the position to, after all.
Chapter 4
So the demon wore a permanent armband over his bicep, and he'd been tattooed and pierced. It seemed that Rydstrom Woede was the type of male whose outward appearance indicated nothing about what might be hidden under his clothes.
As she carefully zipped his pants back up, Sabine grinned. What a surprise.
6
Rydstrom woke . . . consciousness slow to come. In that dim twilight, he vaguely comprehended that he was lying on a bed.
"You're waking, after a mere half hour," Sabine said to him. "You're a strong one, demon."
Rage coursed through him with his dawning comprehension. She drugged me. He couldn't lift his limbs or pry open his eyelids. Though he scented her nearness, her voice seemed to come from miles away.
I'm not wearing a shirt? What the hell-
"It might be a few moments before we can resume physically, so I thought we'd talk about your meeting with Groot's emissary."
What did she know? He cast his mind back, but memories proved elusive.
"What do I know?" she asked, reading his mind, incensing him.
"I know why you were rushing off to New Orleans
this evening, and why you were so intent that I had to wreck your pretty car just to get your attention."
He was supposed to meet his brother tonight. Cadeon would be wondering where he was. When Ryd-strom felt her join him on the bed, he slitted open his stinging eyes, but couldn't make out more than a vague
shape.
In his ear, she whispered, "I know that Groot has forged a sword that you believe will destroy Omort."
He jerked from her, then bellowed at the sound and feel of chains. "You've . . . chained me?" The bitch had bound him to the bed with those manacles around his ankles and wrists.
J will kill her so slowly.
She ignored his question. "In payment for the sword, Groot has demanded the Vessel-a female who will beget a future warrior of either ultimate evil or ultimate good." Depending upon the father's inclination. "But wherever will you find one?"
He felt her probing his mind once more, but he had his defenses in place. "After all, demon, Vessels are born only every five hundred years."
And yet Cadeon already has one. Unfortunately, Cade-on's fated female-the one he'd spent over a year pining for-was the Vessel. A woman named Holly Ashwin was the payment Groot wanted.
Once Rydstrom's vision cleared, he focused on Sabine as she sat on the side of the bed, grinning at him over the rim of a wine goblet. He was relieved that she'd covered her chest. Then he frowned. Her top was white and so small and tight that he could see the bot-
toms of her br**sts. Hadn't he ripped that one from her? Losing my mind . . .
"What I don't know is if you gave your tosser brother enough information to send him on this fruitless quest."
Groot had established parameters to make the trade, a system of checkpoints, with each supplying additional details about how to find his hidden lair. In their phone call, Rydstrom had given Cadeon enough information to make it to the first checkpoint and continue on the mission.
"Not fruitless," he said, but with Rydstrom missing and unable to send word, was it even possible that Cadeon would do what was right?
"Even if your brother somehow managed to find the Vessel and locate Groot's secret fortress, the sword just won't work. The Sorceri worship metal, and Groot the Metallurgist forges and enchants it. That makes him very powerful. But not enough to give death to the deathless."
As Rydstrom began to regain his strength, he struggled against his bonds.
"You can't break them. They've been mystickally reinforced."
"Release me, Sabine!"
"But I've just caught you," she said in a pouting voice.
His gaze darted, scanning for a means to escape. She'd trapped him in the largest cell. When he'd ruled Tornin, he'd used this jail for political prisoners. Inside were a sink and facilities, a small bed stand, a rug on the floor, and hearth tools by the fire. Nothing to aid him.
But then, he well knew . . . No one escapes the dungeons of Tornin.
"It looks like it's time to get back to the business at hand." She set her goblet on the bedstand.
"Business at hand? Still haven't come to your senses?"
"No, I'm even more determined than before. I don't lose, Rydstrom."
He lunged up against the bonds, snarling, "You are
about to."
"Ah, here's that notoriously strong will of yours. Almost as strong as your rational mind and your sense of right and wrong. But then, was it right to strangle me as you did?"
"You're an enemy to me." The maddening tension from before redoubled. "An enemy I'll kill at the earliest chance."
His words were now strong, his tone lethal. Yet he alone knew how close he'd been to continuing his exploration of her, to wringing an orgasm from her responsive little body. Every inch of her had been more exciting to him than the last. "Do you have no hesita- tion being used like this? As a tool for Omort?"
"You seem to think me either cowed by Omort or suf-fering qualms about screwing someone for reasons other than pleasure or love. Neither is true of me."
"So you're just a cold, heartless bitch."
"As much as you're a self-righteous, miserable prick." Her lips curled into a smirk. "But that doesn't mean we
can't have something meaningful between us."
He kicked his legs and thrashed his upper body.
"You need to understand that you're not getting
away. It's impossible." She crawled on her hands and knees toward him, giving him a view of her cle**age. She noticed his hard-eyed staring, and suddenly the top disappeared, revealing br**sts that would bring a lesser demon to his knees.
The garment had been a mere illusion. And now her stiffened ni**les were an inch from dragging across his chest.
In a breathy voice, she said, "Do you want our skin to touch, Rydstrom?"
When she leaned down and grazed the peaks against him, her lids went heavy, and he had to bite back a groan. He renewed his struggles, which only increased the contact.
"These chains are reinforced, as is the cell door. Accept it, Rydstrom, you're mine."
"Sabine, you f**king unchain me-"
"Shh, demon." She placed her forefinger over his lips, and yanked it back just in time to miss his snapping teeth. "I know exactly what you're going to say. You'll say that I had better release you this instant, or you will throttle me or some such promise of violence. And then you'll pepper that with a threat about the future. Maybe something with a qualifier like 'when I get free.'"