Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

were getting to her-that had to be it. It hadn't helped that the shuffle function had selected songs like "Don't Fear the Reaper" and Jem's "24."
    "The sun's setting gold, thought I would grow old, it wasn't to be. ..."
    She'd been pensive for weeks, fearing that Thronos would find them every time they'd gone off-plane. Or, gods forbid, he'd discover a way to cross over into the plane of Rothkalina.
    When Sabine had created that extensive illusion tonight, Lanthe had wondered how it couldn't have drawn the Vrekeners.
    Though her sister responded to fear with anger, Lanthe just got scared. Something was on the horizon for her, and she sensed her outlook wasn't good.
    Once she reached the main hall, she hurried toward the entrance to court. There, two revenants stood guard outside the towering double doors. As she approached, they mindlessly opened them for her.
    She hated going to court almost as much as she hated staying away from it. As she passed members of the Pravus, they whispered about her behind their hands, treating her like an outcast, though she was a blood relation to Omort.
    Lanthe was a princess of the realm, and one of the six great towers of Castle Tornin was her own. Still, they followed her half brother's lead in deciding how to treat her.
    The Invidia-with their wild antler headdresses, whips on their belts, and star patterns over their nipples- laughed at her. The Undines, evil nymphs with paint dusted bodies, openly scorned Lanthe.
    The Libitinae, four raven-winged bringers of death, frowned at her with tilted heads. For fun, they forced men to self-castrate or die. They simply couldn't com-prehend Lanthe's need for male companionship.
    Lanthe supposed she hadn't helped her respect quotient by doing ninety-four-point-seven percent of all the males present, excluding the revenants that lined the walls, of course.
    Mathematically, this meant that Lanthe was the equivalent of the high school slut.

    She'd never been to high school, but she'd watched movies like Grease, The Craft, and Varsity Blues -and they all dealt with school sluttitude. I'm your girl.
    She'd liked none of her ex-lovers, but she loved sex, 1 lots of it, and well, call her crazy but once a male stole her sorcery when she was in the throes, she didn't let him hit it again.
    Sabine had begged her not to sleep with Sorceri, but vampires only wanted her blood, and demons and centaurs were considered animals. The rest of the breeds here? Creeeeeepy.
    She passed the enigmatic vampire Lothaire, who served as a general in their army, commanding a regi-ment of vicious fallen vampires. Known as the Enemy of Old, he was a chilling sight, from his white-blond hair to his eyes that were more pink than red to his impassive face.
    He was one of the few vampires she'd encountered who might actually be interested in sex in addition to blood. But he could scarcely be arsed to give her the time of day.
    There'd only been one male in her entire long life who'd ever looked at her with affection and perfect acceptance. Lanthe feared-and her precious self-help books indicated-that she bedded one male after another because she ached to see that look once more.
    Contrary to what Sabine believed, the night of their parents' murder hadn't been the first time Lanthe had encountered that Vrekener boy.
    But Thronos had grown up to be her worst enemy....
    From his throne, Omort caught sight of her and glowered. Lanthe didn't know what she'd done to incur his lasting animosity, but it had become a fact of life for her. Sabine had said that he innately feared Lanthe. After all, if Lanthe could ever regain her ability, she could command Omort to lose his mind, to forget how to wield his powers.
    Oracle number Three-Oh-Eight had told Lanthe that a "perilous inciting incident" would spark her persuasion once more. Lanthe waited impatiently as nearly half a millennium passed by.
    "What news?" Omort said when she reached the steps to the dais. As usual, Hettiah simpered by his side-a pale imitation of Sabine. Though her features
    and Sabine's were similar, Hettiah's coloring was tepid in comparison to the glamorous and beautiful Sabine.
    Lanthe cleared her throat. Sabine went demon-hunting and bagged a two-pointer! No, too blase. "Our sister was successful," she said instead. "She's taken the demon captive."
    At her words, Omort's fingers went white clutching the arms of the throne, bending the gold.
    Hettiah noted the reaction with a doleful look.
    His eyes darted to