Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

rushing opponents, exactly as she had with him when she'd pulled secrets from his mind.
    The women shrieked in terror, clawing at their own eyes. She'd loosed their nightmares?
    Then Sabine spun around with a kick, connecting her boot with Hettiah's jaw. The woman's body flew back, leaving a huge piece of her hair and scalp in Sabine's clawing grip. She tossed it at Hettiah's unconscious body on the ground, then went invisible again.
    The foes still standing darted glances but couldn't see her. One's throat suddenly gaped open.
    When another was stabbed in the temple, she dropped to her knees, then slumped facedown on the ground.
    When all were felled, Sabine revealed herself. Ryd-strom gaped at her, as did everyone at court, except Lothaire, who was busily collecting coin.

    She was sprayed with crimson, out of breath-and smiling. Until she caught sight of Omort storming for Rydstrom, yellow eyes wild with rage.
    Rydstrom gave a roar, lunging forward against the vampires' hold. The sorcerer laughed-with one flick of his hand, Rydstrom was thrown back against the wall, pinned there by the throat.
    With a shrug, Lothaire and his vampire guards traced away.
    "Does Nix seek to capture me?" Omort tightened his hold on Rydstrom's throat. "Tell me what her weaknesses are!"
    What in the hell had Nix done now? Rydstrom gritted his teeth as bones fractured in his neck.
    He couldn't move to defend himself.
    "Answer me, demon!"
    The pressure began to lessen. "Fight me!" It increased once more. Black spots began obscuring his vision.
    "What are you doing?" Sabine screamed as she swept through the crowd. She was like a furie in her wrath, with her bloody face and hair. Her eyes glowed like hot blue metal. Rydstrom focused on her. Stay alive . . . stay alive.
    "Questioning my prisoner," Omort replied over his shoulder. "Before I take his arms for the Valkyrie."
    With another snap of bone, Rydstrom's spine was severed. No feeling below my neck. Omort would keep squeezing until his head was forced from his body.
    This is how it will end. His skin began to tear, and scenes from a long and wearying life flashed before his eyes. No woman, no offspring. His only legacy was . . . failure.
    "Release - him - now!"
    Omort faced Sabine. After a moment, Rydstrom plunged to the ground.
    He lay paralyzed, his body motionless. As his vision began to clear, the court appeared to pitch and rumble, with winds rushing in. Sabine's wild hair tangled all around her head.
    The beings within ran for cover.
    "He's my prisoner, brother. And is under my protection." Though so small compared to Omort, the sorceress gazed up at him without fear. "I didn't want him hurt this way."
    Omort took halting steps toward her, fascination plain in his rapt expression.
    Omort. . . wants her? As a lover?
    "Leave this court." She ordered Omort out, refusing to look at him. And the sorcerer was actually turning to leave.
    There had been rumors of incest, tales that Omort loved one of his sisters unnaturally. Not her.
    No, don't let it be her.
    But Rydstrom couldn't deny what was so obvious- Omort wanted Sabine.
    Between gasping breaths, Rydstrom laughed bitterly, crazed. My court, my home . . . my woman. Everything is wrong, twisted. He rasped, "That has to sting, knowing a demon will be claiming your possession . . . knowing she'll always crave me over you."
    Sabine's eyes widened. Omort twisted around. With another flick of the sorcerer's hand, an invisible force punched through Rydstrom's torso, ripping it wide open.
    16
    Rydstrom had no idea how long he'd been in and out of consciousness. He cracked open his eyes. He was on the bed in the cell? Pain as he'd never known assailed him, but only above his neck-below it, he couldn't feel anything.
    "Bring the Hag!" Sabine ordered someone unseen. "Quickly!"
    Who knew how much later, an old woman crept into the cell, carrying a roll of bandages and a dripping bur-lap bag. She sat beside him on the bed, scooping a thick paste of strong-smelling herbs from the bag, stuffing his wound with it. fie perceived nothing.
    As "the Hag" worked, Rydstrom watched Sabine pacing with his eyes slitted so she wouldn't know he'd awakened.
    "How long will it take for him to regenerate?" Sabine demanded.
    "Tw6 days," the old woman answered, "until you can steal his seed."
    Sabine didn't seem surprised by the woman's temerity.
    Another female rushed inside. "The castle's abuzz! I heard you were screaming at Omort." She had black hair and was