Chapter 27
Zarathos
The vampress had saved Zarathos’s life again.
She’d climbed the damn cliff side, sword in hand, and made it in time to save him from being killed. Despite his admiration, a minor disappointment gathered in his gut that the trial ended before they could finish Xaphoron.
But his opponent didn’t seem to care. “Fucking bitch,” Xaphoron snarled. On his feet, he stalked forward, but Aryana whipped the blade to his throat, causing him to pause.
“Come another step and I’ll end you,” she said.
Zarathos’s grin couldn’t be suppressed. No one stood against his vampress.
Xaphoron didn’t advance any closer, but his gaze met Zarathos’s. “You’ve been holding out on us, Your Majesty. Turns out your little vampire slave can fight.”
The smile on Zarathos’s lips faded. Damn it.
Balafur walked up, crown in hand, close enough to have heard their exchange. “I wonder what other secrets our great arch king hides.” He spread his large gray wings and launched upward. Xaphoron glared, but backed off and began climbing his way down the cliff side.
Zarathos let out a frustrated breath. No crown. And now everyone knew Aryana was anything but a helpless princess. Even if the other champions hadn’t seen what had transpired up here, these two would make sure that they all were aware of the vampire princess’s abilities.
He reached out to Aryana, who gasped as he swept her legs out from under her and pulled her into his arms, spreading his wings. “We’re done here.”
She latched one arm around his neck, her fingers cool on his skin. In her other hand, she clutched the bloodied sword. She’d not only saved him, but she’d brought his blade to him.
He launched them off the cliff’s edge and then soared out over the arena.
His abdomen ached and he was sure a bruise was forming along his jaw, but these were minor injuries.
Zarathos took her to the barred room where they had come out for the opening ceremony.
After entering, he pulled the lever that dropped the wall in place.
Once they were alone in the darkness, he summoned the shadows around them and shifted them to his quarters. He’d leave the other demons to wonder where they had gone.
As soon as they were outside his bedchamber, he stepped from the shadows and set her down. Reaching for his key, he unlocked the door while whisking his wings away.
“You gave away too much,” he said.
She looked at him in shock. “I’m sorry?”
He stalked into the room, heading straight for his washbasin on his vanity, and started scrubbing the blood off his hands too vigorously. “You were supposed to keep your fighting skills hidden.”
She followed him and shut the door. “I don’t understand what you’re upset about. The crowd loves that I can fight. I’m helping your image.”
Crimson liquid bloomed out in the small basin, turning the water red.
“Yes, the crowd, but how do you think the council feels? You imagine they’ll love it if a vampire becomes a serious contender in the Demon Trials?
” Even though the rankings had only been for the opening ceremony, it was the council who planned each trial.
It was the council that could adjust almost any aspect of the trials they chose, putting champions at greater or lesser risk.
She threw the bloody sword onto the stone floor of his bedchamber. “I’m not a serious contender. You’ve made that clear.”
He spun toward her, his nostrils flaring. “But they need to believe that. They need to think you are like any other harmless kalator out there.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Does it hurt you if the council doesn’t favour me? If you can bring even someone such as me to heel—”
“To heel, Aryana. Not a fighting partner.” He sighed, sinking into the chair next to the vanity.
She stared at him, her red gaze bright and angry.
“Then why give me this, Zarathos?” She tore off the tunic he’d given her, revealing the dragon armor.
The scales seemed to consume the light from the fireplace and gather into her glittering eyes.
The way it hugged her body, showing off every curve, made his blood warm.
He swallowed. “It won’t do me any good if you die in the first trial. I've told you before, I’m merely protecting my investment.”
She lifted an eyebrow and came closer to him. Her smooth, pearl-like skin contrasted with the crimson in her eyes and the fulness of her lips. “Is that all I am? Your investment?”
He’d expected her to close off or for her to get angry for dismissing her like that, but instead, she approached with a sultry look.
He met her seductive gaze. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” She reached out and touched his face, drawing her fingers down his skin. He sat, unmoving, seeking not to show how much he liked her soft caress.
“Yes.”
She came closer, and Zarathos held his breath as she leaned in. “Then how does an investment say thank you?” she whispered against his ear.
Shit. Molten fire slid through his veins at her nearness.
He turned his head and caught her mouth against his. The perfect softness of her lips was exquisite. His hands wrapped around her waist as she hovered over him, tugging her closer, taking more, demanding more.
Her hips shifted forward, and she sank into his lap, straddling him, knees resting on either side of the chair in which he sat.
She pressed her hands to his face as her lips caressed his.
The mark on his arm burned. He reached up and undid her hair that was pulled into a warrior bun.
Her tresses tumbled down her back like an uncoiling serpent.
Gods, she was… his tongue lashed out, brushing against her lips, seeking permission to deepen the kiss.
Her mouth parted, and he swept in, curling his around hers.
He scraped his claws over the scales covering her torso and abdomen, descending gradually.
The beast inside him reared. The fire rising in his chest was morphing into a hunger that would never be satiated.
He cupped her ass with one palm and reached between her thighs with the other.
He pressed, rubbing gently through her trousers and armor, which were lined on the inside with a soft fabric.
The flat of his thumb rotated against her apex.
Aryana gasped and her head tipped back, her hair hung in beautiful silken streams reflecting the firelight. Her hands clasped his neck, her nails scraping across his skin.
He’d take every part of her. He’d break her apart until every fragment of her cried out, until the entirety of her belonged to him. She didn’t know how long he could go. He’d take without stopping until she shattered between his hands, and still he’d have her as his.
She leaned forward and kissed him again. Her tongue flicked playfully against his lips, and the inferno in his veins only intensified.
The raging beast demanded he have her and never stop.
No.
He clenched his teeth. Shoving her away, he leapt to his feet, backing up several steps.
Shit. The scent drifting off of her was so potent. It was pure arousal. The look in her eyes swirled with heady desire and a bit of frustration. He ran a hand through his hair as the creature curling in his breast roared in protest, demanding satisfaction.
“You trying to seduce me, Vampress?” he snarled.
Her lips parted. “I was just—”
“And you thought it would work?” He released a strangled laugh. Gods, how close she’d come.
Her gaze widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorted. “You’re such a terrible liar. This…”—he touched his Bloodbound mark—“This…”—he pointed to the spot on her thigh—“It is all fake, Aryana. You have no idea what I can do to you.” The desire in her eyes somehow sparked higher at that, and his body took notice. “You have no fucking…”
He needed to get out of there before he did something that would be irreparable for both of them. Stumbling to his closet, he pulled out a potion and summoned the shadows.
He reappeared in Vivane’s room. He surveyed his surroundings, but she wasn’t present.
Good. Setting the potion on the mantle of the fireplace, he reached down to his armored bottoms and freed himself.
How quickly she’d made him harden, and it had been damn near painful, straining against the fabric.
Wrapping his hand around his hardness, he groaned as he squeezed.
He had to get the vampress out of his head.
He moved his hand back and forth. Gods, her scent had been so intoxicating. It was in his mind, in his nose. The feel of her body. How he’d wanted to do more to her, to take her at his will. The beast purred with pleasure.
“Aryana…” the name slipped out before he could stop it.
And then he was picturing her pretty lips around his cock at the opening ceremony.
Of how easily she worked him into a frenzy.
Shit. He’d liked that. And when her venom had entered him, it had nearly brought him to his knees.
His grip tightened as her lips had then.
And holy hell, when she had sucked it had felt—his breaths came rough, his fingers digging into the wood of the mantle, as his other hand pumped harder, faster with each torturous memory of her mouth clamped so unforgivingly around him.
Not to mention the way she had appeared out of nowhere like an unstoppable warrior and rammed that sword ruthlessly into Xaphoron’s wing.
A gasp tore out of him, and he arched as he spilled onto the flagstone, his senses filled with his vampress.
And yet, despite the pleasure racing through him, a hollowness gutted him. The beast remained unappeased. He groaned, resting his head against the mantle. It would never be satisfied until it had her.
Re-buttoning his armor, he grasped his potion and stumbled over to a chair at a nearby table to the side of Vivane’s bed and sat.
This potion that he both needed and loathed. He removed the cork.
“Having fun without me, Zarathos?” a sultry voice sounded behind him. Vivane crossed into his vision, her eyebrows raised and a slight pout on her lips.
“Forgive me. I needed a moment, and yours was the first place I thought of.”
“I see.” She stepped over to where he’d left indentations in her intricately carved wooden mantle. “You required my chambers, but you didn’t need me. That makes me feel so flattered.”
He offered no reply. He didn’t want to offend her, but it had also been the truth. His grip tightened on the potion.
She stepped over to the table and rested her elbows on it, leaning forward. “Tell me what is going on, Zarathos.”
He looked at her, uncertain. Unburdening himself to Vivane in the past hadn’t been an issue. They understood each other. But now that he had someone to protect, everything had changed.
She studied him through narrowed eyes. “You came here. I can tell the potion’s effects have completely worn off. If I had someone else in these rooms, if someone besides me had scented you—”
He swore. “It is wearing off faster than it used to.”
“And what is the cause of this sudden change, pray tell?”
He glared at her. “You think I know?”
But of course he did. And Vivane wasn’t one to be put off by avoidance tactics. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that Bloodbound mark on the thigh of that vampire princess, does it?”
Something plummeted into his stomach. That was right, she was a succubus. She sensed Bloodbindings. “You saw it?”
She gave him a flat stare. “That is the only spot she keeps wrapped up tight. The rest of her skin is flawless.”
Luckily, Vivane was the only succubus that had gotten close to Aryana here at his castle, or that would. Zarathos would ensure that. They didn’t need another catastrophe like when he and the vampress had gone for the scepter.
His hand closed on his bicep where his mark lay. “It’s causing all sorts of havoc.” He could have sex with the elixir in his system without it wearing off. He’d done it many times. It had to be the bond that was ruining everything.
She laughed.
“Do you find this amusing?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s going to get us killed.”
She shook her head. “Zarathos, you know how a Bloodbond works. It will affect you, yes, but only if the owner of the mark already has feelings for the beloved. You can’t blame what is happening on the bond alone.”
The sourness in his stomach grew. He rose, turning his back to her. “She is nothing to me.”
“You’ve never hesitated to share secrets with me before.”
Yes. He had.
“Or perhaps,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “you aren’t as good at hiding them from me.”
That was more the truth.
He faced her and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“This vampire princess is going to be the end of me.” Even now, all he could think about was returning to his rooms and finishing what they started.
The beast had to be quelled. Bringing the elixir to his mouth, he downed its contents.
Not only did it dull his scent, it also dulled his senses to a degree.
He was capable of being aroused, but at least the creature inside him would remain in check.
Vivane watched, her lips pressed. “Well, then, my arch king, the answer is simple.”
He looked at her expectantly with raised eyebrows, desperation clutching his chest.
“You must kill the vampire princess before you let the situation go any further,” she said. “Unless she has already gotten her claws too deeply inside you?”
He stepped up to the fireplace, staring into its flickering flames, and felt its warmth against his body. “Never,” he lied.
“Then you will slay the princess at the next trial. Show the world that you will be the demon arch king that they desire and expect.”
Yes. That was the only answer. Whatever feelings were growing in him was a disease that needed to be extracted violently before they took root. He could still do that. That was still possible. It had to be. “I will.”
And yet, as he said it, the truth reverberated inside him as clearly as a death knell.
It was too late.