Page 11 of Her Demon Daddy
“This will be over much more quickly if you listen.”
Her eyes fly open at that, the piercing green of them so near that I nearly jump backward. I didn’t realize that I’d drawn so close to her while she was unconscious, but now I’m painfully aware of the way my body hovers over hers, the heat of her breath mingling with mine.
I clear my throat, drawing back to give her- and myself- a little more room to think.
“I’m not in the business of making things easy for you,” Siara replies after a moment. The spike of fear in her scent betrays her once more, but I cannot fault her for that. Her ability to retain her composure in the face of her fate is a testament enough to her will, and I don’t doubt for a moment that she does not plan to make anything easy for me.
I must be silent for too long because Siara shifts uncomfortably, chewing the inside of her cheek with that all-seeing gaze leveled at me.
“Why are you doing this?” She asks eventually, as though unsure of whether to ask the question at all.
“It is what must be done for my people,” I say without thinking. I immediately regret the words as they come out of my mouth- any good King would relish rising to the needs of his people, and my tone of voice alone displays enough weakness to ruin me.
Siara doesn’t seem to mind, however. She does not recoil in disgust from my obvious reluctance, but instead, looks at me curiously.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” she responds softly. I bark out a laugh, the sound surprising me nearly as much as it seems to surprise her. I cannot remember the last time I really laughed, I realize.
A tentative smile quirks at the edges of Siara’s lips at my laugh, her eyes sparking with curiosity. I shake my head, my laughter dying in my throat as the reality of our situation comes crashing back in.
“If only you knew how true that is,” I find myself replying, shaking my head.In more ways than one.
“Well, true or not, I meant what I said earlier.”
“Which was…?”
“I’m not going to submit to you just because you seem…” Siara trails off before shaking her head, that familiar steel creeping back into her eyes as she returns her gaze to me. “I won’t be a toy for you to fuck. Or your next meal,” she adds, eyeing me as though she fully expects me to try and eat her.
I might laugh at that, if the true purpose for her being here wasn’t equally, if not more so, nefarious.
“I have no interest in your body, for either of those things,” I say, forcing myself to stand from my chair. I turn my back on her, pacing to the hearth nestled in the corner. I try to tell myself that I know what I must do, that this woman’s soul could make the difference between the survival of my people and complete annihilation, but the thoughts are little comfort.
Perhaps allowing my curiosity about Siara to run wild was a mistake. It has made it all that much harder to imagine ripping the fire from her body.
When she does not respond, I turn back to her, her wary gaze pinning me.
“Then why?” She asks. I can see even from here how tightly her body is wound, as if she’s going to spring up at any second to try and make a break for it. The delicate muscles of her throat bob as she gulps in anticipation of my answer.
“For your soul.”
Cloying fear radiates from her at my words, her eyes widening slightly. With the other women, this was the moment I waited for. The sheer horror of what awaited them broke them, and in that breaking, it was all too easy to take from them what Oltyx demanded. But with Siara, I find myself… hesitating.
“I won’t let you take that, either.” Her voice is shockingly steady compared to the fear wafting off of her, but I should expect nothing less from her at this point. The sudden weight of my weakness slams into me like a boulder.
If the price for my people’s safety, for the security of my reign, is this woman’s soul, then why am I hesitating? I should have cleaved her spirit from her body already, and yet here I am, delaying and simpering like some spineless child.
Fury erupts behind my ribs at my own unworthiness of my position, dragging unwanted memories to the forefront of my mind that I struggle to push back. With no other outlet other than the woman in front of me, I wheel on her.
“I’ll do as I wish,” I snap, my voice growing louder with every passing word. “I am the King of demons, the savior of my people, and Iwilldo what needs to be done!”
“And how could stealing my soul possibly help your people?” She retorts, venom in her voice. I growl my frustration, biting back the answer that springs to my lips.
“I owe you no answers, no apologies, nothing! You’re just ahuman!” I spit.
Indignation and fury color her features at my words, her mouth opening to form her response. I have no interest in hearing what she has to say, not when her steady gaze and fiery disposition have already urged me to say too much.
Something about the way that she looks at me leaves me feeling exposed, like cold air on an open wound, and I’m not interested in being examined any further.
“Drar’ran!” I bark, turning away from her. The demon is in the doorway immediately, as though he was waiting just outside.