Page 16 of Fated to the Demon Lord

He took another step toward me, malice flaring in his glowing eyes, his gaze never leaving mine. “Do you know what it’s like standing on redemption’s edge, then having it torn away?”

I had nowhere to run, nowhere to go, so I forced myself to answer. “No.”

He took another slow, certain step, coming inevitably closer. “Would anyone stop me from throwing you to the horde of demons outside and letting them tear you apart?”

I swallowed. “No.”

He was close. Too close. He reached out, sharp nails brushing across my cheeks in a slow caress. “And if I wished to shred you myself, right this instant, do you think anyone would come to your aid?”

His touch was a blade against my vulnerable skin. Any second he might follow through with his threat. The possibility left me both hot and cold. “No,” I whispered, the sound barely louder than a breath.

He slid his hand under my chin and tipped my face upward. “Then make this easy. Drink when I tell you to.”

He raised my goblet to my lips. I jerked back, knocking it from his grip and splashing the dark liquid across the table. As I bolted to get away, my foot caught on a stool leg, sending me off-balance. I grabbed for the table, rattling the cutlery, and the knife shifted under my hand, its edge slicing into my palm. Pain tore through me, and I fell backward, hitting the floor.

Lord Vaelor stared at the spilled drink, his murderous gaze snapping to mine. “Fine. We will do this the hard way.”

I pushed myself to my feet, agony lancing through the wound on my palm. I stumbled back, grasping my injured hand as he stalked toward me.

“What in the…” He stopped in his tracks, his nostrils flaring. His image blurred before coalescing right in front of me again. He grasped my wounded hand, and I tried to tear it from his grip, but he held on like a vice. Raising my hand to his lips, his forked tongue slid out, dragging across my palm. Pain flared as he swiped it against my wound, tasting my blood.

“What the fuck is this?” His eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely rattled.

“Let me go!” I cried.

He released me, and I retreated from him. He stared at me, his jaw clenched, his fingers pulled into fists. Without another word, he turned and stalked from the room, passing right through the locked door and out of sight.

Five

Iwatched where he had left, my body shaking, my heart racing. I needed to make sure this wasn’t a trick—that he wouldn’t return a moment later, ready to finish what he started.

When my trembling finally eased and my pulse slowed, I moved over to the table and grabbed the napkin and held it to my bleeding palm, trying to figure out what had happened. What had stopped Lord Vaelor from killing me? The rage had been there, as had the desire to avenge his own death. A demon wasn’t capable of compassion, so it had to be for another reason.

I glanced out the window. Maybe he planned on delivering me to the mercenary army after all.

There had to be some way out of this. Away from him. Away from this camp.

I spun toward the door, my heart rate picking up when I heard the handle jiggle. The door opened and Erlinen stepped in.

Thank the gods it wasn’t Vaelor.

Erlinen observed me, her eyes narrowed. “You will come with me.”

She left the room. Both she and her master seemed to enjoy abrupt exits.

She led me through the front entryway to the large spiral staircase. I didn’t know where I was going—to a torture chamber, or perhaps a tower prison cell. Leaving the house wasn’t an option, and so I had no choice but to follow.

After climbing the stairs, she took me down a long, wide hallway. It was mostly empty. The walls were bare except for the occasional alcove where a candelabra sat, lighting the way. She opened the double doors and took me into a large bedchamber. The room was large, suffocatingly large. My entire cabin back home could have fit in this room.

Erlinen gave me another disdainful glance as she marched over to the dresser and yanked open the drawer. “Humans are so small. It will be a wonder if there is anything suitable.”

“Suitable?” I echoed warily.

Erlinen sifted through the drawer and pulled out a white, lacy shift. She walked up to me and lifted it. “Hm, it’ll do.” She held it out to me.

I blinked and stared at her. “I don’t understand…”

“What is there not to understand? You’ll sleep here tonight. Feron is bringing water for your bath.”