Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

and every inch the king. She loved it.
    The interior was dimly lit and crowded. In the corner, an old-fashioned juke box played twangy songs. On the back wall, skulls framed a mirror, their eye sockets laced with Christmas tree lights.
    The place had its charm.
    They passed the bar where a pair of startlingly good-looking twins sat. She suspected the two males were Lykae, and was proven right when they spoke with a thick Scottish accent.
    "Damnation, Rydstrom, where'd you get her?" one said as he shot to his feet off a stool. "And she's dressed up like a sorceress of yore." He whistled low.
    The brother added, "Does the lass have a sister?"
    Rydstrom acknowledged them with a cool nod, then said, "Sabine, this is Uilleam and Munro, Lykae soldiers."
    "I do have a sister," Sabine eagerly said. "You'd love her, and she would certainly adore you-"
    But Rydstrom steered her away before she could finish, heading toward the back to the only empty table. Raucous females sat nearby, playing dice. All looked intoxicated on drink or intoxispells.
    When Rydstrom muttered, "More witches," Sabine put out a light probe for powers. Again, finding nothing she'd get out of bed for. But one of the females with them had pointed ears and glowing skin.
    "And Regin the Radiant," he said, shaking his head. "She's often Nix's partner in crime."
    Once they reached the table, and he'd pulled out her chair for her, he was clearly reluctant to leave her to go get drinks. "Go, Rydstrom, I'll be fine."
    He leaned down to say at her ear, "Just don't tell anyone your full name or your sorceress title, and we ought to be fine."
    When Rydstrom hesitantly left her, Sabine glared at all the females sighing over him as he passed, though he seemed oblivious to their notice.
    At the bar, he turned back to her, checking on her, those green eyes watchful.
    Taking one on the chin for Team Evil? Try scoring one for Team Sabine.
    He was so incredibly masculine. A dynamo in bed, on the couch, and in the shallow end of the pool. And he was good to her.
    She'd been good to him for the most part, striving to be so for him. But old habits died hard.
    Whenever Rydstrom had unlocked his armory to view that sword, Sabine had made herself invisible.
    And now she had the combination.. ..
    This could get dicey. He'd brought Sabine here because she was going to have to get used to being in this society sooner or later. And the Lorekind were going to have to get used to seeing her.

    But he also had another reason for coming here. Erol's was an excellent place to get information. And Rydstrom wanted Lothaire's whereabouts.
    When Rydstrom had admitted to Sabine the terms of the deal struck with the vampire, she'd been understandably worried. Lothaire could ask him for any one thing. At any time. "What if he wants your firstborn? We've got to kill him!"
    "Our firstborn. And I'll take care of it--- "
    At the bar, Rydstrom asked a nearby storm demon and then the barkeep for information, but the mere mention of the Enemy of Old had them shaking their heads.
    As he waited for drinks, Rydstrom gazed back at Sabine. She was sitting with an innate grace, casually surveying the room with those amber eyes.
    So bloody beautiful. And of course he wasn't the only one who thought so. Males were craning their heads to get a glimpse of her. Just as he'd predicted, Rydstrom's horns were flaring. He cast killing looks at some of the bastards, letting them know that the female was his.
    But was she? According to Sabine, he had only two more days with her-then they would reconvene. He hadn't pressed her about it, because he'd simply assumed keeping her here was a function of making her want to stay with him. He was doing everything he could think of, and still he felt her slipping away. .. .
    Just as he accepted her wine and his brew from the barkeep, Regin yelled across the tavern,
    "Yo, demon, who's the tartling?"
    Rydstrom exhaled, turning to stride back to the table. He saw that some of the witches in the back were from the pool party. They must have recognized Sabine, because they were urgently trying to shut Regin up.
    Though they whispered to her, Regin responded loudly, "Sabine? Who the hell is she? Still looks like a tartling to me."
    When Sabine slowly turned toward Regin, Rydstrom hastened back to her, dropping the drinks at a random table-
    , "I am not a tartling. I am the Queen of Illusions," Sabine answered with silky menace, her palms at the ready.
    Ah, fuck.
    "Sister to Omort?"