Page 113 of Fated to the Demon Lord

Don’t stop them. Trust me.

He released a low rumble but stepped away and faced Throk. “You have overestimated her worth to me. Have at her.”

Throk cocked his massive head to the side, his smile growing vindictive. “You first.”

Vaelor became still. The only movement was the mist swirling at his feet, the breeze ruffling his burgundy hair. “What?”

“I order you to draw her blood.”

Denara—I felt his volatility.

Do it, I commanded. Use my sword.

If you die, you know I will only be seconds away from following you. I won’t hold back.

I tried not to let the fear of that statement cut through me. Together we rise or fall.

He drew the blade at my waist. Together we overcome.

His grip tightened on the hilt of the weapon, and he uttered a snarl as he swiped it forward.

I gasped as the edge sliced into my skin. The cut was along my side, shallow—but blood spilled out through my shirt and the hurt radiated through me.

Gods, forgive me, Vaelor’s anguished thoughts pierced my fog of pain.

I’m fine, I thought despite the pulsing agony. Wipe the blood off on my clothes. Make it appear vindictive.

He grabbed my face and forced me to look at him as he raised his sword. “Fucking human.” He wiped it on my pants, crimson dying into the brown fabric. I hate this.

I know.

Vaelor turned to Throk, dropping my sword into the grass.

The scent of my blood made the demons hunger. Bloodlust filled their ravenous gazes as they watched red trickling down my side. They collectively moved closer.

“Hold,” Throk said to the gathering crowd of demons. “I realize that all of you wish for a portion of her, and you will get her. But we must do things in order. We go first.” He gestured to him and the two leaders with him. “But remember, we want this to be slow and thorough.” His eyes glistened. “Make it last.”

The demons growled and hissed, but they allowed Throk and the others to approach.

Throk’s fleshy hands grazed my face, and a chill of apprehension went through me. What was he going to do to me?

“Dear, you smell delectable.” He ran his nose over my skin, then grasped my shirt and tore it open.

He looked me over with a hungry, taunting gaze. “Definitely not a boy,” he laughed as his hand dropped and he shoved a finger into my wound. I arched as the pain in my side ratcheted, a whimper escaping from between my lips.

“Yes, little human, I scent your fear. Do you know what that does to demons?” he growled then leaned in, his teeth clamped onto my right breast, and I screamed as his massive tusk pierced through my sensitive skin, deeper, deeper. Blood ran over his face. The pain became unbearable, and another scream ripped out of me. He chuckled and his hands gripped my body as he violently jerked back, taking my flesh with it.

I gasped, tears streaming over my cheeks, the world spinning. He’d bitten a chunk out of me.

Throk stepped away, chewing on my flesh. “Don’t break any bones this early. We don’t want her passing out.” He motioned for his subordinates to come forward.

Fuck, Denara. Fuck, Vaelor’s raging thoughts tore into my mind.

Not… yet…

The first gargoyle underling came next.

He pressed his face into my wounds, sucking my blood, spiking my pain higher. “You taste like a delicacy.”