Page 62 of Dancing With Demons
But staring into her bright eyes, it’s hard to believe that thought. Why can’t she be something more?
“Sweet girl.”
Tolmond’s voice makes me jerk back. Oh, yeah. That’s why.
Piper doesn’t look flustered, though. She just spins around to see both of her demon mates that are now looming in the doorway. Neither seem enraged by me, but they are eyeing the distance between Piper and I. Neither of them says anything to me, though.
“Are you hungry after your long day of work?” Eth’tak teases.
She bounces forward, and Tolmond holds a hand out to her. She takes it, and Eth’tak wraps an arm around her shoulders, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
Piper leans into their touch easily, and my heart twinges as I watch them. I’m not even jealous of Tolmond and Eth’tak. They make her happy, and one of them is the father of her child, though no one seems curious which one.
No, I don’t mind that she has other mates. I just wish that I could touch her so freely. I want what they have, to be part of it all, even if I shouldn’t.
She’s just a friend.
I sigh under my breath as I turn back around, and I smile as I see the warrior pieces that Piper gathered for the house to make me feel at home. At least I know that I am important to her in some way.
And maybe one day when I’ve finally been promoted and am a higher rank, I will be worthy of Piper. Maybe then, I’ll be able to give her all I want to and stop having to hold myself back.
But not yet…
29
Asmodeus
The silence of my throne room is deafening.
Without the chatter of the guards, or the murmurs of my council members, there is nothing to distract me from the singularity of my failure. Well, failure in the broadest sense of the term. My son, Prince Lamian, has stormed off in a huff after losing his human mate.
But it is not so great a loss.
He might have mishandled the human called Piper, if he managed to get his claws into her. I had worried over his sour temperament since he fell out of his mother, but he is my eldest, and I had to ensure that I did not disgrace the Burning Throne by offering her to a lesser being.
She is one of a kind.
It was my mistake, leaving her with a creature such a Tolmond. Though he is in fine standing with the council, he also has a gentle streak that does not serve his constitution well.
I stand abruptly, put off by the thought.
Ever since the humans arrived in Ti’lith, my subordinates have begun to change in ways I could never have anticipated. They take in the humans like refugees, not gifts, as they are intended. They breed with them like partners, not chattel.
Maybe I am missing something.
I adjourn to my sprawling suites, where my personal staff are already in wait, black sashes concealing their empty sockets. One removes the cape from my shoulders, and another offers to take my gauntlets. “My King,” one says with the utmost reverence. “Do you want us to bring up your usual supper?”
My usual.
I consider it as they remove the breastplate from my chest, and unfasten the greaves from around my shins. I let a scant few see what’s beneath my armor, and fewer still survive it once they do. These volvath servants- their eyes have been plucked from their heads, so when I let my hood fall back, they do not go blind a second time.
“Or, we can have some seared elf brought up?” the other suggests.
Ah, elf.
It is a delicacy that I’ve come to enjoy quite a lot, since we’ve arrived in Protheka. So tender and filled with their brand of magic. The younger, the better, I have found to satisfy my palate. But the foiling of my plans has robbed me of my appetite for cooked fare, so I dismiss the notion. “My usual will suffice.”
“Yes, my King,” they say in unison.