Claimed by a Demon King (26 page)

His eyes matched Kyal’s wolf’s golden ones, but his were bright with amusement not hunger. He gathered Kyal’s clothes.

A howl sounded in the distance.

Kincaid dropped the clothes. “Kyal has a scent.”

The older werewolf stripped off and had transformed before she could even look away, becoming a huge rich brown wolf.

Finally, she could fight something and prove to these irritating men that she deserved to be out on this hunt with them.

She was the best huntress at Archangel and they were going to know it.

Kincaid tore off after Kyal with Grave hot on his heels. Thorne and Bleu shot off after them.

A flaw in her plan presented itself.

Sable didn’t have super-speed or the ability to teleport.

Loren offered her a consolatory smile. “We could conduct our own hunt?”

She shook her head. “Thanks for sticking with me, Big Guy, and for trying to cheer me up, but I think I’ll pass.”

She stared off in the direction everyone had headed, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t annoyed and disappointed that everyone had left her behind, even Thorne, and that she had better things to do anyway. She should probably focus on getting her hunters ready for the next battle.

Who needed this male-bonding crap?

She continued to stare off into the distance, her senses stretching outwards, searching for Thorne.

“How would I know if I was Thorne’s fated one?” Sable let the words slip out quietly, pretending that she hadn’t just voiced them to Loren and that she wasn’t counting the seconds until he replied.

“You already know in your heart that you are his mate, Sable. You can deny the signs if you desire, but you have dreamed of him, with him, have you not?” A blush of colour rose onto his pale cheeks when she nodded. “And you feel a connection to him?”

She nodded again and his expression said it all.

“You think I’m his mate?”

“I knew the moment I met Thorne and saw his reaction to you. He desired you greatly and looked as I had felt when I had first met Olivia… filled with a need to have you.”

Sable’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t bring herself to look at Loren.

He looked away too. “I apologise for my crude words.”

Sable shook her head. “It’s okay, really. I just wanted to know if there was a chance he only fancied me like Bleu does.”

Loren’s face fell, his demeanour darkening with it. “What the two males are feeling are entirely different things.”

She had thought as much. “Thorne says I make him crazy.”

She felt a little crazy herself around him at times, driven wild with need for him but afraid of the consequences. Eternity was a long time.

Loren smiled and looked back towards the castle through the trees. “You are definitely his fated one then. Olivia made me mad with a need to claim her as my female and fight any male who tried to take her from me, even if the threat was only perceived and not real.”

“Sounds like Thorne,” Sable said and looked down at her wrist as it ached. She had Loren alone. Now was a perfect time to steer the conversation towards the mark on her wrist.

She tried to get the words to line up on her tongue but they wouldn’t come. Why could she talk with the prince about her man trouble but couldn’t talk to him about something that she desperately needed answers to? It wasn’t like her to talk about personal things with anyone at all, but her relationship with Thorne certainly felt more personal than her possible non-human parentage.

Loren was five thousand years old and knew a lot about fae and demons. If anyone could tell her what the symbol on her wrist meant and where her strange powers had come from, and point her towards answers, it was him.

She had to do this.

She had to speak to him, and to Olivia, just as Thorne had told her to. They would understand. They wouldn’t think she was a freak because she had a weird ability and a tattoo that had probably been there since her birth.

Sable cleared her throat.

A feral roar shattered the silence, coming from the direction the others had run.

Her nerve failed. “You should probably go and catch up with the guys. Tell them thanks for leaving me behind.”

She gathered the clothes the werewolves had shed and bundled them up in her arms.

“If you are sure. It is probably best I am there. I would like to maintain good relations between the demons and my race, no matter how fiercely Bleu tries to ruin them.” He held his hand out to her and smiled. “I will give you a lift back to the castle. I believe Thorne lost his head when Kyal sent out the call and rushed off without thinking about your safety, and I would lose mine if he found out I had left you to walk back alone.”

Sable nodded, adjusted the clothes in her arms, and took his hand. He drew her up against him, curled his arm around her and she closed her eyes, trying not to imagine it was Thorne who held her tucked close to his chest as they teleported.

When the weird sensation of teleporting had passed, she opened her eyes, finding herself in the courtyard again. She stepped out of Loren’s arms and dumped the clothes on the ground. She had been nice enough to bring them back but that was where her kindness ended. The wolves shouldn’t have left them out in the woods.

Loren nodded and disappeared in a flash of blue-purple light.

Sable looked up at the hill in the far distance.

Her wrist itched and burned. Her senses blared a warning.

She looked around the courtyard, searching for the source of the disturbance in her gift. No one was looking at her, but she felt sure that someone had been a moment ago.

Her gaze met one of the vampire’s and he frowned at her and then turned and walked into the castle, disappearing into the darkness.

The vampire who had come out to collect Grave that night on the balcony. He was probably wondering why she had returned and his commander hadn’t.

She looked back at the hill.

A tight feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

Sable shook it off and turned towards her men, intent on reclaiming their respect and putting both Bleu and Thorne out of her head.

CHAPTER 17

S
able stood to one side of the space they had commandeered in the courtyard of Thorne’s dark castle, watching Evan as he sparred with two of the other men in her team. She studied his every move, nodding in approval at some of the ways he tricked his opponents into lowering their guards. Most of the team had retired for the day, heading back inside the castle to wash up and prepare for this evening’s feast.

Her gaze drifted up to the sky. It was growing darker. She could distinguish between the day and night now, and even between those times and twilight and dawn. She was also becoming accustomed to other things, such as the constant presence of huge demon males as they went about their business, and the eerie calls that echoed in the distance at times. This realm was beginning to feel normal to her. She no longer found the grim colour of everything strange, or the wind unusual.

If they had to stay here much longer, she would probably end up feeling at home in this place and out of sorts in her own world.

Evan landed a heavy blow on the youngest of his opponents. The brunet hit the deck hard and his companion rushed over to him.

“Shit. Sorry.” Evan crouched beside him and helped him into a sitting position. “You okay?”

The younger man nodded and rubbed his jaw.

“Let’s call it a day.” Sable ambled over to them and offered the two younger hunters a smile to show them that she meant her next words. “You both did really well. Head in and have a good soak.”

The two men nodded and Evan rose to his feet and pulled the brunet onto his. He watched them heading towards the large arched doorway of the main three-storey building of the dark grey castle and then turned back to face her. His lips curved into a wicked smile.

“You want to play?” he said, his deep voice filled with a bright but teasing note.

She really shouldn’t. He had been training the troops while she had been away and had been sparring for nearly thirty minutes solid with the two who had just gone inside. She had a distinct advantage over him, and she didn’t like that. She preferred to play fair.

Besides, if she lost, she would never hear the end of it. Not from Evan. He wouldn’t taunt her about her losing a match to him even though he had been fighting for hours. The others would find out about it though and she didn’t need to give them any ammunition to make them doubt her abilities as a leader. Losing to Evan in a sparring match would be the last straw, she was sure of it.

Sable glanced at the archway to the outer courtyard. No sign of Thorne and the others returning yet. How long were they going to be away? It had been hours since Loren had teleported her back to the castle and she was beginning to worry about her friends. She couldn’t care less about Grave. She wouldn’t mourn if the vampire met with a grisly end. She would just be upset she had missed the show.

She decided to risk the humiliation of defeat and nodded. Sparring with Evan would take her mind off things and she didn’t want to go back to her room. If she did, she would only end up worrying even more, and not only about her friends. She rubbed her wrist. The ache in it had lessened but it hadn’t disappeared completely, and it bothered her.

Sable rolled her shoulders to warm up and bounced on the spot, preparing herself for the fight ahead.

Evan stood opposite her, motionless and cool, his pale hair slicked back against his head.

“Bring it.” Sable crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to her.

Evan grinned.

The arched wooden doors to the outer courtyard opened.

Sable’s gaze shot there and pain exploded across her jaw. She staggered right and caught Evan’s muffled curse through the ringing in her ears.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, and held her hand up to stop Evan from fussing over her. He had caught her off guard.

She straightened and stared across the empty courtyard to the group of men sauntering into it.

Thorne led them. The state of him had distracted her from her fight and drove the pain from her mind now as she watched him.

A long gash cut across his cheek and streaks of blood had rolled down to his jaw and onto his neck. Blood stained his shirt too and slashes in the white material revealed a bandage beneath. The other side of his jaw bore a black bruise and had swollen, and there was a groove in his right horn.

What the hell?

The answer became clearer when Bleu stepped out from behind him, looking just as battered and bruised. Loren entered the courtyard, his expression locked in dark, grim lines.

Sable moved forwards, her gaze focused on Loren, seeking an answer from him.

Loren shook his head and pinched the bridge of his slender nose, giving Sable the feeling that she didn’t want to ask and that she was witnessing the result of those feelings he had told her about—Thorne’s need to deal with any male who might steal her from him and stand between him and claiming his fated one.

Thorne trudged over to her, swung his left arm and dumped a huge dead something that vaguely resembled a deer—it had antlers anyway—at her feet. He tipped his shoulders back and his chin jutted upwards.

Sable bit her tongue to hold back her desire to mention that it was rather medieval of him to bring her a dead thing and expect her to shower praise upon him. He was old, beyond medieval in years. This was probably demon courting at its finest.

Everyone stared at her. Waiting?

“Um. Thank you?”

Sable looked down at the beast. Were those claw marks on its furry black flank? And what had happened to its ravaged throat? It looked as if something had torn it out with its teeth.

She swallowed. Not something. Someone.

Her gaze lifted to Thorne and his bloodstained chin.

There were stab wounds in the carcass too, in keeping with the size of the blades on Bleu’s spear. Both males had gone after the same animal with equal gusto, and she suspected that Bleu had attempted to accidentally take the king down with the beast.

How many times had he stabbed Thorne?

Sable really didn’t want to know.

Her throat closed and chest tightened as polar emotions duelled in her heart, tearing her in two directions and igniting a barrage of thoughts she couldn’t suppress or ignore.

One stood out amongst the torrent, driving her emotions firmly towards panic and kicking others into life that collided within her.

It was all getting out of hand.

She recalled what Grave had said to Thorne—that a woman wasn’t worth his kingdom.

It hit her hard. If she stayed here, things were only going to get worse. Thorne was driven by the same deep, primal male instinct that had controlled Loren and she had seen just how out of hand it could get. Loren had tried to kill demons, vampires, and even Bleu because of his need to keep every male away from his female, Olivia.

That same madness gripped Thorne. That same drive to claim his fated one. He would lose sight of the war and lose his kingdom, and she refused to be responsible for that happening. They were meant to be at war with the demons of the Fifth Realm, not with each other.

She wanted Archangel to see her worth and her ability to lead, and bestow upon her the rank she had always desired, but not at the cost of Thorne’s kingdom. It was her promotion or his realm, and she knew which she had to choose.

She drew her hand down her face and exhaled hard. She could do this. It was going to hurt them both, and she didn’t want to leave, but it was for the best. She couldn’t let Thorne throw away his kingdom for her.

“You are not pleased?” Thorne said in a low gravelly voice and stepped towards her.

Sable stepped back.

Thorne’s expression darkened and his lips pressed together into a grim line.

“This isn’t going to work.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it and her chest ached in response to the words and the flicker of hurt in Thorne’s dark crimson eyes.

He growled and staggered backwards, as if her words her been a physical blow.