As she backed away, she stared at his groin. His shaft strained against his leather pants, his balls aching like they'd been struck with a forge hammer.
She looked spooked--but her own nipples were hard.
Gods almighty. When he pictured her haughty, insolent, sexy smile just before she'd sent him flying, he almost grabbed her again.
To cool his need, he recalled his last fateful meeting with her in her previous life--the day of her wedding. Her words echoed in his mind: I could never love you. . . .
He had clutched his head in anguish, unable to do anything as she'd set off to marry another male.
One she'd loved all along.
Wrath renewed, Sian began to circle her. She pivoted to face him.
"How old are you?" She looked to be in her early twenties. She must soon be turning immortal, which meant she would be suffering from overstimulation. At the possibility, his pulse quickened even more.
"Twenty-four." Her answer had a knife's edge to it, as did her question: "When did you first realize you were a sadist?"
"When I ran afoul of you in the past." Still he circled her. "Were you trying to kill me with that poison?" And why does picturing your haughty smile make my cock harder?
"Ideally." Each brusque query and reply was like a blow between sparring partners. "How old are you?"
"Ten thousand. How did you learn to build traps?"
"Reading--you should try it sometime. Did you like my use of stone dicks?"
"If you wanted rock-hard, you needn't have looked farther than me," he said with a smirk. "Where is the Magic Kingdom?"
"Right between Rivendell and Narnia, asshole. Shouldn't an ancient relic like you have more control over yourself?"
Relic? "You bring out the very worst in me. How did you overcome your fear of spiders?"
"I reminded myself that they're less repulsive than you are."
Little bitch! Fists clenched, he rammed his horns against the nearest wall, and the tower rocked.
She swallowed, but she didn't flinch. "You have no right to keep me here, demon! No right to make me your plaything! What do you imagine I've done to you?"
"In this life, you were sent here by Nix as a spy. If you want to know your past crimes, then remember."
"I'm no spy. And this Nix person can go fuck herself." She crossed her arms over her chest. When he failed to keep his gaze from dropping, she made a sound of frustration. "Are you ever going to give me clothes?"
He told her breasts: "I find myself particularly incentivized not to do so."
She bristled.
Leave her, Sian. Nothing good could come from this interaction.
He almost wished he hadn't cowed his demon warriors so easily. After calling off the battle against the Vrekeners, he'd ordered those legions back to their interminable punishments--with only a vague promise of a future war against the fey. He'd hoped for a mutiny.
But when Sian, now the primordial of their species, had stretched his wings and bared his fangs, even the bravest of those hell demons had fallen quiet and retreated.
Not so this female.
He recalled his threat to throw her to the legions. After this attack, he thought it more appropriate to threaten the legions with her.
Find something else to occupy you. He could go pay the Vrekener queen her land bounty, but he was in no hurry. The process of building land, hell manipulation, was grueling.
He could go on another doomed search for the fabled hellfire. That way lies madness. . . .
Wind gusted into the tower, and airborne sparks fluttered around them like snowflakes of ember. When his prisoner had finished coughing, her eyes watered. "You belong here. I--do--not. Release me now!"
This creature seemed to have a demonic temper when provoked enough. So unlike his mate in the past. For all that he'd once adored her, Princess Karinna had been the mistress of sneering indifference.
His gaze lit upon the untouched food tray in the courtyard. "Why should I provide you food if you're not going to eat it?"
"I can't stomach things that are still moving."
"You will learn to." Those dishes were delicacies from the Stygian Marsh, enjoyed by only the wealthiest demons of Pandemonia. "Or should my servants change their menus to tempt a fey prisoner?" The idea was ludicrous. "Once you get hungry enough, you'll eat. If you enter into a battle of wills with me, you will lose."
"If you have a grove or an orchard, I could pick my own food."
"There are no groves or orchards! Have you forgotten the location of your new home? This isn't some sort of fairy woodland. This is hell."
"Then let me work in the kitchen. I could find something to eat there."
Angling to get out of the tower? "You actually think to escape me. You were sly with your trap, but I'm far too strong for you to defeat." Damn it, he should be furious at her insolence and gall! Not secretly hoping she will strike again.
"Demon, there is one thing I can absolutely guarantee: I will escape you. Save yourself the embarrassment and free me."
Considering her outrage and her desire to get away from him, she might not be Nix's pawn. If this fey was complicit, shouldn't she be seducing him to win his good favor--instead of stabbing him with a poisoned spindle?
Unless Nix had sent her here to kill him.
Sian was struck by how little he knew about his mate's current existence. He hadn't cared who her family was or where she'd been born, because she was still Kari and his history with her was all that mattered.
But this new version was throwing him. He decided to send spies, his three best generals, to the Magic Kingdom to find out more about her.
She pinched her temples, swaying on her feet. She'd neither slept nor eaten since she'd gotten here. She was sick from the fire vines and injured.
Gods, what would this little firebrand be like at full strength?
He could enchant her with a healing spell, using some of his life force to improve hers, but she didn't deserve that consideration after attacking him. Instead, he grew vine all over the castle's roof--which she definitely deserved.
He refused to allow pity--or his instincts--to curtail his vengeance. Her pain wasn't a fraction of the misery she'd brought down upon him. Upon all of the demons in hell. Her labors weren't enough punishment. She'd had no pity for me.
He bared his fangs at her. "I look forward to our next meeting, female."
"Whatever, demon." She rubbed her eyes, plucking something from one.
She'd been wearing a colored contact lens. Her eyes were mismatched again.
FOURTEEN
For the past four days, Sian had run through the wilds of hell in the pouring rain. His emotions remained chaotic.
My mate finds me "repulsive." He roared with frustration, increasing his pace.
He'd gone from being one of the most irresistible males in the universe to one his female could scarcely stand to look upon.
He didn't even want her for his queen, but he wanted to be wanted. By her.
Months ago, he'd lamented to Rune that his new visage would keep females from flocking to him--which had meant fewer substitutes to blunt his need for Kari. Even if only for a brief time.
Has my need ever been blunted? He'd told himself he was using other females to purge himself of his obsession. Then why is it even stronger?
Hardly trusting himself around his prisoner after their last encounter, Sian had remained away, refusing even to watch her through the mirror.
Fate must have been jesting to pair a lovely fey with a bitter monster. Maybe Nix's plan was to madden Sian until he became a less effective warrior.
When the brush grew thicker, he drew his battle-ax from its holster. All but an extension of him, the weapon had a solid-black blade, the metal forged in hellfire. His sire, King Devel, had given it to him when Sian had been a pup, with a word of advice: Only hit hard if you aim true, son.
The fey prided themselves on their Titanian steel, but this razor-sharp hell metal was
indestructible.
Sian hacked his way through the dense brush. Strange, even with his current turmoil, the landscape wasn't as restless as it'd been before his female had arrived.
The rains were easing the drought and tamping down the airborne ash. Even the Styx was subsiding to normal levels of lava.
At times, he took pleasure in seeing the lands react to his moods, one of the few aspects he liked about being king. Otherwise, the crown of Pandemonia was just a weighty responsibility that fell to him--but held no benefit.
A king's power? As a primordial, he'd already been infinitely powerful.
Having legions to command? With nothing more than this ax, Sian had felled armies all on his own. Plus his Morior alliance could wreak more havoc than millions of trained warriors.
No, he hadn't yet found any real benefits to this throne--only one horrific liability: the hell-change.
That curse had warped Gourlav all the way up to his recent defeat in a death match. Each year for eons, his appearance had deteriorated.
So too will mine. Though Sian's transformation differed from his fraternal twin's--each becoming a separate brand of monster--he could feel himself worsening. A low, constant hum reverberated along his spine, as if some engine powered his decline.
He ran harder. He'd bloody liked his former face. It'd stared back at him from the mirror for ten thousand years, was part of his identity.
Take away my face, what happens to my sense of self?
When he dreamed, he looked as he once had. When he fantasized about taking his mate, his body wasn't hulking and monstrous.
If I could just find the hellfire . . .
He remembered the last time he'd seen his dam, darkness personified. After hundreds of millennia, her life force had run its course. An outline of a faded shadow by then, she'd wanted to pass on advice to her sons. . . .
"Your sire won't survive long once I return to the ether." Speaking over her sons' pleas for her to stay, she told Gourlav, "Like King Devel, you shall inherit the crown and be cursed with the hell-change."
Taking that bit of news better than Sian would have, Gourlav asked, "Will you finally tell us how he halted his curse?" Their sire was handsome.
She'd brushed Gourlav's golden hair from his brow. "Find the fire, and your appearance will be pleasing."
Sian frowned. "The hellfire?" Legend held that their ancestor had spied a colored flame across the black vastness of space. It'd lured him to this dimension, but proved elusive forever after. Sian and Gourlav had hunted for the fire, digging up clues, determined to solve the puzzle. "We cannot locate it."
She gave him a weak smile. "If your sire could, then anyone can."
Gourlav quietly said, "Why will he not tell us where it is?" His expression was wounded.
"Because the search prepares you for what is found. . . ."
To this day, despite countless desperate attempts, no one ever had uncovered the hellfire. Searching for it was futile, hopes of it ridiculous. Before Gourlav had left this dimension, he'd scoured it, draining himself of magic--only to become even more disillusioned.
Sian had searched no less. He could see every inch of hell in his mind, could picture everything from a crooked step in the castle to a dragon separated from its pack, but he couldn't spy the source of that flame.
It'd probably faded to an ember, or extinguished entirely. Desperate. Futile. Ridiculous. Sian knew that.
So why had he been out here looking even now?
He burst into a clearing, startling a pack of hellhounds. They cowered before the king of hell. All creatures in Pandemonia--including demons--recognized Sian's horns. But not all creatures recognized his dominion.
Like the mysterious Lotan, now extinct.
Sian pushed on. He passed traps intended to snare trespassers. Apparently the Vrekener queen and her king had escaped two of them during their Pandemonian exploration.
Sian would devise new ones. That would help settle his mind.
He wondered what traps his mate would come up with. He couldn't decide what was more aggravating: that she'd gotten the better of him, or his continued arousal over the memory.
As he headed into the great moonraker forest, uneasiness warred with his frustration. Maybe he shouldn't have left her alone. After so long without her, he half-expected her to disappear again.
Or die. He'd been unable to prevent her first death--from childbirth.
Sian had never understood why her . . . husband hadn't waited a few months or even a year for Kari to become invulnerable before getting her pregnant. Those two had had all the time in the worlds to start a family.
Why the urgency? Why hadn't Kari insisted on waiting?
When he'd been sixteen, her needless death had leveled him. Unrelenting rage, jealousy, and grief had overwhelmed his young mind.
All these years later, he roared to the sky, unable to handle it better.
Even so, the pull to return to her was intense. He fought it. He'd told Uthyr he would be out in the wilds for a couple of months.
She was safe in her tower. Food automatically appeared for her. As long as she was within the bounds of Graven, she was protected from all the dangers of hell.
But she also seemed to be a magnet for trouble. And she wasn't yet immortal.
Once Sian eventually returned, he would give her a ring bespelled to accelerate her healing until her immortality took over. With that in place, he could relax away from her.
He slowed his steps. Then shouldn't he return and do it now?
No, until he'd wrested more control in this form, he might be the biggest danger to her.
Damn it, he didn't trust his own judgment! He rammed his horns into a massive moonraker tree, toppling it.
Before he acted, he would confer with the dragon. His ally was here for just this purpose.
Sian closed his eyes to sense Uthyr's location. . . . Got you, dragon. Though Uthyr usually hunted far afield, he'd been sticking close to the castle, was just behind the nearest mountain.
If Sian traced that close to home, he'd be foolish not to check on his prisoner at the same time. Telling himself he was not rushing back to his mate, Sian appeared at Uthyr's location.
The dragon was nowhere to be seen.
Sian detected his ally's invisible presence. Uthyr was crouched behind a boulder to pounce on his unsuspecting prey--a large reptile the size of a hellhound.
Uthyr said, --Do not spook my meal, demon, or you'll be my meal.--
Clenching his jaw, Sian waited.
The dragon's camouflaged tail swished side to side. Like a shot, he vaulted forward, snaring his quarry between his forepaws.
Shaking off his invisibility, Uthyr snapped the creature's neck, then tossed the carcass above his head. He seared it with fire until it landed, roasted, in his mouth.
GULP. --Ahh. Medium well.-- He stifled a belch with his bloody forepaw.
"I could have provided you a feast of those creatures."
--Hunting keeps a dragon shifter young.-- Uthyr turned back toward the castle along a canyon trail.
Sian fell in beside him. "I want your counsel about my prisoner."
--I'm surprised to see you so soon. Not quite the two-month absence you predicted.-- The dragon smirked. --I gave you a week. Seems we both overestimated your willpower.--
That smirk raised Sian's hackles. So much for an ally's wise counsel. "I returned because I might place protective magics over her. You'll have to excuse my hypervigilance since this female has already died once!"
Uthyr kicked a boulder along as they walked. --Yet you somehow survived the loss.--
What was the dragon getting at? "Luckily I hadn't claimed her." Sian had never heard of a demon who wouldn't greet death if his claimed mate perished. His own sire had. Somewhere in the Elserealms, Devel had led the front in an impossible battle--an immortal's version of suicide.
Massive neck stretching, Uthyr craned his head toward Sian, making him feel like a laboratory animal under
inspection. --Plus your hatred numbed what you felt for her and kept you from comprehending the magnitude of what you'd lost.--
Not helping Sian's anxiety.
--To sever that lifeline of hate after so long would be like cutting off a limb.--
Or horns! "Why sever it when I've no doubt she'll give me new reasons to hate her?"
--Such as her trap?--
"You know about that?" Was there anything his ally didn't know about?
--I might have been observing the terrace that night.--
Sian bared his fangs. "Worthless dragonic spy!"
--I wanted to make sure you didn't do anything drastic when you were fresh from a legion gathering. Picture how crazed you must've looked to her. She protected herself. Quite resourcefully, I might add.--
"Know that she will not seize the upper hand again," he said with all confidence, even as he felt a whisper of disappointment over that fact.
Uthyr's lips drew back from rows of pointed teeth, his version of a smile. --Imagine my surprise to see you plummeting from your own tower while leashed to a . . . what's the modern phrase? Ah, yes, a bag of dicks.-- He laughed at his own joke, emitting puffs of smoke.
Sian grated, "You've developed quite a mastery of modern phrasings."
--I learned much from Rune's memories.--
All of the Morior were supposed to have slept during their five centuries of travel from the Elserealms to this side of the universe--except for Rune, who'd worked as their spy in Gaia.
Whenever a Morior woke, he or she would delve into Rune's mind to learn what history had passed and to pick up new words and speech patterns.
Sian hadn't slept during the journey. Instead he'd lain in a kind of twilight, tormenting himself, wondering if this Accession would return his mate to him. . . .
Golden eyes alight, Uthyr said, --Plus the Vrekener queen, our new Pandemonian neighbor, has glorious television recordings! I secretly watch through her window.--
"That trespassing territory thief?" Melanthe had taken advantage of Sian, and he would punish her for it, somehow, someway. Speaking of territory . . . "Do you know where the Magic Kingdom is? My prisoner said it lies between Rivendell and Narnia."
--These places sound familiar. I'll think on it.-- When Sian conjured a rag and began to clean his ax, the dragon said, --Searching for the hellfire again?--
Why had Sian confided his mother's words to Uthyr?
Stopping along the path, the dragon placed a paw in front of Sian. --You need to accept that you will never find it. Acknowledge your curse and work within the confines of it.--