Claimed by a Demon King

by Felicity Heaton

  She still looked uneasy. She picked at the laces on her dress, looked around her small living room, and then sighed.

  “Swear upon your fated one.”

  Thorne stiffened and growled at her. “No.”

  He would have gladly made such an oath once, and had done barely a few weeks ago, but now that his mate was within his grasp, he wasn’t willing to risk the Fates taking her from him.

  Rosalind frowned at him and then it melted away and her blue eyes fell to Sable. “I understand.”

  Her gaze lifted back to him and brightened. The blue swirled like a whirlpool and glittered with silver flakes. “I will take your oath upon your kingdom, King Thorne of the Third Realm. If you cross me, render me unto the wretched grasp of another or deliver me into the arms of death, I will see your kingdom suffer my eternal wrath.”

  Thorne’s heart gave a hard painful beat and he clutched his chest, pressing his claws deep into his flesh.

  He grimaced, grinding his teeth together, and fought the pain spreading through him, splintering his bones. He hadn’t expected his oath to be binding and sealed by magic.

  “Thorne?” Sable’s soft voice filled with concern drew his focus to her. She stood beside him, her hand over his on his chest, her golden gaze warm with concern.

  “I am well.” He placed his other hand over her slender one, completing the tangle.

  “Let’s get going then, shall we?” Rosalind said, her tone bubbly and jovial again, as if she had always wanted to head to Hell and couldn’t wait to get there. Confusing female. She hopped around the room, stuffing a leather satchel with vials of liquids and herbs, and several books and other implements.

  Thorne breathed through the pain radiating from his heart, keeping his focus on Sable, using her presence and touch to soothe the ache and reassure himself. He didn’t need to fear. He would not allow anything to happen to Rosalind. His kingdom would be safe from her wrath.

  Rosalind bounced up to them. “Ready?”

  He nodded and took hold of Sable’s hand, clutching it tightly. She linked hands with Rosalind. Bleu took the witch’s hand and then his.

  Thorne focused, calling up an image of the First Realm and the white castle that towered in the centre of its black lands. The portal opened beneath his feet, expanding outwards to encompass the others, and he took a deep breath as they dropped into it, preparing himself for whatever awaited on the other side.

  They landed in the inner courtyard of the white castle. Several large males immediately got to their feet, rising from the stone benches around the fountain in the centre of the curved courtyard.

  They drew their swords, their pale horns curling as they readied themselves for battle.

  Thorne tipped his chin up and stepped through his group, approaching the males. Their blue gazes flickered over him and they frowned and lowered their weapons.

  “What business has the Third King here?” One of the males stepped forwards, an elaborate crest emblazoned in silver on the breast of his long black jacket. A commander.

  Luck was with them.

  Many lower ranking demons would not have recognised him and might have attacked them.

  “I require an audience with the First King. It is a matter of great importance.” Thorne beckoned to Sable and Rosalind and they moved closer, keeping behind him.

  Bleu came up beside him, his purple gaze dark with emotion that he radiated, anger and a deep desire to harm these males.

  Bleu’s council had sent a contingent of elves into the First Realm to test the border and the demons had attacked them. Thorne could understand his anger, but now was not the time for acts of revenge. He looked across at Bleu, staring at the black-haired male until he drew his violet eyes away from the demons and settled them on him.

  Thorne held his gaze, silently conveying everything he couldn’t say aloud without upsetting the demons. If Bleu desired to avenge his fallen comrades, he could do so, but not right now. Not while Thorne needed the assistance of the First King.

  The darkness in his eyes lifted and he lowered them, and gave a slight nod.

  “Come.” Thorne strode forwards, not waiting for the commander of the demons to speak and deny or grant them leave to continue into the building.

  A commander had no power over him. All of the kings were allowed to enter another king’s castle unannounced and the one they visited had to grant them a civil greeting at the very least. After that, they could do as they pleased.

  He was fortunate that the First King liked him and that things were unlikely to turn violent.

  He walked into the pure white building, following the arched corridor to the main hall.

  The First King sat on the white spiked throne on the raised platform at the far end of the enormous room.

  “What the hell?” Sable said beside him and he glanced down at her.

  She scowled at the First King, her emotions buzzing in his veins. Jealousy ran rampant among them. Why?

  She turned her glare on him. “The First King is a queen?”

  Thorne could understand her confusion, but not her jealousy. He looked to the First King. She sat on the throne, her white corseted dress accented with pale blue that matched her eyes. Her long white hair flowed down over her shoulders, her skin almost as ashen, lending her blue eyes an ethereal look.

  “Thorne,” she said, a soft echo to her light voice.

  She rose from her throne and drifted down the step and across the white flagstones to him, raising her hand at the same time.

  Thorne took it and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

  Sable seethed beside him, her glare gaining a sharp edge that cut him. She was jealous and on the verge of slapping the First King’s hand from his judging by the emotions that clouded the link between them.

  He stifled the smile that threatened to tug at his lips and released the First King’s hand before Sable could launch an attack.

  He had never imagined her to be such a possessive female. Perhaps the instincts that drove him to attack any male who gazed upon her with desire also compelled her to keep females away from him.

  “Melia,” he said to the First King and she smiled, blinking slowly, her face a picture of serenity and happiness.

  “It has been too long.” She drifted around him and ran a curious glance over Bleu, Rosalind and then Sable. “I was not expecting you to bring an elf. Has he come to apologise?”

  “He was not part of the legion that crossed your lands unannounced, Melia, but those elves did so in order to assist me.” Thorne suppressed a shudder as her eerie gaze returned to him. He had never liked phantoms. King Valador had given his fated one flesh and substance, freeing her of life as a wraith, but she still bore the appearance of one of her kind—strangely beautiful and enchanting, yet emitting a sense of danger and death at the same time. “The Fifth King has sealed the Third Realm, locking me out in the process. I must find a way back in.”

  Her face fell. “I did not know. You should have told me.”

  “I was unwell. The elf, Bleu, took command in my absence, attempting to breach the barrier. His prince is in my realm, no doubt defending my people in my stead. It is imperative that I return as soon as I can.”

  Melia drifted away and sighed. “Your visits are always too brief, Thorne. I do enjoy your company so.”

  Sable’s anger hit him with the force of a tidal wave. “I thought all the kingdoms were ruled by demons?”

  Thorne shot her a warning look. She flicked her black hair over her shoulder and tipped her chin up, keeping her profile to him. Ignoring him. Irritating little female. She meant to provoke Melia, and it was unwise to provoke a phantom. Melia still survived on souls and sucking life from her victims, turning them into phantoms too—condemning them to an incorporeal and eternal life.

  He could not bear the thought of such a thing happening to Sable. To be able to see her, speak with her, but not touch her would kill him.

  Melia drifted back to her white spiky throne and
sank onto it. “I lost my husband in an attack from the demons under the Devil’s command around a century ago… and I mourn him still. He died protecting me and his unborn heir. I rule only until my son is old enough to take the throne.”

  Sable’s emotions shifted, her anger rapidly disappearing, replaced by guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Melia stared straight at her, her blue eyes bright and focused. “It is a lonely life to be a queen without her king… a long life.”

  Sable stiffened beside him and Thorne wanted to growl at Melia for daring to put ideas and fears into her head.

  “The First Realm is rarely at war, and yet I lost my Valador. The other kingdoms are always at war… and the Third Realm borders many dangerous territories, including the Devil’s domain.” Melia continued to hold Sable under her spell, staring right into her eyes. A growl rumbled up Thorne’s throat. “A weak female would not suit the Third King. If he was lost in battle—”

  “That would never happen,” Sable interjected and shoved her hands against her hips. Her fingers tightened against her black combat trousers. “It would never happen because I would be there by his side, fighting with him, like a woman should be—protecting him while he protected me.”

  Thorne grinned and stood a little taller, his gaze on Sable as she stood her ground against the First King, fire flickering in her golden eyes and anger burning through her emotions.

  “She is a fiery little thing,” Melia said and he felt her gaze move to him, cold and icy. “Does she truly believe that she is strong enough to fight at your side? It is not the role of a queen.”

  Sable took a step forwards, reclaiming Melia’s attention. “Don’t tell me… a queen is supposed to lay back and pop heirs out while the men do all the fighting? No, thank you. What century were you born in? Move with the times. If I ever get pregnant, I’ll be giving birth on a battlefield if war came when he was due. That’s how a future king should be born.”

  “Reckless female,” Melia snapped.

  Thorne couldn’t take his eyes off Sable. He grinned down at her, bursting with pride as she set Melia to rights. She would make a fine queen. His queen. He exhaled softly and she looked up at him, her golden eyes widening as she caught his gaze and her anger fading.

  “Brave female,” Thorne murmured. “My female.”

  Colour blazed across her cheeks and she looked away from him and flicked her black hair over her shoulder again. “Well, it’s all just theoretical. I’m just saying that a woman can fight as good as a man—or demon—and I’m more than capable of protecting Thorne’s back.”

  Melia looked back at him.

  Thorne didn’t take his gaze away from Sable. He lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his claws across her cheek, feeling the heat of her blush. His horns curled, twisting around his ears as they grew more pointed. He wanted to kiss his little mortal queen.

  “Does she speak true?” Melia said.

  Thorne nodded. “She does. She has fought by my side twice already. My female is strong, a warrior… a female fit for a demon king.”

  Sable glanced up at him, her eyes searching his, as if she wanted to know whether he meant what he had said. He smiled down at her and continued to stroke her cheek, his gaze narrowing as he held hers, not hiding any of his feelings from her this time.

  “I envy you,” Melia whispered and Sable pulled away from him, her black eyebrows drawing together as she turned her amber gaze on the phantom queen. Melia kept her eerie eyes locked on him. “I wish you one hundred centuries together. Protect her well, Thorne.”

  Thorne inclined his head. “Thank you, Melia. I will.”

  “You may go to the boundary where our lands meet. May the gods speed your journey home.”

  “May they grant you better days,” Thorne said.

  Melia dipped her chin, her eyes closing at the same time and an air of sorrow falling over her features. She mourned her fallen king still.

  Thorne took hold of Sable’s hand, drawing her closer to him this time, needing to feel her against him. He would always keep her close to him and they would always have each other’s backs, just as she had said. He would protect her. She would protect him. They would have one hundred centuries and more.

  He led her, Rosalind and Bleu from the palace and stopped at the point where they had entered it, close to the fountain in the courtyard.

  Sable took hold of Rosalind’s hand and Bleu joined them, linking them together to form a circle. Thorne focused on the border between the Third Realm and the First Realm, on a small village he had visited once.

  They dropped together into the portal and reappeared there. The dark huts in the village were quiet and no one roamed between them. Melia had evacuated the border villages. He could understand why. If the Fifth King claimed his realm, it was only a matter of time before the male set his sights on a bigger target.

  Thorne trudged across the uneven black ground, following a path that would bring them to the border with his realm. Rosalind paused before they reached it, her enormous blue eyes fixed on the distance.

  “Rosalind?” Sable touched her arm.

  “I can feel it,” she whispered and walked forwards, slowly raising her hands, her expression trance-like. “Mother Nature… this is some spell.”

  “Can you remove it?” Thorne followed her, his heart beating hard against his chest. He needed to get back into his kingdom. The moment he was in there, he could teleport to the castle.

  Rosalind shook her head and his heart fell into his stomach. She looked up at him over her shoulder.

  “I can’t remove it, but I can tamper with it. I think I can reverse it.”

  “Reverse it?” He held his hand out, trying to sense the barrier that she had felt. Nothing. He pushed his hand forwards and it met with resistance.

  Rosalind nodded. “We will be able to teleport or walk into the kingdom again, but no one will be able to teleport or walk out. We will all be trapped there until I can find a way to break the spell, or someone takes out the witches who cast it.”

  Sable’s gaze shifted to him, warming his blood and soothing him. He knew what she wanted to say. It was a dangerous move. They would be able to teleport in, but so would the demons of the Fifth Realm, and then they would be trapped there with them. No one would be able to escape this time. His war with the Fifth King was about to end one way or another.

  Thorne nodded.

  “Make it happen.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Thorne released Bleu and Sable the moment they appeared in the courtyard of his castle. He turned on the spot, scouring the dark grey fortress for any sign of damage. Nothing. His ears pricked as he listened for the sounds of battle raging outside the walls. Silence.

  Several of his warriors rushed over, blades in hand. “King Thorne.”

  He nodded to acknowledge them and scanned the castle again, for a different reason this time, his blood pumping hard and hot in his veins. Where was the bastard rakshasa?

  Loren appeared with Olivia. The human female pushed out of his arms and tackled Sable in a tight embrace.

  “Elf!” Rosalind shrieked and was behind Thorne in a flash, pressing against his back. “Is he a prince? Make him go away.”

  “Thank God! I was worried sick about you,” Olivia said over Rosalind and squeezed Sable tighter, until his female turned red.

  “Easy,” Sable squeaked and Olivia loosened her grip, grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Something closed the pathways to the Third Realm after Thorne joined me at Archangel.”

  “We know. Loren tried to teleport me after you and couldn’t.” Olivia looked Sable over. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little on edge.”

  Sable placed her right hand over Olivia’s on her shoulder and smiled. “I’m good. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  Rosalind pushed closer to Thorne, quietly chanting, “Make him go awa
y.”

  Thorne cleared his throat. “This may sound a peculiar request, Prince Loren, but would you mind removing yourself from the presence of the witch?”

  “Witch?” Loren cocked an eyebrow and tried to peer around him.

  Rosalind squealed and moved, keeping hidden from the elf prince’s curious gaze. “Make him go away.”

  Thorne sighed. “I believe she had an unfortunate prediction involving an elf prince.”

  Loren’s other eyebrow joined his right one, arching high on his forehead. “I see. Very well. Bleu, I would speak with you. Come with me.”

  Bleu nodded and walked with Loren, heading back into the main building.

  “Is he gone?” Rosalind whispered, fear lacing her voice.

  “He is gone.” Thorne turned to look down at her. “Although I do not think you will be able to avoid him during the entirety of your stay.”

  “I’m bloody well going to try.” Rosalind smoothed her black dress down and blew out her breath. “I’m too young to die.”

  Thorne’s eyebrows rose. So that was the prediction that had her on edge. An elf prince and death. He could understand her reluctance to meet Loren now.

  Kyal and Kincaid strolled out of the main three-storey building of the castle, four of their men flanking them. Kyal bore several lacerations across his face and more were visible in the open V of his black shirt and on his forearms below the rolled up sleeves. They had put him through his rite of passage while Thorne had been away.

  His confident swagger and the touch of pride in his blue eyes said he had passed the test, sinking his fangs into the napes of the other warriors before they could do the same to him, although the cuts he bore said he had also taken some severe blows in the process.

  “I need reports,” Thorne barked in the demon language and several more warriors rushed into the courtyard, heading straight for him. His elite. “Have you seen Fargus?”

  They shook their heads. “Not since your disappearance.”

  Thorne rolled out a choice curse. It had been too much to hope that the rakshasa would make things easy on him.