The Invisible Ring

felt too stunned to even try to answer. Even the agony of the Ring of Obedience was a mild threat compared to this. He’d have no chance against Daemon. His inner barriers would be forced open, his thoughts, feelings, memories picked over like tawdry goods at a market stall. At best, it would be a mental rape. At worst, he wouldn’t necessarily be broken, but he could still be savaged so badly he’d never fully recover.
    And what would happen to Lia? Daemon made no secret of his revulsion for the distaff gender.
    Jared licked his dry lips. “It’s none of your business, Daemon.”
    Daemon smiled, a sweetly murderous smile. “Puppy, when you wailed for help, and I answered, you made it my business.”
    Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful . Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?
    “Although,” Daemon added, “I hadn’t expected you to show up shielding some battered slut.”
    “She’s not a slut,” Jared said hotly, pushing away from the wall.
    The phantom hand slammed him back again, hard enough to make him wonder if he’d have cracked ribs as well as a crushed throat.
    Daemon said nothing.
    “I told you,” Jared said through gritted teeth. “The witch who owns me ordered me to bring her—”
    The phantom nails stabbed him, breaking the skin. Blood trickled down his neck.
    “Liar,” Daemon snarled quietly.
    Jared shivered as he watched the gold eyes glaze with cold fury. He bit his tongue to keep from whimpering.
    “She owns me,” he said weakly as the fingers tightened a bit more.
    Contempt joined the fury in Daemon’s eyes. He looked pointedly at Jared’s groin. “You wear no Ring, Warlord. And you’re down to your last chance.”
    “I do wear a Ring,” Jared said, gasping for breath. “I wear the Invisible Ring.”
    Unexpectedly, the phantom hand eased its vicious grip.
    Daemon studied Jared. Then one finely shaped black eyebrow rose, and he asked mildly, “Which one? The Silver or the Gold?”
    Which one? Jared thought desperately. Which one ? How in the name of Hell was he supposed to know which one?
    It was invisible ! “I...”
    A loud thump came from his room.
    Jared turned toward the door without thinking. Releasing the Red lock, he rushed inside.
    Lia was crawling toward the door, her eyes glazed and unseeing. Her right arm was curled, as if she were still dragging Tomas’s body away from the viper rats’ nest.
    “Lia,” Jared murmured, hurrying to reach her.
    As he crouched in front of her, he heard the door quietly close. Heard the snick of a lock.
    He slowly straightened and turned.
    Daemon leaned against the closed door, his hands still tucked in his trouser pockets. In silence, he watched Lia’s efforts.
    “Who is she?” Daemon asked quietly. ?
    Jared took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Lady Arabella Ardelia. The Gray Lady’s granddaughter.”
    Daemon didn’t move, but Jared sensed a change. Not exactly surprise, but a swift reassessment.
    “Viper rats?” Daemon said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lia.
    Jared nodded. He had no chance against the Sadist, but he’d make Daemon go through him in order to get to Lia.
    Daemon shrugged out of his tailored black jacket, tossed it on a chair, and began rolling up the sleeves of his white-silk shirt. “Get her on the bed. We’ll finish this discussion later.” He stepped through the bathroom door.
    Daemon returned before Jared had a chance to settle Lia.
    “Wait,” Daemon said. He unfolded two sheets, then refolded them to make a pad. Placing them on the left side of the double bed, he smoothed the sheets.
    What kind of spells was Daemon putting on the sheets? Jared wondered, holding Lia a little tighter to his chest.
    Satisfied, Daemon said, “Put her on those. It’ll be easier than stripping the bed later and disturbing her.”
    Jared did as he was told. He bit back a snarl when Daemon knelt on the bed beside Lia. “Is there a Healer in the village?”
    Daemon’s hands glided over Lia’s head, slid down her swollen neck. “Even if there is, I doubt she’d be much help. You need someone who has some skill in healing Craft and a knowledge of poisons.” His hands glided over her shoulders, over her breasts.
    Thera had said the same thing, Jared reminded himself as he watched Daemon’s hands move over Lia’s body. There was nothing personal or sexual about the way Daemon explored her, but Jared couldn’t push aside the memory of watching those hands with their long, black-tinted nails roam over other female bodies for a very different