Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

was! I'm well aware that you were playing me-"
    "No, a sham on your part! You cajole me to give you my trust, but you won't even consider giving your own!"
    "Give you my trust? How easily you forget all that you did to me. By keeping me from my brother, you might have destroyed my chances of ever reclaiming Tornin, my home. I vowed revenge, Sabine. I need it, I need you to surrender to me!"
    When he lifted her from the water, cradling her to his chest, she kicked at him, squirming, but his hold was like a steel cage.
    "Demon, don't. No more of this tormenting m e!"
    He ignored her, ferrying her to shore, then started the ascent to their camp-heading to that pallet, where he would do things to her all night.

    Once they reached it, he let her slide down his naked body. He grasped her upper arms, keeping her in place as he kissed her neck.
    She just prevented her head from falling back. "Demon ... don't make me weak ..."
    "You make me weak." Against her damp skin, he rasped, "Surrender to me, and we can end this. Sabine, I want you so bad." She could feel his hard length pressing against her.
    "Not bad enough to break your word."
    "One day, you'll be glad you have a man who keeps his word. You gave me unbearable nights.
    You'll get them as well. I vowed-"
    "Save the explanation-you like this. You're keeping me tied just because it turns you on!"
    "I've explained that I can't risk losing you."
    "You're taking fifteen centuries of denial out on me!"
    "Maybe what you're saying is true in part. I do like having you at my mercy. I crave driving you mad, as you were last night. Do you know what that does to me to see your eyes go blue with lust-for me? To see fires burning all around us?"
    He nibbed his face against hers, inhaling her scent. "I've never felt things like this, and I want more," he growled at her ear. "You are my obsession, Sabine. I've heard every male has one in his life. And you are mine."
    "Release me!"
    "Surrender to me. ..."
    Between gritted teeth, she said, "If you don't let me go, I'll hate you. I vow I'll kill you!"
    He dragged her down to the pallet. "Ah, but my beautiful captive doesn't keep her vows."
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    Would you care for any child of ours?" he asked her when he had her clasped in his arms, ready for sleep in the chill night. His hand slipped under the tunic and inside her skirt to rest on her flat belly. "Demon or no?"
    She drowsily murmured, "Unless he was a miserable tool like you." Then she drifted off.
    Miserable tool. What if he were killing something between them with each of his actions? Do nothing irrevo-cable. And yet tonight she'd screamed, "I hate you. ..."
    Over the long hours that he'd teased her, keeping her on the brink of release, she'd never surrendered to him.
    She'd been out of her head, her body writhing in a frenzy. She'd rolled her hips, enticing him to break his vow. When he'd beheld her beautiful sex, glistening to be filled ... nothing had ever excited him more.
    But now the two nights were done. Tomorrow, he'd get her to surrender completely, and he'd take her once more. Then he would get control of himself. He had to.
    Troubled and plagued with uncertainties, he finally fell asleep.

    Toward dawn, Rydstrom blinked open his eyes and found himself deep within an illusion.
    Sabine was casting chimeras in her sleep. Were these her dreams?
    "Heat it, stroke it, beat and grow it. Rub it, twist it, love and kiss it," a woman chanted as she ran a fistful of gold chains against her cheek. This was the female voice from the night before-now he could see her.
    She wore a silk mask around harried blue eyes. Her headdress stretched out behind her head a foot on each side, the extensions like wings, each crammed with sapphires. Her jet-black hair was tangled beneath it.
    "Gold is life. It is perfection. The element exists solely for us." Once she dropped the chains into a laden chest on her dresser, she dug her hands down into piles of coins, letting them pour through her fingers.
    When she turned to the mirror, Rydstrom could see two girls in the reflection, one with red hair, and one with black. They were Sabine and Melanthe, both so young, watching her in wide-eyed fascination. This woman was their mother. And she was clearly mad. . . .
    "Band it in armor over thy heart, and never will thy life's blood part. Gild your hair and face and skin, and no man breathes that you can't win. Never too much can a sorceress steal, those who defend"-her face went cold-"she duly kills."
    The