Page 4 of Her Demon Daddy
I spin on him, snarling beneath my hood. “Do not speak to me as if I am incapable of my own logical conclusions.” I step forward and Sezruk shrinks back. “I am well aware of what needs my attention. I do not needyoutelling me how to handle my kingdom.”
My anger reaches an uncontainable limit. I’m stretched too thin as this problem grows, and the last thing I need is some ignorant lower demon pushing it harder. I am well aware of how frequent the tremors have been, and how more often and aggressive they will grow.
It has felt like Oltyx himself has been counting down our days for us.
His message today is loud and clear: time’s almost up.
“Am I understood?” He nods, and I let loose a low growl. “Answer me!”
“Yes, sir.”
Without responding, I turn, storming to the end of the hall and into my personal quarters. I sink back against the double doors and let loose a breath that does nothing for the tension in my chest.
How much pressure am I going to be able to withstand until I crumble, too?
Pushing that thought away, I walk deep into my room. “Come here!” I bark, standing before my changing area.
My servants rush in, sure-footed after half a century without their sight. They’re small, diligent zonaks, and they didn’t even protest when I permanently blinded them. It was a small price for them to pay for their lives, after all.
I couldn’t have servants that could see me, of course. I can’t stay in my robes all the time. This was the only option left to me, but they’ve grown used to it.
I stand on the raised platform as they peel away my robes and armor, changing me into something more comfortable. I’ve decided to return to my rooms for the night.
Before I can relax, though, I have to handle what may very well be futile business.
“Is it time, sir?” my most diligent servant, Ar’geg, asks.
I turn away from them as they put the robes and armor away. “Yes. Bring me the usual.”
This is something else I’ve grown used to. I am a warrior, a fighter, and I will do whatever it takes to survive. But this aspect of my life took some adjustment at first. I never shied away from it, of course, but I know other demons shudder when they assume what I do with the women delivered to my rooms.
As Ar’geg skitters toward the servant entrance to go collect my latest request, a thought occurs to me.
“This time,” I say, and he pauses, twisting his head to listen to me. “I want it a little different.”
“How so?”
Gods, I hope this works. “Pick a strong fare, something unlike what you normally select for me.”
Ar’geg remains frozen, waiting for further instruction, and it sets me on edge. Drar'ran, another one of my servants, rocks nervously from foot to foot. “Sir…”
I sigh. I truly must do everything myself. “Bring me the strongest woman you can find!” I snap. Why can’t I be surrounded by competent demons? I swear a group of ur’gin would be better than this lot sometimes. “And do it fast! I want her now!”
They scurry to fulfill my demand, rushing out of the servants entrance at a speed that I could have appreciated. If our lives didn’t all depend on it.
If I realized anything today, it’s that the souls of the meek aren’t cutting it anymore.
3
SIARA
Cold stone bites into my back, but, instead of shifting away from it, I lean into it. It’s grounding, almost like the pain reminds me that this is not a nightmare. I am not dreaming – I doubt I have the imagination to make up the torturous dungeons I’ve found myself in.
And I am not wholly convinced that I am not in the afterlife. Though if I am, I know that I must be in Glacies. The frozen, barren landscape plunged in eternal darkness is the only thing that can bring fear to the dark elves.
Those descriptors seem to check all the boxes of my surroundings right now.
Casting my eyes around the cage, I take in the faces of the other women. Some of their names I don’t even know. Here, whether this be Protheka, another planet, or the afterlife holding cell, the women come and go frequently.