Claimed by a Demon King

by Felicity Heaton

  Olivia took her arm and squeezed it, offering a consolatory smile.

  “You were meant to stop me from making another idiot of myself,” Sable muttered as they slowly approached the huge rectangular table on the semi-circular platform, following Loren and Bleu. Dread knotted her stomach and she glanced at the men settling themselves on the left side of it. Vampires and werewolves. At least she would be seated away from them, at the opposite end of the table.

  “I didn’t really get a chance. Besides, you didn’t exactly make a fool of yourself… or did you? What happened between you and Thorne?”

  Sable wasn’t ready to admit that anything had happened so she kept her head down. She was going to keep it down until the feast was over and she was back in her room. That way, she couldn’t possibly make a tit of herself and she definitely wouldn’t upset Thorne or Bleu, or any other male who decided that she was a prize catch he just had to have.

  Loren took Olivia from her, led her to the table and drew her seat out for her. He took the seat next to her at the end of the table. It all seemed rather civilised again until Sable went to sit between her friend and Bleu. Thorne loomed behind her and pulled her chair out, and she thought he meant to help her sit, but then he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. He marched her along the length of the table, past all of his commanders, who stared in amazement together with the rest of the room.

  Thorne growled at the male seated next to his kingly throne and the demon obediently moved along one place, forcing everyone else to do the same and making Bleu have to move next to Olivia. Thorne hauled the chair out and she half-expected him to shove her onto it.

  He didn’t. He towered over her, waiting.

  Sable looked to Olivia, Loren and Bleu, lovingly eyeing the spot he now occupied. Her spot. A safe spot, away from the madness, where she could just keep her head down and count the minutes until she could return to her room and reflect on how insane her life had just become.

  She sighed and sat on the chair. Thorne grunted something in the demon tongue and carefully eased her up to the table.

  She kept very still as he took his seat beside her.

  The doors burst open and servants poured in, carrying huge silver trays crammed with what she presumed was food.

  Sable took a chance and leaned forwards, peering down the length of the table to Olivia, throwing her a silent plea for help.

  Olivia shrugged. Loren didn’t look as if he could help her either. Bleu just looked as if he wanted to kill something as he stared directly ahead, the muscle in his jaw working overtime and his ears more pointed than she had ever seen them.

  The noise level in the room rose as people began helping themselves to the food as the servants set the trays down on the tables. The conversation around her was certainly flowing smoothly, which would have been a wonderful distraction from her thoughts, except they were all speaking in the demon tongue.

  She didn’t think Thorne or his commanders would appreciate her insulting them so she kept quiet and occupied herself by looking at the trays, finally able to assuage her curiosity about what demons served at a feast.

  The servants were kind enough to fill the plates of those seated at her table.

  Although, when she looked at the dark metal plate before her, she changed her mind and decided they weren’t kind after all. She peered at the questionable things on her plate. Brown things. Grey things. Lumps of something charred. There was a bone or two sticking out of some of them. None of them looked appetizing and one of them definitely resembled a hoof.

  Sable swallowed the bile rising into her mouth and curled her lip in disgust, despair swiftly following that emotion.

  Thorne’s deep rumbling voice disappeared from the conversation around her and she felt the heat of his gaze on her.

  “You are not eating?” He sank his teeth into a limb of some sort and tore the dark pink flesh from it.

  Sable covered her mouth, stifling her need to retch, and mumbled into her palm, “I’m not hungry.”

  His smile faded into a heavy scowl, his dark crimson eyes darting between her and the plate before her as she pushed it away. He pushed it back. She pushed it away. Back. Away. Back.

  “You need to eat. It is good.” He lifted one of the charred lumps towards her.

  Sable shook her head and flicked a look of despair at Olivia, who was prodding a similar plate of meat.

  Loren deftly plucked items resembling vegetables from the platters around them and offered them to Olivia. No one would do that for Sable. Perhaps Bleu would have but she really didn’t want him fussing over her, and not only because it would probably send Thorne into another rage. Could she do that herself?

  Thorne shoved the plate towards again.

  “No, thank you.” She pushed it away and risked a glance at him.

  He was still scowling. He turned his frown on the servers. Was he going to blame them because she wasn’t eating? He looked close to growling again and his horns were curling. He radiated anger and it was all her fault, again. Suck it up. She swallowed to settle her stomach and then picked at the meat with her fork, hoping to calm him and spare his servants.

  Thorne snatched the plate from her, scraped everything off onto his one, and set it back down in front of her. She stared at the empty plate. Oh. She guessed she didn’t get to eat after all. A low snarl escaped him and she almost smiled when she saw the frustration tightening his rough features as his crimson eyes darted around. He looked over her head towards the elves, paused and then set his jaw. Determined? To do what?

  He grimaced as he skewered some things that were possibly vegetable in nature on his claws, very carefully plated them and gently nudged the plate towards her. He gave her a toothy smile when she looked up into his eyes and she had an absurd urge to pet him because he looked as if he was waiting to hear he had done good.

  It was strange having a male see to her needs, let alone a king who was clearly used to not having to care for anyone in this way and was very new to it.

  Sable smiled and his features softened with relief. She picked at the strange roots and greens, feeling his gaze following her every move, sensing his anxiety and anticipation. She blew out her breath and dared to nibble a grey root that could have passed for a sickly carrot.

  It was surprisingly good. Definitely edible. Her smile grew.

  Thorne’s did too and there was a spark in his eyes that set her blood aflame. He was satisfied and she knew it was because he had pleased her. Would he look that way if she confessed that his kiss had been just as delicious?

  The thought of this man looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes overflowing with satisfaction after pleasuring her made her toes curl and she had to fight to push that image away before she gave him the wrong impression. His body was magnificent though, and his kiss had been electric, and the feel of his hands on her butt when he had hauled her over his shoulder…

  Thorne growled low in his throat and she realised she had been staring at his mouth, nibbling on her lower lip, while she had been lost in her thoughts. His dusky brown horns had curled again and he looked as though he was thinking about kissing her too, and she couldn’t have that in front of all these people.

  Sable dragged her gaze from his and focused on her food. Someone filled her clay mug with an amber liquid and she ate a bite of food and then lifted the drink to her lips to wash it down. She took a great gulp and her eyes instantly watered.

  Fire blazed down her throat and combusted in her veins. Her mouth burned like acid and fumes shot up her nose, causing her to choke as she tried to gasp for air.

  Whatever it was, it was stronger than the Hellfire she had tasted at Underworld, a fae-demon club in London.

  She coughed, struggling to breathe, and slammed her hand on the table.

  Thorne curled his hand around her left shoulder, pulled her against his side and raised another cup to her lips. She tried to refuse, didn’t want more of the demon booze, but he tipped her back, forcing her to drink. />
  Cool water rushed past her lips, quenching the fire in her mouth and her stomach, and she lay there in his arms looking up at him, drinking it down and grateful for it.

  Another memory of that night at Underworld overlaid onto the present, a moment when Bleu had held her like this while Olivia had given her water to wash away the fire in her throat. Guilt curled its claws around her heart and she wasn’t sure why. She had never led Bleu on or given him the impression that she wanted him. He had been a fantastic sparring partner and a wonderful source of information, and she liked him as a friend, but he clearly thought something more could happen between them.

  Thorne took the cup away, a beautiful look of concern softening his face, and she didn’t stop him when he rubbed his thumb across her chin, catching the stray drops of water there.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, lost in his crimson eyes and the tenderness in his touch.

  He smiled and he was devastating, setting fire to her blood again and making her insides flutter with need. She looked up at him, trying to force herself to focus on his ridged horns and the fangs that were a constant reminder that he was a demon, hoping they would quench the fire in her heart as the water had cooled the heat in her belly.

  They didn’t.

  He righted her, stabbed a piece of vegetable on his claws and offered it to her. Sable leaned forwards and took it out of politeness, her head a little fuzzy from the grog. He offered another bite, his eyes brimming with curiosity and bright with interest. She took that one too, and the next, and then her reservation melted away and she began to enjoy the way he would carefully select each bite for her, mixing up what he offered, fussing over her.

  He offered a smaller scrap from the plate. Sable went to take it and ended up brushing her lips over his fingertip.

  He growled and her eyes leaped up to his. His gaze burned into her mouth and he looked torn between venturing further with his finger and removing it so he could kiss her.

  What was she doing?

  Her head twirled as she turned towards her friend and her gaze locked on Bleu. He scowled in her direction. Olivia gaped at her.

  Sable blamed the booze. One mouthful had her tipsy and lightheaded, but not drunk enough.

  She grabbed her mug and took smaller sips this time, hiding in it to avoid everyone.

  It was empty before she knew it.

  She stared into the bottom of the clay cup and then looked around the room. Everyone was eating and talking. Boring. This was meant to be a feast. She had always imagined they were jovial affairs, with much laughter and dancing.

  Dancing. She could dance. She wanted to get up on the table and dance to the music floating around the room.

  Music? She didn’t recall there being music before. She looked for the musicians and found none.

  Someone touched her arm and she twisted to look at them. The room whizzed past her eyes, spinning in the opposite direction to her head and her stomach, and she wanted to vomit.

  She needed some air.

  Sable shoved her hands onto the table, pushed herself up and turned around. She fell over her chair, landing in a twisted heap.

  Thorne shot to his feet, darkness flowed into her head and ebbed away again, and she felt as if she was flying.

  She opened her eyes but it wasn’t the burly demon king looking down at her, gently cradling her in his arms.

  Bleu.

  He muttered soft things in his language while his eyes spoke volumes about murder.

  Sable wanted to tell him not to be angry with Thorne but darkness swallowed her.

  CHAPTER 5

  You allowed her to get drunk and now she is in need of her own kind.

  Those words taunted Thorne, spoken with contempt and truth that had stung him. A growl curled up his throat as an image of Bleu holding Sable in his arms, his slender female out cold, tormented him. Fury had driven him to lash out at the elf for daring to speak in such a manner to him and for daring to touch his female, but the male had clung to her, and he hadn’t dared risk it in case he hurt her by mistake.

  Thorne had spent the rest of the night lost in thought, his mind with Sable and his heart compelling him to go to her. His pride and sense of duty had kept him at the feast, overruling his desire to see that Sable was well, and that the bastard elf wasn’t anywhere near her.

  When the banquet had ended, the last guests stumbling their ways back to their rooms, Thorne had remained.

  He paced the raised platform, his wings furled against his bare back, his boots heavy on the stone floor.

  He should have known better than to let her partake of their mead.

  He had been doing well and she had been responding to his kindness, and then she had drunk herself into oblivion. Why?

  He growled and his horns curled around in front of his pointed ears.

  The six guards near the main entrance of the great hall kept their eyes fixed ahead, gazes locked beyond him, as though they did not see their king in turmoil before them, his heart ripped open by a slender, small female, bleeding into the cavity of his chest. That cavity had felt empty before the night he had set eyes on her and had been a source of constant pain since.

  What was he supposed to do now?

  He couldn’t think straight. The whole feast had been a disaster. He had attacked Bleu. Sable had passed out. On top of both of those things, another fight had broken out towards the end of the banquet, this time between the vampires and the elves.

  Three vampires and one elf were now in the wing of the castle currently acting as a hospital. One table and eight chairs were also casualties of the battle and his staff were not impressed. They had limited furniture in storage and the feasts were using most of it in order to seat the visiting armies. It was a headache he didn’t need. Finding quarters to house the thirteen hundred and fifty men and women, while keeping species separated and keeping the mortals safe had been difficult enough. Many of his men had had to take up residence in the outer courtyard in tents in order to accommodate their guests.

  Thorne shoved his fingers through his hair. This was going to end in disaster. He was going to lose his female and then the war and his kingdom.

  The doors opened and he growled, feeling sure it was the elf. The last thing he needed was Bleu coming to confront him, to blame him for Sable’s poor condition and sickness.

  He turned to face the bastard.

  It was the prince’s female.

  She looked as fiery and dangerous as Sable often did and he could sense her anger as she stormed towards him, but with each step it drained a little, and by the time she reached him, she had lost her spark.

  “How does Sable fare?” he asked, afraid of the answer to that question but needing to know.

  Olivia stared at him in silence for long seconds, her glare cutting, and then her shoulders sagged. “She’s sleeping off the booze.”

  “Is she sick?” He couldn’t hide his fear that she was.

  She shook her head, causing her wavy brown hair to dance across her shoulders. “No. The elves gave her something to settle her stomach.”

  Thorne growled. Why hadn’t he thought of that? She might have smiled at him again if he had. He had taken his cue from Prince Loren at the feast, feeding his female vegetables more suited to her delicate palate. That had worked in his favour.

  He stepped down off the platform, moving closer to Olivia. “I desire to see her.”

  “It might be wiser to wait until she’s awake and feeling less foolish.”

  This female made as much sense as his did on occasion. “Why would she feel foolish?”

  Olivia sighed. “On top of everything else… well… she embarrassed herself by getting drunk. Feeling like a fool around everyone the morning after is a natural human reaction.”

  “I will order all in this castle not to look upon her in such a fashion.”

  The petite female smiled. “That isn’t quite what I meant. It will be Sable who is looking upon herself like a fool and I don’
t think you can order her to feel any other way.”

  No. He couldn’t. He had already decided that orders didn’t work on Sable and her friend was right in her observation that you could not order someone who felt foolish not to feel that emotion. He felt like a fool too and could not stop himself.

  There had to be a way to smooth things over between him and Sable, and have her smile at him again. He wanted her close to him, as she had been while he had been feeding her.

  “Will she be hungry when she wakes?” Food was all he knew as a method of pleasing her. Perhaps it would work again.

  “Probably.” Olivia shrugged. “She’ll be hung over.”

  Thorne frowned, already putting a plan into motion in his head. “And there is a cure for this… hung over?”

  The female nodded. “Bad food.”

  That did not make sense to Thorne. Were all human females as confusing as Sable and Olivia?

  “Food she does not like or food that is decomposing?” His frown hardened. “Is this some sort of self-punishment? Because I will not allow it.”

  “Ah, no, you misunderstand… again.” Olivia smiled, her brown eyes twinkling with it. “I mean food we think is bad for us. Like bacon, eggs, sausages and fried food.”

  He had heard of some of those things but didn’t know what they looked like. That would not deter him though. His female’s friend had given him a way of regaining her smiles and her kindness, and he would not fail in this mission. He focused on his wings, forcing them away, and then his horns. It was shameful to hide them, but he didn’t want to cause a stir. They shrank into his head and he hoped his guards hadn’t noticed. The last thing he needed was them talking about how their king had concealed his horns.

  He stepped onto the semi-circular platform and picked up his white shirt from the table.

  “We have not these things, but I will see to it. Thank you.” He focused on the ground at his feet and dropped into the black vortex that swirled below him, catching Olivia’s gasp as he disappeared.