrown out the window. Things hadn’t gotten that far. Yet.

  Marrok lowered the letter to the desk. His expressionless face told them nothing.

  “Well?” Danil blurted.

  “I’ve been invited to the royal residence.”

  Favin inclined his head, delighted. “I’ll make preparations—”

  “No. He’ll not see me until the new moon after the summer solstice.”

  “That’s six months away.”

  “I’m aware, Favin. It’s just after his youngest will be married off to the Wolf King of the North. I assume he’s not inclined to let go of all his daughters until he has to. Out of respect for their familial bond, you will reply we are agreeable.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in my quarters the rest of the night.”

  Marrok rose and exited his study. He hadn’t realized the weight he’d been carrying over Edward’s unwillingness to consider him a suitor. It bothered him far more than it should have.

  He didn’t need to be liked by the male. Rather, he wanted to be deemed worthy of Evelyn. He’d had enough wretchedness in his life. It was time for some degree of happiness.

  When he reached the stairs, he was already unbuttoning his shirt, jogging up the incline. He wanted to see Evelyn and give her the good news.

  Aside from his issue with Edward, these past few months had been some of the best of his life. Things in Sundari were calmer. His kingdom had willingly jumped on board with his plan for them to find their mates and hopefully save the rogues.

  Dreamwalking was now effortless. He only had to think Evelyn’s name and he entered her dreamworld as soon as he fell asleep. The nights they spent together were filled with passion and a natural state of togetherness. Being with Evelyn was easy.

  Unlike Melena, Evelyn wasn’t reserved. She didn’t hold herself back where he had to constantly guess what was on her mind. She was an open book, speaking more frankly with him than anyone ever had. They discussed anything and everything.

  When they weren’t talking, they were in the bed she’d made for them. Her appetite for him was staggering. When he finally retrieved her from Gwydion, he intended to lock them both away for days, reacquainting himself with every facet of her form.

  Entering his chamber, he removed his clothing as he walked, tossing each item aside on the way to the bed. A soft clank echoed off the stone floor.

  Crouching to lift his trousers, he noticed the chain of Melena’s necklace poking out. He’d continued keeping it in his pocket all this time. Neither wanting to wear it nor to put it away.

  It had become more habit than need. Marrok picked it up and looked around the room. Finding what he needed, he strode to the desk in the corner and tugged the small handle on the front. He spared one more swipe with his thumb across the cool silver then lowered it into the drawer.

  It was time to let go of the past and run straight into his future.

  * * *

  When Evelyn materialized in the meadow, she didn’t see Marrok. She could feel him through their bond so she knew he was near.

  Allowing her senses to lead her, she rounded their table and started on the path that led to their little haven. Cylindric lanterns, hanging from branches, were lit all along the trail. Marrok must have added them when he arrived.

  Her bare feet grazed across smooth velvet. Frowning, she bent and picked up a pink oval off the ground. Petals. He’d covered the trail in flower petals.

  Just ahead, surrounding their oasis, at least a dozen more lanterns swung gently in the night breeze. Evelyn could see Marrok’s large outline, backlit by the rays of light breaking through the trees. Tonight, he came to her in nothing but his unbelted pants, which usually meant he was in an eager mood.

  She ran into his awaiting arms, as they did each week now. He lifted her easily and her legs wrapped around his waist. The movement caused her nightgown to ride up. Electric currents zapped wherever their skin touched. His fingers dug into her backside where he held her aloft.

  Evelyn bent, rubbing the side of her face against his. Marrok had told her this was how demon mates typically greeted one another and showed affection. Then, lovingly, they shared a brief kiss.

  He sat with her straddling his legs, lifting her gown over her head. She could feel his erection through the fabric of his trousers and she shifted to center the pressure against her core.

  Marrok nipped her lip. “Patience, my mate.”

  “Says the male who stripped me naked the second I was in his arms.”

  “Someone is feeling saucy this night.”

  Evelyn rocked her hips, groaning. “I am.”

  The amber of his eyes flamed bright, yet his hands stilled her motion. “We’ll get to that in a moment. We need to talk first.”

  “Oh, yes! I have news.”

  “I do, as well.”

  Evelyn beamed. “You heard from my father.”

  “I did. Did he tell you or were you spying on him again?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Spying, then.”

  She playfully slapped his arm. “Fine. I overheard he was inviting you for a visit after Nora’s binding ceremony.”

  “Yes. Wait, binding ceremony? Are they not having a formal wedding?” They were royalty, joining two kingdoms through marriage. It was almost expected to have a large wedding.

  “No. They’ve decided they will ride to Castle Burghard immediately afterwards and neither Nora nor Kellan wanted any fanfare about it.”

  Marrok hadn’t considered anything other than a full-scale royal wedding for he and Evelyn. Though Melena hadn’t been of royal blood, Marrok was a prince when they wed and Brennen had forced the entire kingdom to celebrate and acknowledge it.

  “And what do you want, sweet Evelyn? For us?”

  Her mouth twisted in that adorable way she always did when she was thinking. “I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it. I only think about a life with you, not about a wedding.”

  His saatus wasn’t like other females he knew, especially those who came from wealth. Evelyn humbled him with her adm
ission. He’d wrongfully assumed she’d been dreaming of some grand ceremony when she’d only been thinking of him.

  “Think about it, then. I want you to have whatever you want. I’ll be knocking on your door before you know it, and I have no intention of waiting months and months to call you my wife.”

  “And what Marrok wants, Marrok gets,” she teased, feathering her lips across his while reaching down to unbutton his pants.

  “So it would seem,” his gravelly voice pushed into her skin. He could scent the flood of her arousal, calling to him.

  Flipping them over, he tore off his trousers and pushed deep inside his mate. They could discuss trivialities later.

  Chapter 18

  Two days before the summer solstice …

  For what felt to be the twentieth time, Evelyn rolled to her side and tried to fall asleep. As Nora’s wedding drew closer, sleep had become more and more difficult.

  She’d believed that once her father had agreed to meet with Marrok, her problems were solved. She found, however, the closer the date came, the more anxious she became. The more anxious she became, the more intruding her dreams became.

  She’d been dreaming of Marrok’s past off and on for well over a year now. Evelyn had gotten used to it and sometimes looked forward to knowing his life. The opportunity to learn his thinking and emotions reinforced what she already knew—his strength of character was absolute.

  Most of the time, the experience was positive, making her feel like she knew him inside and out. A glimpse into his psyche here and there was something she could look forward to seeing. Lately, she’d been pulled into his past more and more often, sometimes several times in a night. Now, she dreaded it.

  Over the past month or so, she dreamt almost exclusively of Melena. It was never easy feeling Marrok’s love for another. Evelyn did her best to tamp down her jealousy and watch each scene objectively. There had to be a sound reason these particular memories were surfacing.

  She always informed Marrok of what she’d seen, allowing him to pull the memories from her. He was very open and it helped when they talked through it.

  Neither of them had professed love for the other, but Evelyn knew she loved him. She knew he was capable of feeling the same and she hoped that was the lesson she was to learn.

  The only awkwardness between Evelyn and Marrok were the few times the dreams had shown Melena moving her mouth without sound. It bothered Marrok he had no recollection of it and he would retreat inside himself for a short time, processing. Evelyn had a nagging suspicion it was a significant part of his past.

  Irritated, she rolled again and focused on her breathing. Eventually, sleep pulled her under its dark veil. When the blackness faded, she found herself in the same hall where Marrok had first been introduced to Melena.

  Marrok was standing at the foot of the dais, facing the back of the room. The entire space was packed with demons. Greenery accented with bloodred lilies hung on the walls and along the benches.

  A harp played a haunting melody somewhere nearby. It was familiar—an ancient wedding march used in old-fashioned ceremonies. A figure clad in gold was gliding up the aisle. A female.

  Evelyn could feel Marrok’s tightening throat as if it were her own. His palms were sweating, his heart thumping. Nothing shall ever compare to this moment. In this moment, I am complete.

  His thoughts were tiny daggers stabbing at Evelyn’s heart. She fought against the pain. It was his wedding. He was marrying his love. Marrok was entitled to these feelings, had earned them with his good deeds and unpolluted heart.

  It’s in the past, she told herself. Evelyn would not allow her jealousy to grow and affect their future. She would be better than that.

  Melena approached alone, without a male to give her away. Her face was visible through the sheer fabric covering her head. Her eyes stared straight ahead, towards the throne where Brennen currently sat. Not so much as a glance was awarded to the waiting groom.

  Despite Marrok’s internal joy, Evelyn felt everything about it was cheerless. Wrong, even. No one smiled. No happy faces or tender gazes endorsed this rite.

  The atmosphere was akin to a funeral march. Marrok appeared to be oblivious, his love for his bride outshining the shadows of the day. Before Evelyn could put her finger on why she felt this way, the dream dissolved away and she arrived in a different scene.

  Melena’s face was close to hers. No, she was staring at a reflection in a full-length mirror. Evelyn’s essence was inside Melena, not Marrok. Helplessly, she watched Melena adjust her tight-fitting red dress and smooth down her long black hair.

  Evelyn caught sight of a male’s face. His narrow nose and arched brow were the same as Melena’s.

  “You’ll not tell him, Melena.”

  “Really, Cousin. You overstep.”

  Melena’s voice was clear and sharp, but she was having difficulty locking down her fear. Evelyn couldn’t decipher enough to understand what was scaring Melena.

  Her hand reached for the top of her strapless gown only to have it snatched away into her cousin’s painful grip. “Do not test me on this. You’ll not like the consequences.”

  Melena’s fear morphed into anger. “Brennen is the king. Not Marrok. Even if Marrok was on the throne, I’m not stupid enough to get either of us killed. Although, I doubt he’d lay a hand to me. You, however, might want to worry about your own neck.”

  “And what do you think will happen if I die? You’re my heir, Melena. Don’t ever forget it.”

  The male let go of her and stormed away. Melena lifted her shaking hand and pressed the palm to the skin over her heart. Over my dead body, the she-demon vowed.

  Again the scene dissolved and Evelyn was thrust into another. It was dark and she was outside, next to a large stone wall, the kind built to keep invaders out. A nearby torch emitted enough light she could see a cloaked figure standing far closer than was polite.

  It handed her a corked vial. The cool glass chilled her fingers. The liquid within hummed with power. Dark power.

  “I have your assurance this will work?” Melena’s voice whispered.

  “It will. You know I want what you are to give me. There’s no reason for me to swindle you. Only, be sure to drink it all if you want it to happen quickly.”

  Evelyn couldn’t see the face but the voice was distinctly male. Melena’s chest was rising and falling far too fast. Her trembling hands lowered the vial into a small pouch tied to her waist.

  When she turned to step away, the male’s hand grabbed her wrist. Firmly, but without aggression.

  “You are his wife, Melena. His love is obvious. So much so it’s nauseating to behold. You don’t have to make this choice. If he remains in Sundari, the odds of him finding her are slim to none.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand, Bogdan.”

  “No, I don’t understand. If you go through with this, you know we will be forced to act. It is our duty to Imperium.”

  “No, you won’t. Marrok is not the king. There will be no need for anyone to do anything to him as long as Brennen holds the crown.”

  “Marrok is Brennen’s only heir.”

  “Brennen may yet produce one with his saatus. I’ve seen snippets of the future, of rogues finding their mates in mass numbers. He could be one of them. It would settle him.”

  “The future is not set in stone, Melena.”

  “You’re right. My visions alter over time. Only one has never changed. Marrok and I will never produce a child.”

  A haunting ache rolled through Melena, her hand settling over her abdomen, over the womb which would never carry young.

  “When,” Melena swallowed, “when I’ve seen his young, they’re not mine. His first has a head of auburn hair, which means his mate is not demon. The vision alters in location, in clothing, in time of year. It never alters with the child’s odd coloring or with whom he has created life. I’m not …” she shook her head, eyes glassing over.

  She sniffled and took a c
leansing breath, getting the upper hand on her emotions. “One way or another, his fate lies elsewhere. Who am I to stand between Marrok and his saatus?”

  The male released her wrist. “Would that we all could love as selflessly as you, my lady.” A note of respect hinted in his deep voice.

  She laughed without humor. “Better my heart explode at my own hand than force my husband to do it for me.”

  Melena turned and walked into the shadows of the wall. Evelyn’s mind was spinning, her heart breaking for both Marrok and Melena. The she-demon had taken her own life. She’d done it to ensure Marrok could be with his mate.

  The guilt was a crushing weight. Did Marrok even know? Suddenly, the dream shifted. She was standing in front of a white stone structure. A tomb.

  Evelyn was inside Marrok again. One hand resting on the cool marble, his other tracing the inscription with his fingertips. She could easily make out the dark lettering contrasting with the white. The phrase below the deceased’s name stood out the most.

  SAKANA ZENA, UVEK. Beloved wife, always.

  His mood was dark, his grief overwhelming, accented with a heavy undercurrent of rage. His breathing was ragged and his eyes burned, though no tears were shed.

  Marrok’s despair was Evelyn’s. She couldn’t escape it. It stole her breath—Marrok’s breath. It twisted and pulled his insides, tying them both in knots.

  I loved you, he spoke in his head to his wife. Evelyn felt like an intruder, like she shouldn’t witness this private moment.

  I will never love another. Never. There is nothing left in me for anyone else. I didn’t care that your visions never showed us with young. I was content to merely hold you forever. It was all I ever wanted. I may very well find my mate. Goddess help her because all she’ll get is the shell you left behind.

  “Damn you, Melena,” he whispered aloud, bowing his head. “Damn you for condemning me to this hell.”

  Evelyn awoke, her face covered in tears, her heart torn wide open for the male who mourned his lost love.