Tempted by a Rogue Prince

by Felicity Heaton

  And escape he would.

  He would find a way to leave this place behind him and warn his brother, and he would use the incubus to help him make it happen.

  Little Wild Rose. Her scent rushed over him like cherry blossoms caught in a breeze and his step faltered. He glanced her way, catching a brief glimpse of her huddled in the corner of her dank cell before she raised her head and he averted his gaze so she didn’t see him looking at her.

  He couldn’t leave her behind.

  Violence and darkness surged within him whenever he thought about her, barely tempered by softer foreign emotions, and part of him knew that taking her with him was too dangerous. She was liable to drive him mad, to steal away his sanity with her presence, but he couldn’t leave her behind.

  He glanced back at her, locking eyes with her in the split second before the wall of her cell stole her from view, and his heart thudded hard against his ribs.

  Darkness warred with light inside his soul, the swirling black swamping more of it, driving back the slender glow of good as he drifted further away from her.

  He used his limited powers to close the connection between them as much as he could now that they were bonded. The compulsion to keep himself closed off to her was strong, overwhelming, and he did it without hesitation.

  Not because she was a witch.

  But because he didn’t want her to know him. He knew how dark and ugly he was inside, how twisted and broken. He had become aware of it the moment Kordula’s spell had broken with her death.

  Her death had freed him from her rule, but not from what he had done. Four thousand years of killing, four thousand years of memories, and four thousand years of destroying lives, kingdoms and those he loved. All of it had remained after her death and lived on in his blackened soul. Everything he had done now rested on his shoulders, a weight that was too much to bear and was slowly driving him to his knees.

  Loren had thought taking Kordula’s life would free him, Vail knew that and knew his brother had done it out of kindness, believing he would be restored and saved by his actions.

  Loren had condemned him.

  Vail had tried to come to terms with everything. He had fought the dark memories and attempted to convince himself that responsibility for all that death and destruction rested on Kordula’s shoulders and was hers to bear.

  But it had been his hand that had taken those lives. His powers that had brought kingdoms to their knees.

  His pleasure on seeing them fall and the lands run red with blood.

  Kordula had only given him the orders and compelled him to obey.

  It was the darkness inside him, the beast she had awakened in him, that had taken pleasure from rending flesh with his claws and smashing bones to ashes. It still took pleasure from it now.

  He took pleasure from it.

  When he had gone into a killing rage in order to protect Olivia during the battle, he had retained awareness of his actions. He had been the one in control. No one had compelled him to brutally slay all those demons, dragon shifters, and vampires. No one had controlled him.

  He had been free, the master of his own body, and yet rather than fight with honour and a sword, he had chosen to savage his opponents with claw and fang.

  Like an animal.

  Kordula had awakened the beast.

  But Vail had embraced it.

  And now it was one with him, growing stronger each day as the weight of his sins filled his soul with darkness, dragging him down into the black abyss.

  He knew that if Little Wild Rose felt that in him, she would leave him the second she could. The greater part of him wanted that, and welcomed it.

  There was a strange fragment of him though, a tiny corner of his soul that had somehow survived four thousand years of torment and hell, that feared her doing such a thing to him because it knew that she was already becoming his anchor to this world.

  His everything.

  No matter how hard he fought it.

  If she turned her back on him, that part of him would die and his fall would be complete.

  He would become the darkness all elves feared and the world would know his wrath.

  Light flickered over his skin and he squinted against it, his eyes quickly adjusting to the brightness as he strode through the arched doorway and into the courtyard. Huge braziers burned at intervals, illuminating the wide area.

  His gaze scanned his surroundings, documenting everything, from the routes the guards took as they moved from building to building along the high wall, to the number of non-demons he could see. He focused on the arched doors and windows of the dark stone buildings dotted around the wall of the courtyard, trying to discern what their purpose was as the guards led him across the expansive open area towards the towering main castle ahead of him.

  Vail noted that the witches were not present tonight.

  His two demon escorts quickened their pace and he kept up with them, his chin raised and back straight as he eyed the warriors around him. They paused at their work to watch him pass, darkness in their emerald eyes but a touch of wariness too. No doubt they were seeing a very different male from the one who had passed through this same courtyard only days ago.

  One who commanded more respect and inspired more fear.

  The smaller demon in front of him shoved the twin black wooden doors of the main castle entrance open. Vail followed him into the darkness, continuing to catalogue everything he could see, including the corridors that ran off from the hallway. The one on his right appeared to go into a stairwell that led upwards, while the one to his left ran into the walls.

  “Prince Vail.” The deep male voice boomed through the great hall as they entered, echoing around the high vaulted ceiling and the enormous obsidian columns that supported it.

  King Bruan rose from his black throne and stepped down from the raised platform at the end of the aisle.

  A very civil and friendly greeting from the demon male who had ordered him tortured into submission. He had suspected the king thought to charm him over to his side, and now he knew the male planned to do just that.

  Vail tamped down his urge to snarl and bare his fangs at the manipulative demon king.

  No one controlled him. Not anymore.

  The two guards dropped back and Vail approached him, keeping his posture relaxed even as he calculated his chances of successfully launching an attack on the burly demon king.

  The larger male strolled along the aisle towards him, his long black leather-clad legs easily eating up the distance between them. Obsidian dragon-like wings rested furled against his bare back.

  The king wore no crown. Another attempt to appear friendly, as if they were of equal standing.

  Vail failed to see how that was possible. This male was far beneath him, a youngling demon playing at being a king. Even if this man ruled for millennia and conquered every demon realm, Vail would still refuse to view him as an equal.

  He tipped his chin up and looked down his nose at the male who stood at the same height as him. King Bruan’s six-feet-six frame was far broader than Vail’s, and thickly muscled, but his physical strength wouldn’t be the determining factor in a fight between them. Vail was strong now with Rosalind’s blood flowing through him, and with the restoration of his physical strength came the restoration of his psychic powers.

  Vail could crush King Bruan like a bug with his telekinesis alone.

  Only the infernal magic-laced cuffs were stopping him from doing so right now.

  “You wished to talk?” Vail said in the demon tongue and swept his gaze over the demon king from head to toe and back again, searching for any physical weaknesses he could use against him.

  The king seemed in prime condition, and with Vail’s powers bound by his restraints and two demons watching his every move, he wouldn’t win against him if he attacked him. Not yet.

  For now, he would have to settle for seeing what the king wanted with him and using the inevitable walk back to his cell to continu
e searching out weak spots in the fortress and possible escape routes.

  “I have considered what you said and perhaps you are right and blackmailing your brother into an alliance is not the path to take.” King Bruan’s green eyes flashed brightly, a twisted edge to his smile that Vail didn’t like. The male flicked his long black braid over his muscled shoulder and moved a step closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to kill your brother for his part in the war and deal a blow to the elves.”

  Vail gave no reaction to that announcement. He schooled his features and waited, knowing Bruan wasn’t done. The king wanted him to react, to ask what he intended to do. He was playing Vail and testing his allegiance, and if he questioned Bruan, the king would know he had lied about wanting Loren dead.

  As much as he despised the vile demon, he had to play along and gain the king’s trust. Eventually, the king would give him more freedom, and with it would come an opportunity to escape.

  And then, Vail would kill him.

  King Bruan flared his wings and then furled them against his back. He signalled to one of the guards.

  Not one of the guards, Vail realised as an oily slick slithered over his skin. Magic. The sudden increase announced a witch had entered the great hall. The magic smothered him, growing stronger as she approached, threatening to strip him of his sanity. He clung to it, unwilling to lose it now when he needed it most. He had to remain lucid. He couldn’t allow the king to see his weakness. The male would exploit it.

  He would use the witch against him.

  Make her touch him.

  The oily slick on his skin became twin patches that moved over his body, roamed it like hands caressing him, and shifted to form fingers that stroked and danced lower. He shuddered and closed his eyes, forced his mind away from the magic and reached for something to steady him.

  Little Wild Rose danced into his mind, all of nature in her wake, green and colourful and beautiful.

  Her eyes met his, the colour of clear morning skies spotted with stars, and warmth flowed over his skin, burning away the dark stains of black magic that marred it.

  Vail opened his eyes and fixed them on King Bruan, shutting out the blonde witch as she handed the demon a clay mug. The male lifted the vessel to his lips, took a great gulp of the sweet smelling liquid, and lowered it again. He rubbed his other hand across the back of his mouth and held the mug out to Vail.

  “We will have a bargain, you and I. You will help me defeat your own flesh and blood, or I will use you to lure him out and take his head in front of you, as the demon king did to my brother.”

  Vail raised his cuffed wrists and snatched the mug of mead from King Bruan’s grip. He knocked back the contents, the potent alcohol rushing straight to his head and threatening to send him to his knees, and tossed the mug. It smashed on the stone flags near the witch and she scowled at him, her dark eyes becoming spotted with bright crimson.

  He bared his fangs at her.

  King Bruan could go to the very bottom of the fiery pit of Hell where all dark souls went after death and Vail would personally escort him there.

  The demon male had made two mistakes.

  One, Vail refused to be an instrument of revenge against his brother. He had vowed never to hurt Loren again, and would do all in his power to keep that promise and keep him and his people safe.

  Two, he would never carry out orders against his will again. No one could command him now. He would never subject himself to the rule of others. He was free, the master of himself again, and King Bruan would realise that when he carried out the plan that had just come to him.

  He would play the loyal mad elf prince to this wretched demon, vowing to kill his brother, and when he had gained the king’s trust and more freedom, he would escape and send word to Loren. Once he had warned his beloved brother, he would kill Bruan and turn the wrath of the demons of this realm upon him, drawing it away from Loren and the elves.

  He would sacrifice himself for the sake of his brother and his people.

  It was the least he could do to make amends for his sins.

  There was only one flaw in his plan. One complication.

  Little Wild Rose.

  He would have to find a way to get her to safety and away from the demons before he could carry out his plan to kill their king. He would have to know that she was safe or he wouldn’t have the strength to face death and embrace it. He would feel compelled to remain with her and protect her.

  He would beg his brother to show her mercy and give her shelter, protecting her in his stead. Loren was more capable of protecting her than he was. His brother would take care of her, would treat her well and ensure her happiness.

  Vail couldn’t do such a thing.

  If she remained near him, he would eventually hurt her, or worse. The thought of coming out of a black rage to find his claws dripping with her blood stopped him cold and froze his heart.

  “You accept my terms?” King Bruan said, pulling him away from thoughts of his fated female and back to reality, to the presence of a dark witch.

  The blonde watched him closely, suspicion colouring her dark eyes.

  “Do as you please,” Vail said in the demon tongue. “As long as Loren finally dies by my hand.”

  Bruan’s expression darkened. “And why should you have that honour?”

  Vail snarled, the feral sound rumbling through the cavernous room. The witch took a step back, placing King Bruan between her and Vail, and it was hard to stop himself from attacking her, even when he was at a disadvantage. He forced his focus back to Bruan.

  “Because I have been waiting to kill my brother for forty-two centuries so I can seize the throne,” Vail bit out and advanced a step, closing the distance between him and the king, and flashed his fangs as he grinned. “If you allow me to be the one to kill Loren, you will have a powerful ally in the elves when I take the throne back.”

  Bruan stared at him in silence. It pressed down on Vail and doubts surfaced. He held his expression and the king’s green gaze, unwilling to allow the male to see beyond his veil of fury and hunger for power to the unsettled feeling growing inside him. He would succeed in his plan. He would convince this wretched demon to give him more freedom and then he would bring the kingdom down on his head.

  “I will need time to consider your request.” Bruan signalled the two guards and they marched forwards, coming to flank Vail. “Take him back to his cell.”

  Vail held the king’s gaze, silently challenging him and refusing to back down. Demons respected strength, both physical and mental. He would give the king reason to respect him.

  “I will be the one to kill my brother. Only then can I claim the throne and no one will stop me from achieving that which I desire. I have not fought Loren for four thousand years for a demon to snatch this victory from my grasp.” Vail moved another step closer and stared down at the king. “Give me my victory and I give you an army of elves, and the power to take any demon kingdom you desire.”

  He turned away before Bruan could form a response and strode down the aisle, heading straight for the arched door at the end. The two guards hurried to catch up with him and Vail breathed slowly, steadying his heart to stop it from racing. Either he had just earned himself another brutal round of torture at their hands, or he had earned the respect of their king.

  The game was afoot and the next move belonged to Bruan.

  CHAPTER 9

  Nature swirled around him, pushing back the darkness and the nightmares, drawing him into the light. Vail breathed deep of the floral scent, taking the sweet elixir down into his lungs, desperate to use it to ward off the memories that had swamped him the moment he had closed his eyes.

  A soft melody enchanted him, the sound of her voice giving him comfort the likes of which he hadn’t felt in over four thousand years.

  Little Wild Rose.

  She was close to him, her proximity offering him peace and respite from his nightmares, keeping the memories at bay.

&nbs
p; A male voice joined hers.

  The incubus.

  Anger curled through him, a possessive rage that swiftly claimed control and urged him to tear Rosalind away from the bars of his cell and kill the male.

  Vail tried to rise from where he slept and snarled as chains held him in place. Shackles meant to weaken him. He growled and fought his bonds, uncaring of the fact that the thick metal cuffs sliced into his wrists and pain seared his bones. All that mattered was reaching his female and keeping the male away from her.

  He needed to get her away from the incubus.

  He needed to kill him.

  He hissed and bared his fangs as they punched long from his gums. His ears flared back against the sides of his head.

  His eyes opened and locked on the male.

  Vail growled at him and fought his bonds, pulling hard on the chains that held him. His blood flowed over his hands, making his grip slick, but it wouldn’t stop him. He would break free and destroy the incubus. He dug his fingertips into the links of the thick chain and roared as he arched his back and threw all of his strength into his next pull.

  “Keep away from him,” the male said and Vail lost it.

  He wrestled with his bonds, using every last drop of his strength to fight them, determined to break free. The cursed male meant to lure Little Wild Rose away from him.

  He meant to take her from him.

  Darkness loomed inside him, eating away the light, destroying it as it rampaged through his body and unleashed the part of him he didn’t want her to see. The part of him he needed in order to escape his wretched bonds and kill the male.

  Vail embraced it, snarled as he lost himself in it, and laughed as he yanked harder on the chain.

  The incubus would pay for his attempt to steal what was his. Little Wild Rose belong to him now. He would destroy the male, would bathe his claws in the wretch’s blood and tear him limb from limb with his bare hands, and then he would claim the female.

  She belonged to him now.