FREE NOVELLA CHAPTER Chapter Sixteen
Demon Heart by Kiss Carson
Copyright 2021
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mercy Stone grant me courage.
Familiar
odors drifted through the open arch-shaped windows and filled the suite with
mountain mist, herbs, and the faint scent of incense. Zachary sat on the edge
of the bed, head in hands, his body aching. He’d thought the battle with his
father had been in his mind but according to the bruises that covered his ribs
and stomach, that wasn’t the case. A breeze soothed his bare torso where the
bruises burned the worst. He fought the urge to strip naked and lie on the cool
marble floor so sweet air could touch each and every part of him. The battle
for Newlyn’s sword proved difficult for his body, and his soul.
Female
voices drew his eyes to the window. Laughter echoed from the courtyard below.
Outside, palace employees bustled and toiled to prepare the feast to celebrate
his success. Just as the prophets foresaw, he would place the last shard of
Hope Stone into the door. Once the third door opened those who opposed him
would bow to one knee and declare him the true born Demon Lord. All of Demon
Realm would rejoice. Except him.
Away
from the palace he had lived the life of a wild nomad, carefree and
unregulated. He had even found a life partner. Domini lay behind him, the soft
blanket pulled up and folded neatly under her chin. He had watched her sleep
for nigh and hour, and had studied her every feature. Auburn hair partially
covered her face but left her lovely mouth exposed. At the Pool of Truth he had
kissed those lips with more passion than he thought possible, and wanted more.
Isha’s words were true. Domini had thawed his demon heart. Now, in the stark light
of the white marble room he realized he couldn't possibly love the one person
sent to save his home. Some sacrifices had to be made. Even if she was his Lady
Demon.
The
metal box that contained half of his heart sat on the glass table by the
window. Beside the container was a ceremonial dagger. Zachary lowered his eyes
to his hands resting idly on his thighs. He was a warrior and he must think
like a warrior, not a love infused drifter. Demon Realm’s future rested on his
shoulders.
The
unexpected warmth of Domini's hand on his back sent a tingle along his spine.
The moment should be cherished but his morbid task cast a gloom upon his
happiness. The one person she needed to fear was him. He couldn’t look at her.
Instead, he sat straight and gazed through the window at the shadows on the
sandstone building across the courtyard.
“You’re
so deep in thought.” Domini's voice was soft, tinged with fatigue. She’d all
but died to save his home.
Zachary
forced himself to look at her. Of all the wonderful things he had seen, Domini
would be the most beautiful. “I was thinking about you.”
Her
face creased into a sudden smile. “Well, now I understand the frown.” She
reached out to touch his face.
Before
he could succumb to her femininity, he lurched from the bed and strode to the
glass table, picking up the ceremonial dagger. The blade sat across the
palms of his hands, the green stones blinking in the light of a nearby lantern.
The gilded blade showed no sign of use; no blood stained the swirling inlay or
the base of the handle. The dagger was created especially for the Hope Stone
ceremony that night. The blade would only ever spill one person’s blood, and
the hand that wielded it belonged to the most powerful being in all of Demon
Realm.
When he
turned back to the bed Domini watched him intently. Her gaze traveled the
length of his body until she met his eyes again. Zachary had seen that come
hither look before, at the Pool of Truth, and again at his mother’s cabin. He
had barely resisted before, now her pull on his heart was even stronger.
Domini
inspected her surroundings. “Is this your room?”
“No,
this is the guest suite.”
“Ah,
the VIP suite.” Domini's smile glowed through the ebbing light. “What’s the
knife for?”
Zachary
studied the blade once again. “It is for the ceremony tonight. There is to be a
sacrifice.”
She
screwed up her nose. “Oh, that’s nasty.” Suddenly serious, she patted the down
mattress. “Come here and let me look at those bruises.”
“I must
prepare for the ceremony.”
Domini
threw the duvet back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Then I’ll
come to you.” She lowered to the floor, bare feet scarcely making a sound on
the marble as she approached.
Upon
their arrival from the Forest of Despair, the healer had stripped Domini of her
dirt stained clothes. He’d pulled a barely there gown of pale green silk over
her head for comfort and to allow her body to breathe. Zachary had thought
nothing of the nightgown at the time. But now… “Mercy Stone,” he muttered.
Every
step forward she came increased his sudden need to run. Hair tumbled down her
back in perfect auburn waves, just like that of the mountain temptresses who
dwelled in the Shimmer Caves behind the palace. Domini's face was so
captivating that he couldn’t tear his attention away. However, it wasn’t her
face that rooted him to the spot but the way her body moved, the way the silk
clung to this curve while that curve lay yet to be discovered. He didn’t
realize he had retreated until his naked back hit the smooth wall. Her hand
burned a trail across his chest, gently smoothed the tortured skin of his ribs.
Zachary
held the dagger tightly by his side. His eyes lowered to where her heart lay
beneath her breast. One motion was all it would take. He would be Demon Lord.
Demon Realm would be peaceful again. Then, he saw her left shoulder, swollen
and bruised from her encounters.
“Your
shoulder…”
“It
hurts,” she admitted. Her gaze was soft, her fingertips on his cheeks, softer.
“But I’m proud of the pain. The injury happened while I helped my husband.” She
rose onto her toes, her mouth moving closer to his.
The
shield he’d built to encase his emotions cracked. He couldn’t take the Hope
Stone from her. He had no right to destroy her soul. He had no right to steal
her life, a life he’d willingly become entangled in. Domini's body rested along
his. Taut nipples brushed his skin through the sheer material of nightgown. The
invitation was hard to refuse. Each of his senses focused on Domini: the sweet
scent of spring flowers swirled around him; breaths, slow and intimate,
caressed his ears; her hands now cupped his face, pulling his closer,
demanding. Boldly, he met her gaze, instantly aroused by the desire that
radiated from her eyes. He wanted to taste her and once again know the hunger
of her mouth.
The
dagger slipped from his fingers and landed on the marble floor with a clatter.
Zachary clasped her body tightly to his, tangled his hand in her hair as he
ruthlessly claimed her lips. Her arms went around his neck and the kiss
deepened, setting his entire body aflame. He pulled his mouth away, kissed her
cheek, her jaw, slowly traced her throat with his tongue and nipped at her skin
until her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. He kissed her again,
demanding a response, smothering her groan of pleasure. There was nothing sweet
about what they shared. Zachary knew their imminent union would be fiery,
intense, and perhaps even savage. He guaranteed neither of them would forget
this night.
The
wooden doors leading to the suite opened. Startled by the unauthorized
intrusion, Zachary shoved Domini away and instinctively moved to protect her.
He stood to his full height, ready to condemn whoever dared disturb them.
Domini's face rested on his back. At first, her mumbles were inaudible but
after a few moments, her gasping words reached his ears. Oh, dear God was all she whispered over and over in awe. Zachary
managed to smile but his amusement dwindled when two fully armored guards
entered the room followed by the white haired prophet. He hadn’t expected to
see the elder until the ceremonial feast. Domini's peril had become very real.
“Ah,
Demon Lord, you have returned from your quest.”
“I
have, Sage.” Zachary's attempt to screen Domini from the prophet’s view was to
no avail. He had experienced many new emotions during his time with Domini, but
as the prophet slowed his steps, the sensation he now felt, the way the hairs
on the back of his neck stood up, was the worst. For the first time he knew
fear.
“She
lives?” The prophet’s voice was low with disbelief.
“She lives?” Domini stepped from the
protection his body offered if the guards decided to charge.
“Demon
Lord, this is unacceptable. Where is the final Hope Stone shard?”
Zachary
didn’t answer.
“The
woman from The Unknown is the sacrifice—.” Domini's gasp of horror silenced the
prophet. Eyes, white and unseeing, penetrated Zachary’s very essence. “Every
Sterling demon lord before you chose power over love. Demon Lord, you knew…”
Zachary
waved his words away. “I am more than aware.”
“You
cannot place the shard in the door if the Hope Stone dwells inside her. Bring
her,” the prophet ordered. The two guards that flanked him stepped forward.
Zachary
stood between the guards and Domini. “I will bring the shard. I have until
sundown.”
The
prophet hesitated.
“I am
still Demon Lord or have the laws changed in my absence?” Zachary demanded.
“Have I been away so long that you have forgotten your place in this palace,
prophet?”
The
white haired man lowered into a stiff bow. “No, my lord. The ceremony shall go
on as planned.” He gave Domini one last glance and shuffled from the room
followed by his guards. The door closed behind them.
Zachary
glanced in Domini's direction. She stared at him, eyes wide, and her face pale. He wanted to console her but he’d already betrayed her. Unable to
look at her any longer, he moved to the window and watched as the preparations
for the ceremony continued far below. In the beginning he had believed nothing
more than to save Demon Realm and maintain his reign as Demon Lord. His
obligations hadn’t changed. However, his heart no longer belonged to his home
or his people. His heart belonged to the one person who could stop the war. As
long as she died by his hand.
The
dagger still lay on the ground at his feet. Stooping, he retrieved the
ornamental blade and studied it as though he’d never seen it before. He had begged
Isha not to force him to love, and this was the reason why. Every Sterling
bride suffered at the hands of her husband, and Domini would be no exception.
“All I wanted was to go home.”
Zachary turned to see that Domini stood behind him, her small dagger held before her. Although pale, her face held determination. He stepped forward. She didn’t move but her grip on the dagger tightened. The weapon trembled.
Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I didn’t want any of this. Not the Hope Stone, not the responsibility of saving your home, and definitely not the heartache that has come from loving you.”
Zachary
studied her and found her regrets true.
“You
did all of this on purpose. You made me believe that you loved me but in
reality I had sold my soul to you. Deep down I knew I couldn’t stop the power
machine with simple terms of endearment, but I think I can save myself and stop
the cycle.” Domini’s weapon rose a little higher and she shifted her weight as
though ready to strike. “What if I kill you?”
Domini
charged. Zachary’s natural battle instinct kicked in. He stepped to the side
and avoided her clumsy thrust, grabbed her wrist, twisting until the dagger
dropped and skidded across the floor. Without a sound, Domini fell to her
knees. In one fluid motion he shoved her to the floor, trapped her wrists above
her head, and straddled her body. His ornamental blade touched her throat.
“I
still love you,” she said in a choked voice.
Zachary
studied her face, wet with tears, and tightened his hold on her wrists. Fear
and intimidation were powerful allies to an insecure ruler. However, respect
gave armies strength, admiration brought the best out of the soldiers, and
mercy brought enemies to their knees. Chana had taught him the ways of a good
man and an honorable demon lord. How easily he’d transitioned to the ways of every
demon lord before him. The warrior of old crept through his body. All his
father’s training scattered what remained of his emotions. His half-heart grew
still. He could no longer fight his destiny.
“I am
incapable of love,” he told her roughly.
Domini’s
chin trembled. “That’s not true. You love me.”
Love was
a woman’s pastime, ripe for deception. Zachary lifted the knife, ready and more
than willing to seal his destiny.
“No!
Zachary, no!” Isha appeared from nowhere to kneel beside him. “You cannot go through
with this.”
“You
will not blind me with trickery this time, Isha. I can go on with this. What is
done, is done.”
On her
knees, Isha shuffled closer. “I have watched you, Demon Lord, and your progress
across Demon Realm. Domini is close to the key. Lives will change forever.” She
studied him again. “Love her. You do. There is no mistaking. I sense indecision
about what the prophet asks of you. Follow your feelings, Zachary, and you
shall overcome.”
Zachary's
heart hardened even more. “There is no indecision.”
“Domini
begged the dead to let her live so she could love you. She met her calling. Are
you courageous enough to do the same?”
“Your
words are only that, High Priestess, words. My calling is to save Demon Realm
and take my rightful place as Demon Lord. Yes, priestess, I have fulfilled my
destiny as Domini now shall. Leave me be so fate can continue to move my hand.”
Isha
stared at him, blue eyes wide, her cheeks white. “Chana loved you enough to
sacrifice her life. She schooled you on right and wrong, good and bad. Is your
mother’s memory worth nothing? Forever, I have been wrong. Zachary Sterling,
you are just like him.” She raised
her hand and blew gold powder into the air.
A
discharge of fire and smoke blinded Zachary. Instinctively he bent to protect
Domini, the dagger falling from his hand as he did so. The explosion deafened
him. Eyes closed, he rose to his knees, pressed his hands over his ears, and
waited for the initial upsurge to pass. Coughing, he stood. Through
tear-blurred vision he searched the room but Domini had gone, along with Isha.
They had taken the box that contained half of his heart. Isha had duped him
again.
He
pulled the covers off the bed and flung them across the room. Chest heaving, he
stared at the sacrificial dagger that rested on the floor near the door. He was
a fool. How could he not see Isha’s intentions? Zachary picked up the dagger
and strode from the guest suite determined never to be deceived again by an
emotion as useless as love.
Six
palace guards marched double time toward him, square shields and pikes at the
ready. When they paused to inquire about his well-being and the explosion, he
ignored them and carried on along the corridor. In his rooms he yanked a black
shirt over his head and unlocked the armory vault. He traced a finger along the
smooth blade of Newlyn’s sword. The power the weapon represented frightened
him. He had witnessed the sword’s lust for blood, just once, and he’d vowed
never to wield a sword in anger. However, Newlyn’s sword had known naught but
fury, and this emotion had embedded into the steel. He pulled Newlyn’s sword
from its resting place. This time Isha had gone too far. This time, she had
jeopardized his home, his honor, and the very air that he breathed.
Destiny
clear, he entered the pristine corridor. Isha was right. He had become his
father, and once again, another Sterling bride would meet her fate at the hands
of her husband.
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