Claimed by a Demon King (36 page)

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

T
horne 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 away.”

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.

“Tell me of the realm. What has been happening in my absence?” Thorne scanned the grey courtyard again, picking out all of the males, regardless of species.

One of his elite saluted. “The Fifth King has marched through much of the realm. Many of the border villages had to be abandoned. We have been meeting him whenever we can, trying to drive him back. He has passed through the eighth, seventh and sixth districts to the east.”

Closing in on them. His castle stood at the centre of his realm, and outwards from it radiated bands of land, each of them numbered.

“We cannot risk more men falling. We must meet them now and end this,” Thorne said in English so the mortal hunters would understand too and prepared to call his blade to him.

Sable placed her hand on his, curling her fingers around to brush his palm.

“He can’t teleport out now that Rosalind flipped the spell, Thorne,” she whispered and looked up into his eyes. “We need to strategize. What is the first thing your heart tells you to do?”

His heart said to claim the beautiful female before him.

He pushed that need aside and focused on the good of his kingdom.

“We must evacuate the villages that lay on the path he takes,” he said to her and then turned to the warriors gathered near him, speaking to them in the demon tongue. “I need men to visit the villages between here and where the Fifth King’s army entered our realm. Plot their course through the outer lands and clear any villages that he might pass through to reach the castle.”

The men nodded and split up, each heading towards their small unit of warriors.

Grave ambled towards him, casually wiping blood off his lips with his thumb. It spotted the dark grey shirt he wore but the vampire showed no sign of caring about the mess he had made while feeding. Red ringed his ice-blue irises, his pupils narrow slices in their centres that gradually grew into circles.

Thorne had heard that vampires with bloodlust moderated their intake to avoid episodes and tightening its hold on them. Grave clearly didn’t subscribe to that way of thinking. The male had taken blood from many of the court females, and from the cups offered at the feasts, and from their enemies during the battle at the village too. If anything, the brunet was courting his bloodlust, encouraging it to grow stronger and seize more control over him.

Thorne frowned at Grave’s second in command who walked behind him. That male had come to Grave when Thorne had been on the balcony with Sable.

Perhaps the male’s disappearance had not been a trick of his imagination.

Thorne launched himself at the vampire, catching him before he could react. The male struggled in his grip and his eyes slowly changed, crystal blue emerging in them.

Rakshasa.

The vampire bared his fangs and sank them deep into Thorne’s wrist, tearing at his flesh. Thorne grimaced but kept hold of him, refusing to let go. He would make the bastard pay in blood for what he had done to him and to Fargus.

“What is happening here? Unhand my man!” Grave’s hand closed around Thorne’s throat, squeezing tightly, his claws digging in.

Sable leaped onto the vampire commander’s back and wrapped her arms across his throat, using her weight to haul him backwards and choke him. “You unhand my man.”

Thorne froze and swung his gaze to her, forgetting everything as those words hit him hard, knocking him and making his head reel.