Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

free.
    More shouting soldiers charged up the stairs. With Sabine draped across his shoulder, Rydstrom hissed, "Trace us, vampire!"
    Lothaire dumped the guard he'd been draining, then clutched Rydstrom's wrist once more.
    "Hold her tight."
    After an instant of blackness, Rydstrom saw mountains soaring in the distance. The moon glowed off the sand of a barren plain. The vampire had traced them to Grave Realm.
    Rydstrom was free-and Sabine was in his possession. He drew her from his shoulder into his arms. She looked innocent, but it was a false face. She'd tormented him again and again.
    His mind was burdened with confusing hatred, his body with aggression and primitive need.
    My woman. So pale and perfect. To use as I please.
    He bent down to lay her limp body in the sand, then checked her head. A knot had risen, but nothing her immortality wouldn't rapidly shake.
    "A blade," he grated as he untied the cord he'd bound her with. When Lothaire handed him a dagger, Rydstrom cut lengths that he tied around her wrists like cuffs, then he secured the two together with another line.
    Once he'd finished, Lothaire tossed Rydstrom a black tunic and the pack. "There's a canteen of water and sup' plies to camp for a few days." From his waist, he unfastened a sword belt.
    "And a weapon-to defend against the beasties," he said, seeming amused by that.
    Rydstrom drew on the tunic, then strapped the sword
    to his waist.
    "You've got a week at the most to locate a portal Strike out due west from here-you'll likely begin to find rage demons, refugees who will know the way."
    Rydstrom lifted Sabine once more. "What will you ask of me?"

    The vampire's pale-eyed gaze locked on Rydstrom. "Something that will be worth what I've lost here by breaking my pact with Omort."
    "When?"
    "When the time comes. In a week, a decade. Maybe a millennium."
    "You're still my enemy," Rydstrom said. "I could simply hunt you down and kill you."
    "I'd expect nothing less. You're an honest king, but you're still a ruthless one. Now go. The clock ticks."
    When Sabine woke, the moon had not yet set.
    She was greeted by a pounding pain in her head, and since the demon had thrown her over his shoulder, each
    of his long strides was increasing that ache. Her hands were still bound behind her back. Which meant...
    I'm powerless.
    Glancing up through her braids, she could see they were in a different region of Rothkalina-gone from the seaside castle and verdant forest to a desolate plain. There was only one region in Rothkalina that wasn't replete with green forest-the aptly named Grave Realm.
    Where the wild things are . . .
    She was out in the middle of a perilous territory with a madman, Lanthe must be out of her head with worry, and Sabine had no morsus-if she didn't get back to the castle, to Omort, she truly would be condemned.
    All of this was because of that traitor Lothaire! And the bastard had traced them to Grave Realm. She'd stake him herself!
    Sabine could only imagine how Omort was taking this betrayal ... or who he was taking it out on. She believed Lanthe would be safe, but she hoped her sister would protect their Inferi.
    Gradually, one head-pounding stride of his at a time, the plain gave way to a gnarled forest of petrified wood. Shadows from the moon slithered over the ground. Unseen things scurried in the dirt.
    More alarming, her skirt was riding up to her waist, leaving her ass in no more than a thong.
    The hand he used to pin her to his shoulder now covered her curves completely, and he'd begun kneading them.
    What will he do to me? She didn't want to have sex with him again, especially since he was in this agitated state. For one thing, her plan was foiled. For another, the pain was too fresh. When she'd decided to return to his cell, she'd had every intention of being on top... .
    Rydstrom abruptly halted and dropped her to her feet. In the waning moonlight, his crazed eyes held a look of expectation, his lips drawn back from his fangs.
    Steady Rydstrom had snapped.
    Apparently, Sabine had grabbed a tiger by the tail. And she'd just become its prisoner.
    Not for long.

    "Rydstrom," she whispered.
    "What?"
    She whispered more faintly. When he leaned in, she butted her headdress against his nose, then launched her steel-toed boot between his legs-He caught her by the ankle and flipped her onto her back. He was on top of her in an instant.
    "You're a vicious little female." He crushed his face into her hair, inhaling. "Treacherous."
    When he