Demon Slave (Shadow Quest Book 2) (7 page)

Nakul spoke up. “What do we do with the demon? Should I kill him?” He palmed the hilt of his sword.

“
Not yet. In the morning, the soldiers will look to me for leadership, and his death will be my first act. It will raise the spirits of the men after they find their beloved queen dead.”

“
I can’t believe how many are loyal to her. It sickens me.”

“
Not to worry, Nakul. Once the true queen and I are wed, I will cleanse the palace of these traitors. Now take this.” Tamir placed the rebel’s dagger in Nakul’s outstretched hand.

“
You honor me, My Liege.”

“
Wait till she sleeps.” Tamir put a warning in his tone. “If you’re caught—”

“
I will not be.”

* * *

It was obvious to Marik what was happening. He didn’t need Jedar’s parting words, “Guess I won’t need your help after all, demon. The false queen dies tonight,” to know they were going to murder the woman who was their queen.

Marik didn’t understand why the idea sat in his stomach like a heavy weight. This political animosity was none of his business. His first priority was to find Nadua, and he was only tagging along with these people for convenience.

He could leave now, go it on his own, but he still had no idea where he was, or where to find civilization, or where he should begin his search. Even if he did come across a town, the people there would probably only try to kill him.

A thought sparked in his mind. He could warn this
queen
of the plot against her. Save her life—again. Perhaps this time she’d be more inclined to help him. At the very least, he could demand some food for his service. They hadn’t bothered to feed him. And if they didn’t yet know it, they soon would: a hungry demon was a dangerous being.

The two Cyrellian betrayers quietly left. Marik waited a few moments before snapping the rope around his wrists. Easing toward the flap, he peeked through the small opening. The campsite was almost fully shaded in darkness, but for a few lit tents.

The storm had died down to a thick, but otherwise peaceful, snowfall. A few distant shadows drifted about. Possibly guards on patrol.

Feeling secure no one was close, Marik stepped from the tent and weaved his way through camp.

Of the few brightly lit tents, only one featured a guard posted outside. Marik spied another one patrolling on the other side of camp, coming his way. All others were likely on the outskirts, keeping watch for another ambush.

Sticking to the shadows, Marik moved closer. The fine coat of the newly fallen snow helped hide the sound of his footsteps. Just as the patrolling guard approached, Marik crouched behind a tent. To hide the white puffs from his breathing, Marik sucked in a breath, held it, and waited.

Clearly in no hurry, the man strolled by, his attention on the dark patch of trees just ahead of him. The man stilled for a moment, listening, and then turned back the way he came. Marik exhaled slowly.

Now was his chance. He shot toward his target. The guard only had time to widen his eyes before Marik knocked him unconscious. Holding the man’s weight, he dragged him into the tent, and tossed him to the side.

The urgency to explain himself stuck in his throat the moment Marik caught sight of the
queen
.

His throat went dry and the only words he could manage were, “Oh shit.”

The welcomed heat of the fire warmed her body, freed from the confining furs. She had traded the skins for a lighter, more comfortable outfit: a sleeveless tan shirt and loose fitting trousers tied at the waist.

Nadua found these fabrics were easier to sleep in. Once under her edisdon fur blanket, she would be adequately warm through the night. She kept her boots and gloves on, however, not only for added warmth, but just in case she needed to quickly dress. The rebel menace was still looming.

The location of camp wasn’t what she had hoped. The cliffs were still half a day’s ride away and, in her opinion, they were too close to the mountains—where the Caves of Kayata held any number of threats. But the storm that was now but a tickle on the wind had beaten them to a stop. Even the Cyrellians had been shivering. The men had put up their tents in record time.

Staring into the burning embers, as she often did when she had much to think about, Nadua brushed a thick strand of hair behind one pointed ear.

Why had the demon hesitated to kill her? By the speed with which he took down those rebels, he’d had plenty of time to do it.

The fire popped and tiny sparks floated up before quickly burning out.

She’d inspected the cage lock after the fight. It had been cracked, almost clean through. She supposed it could have been faulty. Age combined with constant chill could cause almost any material to break down.

Or was it the demon’s strength that had broken the lock? He was obviously much more powerful than she initially thought.

Nadua had questioned Tamir about this, but he assured her that the demon was secure. Besides, if he could have escaped so easily, why would he not have done so sooner?

His actions today had been ruthless, fortifying all the horrible stories she’d been told by those who had witnessed the brutality of his kind long ago. Never would she forget the savagery in his face as he dispatched those rebels without mercy. But when he turned toward her afterward, she recalled that his expression had changed. Became softer. As if he truly had been fighting for her.

Maybe he wasn’t as horrible as the old stories suggested. But then she remembered his fierce anger from the night before and shivered.

It was too confusing. Nadua decided the demon needed further study before she let Renzo have him.

The tent rustled and someone pushed their way inside. Odd, usually they called for permission before entering.

Nadua rose to greet whoever it was and gasped at the sight of the demon dragging...a body? Spikes of fear shot through her.

When the demon caught sight of her, he froze, looking almost as shocked as she was.

* * *

Marik couldn’t believe the sight before him. A description of Nadua hadn’t been provided in the book, but he knew instantly that it was her. Her oddly shaped ears were prominent, the most obvious trait. Her eyes...how could he have not seen it before? They were nearly identical in color to Anya’s.

Marik couldn’t keep his gaze from followed the line of her body. Glossy red hair fell softly over sleek bare shoulders, leading his eyes to her breasts, rising and falling with every breath.

Her body—Marik had to stifle a hungry groan—was full of luscious curves that made his lower regions take immediate notice.

A creature from his deepest fantasies stood before him.

She recovered from the shock faster than he did and bent down, reaching for something. Whatever she was going for wouldn’t be good for him—her eyes said as much. He was to her in a second, yanking her away from the dagger she’d pulled on him the other night.

Tricky female
.

As soon as he had his arms around her, she began to thrash. Marik covered her mouth as she prepared for a scream that he was sure would have alerted the entire camp. Still, she hollered through his palm while continuing to struggle. The sweet scent of her filled his nose and a wave of desire swept through him, so strong he nearly doubled over. And the way she was moving her body against his wasn’t helping.

Simultaneously kicking her legs and screeching like a wild woman, she smashed her elbow into his stomach, which helped to dampen his baser instincts. It also helped him to focus on the seriousness of the situation.

Nadua was the queen to be murdered! How the hell was that possible?

He no longer needed her help. She needed his. Only she didn’t know it, and the way she was trying to scratch his eyes out told him she was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say at the moment. If he didn’t get them both away from here, the Cyrellians were going to kill him. And then her.

Marik pulled her out of the tent and tore for woods. The mountain in the distance might provide a place to hide until he could get her calm enough to explain everything. If only she wasn’t fighting so ferociously.

A voice shouted from behind. They must have found the guard knocked out and Nadua’s tent empty.

Marik hurried his steps, slowing every so often to regain his grip on his captive, who was doing everything in her power to get away from him.

“
Calm yourself, woman, you’ll thank me later.”

She made a doubtful noise and squirmed harder.

More voices rose from behind, but Marik was already deep into the trees. He got the sense that these Cyrellians didn’t have the kind of night vision he did. Nadua’s however, might be a little better, because she was continually trying to drive him into a tree, with surprising accuracy.

A sharp pain shot through his finger and he pulled it away from her mouth with a curse.

The wench bit me!

“
I’m here! I’m here!” she screamed.

Silencing her once more with his hand over her mouth, Marik paid more attention to where her teeth were headed. Unfortunately, her outburst was successful in alerting her guards of their location and the voices began to grow louder.

At the same time, Nadua was doing too a good a job of slowing him down with the combination of her thrashing legs, whipping body, and trying to find the soft spot of his nose with the back of her head. If she had been captured by anyone other than him, she would have freed herself by now.

Finally, they reached the base of the mountain and he began dragging Nadua up the rocky incline. She managed another bite, but he swallowed the pain.

There was a cave about twenty feet up. Hopefully it would be large enough to hide them.

When the wench bit him yet again, he contemplated knocking her unconscious.

“
Damn it, woman!”

The voices from behind seemed to be moving off into another direction, growing distant. Nadua must have realized it too because she began to whimper as her struggles grew weaker, her breath labored.

At the entrance to the cave, Nadua gave one last desperate burst of energy, flailing and bucking her body. Marik held tight, waiting for her fatigue to kick in. When it did, he moved them deeper inside.

After a few minutes, the darkness almost became too much for him, but his eyes adjusted and he could still see well enough to push them forward. There was a maze like quality to the cavern, it broke into many chambers.

Marik used his sense of smell to decipher the best direction, one where the air flowed free and wouldn’t turn stale or poisoned. Nadua had gone limp, and she was shaking uncontrollably.

Finally, they were far enough into the cave that he didn’t think her voice would carry to the entrance. He removed his hand from her mouth.

Cyrellian insults flew from her like water down a slope. Marik understood a few words and had to laugh when she called him an edisdon dicksucker.

“
Calm yourself. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“
No, you’re g-going to k-kill me!” Her shivering was growing worse. “I’m f-freezing. I n-need f-f-fire!”

“
I can’t make a fire just yet. They may see the light and find us.”

* * *

Gods, if only!

“
We need to keep hidden or they’ll kill us both,” came his voice from somewhere in the sea of black. “I’m not going to let that happen. You’re safe with me.” He sounded like he was trying to reassure her.

The demon is psychotic!

Nadua tried to tell him so, but the piercing cold leached away her voice. Wrapping her arms around herself wasn’t enough to keep the last of her warmth from slipping away. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

The demon cursed under his breath.

She heard a rustling and then something came around her—the demon’s coat, which she had so graciously allowed him to keep. It was huge on her, falling past her knees. The thing might help a little, but it was in no way equal to her usual garment.