Claimed by a Demon King

by Felicity Heaton

  The barbed dart embedded into the demon’s left thigh and he grunted, his eyes glowing crimson as he turned his attention on her. Good. She had to give Thorne a moment to recover his wits and get back in the fight.

  The warrior stomped towards her, blood pulsing down his leg with each step, turning his black leathers slick and shiny. He growled, his top lip peeling back off his fangs, and shook his head. His dusky horns curled further, forming a loop and flaring forwards into twin dangerous points near his cheekbones.

  Sable made a mental note to avoid them and drew the short blade strapped to her other thigh, ready to fight him. He swung the moment he was within reach and she ducked beneath the long silver blade, rolled forwards and came to her feet behind him. She slashed up his back, her knife splitting tanned flesh and scraping over bone, and grinned as he arched forwards and roared.

  The thrill chasing through her blood increased, consuming her, driving her to keep going and embrace wildness it unleashed within her. She had been born to fight monsters and she felt it now more than ever as she faced off against the enormous demon males, swiftly calculating their every move before they could make it, ready for anything.

  Sable grabbed a bolt with a thick cylinder on the end from her quiver pouch. Explosive dart. God she loved these things. She loaded it onto the small crossbow and swung to her left, aiming at the group of males storming towards her.

  She grinned and pulled the trigger.

  A large bloodstained hand clamped down on the weapon, grasping it and holding the bolt in place.

  Sable growled in frustration and released her crossbow, leaving it in the demon’s hand. She thrust hard with her blade, blindly stabbing at her new enemy.

  The huge male grabbed her wrist before she could drive the cold steel into his flesh. The tip pressed into his muscular chest and she froze when she realised it was Thorne frowning down at her, his rough masculine features crinkled in confusion.

  “You seek to harm me, Little Female? I thought we had discussed this before?”

  His deep gravelly voice washed over her and his thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. Sable trembled. The hot shivery ache rolling through her increased in intensity as he tugged on her wrist, gently drawing her closer to him, his red gaze holding hers, commanding and powerful. She couldn’t break its hold on her. She tilted her head right back, lost in his eyes as he towered over her, making her feel small and weak, vulnerable to him.

  Sable dropped her blade, the clang of it hitting the stone slabs beneath her feet jarring in the thick silence. She breathed hard, firmly under his spell and unable to form a response.

  She had forgotten just how gorgeous he was and how his presence lit her up inside like fireworks on November fifth.

  “Well?” Thorne cocked his head to one side and a hank of wild red-brown hair fell down onto his bloodstained brow.

  Sable slowly shook her head and forced words up her dry throat and past her lips. “I was trying to help.”

  A smile worked its way onto his firm lips and he flashed short fangs. “That is very kind of you… but I do not require your assistance to spar with my men.”

  Spar?

  Sable inched her gaze towards the demon males to her left. They had all stopped and were staring at her. She looked to her other side, at her team and the elves, and cringed. None of them had moved. She alone had leapt into the fray.

  A blush burned up her cheeks before she could stop it. Thorne canted his head again, raised his free hand and lightly brushed the backs of his short claws across her left cheek. She shuddered under the gentle caress, her pulse quickening for a different reason as the heat burning inside her exploded into wildfire. She had to get a grip. This was a mission.

  “Did you believe me to be under attack?” he husked in a low, quiet voice that sent a fierce shiver through her, cranking up her temperature another thousand degrees.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She nodded, and admitting it left her feeling like a fool.

  “And you came to my aid?” Had he moved closer to her? His breath washed over her cheek, moist and hot, smelling faintly of something sweet and the coppery tang of blood.

  Sable nodded again.

  “You are but a little mortal female… yet you desired to fight all these demon males in order to protect me?”

  When he put it like that, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing harder. She had reacted on instinct but the tone of his voice and the way he drew her closer still, until she could feel his heat rolling off him and over her, told her that he thought she did it because she felt something for him.

  Desired him.

  She cleared her throat, finally locked down her emotions and found her voice again, and even the courage to lift her gaze to his. “Not out of favouritism or anything. I’m here on a mission and that mission entails protecting you and your kingdom from demons. I saw you battling a score of demons and I did my duty.”

  She twisted her hand free of his grip and hated the sharp disappointed edge his eyes gained. It made her feel like a bitch. She grabbed her blade from the dark stone pavement and jammed it into its sheath, and then snatched up her crossbow and checked it over, taking her time about it, stewing under the intense heat of his gaze.

  Sable kept her head bent and holstered her crossbow and the unused explosive dart. Thorne continued to stare at her. So did everyone else. She was not going to blush. She racked her brain, trying to think of something to say to make everything go back to normal, and diligently kept her gaze away from Thorne.

  She had also forgotten how impossibly tight his dark mahogany leather trousers were. They clung to his muscular thighs, stretched over them like a second skin, held closed by criss-crossed lacing over his crotch.

  Not staring. Not staring.

  Her eyes betrayed her, leaping to the impressive bulge in his trousers, and she forced it upwards before anyone noticed. Thorne’s gaze locked with hers again, holding her immobile.

  “I’ll need my blades and bolts back now,” she muttered, not quite with the world or aware of what she was saying.

  Thorne nodded. “Of course.”

  He signalled his men and Sable realised just what she had asked, and felt dismal as the men immediately tore the barbed darts and throwing knives from their flesh without giving a single grunt or revealing a flicker of the pain they must have experienced.

  They came forwards and placed the weapons into Thorne’s outstretched hand. He wiped the blood off them on his leather trousers and then held them out to her.

  Sable swallowed her guilt and took them from him. She slipped the blades away beneath her arms and put the darts back in her quiver. The silence in the courtyard thickened again. She wasn’t sure what to do. She had made one hell of a first impression—on her team, on the elves, on the demons.

  On Thorne.

  She wanted to groan and bury her head in her heads.

  She needed a do-over on everything after she had appeared in the Third Realm. It really hadn’t gone as planned.

  Sable tossed Olivia a look and her friend wiped the smile off her face and nudged Loren. The tall, slender elf prince looked down at his mate, his black eyebrows pinned high on his forehead. Olivia gave a subtle jerk of her chin towards Sable. Loren looked her way and understanding dawned in his purple eyes.

  “King Thorne.” Loren broke away from his legion and Olivia, and crossed the short distance to the demon male.

  Thorne’s gaze finally left Sable. “Prince Loren.”

  Sable seized her chance to slink back unnoticed to her team. Some of them gave her funny looks. She ignored them and Bleu’s inquisitive stare and checked her team over, making sure they had all arrived safely.

  Thorne’s focus landed back on her. She could feel it whenever it happened. A shockwave of heat rippled through her, awareness so intense that she could almost pinpoint how far he was from her and could visualise the way he was looking at her. Whenever he looked away, returning his attention to Loren,
cold stole through her, fierce and frigid.

  She rubbed her wrist, her actions mimicking the light stroke of Thorne’s thumb over her tattoo. It ached and burned. Had she hurt it in training? Or was it a response to the way Thorne had caressed that patch of skin?

  She gathered herself, squared her shoulders, turned on the spot and calmly strode back to Thorne and Loren.

  The two tall men looked at her. Their height and fangs were the only things they had in common. Loren was unnaturally beautiful, lithe and held an air of darkness around him that stemmed from more than just his black hair and obsidian armour. Thorne was rugged, immense and had an aura of danger surrounding him that warned even her away.

  His gaze held darkness as he finished discussing the war with Loren.

  She had the answer to one of her questions at least. Thorne was troubled. The war was taking its toll on him, pushing him to his limit, wearing him down.

  “King Thorne,” she said without a trace of tremble in her voice and bowed her head. “I would like to introduce my team.”

  He ran an assessing gaze over them and then returned his attention to her. “Little Female. It is kind of Archangel to send a small contingent of your forces to assist in my demonomachy.”

  Sable bit her tongue, stopping herself from pointing out that she had a name and that this was a large contingent of their forces and all they could spare. She supposed that in comparison to the thousand immortal warriors that Loren had brought with him, her fifty mortal hunters did look rather pathetic.

  “Sable,” Loren started and frowned when Thorne bared his fangs on a growl. Thorne cast his gaze down at his boots and clenched his fists. Loren arched an eyebrow at him, sighed, and continued, “Your hunters must desire to settle themselves in their quarters.”

  Thorne growled again and this time Sable had the impression it was because Loren was suggesting things that he should have thought of and suggested first.

  “That would be good.” Sable kept her focus on Thorne, pretending he had suggested it, hoping to calm him.

  “You men,” Thorne barked and a group of demons near the large arched doorway of the impressive dark grey fortress saluted, pressing their hands to their bare chests. “Show the mortals and elves to their quarters.”

  He signalled another set of males and gestured to the elves standing guard next to the black crates and bags.

  “Take their belongings and follow their instruction to ensure they all end up with their owners.” Thorne glanced at her. “Come.”

  He turned away and walked with Loren towards the arched doorway of the large three-storey stone building that formed a wide corner in the curved courtyard. Arched windows lined the first and second floors, smaller in the longest side of the building to her right but larger and more decorative in the main part ahead of her. A balcony extended to the left of the first upper floor, giving the building a staggered appearance.

  Demons patrolled the battlements at the top of the building and the walls that connected to it.

  It wasn’t a castle as Loren had, with towers and conical roofs, and a verdant courtyard filled with trees, grass and flowering shrubs. It was squat and heavily fortified, and bore the scars of war in many places, the stones cracked or long grooves cut into them. It had been built with defence in mind and reminded her of many of the castles in England or Wales. There was even a well in the courtyard. This place was a military stronghold.

  The demons Thorne had ordered to take her team to their quarters reached her hunters and led them away, speaking in broken English to them. Loren had warned her that only the high-ranking demons could speak her language, and that many of the warriors only understood the demon tongue or could only speak a small amount of English.

  The elves split into groups, some going with the mortals, some following Loren towards the doors, led by Bleu, and others going with Evan to deal with the crates.

  Olivia came over and linked arms with her. “Well, that went well.”

  Sable scowled at her friend. “Don’t start. I really hope I don’t make a fool of myself any more today.”

  “You weren’t to know he was training,” Olivia whispered as they followed Thorne and Loren towards the main building of the large fortress.

  The wall surrounding the courtyard was so high she couldn’t see anything but a strange dark orange sky. Was it day now, or night in this realm? Whenever she left Archangel to come to the elf realm, she ended up at the opposite time of day. She had left in the morning, so this was the evening?

  The elves brought light into their realm via portals. Loren had explained the demon realms had a sort of day and night because the light of the elf kingdom reached far into many of their realms. The sheer number of torches and fires blazing around the courtyard illuminated it as if it was day.

  She guessed there was no shortage of fire in Hell.

  She glanced back at Evan to check on him. He was already glaring at the demons. He looked her way and pointed to a square three-storey building that intersected the wall behind her, opposite the main building. An armoury? There were several buildings like it along the curving wall. Huge demon males prowled the top of the wall between each building, or loitered near their entrances, talking and laughing. Laughing. It was a little weird seeing a demon laugh. She had imagined them all to be as serious as Thorne.

  But even Thorne had smile-lines bracketing his mouth and at the corners of his eyes.

  “Earth… I mean, Hell to Sable?” Olivia nudged her.

  Sable shook herself back to her friend. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She nodded to Evan and he turned back to the demons and elves assisting him. Many of the demons stared at Evan’s tablet as if it were magical, their deep red eyes wide and expressions locked in lines of fascination.

  A few males looked her way as they entered the main building. They grinned and bent their heads together. Whispering about her no doubt. The silly little mortal throwing herself into a battle between two dozen demons to protect their immortal king.

  She groaned.

  Olivia shifted her arm, wrapping it around Sable’s shoulders. “It’s really not that bad.”

  But it was. She wanted to make Bleu take her back to Archangel and find a way to undo the past hour so she could do it all over again.

  “If I look like I’m about to make another tit of myself, do feel free to hit me over the head with something blunt and heavy before it happens.” Sable leaned her head on Olivia’s shoulder and then straightened when Thorne spoke to Loren.

  “I apologise for not being ready for you.” He rubbed a dark cloth over his torso, wiping the blood away. “I thought I had more time.”

  “No need to apologise,” Loren said. “It was our fault. Archangel were eager to send their team in on the mission.”

  Thorne glanced over his right shoulder at Sable, his eyebrows rising. She looked away, locking her gaze on Olivia and Bleu. When had he fallen into step with them?

  She couldn’t look at Thorne. If she did, he was bound to see straight through her and see that she was the reason they were early. Bleu talked to Olivia about Loren and Sable drifted along beside her, not taking in the impressive carved columns that supported the vaulted ceiling in the wide hallway. She was too busy doing her best to ignore Thorne. She could block him out, keeping her eyes off him, but she couldn’t ignore how she felt whenever his gaze landed on her.

  Hot all over. Flushed from the intense feel of his eyes on her.

  Bleu moved around Olivia and her, ending up walking beside her. “You fought well.”

  She shrugged off the compliment, uncomfortable with his praise, and thought of something to say to keep him around. His presence lessened the fierce reaction she had to Thorne’s eyes on her and she needed that right now.

  She had to find her balance again before she did something crazy.

  Like kissing a demon king.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sable entered the main hall with Bleu and Olivia flanking her. Two
rows of three thick stone columns stood on either side of them, cutting twin lines down the centre of the enormous windowless room, framing the path from the arched doorway behind her to the raised semi-circular stone platform at the opposite end of the room. Torches burned in black metal brackets around the columns, bathing the room in warm light that chased all the shadows away and flickered across the vaulted ceiling.

  Loren paused with his group of elves in the centre of the room before her.

  Thorne stepped up onto the stone platform at the end and turned to face them. A large elaborate black throne stood behind him and a huge tapestry depicting a war hung on the wall behind it. He handed his blood-soaked rag to another male demon. This one wore tan trousers and a cream shirt and looked more like a servant, slimmer than the muscle-bound warriors they had left in the courtyard. The man bowed his head and backed away, stepping down from the platform. She frowned at the thick torc around his neck. The twisted bands of red and black looked heavy, closed tightly around his throat.

  Several of the warriors who had been fighting Thorne had worn something similar.

  Bleu looked down at her and then towards the man. He was silent for a moment and then said, “They wear them when they have lost their eternal mate. It is a sign to others, a warning not to speak of females.”

  A widower.

  “Welcome,” Thorne said, his deep voice breaking into her sombre thoughts. “The others will arrive this eve and—”

  A few scantily clad beautiful women came into view and Sable frowned as they fawned over him, praising his fighting and his skill. Thorne waved them away, a bored look on his face. They persisted until he growled and then they strutted away, heading towards the group of demons that had entered behind Sable. Some of the warriors from the training match. Those males lapped up the attention that Thorne had dismissed.