Wicked Abyss Read online

  How easy for him to say! Uthyr voluntarily chose his shape.

  Sian would kill to be a shifter. He'd even dreamed about shifting from his hell-change form to his previous guise and back.

  --That's your only chance for a lasting future with your female.--

  "Lasting future? I despise her. I could never again trust her. Even so, any male would want to be attractive to his mate." They continued on.

  --If raised differently, Kari could be changed from before. Nature versus nurture, demon.--

  "In this we agree. In fact, no longer will I call my prisoner Kari. This fierce new version, Calliope, is in a class all her own." Because she wasn't a royal in this life?

  Maybe a princess's restraint had been ingrained into Kari from birth. The same restraint that had curbed Kari's temper could have controlled her sexuality.

  Calliope had an explosive temper. Would her lusts be just as volatile?

  "Turn Princess Kari feral . . . and you have Calliope." Could that also mean she wasn't narrow-minded and heartless? "Unless she's playing games with me. The possibility remains that she's a planted spy."

  --Games? Mayhap you're attributing your own traits to her.-- Uthyr flicked his tail, a movement he often made just before saying "checkmate." --I'm surprised you haven't decided to seduce her.--

  Sian glowered at the dragon. "I'm sure you heard what she makes of my appearance." He waved at himself. "She finds me repulsive."

  --What did you want most out of life? Ah, yes, a challenge.--

  "An attainable one." But hadn't Sian also lamented never knowing a hard-won victory? If he could seduce her in this guise . . .

  --Considering her age, she might be feeling the effects of overstimulation.--

  Her senses would be growing ever sharper, bombarding her with stimulation, her desires increasing in time.

  --I remember my own transition. I would have tupped a sweet-talking ghouless for relief.--

  "You think I could use her new lusts against her?"

  --I don't like the conniving gleam in your eyes.--

  Sian had been in battle. He'd suffered physical agony and horror. He'd lived through the amputation of his horns. But nothing had hurt him like the hole Kari had left in his chest. He needed to make her experience the same! He wanted her to fucking ache for him.

  To think of nothing but him for the next ten thousand years.

  "If someone who looks like me used and tossed her away, she'd be humiliated." He might be able to punish her worse than the labors he'd planned.

  --This was not the direction I'd hoped your mind would go. And how could you mate and discard her? You'd have to withhold your claiming bite. Is any demon male strong enough to resist marking his mate's neck in the throes of first spending?--

  If Sian did mark her with his fangs, she would irreversibly become the queen of hell. "A strong enough demon male? How about the primordial"--Sian pounded a fist against his chest--"of the entire godsdamned species?"

  Uthyr gave him an unimpressed look.

  "I'll think on this, dragon. For now, let's see how my captive reacts to amusing new torments." Amusing for him alone, of course.

  Before Sian could trace away, Uthyr said, --I've seen some of your recollections of her.--

  Not surprising. As bonded as a family, the members of the Morior were telepathically linked, with few secrets between them. Though he trusted his allies with his life, Sian had shielded certain memories from them. Yet snippets always slipped through. "When we all communicate, we learn much about each other." A fact of life.

  --True. And I might have dug a bit.--

  Sian bared his fangs again. Digging into masked memories was taboo! If Uthyr saw Sian's shameful pleas to Kari . . . "I've killed for lesser slights. Have I tried to find out why you refuse to shift back to your human form? No. But I will now."

  Uthyr shrugged his wings. --I investigated so I might be of more service to you, friend. I must know the history.--

  There was a reason Sian didn't want the others to know. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to the past.

  After he'd revealed to Kari everything about his kind, she'd avoided him for weeks, refusing any contact with him. He'd been helpless to do anything as a future with his mate slipped from his panicked grasp.

  Separated from his twin for the first time and without a single friend in that world, he'd walked around in a daze, doubt his only companion: Was I too rough with her, too demonic?

  Maybe she'd had trouble accepting the totality of their fated connection. Or she'd been spooked by it. But surely she could never doom him to an existence with no female or family.

  Then he'd heard the announcement of a surprise wedding between her and the Draiksulian king--set for that very afternoon. Sian had sprinted to the castle to stop her. He couldn't lose both of his parents and his fated female in the space of a year! He climbed through her window. . . .

  Surrounded by her handmaidens, she stood on a dais, dressed in a white gown. Her beauty stole his breath.

  "What are you doing in here?" she demanded, giving him a look of distaste. "Get out now."

  He ran his hand over his face, comprehending his own appearance. He hadn't shaven, and his garments were a mess. "I won't leave until you talk to me."

  She dismissed her attendants. Something about her was different. She seemed both older and colder.

  "What are you doing, Kari? Are you wedding that king to take yourself out of my reach?"

  With zero emotion, she said, "I am marrying my fiance because I want him. I have loved him since I was a little girl."

  Sian's stomach lurched as if it'd been punched. "Do not do this, Kari. You love me!" Hadn't she told him as much? The tender regard I feel for you . . .

  "I do not--and could never--love an animal with horns." She returned her attention to her reflection.

  He gaped in disbelief. But their kiss . . . the way she'd responded . . . their plans . . .

  Adjusting a lock of her shining hair, she asked, "Can I make it any plainer, prince of beasts?"

  His actions later that day would shame him for the rest of his unending life. . . .

  --Demon?-- Uthyr's gaze narrowed on Sian's clenched fists.

  He'd dug his claws into his palms until they dripped blood.

  --At least tell me how Kari died. It must have been before she became fully immortal.--

  Sian grated, "She died at twenty-four, giving birth to the child of another male." He turned his mind from that enraging memory lest he trace to Calliope and do something dire. "Ask me no more about it. Just go, Uthyr. Fly with the other dragons."

  --I'm not a dragon; I'm a dragon shifter. But that juvenile pack is fun to spar with. If you refuse all of my advice, I might as well go.-- He paused. --One thing, though . . . --

  "What?"

  --If history often repeats itself, and she's on the cusp of immortality . . . could she currently be pregnant?--

  To lose her again?

  The king of all hells threw back his head and yelled until the whole realm quaked.

  FIFTEEN

  You can do this! Lila peered down at the bowl of . . . soup. She could swear this one was more animated than the last, but she needed the nourishment.

  She'd been imprisoned for six days, had scratched as many slashes into a wall.

  Trays of food appeared for each meal, always with demon dishes. The only good thing about her hunger and exhaustion: a subdued sex drive.

  After her last encounter with Abyssian, Lila had berated herself for responding to a Morior. For some inexplicable reason, she'd felt . . . chemistry with that crazy demon. Lots of it.

  Far more than I felt with Saetth.

  Just minutes ago, Abyssian's roar had echoed over the kingdom again, though this one sounded more enraged than sexual. What had set him off this time? Would he take it out on her?

  Anticipation of a blow could sometimes be as bad as the hit. She would know. Nightmares of the archer had plagued her since childhood--but ne
ver as badly as they had here.

  If she could fall asleep. She often got the sense of being watched, keeping her on edge. Most nights, she huddled for warmth on the stone floor, listening to hell's soundtrack. While spiders skittered inside the castle walls, dragon calls and the howls of distant hellhounds drifted in from the wilds.

  Other times, she'd watched the dramatic storms. Last night, rain had poured while electric-blue lightning forked above the tops of nearby volcanoes. Lava had steamed in the downpour, solidifying into bizarre shapes.

  None of the tales she'd read could convey how surreal Pandemonia was. . . .

  During the days, Lila had paced along a narrowing trail between fire vines, conceiving and discarding escape plans. Despite all of her reading, she didn't have enough knowledge about this realm to plot her exit from it. And she needed to build up her strength.

  With that in mind, she sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped a spoon into the soup.

  Though she hadn't eaten since her last sandwich in the employee lounge, she'd lost zero weight. Was she so close to immortality that her figure had already frozen forever? Next would come tingling regeneration. Then she'd become bulletproof. Few things could kill her other than a beheading.

  Stop stalling, Lila. Soup. She lifted the spoon. The dish smelled appetizing enough, but small creatures that resembled jellyfish fluttered in the warm broth.

  How did one go about this? Swallow a jellyfish whole? Crush it up first?

  Chew it . . . live?

  She could drink the broth, but she needed protein. Scrunching her eyes closed, she eased the spoon toward her mouth. For good measure, she pinched her nose. She wavered when she heard a flutter and a tiny splash in her spoon.

  The jellyfish wasn't going down without a fight. Literally.

  Inhale. Exhale. Here goes. Her hand trembled. With a whimper, she parted her lips, only to gag--

  Her ears twitched. She sensed another presence, heard heaving breaths. Her eyes flashed open, her spoon clattering back into the bowl.

  Abyssian had appeared not twenty feet from her, looking as demonic as ever. His longish black hair was tousled, his fangs bared. His wings unfurled behind him. He wore only low-slung leather pants and scuffed boots.

  Her heart sank. What impossible task would she face today? Moving an ocean with a leaky cup?

  She abandoned her attempt at lunch and stood, conscious of her own clothing--underwear so ripped and frayed the material bordered on transparent.

  When she tugged up her bra, he watched her movements avidly, then seemed to shake himself. "Are you with young, female?"

  What a random question. "Why would you ask me that?"

  "ANSWER ME!"

  She swallowed. "Not that I know of."

  Some of the tension left his lean muscles, but then his masked eyes narrowed again. "Could you be?"

  "No."

  He waved a hand, and a gold ring appeared between his thumb and forefinger, looking minuscule in his grasp. "I will tolerate no disobedience from you," he told her in his rough voice. "Remember that you are to obey all my commands, such as the one I now give you: don this ring without argument."

  He tossed it to her. Her hand shot out reflexively to catch it. "What is this?"

  "It is the ring your king commanded you to wear. You will do whatever I order, whenever I order it. You have yet to understand your place here."

  "My king is Saetth of the Sylvan fey." Unless he screwed me over.

  "That arrant coward?"

  He was a lot of things, but she didn't think he lacked courage. Everyone was always talking about his skill with a sword. "He's no coward."

  "Then why won't he answer Rune's challenges?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The Morior's archer has challenged Saetth to a sword fight, one on one--even though a sword is not Rune's weapon. If Saetth wants to save his line, then why not fight to rid his people of the fey-slayer?"

  Saetth had told her, If there were any alternative, I would undertake it. Had there been? "Rune must be older and stronger. Hardly fair."

  "They're near in age and half brothers. There is no better-matched fight."

  "Brothers?" For fuck's sake, am I related to Rune??

  "They share a father."

  Then half related at worst. And generations must separate her and the archer.

  "Rune destroyed Saetth's sword recently--when your spineless king chose to target Rune's female in a sneak attack."

  "Why should I believe anything you say?" she asked, though she couldn't come up with a reason why Abyssian would lie about that.

  "Don't give a damn if you do or don't." He jerked his chin at her hand. "The ring, princess."

  She stiffened. "Why would you call me that?" Oh, gods, had he figured out her true identity?

  "In your previous life, you were a fey princess of Sylvan."

  Could Lila truly have been reborn into the same royal line? Fate wants me to be a queen. At least the demon still didn't know she was a princess now as well. She wasn't in the archer's sights.

  Yet.

  "In my alleged previous life." She sat again and gazed at the ring, assessing its power. Most fey possessed innate--but rarely developed--magic. She could sense a spell attached to this band. "I won't put it on until you tell me what you've bespelled it to do."

  His fangs sharpened at her impertinence. The broad planes of his chest swelled, drawing her gaze to his pierced nipples. His golden markings began to glow. Against his red skin, those coiled patterns looked like . . . flames.

  Hypnotic.

  "Wrong answer." Before she could blink, he'd traced to kneel beside her. "I'll force it on your finger if I have to. Though I'll probably break something of yours in the process."

  "No!" She made a fist around the band, shoving her hand behind her back.

  With a growl, he leaned forward, arm snaking around her waist, wings all but enclosing her.

  His scent surrounded her. He smelled like a sun-warmed evergreen that had just caught fire. She hadn't imagined the heat of his skin before; it seemed to sear her.

  Right in front of her mouth was one of his piercings. When she turned her head away, he leaned over her even more. His rippling chest rubbed her breasts. A gasp left her lips when that piercing raked across her own nipple.

  His breaths grew ragged, tickling the tip of her sensitive ear, and she nearly moaned. She had the insane urge to snatch his long black hair and yank him down for a kiss.

  What is happening to me?

  She was so distracted by these sensations that he easily snagged her hand. He sat back on his haunches, dragging her fist to his chest. Prying open her fingers, he retrieved the ring. Yet then he stilled, seeming transfixed by their hands. Hers looked small and pale next to his huge claw-tipped one.

  Breaking his stare, he tried to shove the band onto her finger.

  She struggled. "Stop it, you brute! I don't want it!"

  "You'll wear whatever I command you to," he said, his voice even huskier than usual.

  He flattened her hand against his chest, straightening her fingers. He didn't seem to notice that he'd placed her palm right over a nipple. Her lips parted, her attention dipping.

  His impossibly large dick was hard again. Stunned by the sight, she stopped fighting for just a moment; he slid the ring on, and it tightened around her finger.

  "Damn you!" She'd never be able to remove it.

  Pinning her gaze with his own, he shifted her hand on his chest. And again. Oh, yes, he'd noticed the placement of her hand, and now he was forcing her to pet him.

  Her overstimulated body responded, loving the feel of his chiseled muscles. No, he was a monster! "I don't want to touch you."

  He peered at her stiff nipples straining against her threadbare bra. "Do you not?" How could three words sound so arrogant? Smirking, he rubbed his tongue over one fang; his tongue was pointed! He looked like he was about to lean in and suckle her.

  She'd never had h
er nipples kissed before. Her breaths shallowed as she imagined what his lips would feel like closing over a peak. His mouth would be so hot. His pointed tongue would flick the tip, circling it. . . .

  "Hmm." The satisfied sound rumbled from his chest, doing strange things to her belly. "I think in this context, you would very much like to be my plaything, Calliope."

  Gripping her wrists with one hand, he lowered his other to rest upon one of her thighs. He inched it higher . . .

  Higher . . .

  She bit back a whimper, battling the urge to rock her hips in invitation. "Never."

  "Then why do I scent your arousal, little female?"

  SIXTEEN

  Her body needs mine! Sian wanted to bellow with triumph. The first time he'd ever elicited her arousal scent, and he was in this form!

  The mouthwatering honey of her sex would've maddened a lesser demon. Blood rushed to his groin, swelling his cock till he thought it'd rip free of his pants.

  Her mismatched irises began to glow, both turning a bright, shimmery teal. He'd never seen them change color before! But surely she must have felt some kind of sharp emotion around him during the four months he'd been in Sylvan.

  Her thigh trembled beneath his palm, her breasts rising and falling with her panting breaths. Her hard nipples begged for his attention.

  His tongue flicked in his mouth. He'd fantasized infinite times about sucking her breasts, rubbing his stubble over them, tonguing her nipples till she came for him.

  Was he about to have his fantasy?

  I could cover her right now. His gaze flashed to her supple neck. Could he possibly resist marking this female as his own?

  She raised her chin. "If I am aroused, it isn't for you, beast. Never for you. I'd had stirring thoughts before you arrived."

  His excitement dimmed to nothing. He'd been enjoying the effects of her impending transition and nothing more.

  Of course.

  He gazed at his large demon hand upon her thigh. His black claws were stark against her alabaster flesh. Before he could choke back the words, he'd asked, "Then what does arouse you?"

  "At the bottom of my turn-ons list: fuckface demons who abuse me."

  With a harsh curse, he released her and traced to the other side of the tower, willing his erection to wane.

  Another loss of control, another close call. He'd nearly rutted her on the floor.