Bound to the Demon
C. J. Brookes
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Epilogue
BOUND TO THE DEMON
Revision Copyright © 2020 by Calle J. Brookes/C.J. Brookes
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All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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For information contact:
www.callejayebrookes.com
[email protected]
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Book and Cover design by C.J. Brookes
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PREVIOUSLY TITLED: Awakening the Demon’s Queen
Copyright ©2013 Calle J. Brookes
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ABOUT THE DARDANOS SERIES:
The Dardanos Paranormal series originated in 2012. In 2018, CJ pulled all titles down to revise, update, and expand the original storylines.
DARD262020
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The DARDANOS Series of Paranormal Romance
RELAUNCHING 2020
FATED TO HER VAMPIRE (The Seer’s Strength)
TAKEN BY THE KING (The Blood King)
CAPTURED BY THE HUNTER (Live or Die)
STOLEN BY THE WARRIOR (The Warrior’s Woman)
BOUND TO THE DEMON(Awakening the Demon’s Queen)
CURSED BY HER BLOOD (The Healer’s Heart)
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& Brand-New Title:
FATED TO THE WOLF (Rebecca & Matt’s story)
Created with Vellum
1
Everything hinged on what she was doing. Kindara Jareth, First Healer of the Dardaptoan vampire Kind, fought back the nausea as her daughter cautiously drove the miles down the long, dark highway. The city where she’d spent the last four hundred years or so glowed in the distance behind them.
She fought the urge to look back that way again.
Something…would change tonight. She just hoped it meant the end of her thirty-year quest.
Rescue for her people, perhaps. Answers. A way to save her people.
Dardanos meant safety.
The last time she had left the safety of the city, she had lost everything that mattered. The darkest days of her life had followed. It had been four years before an orphaned babe had been placed in her arms and she’d started to breathe again.
The desperation of her Kind was all that had led to this.
Her people were dying out. She knew how it worked. They weren’t replacing themselves as fast as they were dying. That would eventually lead to the end of their Kind.
Unless someone found the answers why. As first healer of one of the largest tribes of her Kind, that someone had to be her.
She had five healers working under her. All were focused on what they could do to save their people.
There was nothing more important than that. Nothing.
Kindara’s life had been dedicated to saving her people now.
She would never take that lightly.
Two hours ago, she’d received word that a witch at CSU had information about why the Dardaptoans had been cursed to lose so many of their females and babes. And she needed to come quickly.
Tonight. There was no other choice.
Jierra had refused to let her leave alone. Her daughter very rarely dug her heels in, but tonight, Jierra had insisted.
Kindara hadn’t wanted to wait for a team to be formed to go with her. Something had told her that waiting would take too long.
Her people needed the answers now.
“I don’t like driving at night,” Jierra said after lightning flashed overhead.
“You want me to drive, baby?” Jierra didn’t drive that often. As the heir to the tribe, she was usually surrounded by half a dozen guards. Kindara was far too exhausted to drive tonight. Jierra had seen that for herself.
It had been easier to give in to her daughter than to fight.
They really needed to find that Nellana witch. Tonight.
“No. I think you’d do more harm than good,” Jierra said. But her hands were clenched tight on the wheel.
Her daughter hummed along to a human song playing on the radio, her fingers drumming the wheel. Kindara smiled. This girl was her life, the only reason she’d gotten past her Rajni’s death was Jierra.
She’d been a squalling infant when Kindara’s brother had placed the newly orphaned Jierra in her arms four, almost five, years after Iavius’s death. The child’s parents—cousins of Kindara’s—had been killed by the same vicious monster who’d taken Iavius.
As the female head of the family, Kindara was responsible for finding homes for any orphans. Orphanages didn’t exist in their Kind.
Babes were raised by families. Period.
She’d found a family for Jierra the instant she’d touched her. This was her child and always would be. Her heart.
“You have horrible taste in music.”
“No, I have younger taste in music. Who was the most popular composer in your youth?” Jierra laughed after she asked. “Beethoven, wasn’t it?”
“I preferred Mozart. I heard him play once. It was spectacular.” She would never forget the days of her youth. When she had been full of hope and love of life—and anticipation for the day she found her mate.
Grief for him struck her again. It did, sometimes when she least expected it. Every day she grieved for Iavius. She always would.
Kindara had accepted the fact—because of her healing gift, she would never be able to die like she had wanted to after he had been murdered.
H
er body wouldn’t let itself die. Period.
Once she held Jierra for the first time, she hadn’t wanted to. Not as long as her babe needed her.
This girl next to her had kept her from going crazy from the grief.
“You look pretty good for your age, then. Just a little bit like an old crone.”
“Don’t I, though? You’d better watch the road.”
“There’s no one around for miles, Mama.” Jierra increased the speed.
“No wild animals then?” Kindara asked as a howl split the night air.
“That sounded a little creepy.” Jierra tapped the brake seconds before a large dark shape darted in front of the car.
Jierra jerked the wheel, sending the car into a swerve that had Kindara grasping the handle and uttering a short prayer to the Goddess.
When the car finally stopped, she pulled in a cleansing breath.
“Are you ok, Ji?” Kindara put one hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Jierra had never driven a car more than ten miles in any one direction, had never been on a highway after dark. “It happens; animals dart out all the time.”
Jierra flipped on the interior light, and Kindara scanned her daughter’s face. Jierra’s eyes, deep amber, were wide, and her chin trembled. Her bottom lip was tucked under her top teeth, and she swallowed repeatedly. Kindara pushed strawberry-blond hair out of Jierra’s eyes, the gesture meant to be soothing. Jierra always had hated the dark. Her daughter was a strong and capable young female—she just hadn’t realized that yet.
“I don’t want to drive anymore. I’m sorry; I feel like a big wimp.”
“Ok.” Kindara opened her door and slid from the car. She’d feel better driving now anyway. She was a bit of a control freak. Adrenaline from the skid had shaken her awake now anyway. “I’ll drive. No doubt, your uncle will have a car full of guards catching up with us soon. We’ll have them drive us if I become too tired.”
Jierra’s door opened a second later. Her daughter was half out before Kindara saw it—sensed it.
A dark shape stepped out of the shadows.
Kindara reflexively went into a defensive pose. She was of the royal houses, and as the highest healer, she was always a target—her brother had taught her self-defense years ago. “Ji! Back in the car, now!”
Jierra screamed. Kindara heard her daughter’s struggle.
The male in front of Kindara laughed as he stepped closer.
From what Kindara could see in the darkness, he was tall and strong. Far taller than her brother, Cormac, who stood six foot seven.
At five foot nine, Kindara knew she was facing a fight.
And he smelled like evil.
2
Rathanolis Malickus took his first look at the Dardaptoan female despite the darkness of night that surrounded them, and his breath slipped from between his teeth in pure appreciation. He had not expected the female he chased to be so starkly beautiful.
Perhaps he should have.
He knew very little of Dardaptoan females. Only that they were beautiful and alluring—and significantly weaker than demon females.
Most of the bloodsucking females were quite beautiful, like the goddess who had supposedly created them. It was part of their allure. Necessary for their survival. They used it to lure unsuspecting human males to their sides, where they could drink, if needed.
At least, until they found the mates they were destined for. Then the male hunted for the female. Protected them like they were the most fragile of creatures.
Dardaptoan males were obsessive about protecting the females.
More so even than demons were with their own females.
For a moment, he wondered if this female in front of him was the daughter or the mother. The intel he and the werewolf had received had indicated the two would be together, but had not included photographs as the two were kept out of the public eye.
It was a miracle they were alone on this highway tonight, even with all of his machinations.
Not that he expected that to last long—there would most likely be guards following along behind them soon. The little compulsion trick he had used on the female he’d had call these Dardaptoans had ensured they’d be alone—at first. But he had no illusions—they would be tracked. And very, very soon.
A female screamed nearby. Rathan did not look away. The werewolf would grab the other female. It was all a part of their plan.
These females were their road to the information they needed.
To their vengeance.
That it was the werewolf’s vengeance mattered little. The four females lost because of Dardaptoans were as dear to Rathan’s heart as they were to their werewolf kin.
That did not change because Rathan was not wolf.
He was the king of the demons; he could do whatever he damned well wished. In any world.
This female with the golden hair was going to lead him to what had happened to those four human girls Rathan had loved so much.
She would have no choice. He would have answers out of her, one way or the other.
He’d loved the missing females. Very, very much.
Their deaths would not go unavenged.
He pushed back the grief.
He had lived long enough to know that grief made one careless in these types of situations. “Come, little kitten, you know you cannot fight me.”
She hissed, just as Dardaptoan females always had the few times he had crossed paths with the little kittens.
They were highly feline creatures, unlike the Lupoiux wolves they warred with. He smirked at that—cats, dogs. They would always be enemies.
This kitten crouched down as if she intended to fight. As if she might actually know how.
Rathan laughed. The second female, the one he had not seen, screamed again. Terror. Such terror. The female in front of him erupted, coming right at Rathan. He could scent the desperation in her now.
He had not expected a direct attack. Most female Dardaptoans would run when directly confronted. Back to safety, and the males that hovered over them.
Most females of any Kind when confronted with an Incubi High Demon would either simper before him—he did have a reputation, after all—or run in terror.
He was a dangerous beast, and he knew that very well.
Rarely had a female ever physically attacked him. Not in over eleven thousand years. The novelty of it had him pausing, giving her an opening. Deliberately. Just because he was a perverse creature.
Rathan caught her as she struck.
“Run, Jierra! Go!” the female yelled.
Dardaptoan claws went straight for Rathan’s eyes.
He was an ancient warrior and the high demon king. No female had ever been foolish enough to attack him.
This one tried.
He wrapped his hands around her and lifted, slamming her back against the hood of her car when she proved more agile than he’d expected. Wily. His hand cupped her head at the last moment, protecting her from hitting the metal. That would have given her one hell of a headache.
He needed her cognizant—he had questions for her. Questions she would answer.
He would take her with him, but he would not harm her if he did not have to. She was far too valuable a hostage for that.
Her knees came up. She kicked. Clawed. Bit.
Screamed.
None of it mattered. Though she was stronger than he expected—it just wasn’t enough.
He had known she couldn’t defeat him—but that was a lesson she had to learn for herself.
Finally, only when he saw car lights in the distance did he stop her. Doubtless, it was the guards searching for her and the other female.
With a touch of one finger to the demon horns hidden beneath his hair, he coated his finger with the chemical that Incubi had possessed since the beginning of time. With a brush of the mesmus to her lips, and a whispered word to rest, the little female bloodsucker slumped beneath him.
Rathan laughed coldly as he looked at the female fu
lly for the first time.
Finally.
Now, they would have the answers they sought.
“Having trouble there, old man? Didn’t look like she’d be much of a fighter, as small as she is,” the wolf’s voice came out of the darkness, strain in his tone.
Fury.
Rathan bent low and lifted the unconscious female over his shoulder. He sniffed her lightly. The female he had caught smelled of roses. Pure, simple roses. Same in any world he had ever visited. “Not at all. Merely enjoying. Surprisingly fierce, this one. Grappling with her has been a real pleasure.”
“I have the girl. You have the mother.” The wolf held a female slung over his own shoulder, one hard arm holding her in place as he stepped closer. Rathan could just see her in the moonlight.
He was demon, after all. They were meant to see everything in the dark.
Rathan took a moment to study the daughter. She had delicate features and a sweet bow mouth. The eyes were big and wet. He sensed she was young—very, very young. Not that it mattered.
They were sacrifices in this war, after all.
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