Page 14 of Fated to the Demon Lord

Porcelain plates overflowed with steaming food that smelled rich and sweet beneath the sharper scent of metal lingering in the air. Beside each plate sat a silver goblet filled almost to the brim with a dark crimson liquid so thick it barely moved when the candlelight touched it.

Wine, I told myself. But the thought came too quickly, too desperately.

The room was empty.

At least it looked empty.

An icy pressure crawled up the back of my neck, the unmistakable sensation of being watched from somewhere just beyond sight.

I searched for any means of escape. No other doors existed. My gaze landed on the windows to the right, blocked by heavy curtains.

Yes. It might be my only chance.

I hurried over to the window and pushed the curtains aside. My shaking hands reached for the latch.

Orange glowing eyes glared with vengeful menace on the other side of the glass.

I yelped and lunged backward. Demon spirits—too many of them gathered outside. Through their not fully corporeal bodies, I beheld more approaching, stepping through the now shut gate guarding the manor grounds.

Fuck. They could go through walls.

And since I had technically been delivered to Vaelor, or at least his home, the spirits of the dead mercenary army could come for me.

I raced for the room’s exit, even though I knew it was futile. Any second they’d come through the wall and end my life. I banged on the locked door so hard that my hand hurt. “Please, open up, they’re going to kill me. Please have mercy.”

A dark chuckle sounded behind me. “This is oddly ironic.”

I spun around. An abaddon demon spirit stood in the room. I recognized the black, serrated horns curling back from his head, the deep burgundy hair, the broad, imposing frame. Mist curled about him, seeping across the floor. He wore the same clothes as when I’d first seen him in the tent at the mercenary camp, though now I saw straight through him to the wallpaper beyond.

And his eyes… those glowing red eyes were different—darker, hungrier, edged with a molten orange that made my pulse stutter.

He stepped closer. His large bat wings spread behind him, the movement slow and deliberate.

Lord Vaelor.

I swung a finger, pointing to the window. “My lord, they’re going to come through and…” It was silly to expect him to care. I wanted to scream. But all I did was feel my heart race. “And…” I glanced toward the window.

The demons behind it remained there, enraged and murderous…

…but not entering through the walls of the manor.

Lord Vaelor tilted his head, the faint orange glow in his eyes sharpening the intensity of his gaze as it lingered on me a moment too long—steady, knowing, and unsettling enough to make heat crawl beneath my skin.

“You believe I’d protect you from them?” His voice was deep and melodic. He stepped to the window, his movements lithe and sleek like a knife through silk. Laying his hand on the glass, he looked outside at the demons gathered there. One of them made a rude gesture. “The inheritance contract that protects my claim on the manor keeps them from entering. For now.” He grasped the curtains and pulled them shut.

The icy fear in my body faded, and my shoulders sagged. If that were true, I no longer needed to worry about the monsters outside.

I glanced at Vaelor, and the coldness under my skin returned in an instant.

I needed to worry about the beast in the room with me.

Vaelor never took his eyes off me as he stepped back. He approached the backless chair, resembling an elegant stool on the room’s far side, and sat down.

The intensity in his expression unnerved me, like a predator that had already settled on its prey.

“Sit down.” He motioned to the second place setting across the table from him.

As if in response, my stomach growled. And yet, I remained by the door. I wanted a way out. I needed a way out. There was none. I hadn’t heard the door open when he entered, which meant he must have recently stepped through the locked door.