Darkyn's Mate

Darkyn snatched the demon that intended to make her its dinner. Deidre covered her face as the demon lord tore out the demon's throat with the same fangs that drank from her. Warm blood sprayed her. He gripped her arm, spun her until her back was to the remaining demon and pushed aside her hair.

"Spread the word," he snarled.

"Yes, my lord," the demon said in a hushed voice.

Deidre opened her eyes, distracted by the flow of cool magic from Darkyn into her. The remaining demon stumbled away. Her eyes dropped to what was left of the other three then flew up to the wall.

"Go," Darkyn ordered and released her.

Deidre didn't face him, afraid of what she'd see. She stepped over the dead demon between her and the stairwell without looking directly at the bloody mess. He'd told her not to run, but she found herself sprinting as soon as she was free of the dead demons. She fled up the stairs and down the hallways she'd memorized on her trip to the library.

She pushed her door open and slammed it shut. The demon blood on her face and arms disgusted her, just like the sight of the ease with which Darkyn shredded three demons with bodies like humans. But it was the thrum of magic lingering within her that disturbed her most.

It was the same thrum she felt with Gabriel, after she'd been claimed as his mate. Instead of Gabriel's warm energy, this one was Darkyn's cool energy, the soul-deep connection to a demon horrifying her. Would it be as strong as hers had been to Gabriel, where she'd ached for him to touch her, no matter how little sense it made?

No. It couldn't be. It was probably just Darkyn's magic, which he used to kill the demons. The alternative - that her own body was about to betray her to the devil - wasn't something she could handle. She felt overheated already, like she did when she was starting to get a cold.

Her gaze went to the bed. She'd never thought about how long Darkyn might wait to claim his mate by Immortal law in that way. Gabriel gave her space. Something told her Darkyn wasn't so considerate.

She wiped blood from her face and crossed to the small bathroom off the bedroom. She was no closer to food, but she could at least drink water out of the sink. Her mouth was dry.

Deidre grimaced at the sight of blood on her arms. She cleaned them off with hands that trembled from the confrontation. One question was answered: Darkyn was obligated to protect her in some way. He didn't do so out of the kindness of his heart. She cleaned up and left the bathroom, freezing.