Mark of the Demon

I yawned again as I took the mug. “You are too silly.”

 

 

“I know. But that’s why you put up with me.”

 

“Maybe I put up with you because you’re a very effective stalker.” I sipped at the cocoa—perfectly chocolated and warm enough to be perfectly drinkable. He’d known exactly what kind of comfort food I needed. I’d have worried that he could somehow sense my thoughts, except for the fact that chocolate was pretty universal in its comfort factor. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that much out. Though he does seem to know his way around my kitchen fairly well…. I looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. I wanted to think about that a bit more, but my mind just didn’t want to hold on to any coherent thought. No wonder, silly woman. You’ve been awake for only a million hours. So much for getting my sleep cycle back on track.

 

I dragged my attention back to Ryan when I realized that he was speaking. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Whadja say?”

 

He gave me a wry smile. “It doesn’t matter. You’re totally wiped and you need to go to bed. Do you have any of the pain pills?”

 

I fought to keep my eyes open. “Dunno; ’sokay,” I slurred. “Too sleepy to hurt right now.”

 

I heard him laugh, then he took the mug out of my hand and pulled my good arm over his shoulder, dragging me up out of the chair.

 

“Come on, Kara,” he said, walking me down the hall to my bedroom.

 

“I can walk.” I tried to protest, but he didn’t seem to care. He brought me into my bedroom and gently pushed me down onto the bed, then tugged my shoes and socks off and pulled the comforter over me.

 

“Go to sleep,” he said, or at least that’s what I thought he said, before I lost the battle to fatigue.

 

 

“I FRIGHTENED YOU. It was not my desire to do so.”

 

I knew that voice, that unmatchable resonance. The memory of my last encounter with him rose again at his words—that taste of unchecked rage, the overwhelming terror, and the glimpse into how powerful a creature he truly was. He sounded deeply sincere, but after the day I’d had, I wasn’t sure I had it in me right now to deal with him. I pulled the pillow over my head. “It’s cool. It’s fine,” I mumbled through the pillow. “Apology accepted. I’m tired.”

 

I heard a soft hiss. “You are injured.” His voice took on a darker timbre.

 

I kept the pillow clamped over my head. “Let me sleep, please?”

 

“I have never interrupted your sleep. You are injured and exhausted. You should not push yourself to such extremes.”

 

I couldn’t resist. I lifted the pillow from my head and looked over at him. Rhyzkahl stood beside my bed, azure eyes ancient and dangerous as he gazed down at me, dressed this time in robes of red in a hue so dark it could have been black. The front was intricately stitched with a pattern of runes in shimmering black thread, which caught the light and played tricks with the eyes. The contrast with his near-glowing hair and beautiful features was incredible.

 

“I have to do what I’m doing or more people are going to die,” I said wearily.

 

“You do not like these people,” he stated calmly. “You do not care for them, or respect them. You would never wish to invite them to your house, nor would you lend them money. Yet you put yourself in harm’s way for them.”

 

I sat up. “No one deserves to die that way.”

 

He sat with ethereal grace on the bed and lifted a silky eyebrow at me. “No one? Are you certain?”

 

I groaned and squeezed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Could we not get into a philosophical discussion about my career choice tonight?”

 

He lifted a hand and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Of course, dear one. I would gladly distract you from such banal thoughts.”

 

I leaned into the caress without realizing it at first. I thought briefly about pulling away, but I had to admit that it felt nice. “Sorry. The last few weeks have been kinda shitty.”

 

He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “And I made it no better by allowing you to feel my anger. I regret that I did so.”

 

I looked up at him. He was beautiful and alluring but, more than that, I realized I was beginning to enjoy his dream visits. He was interesting and intelligent, and he seemed to understand me on a level that I doubted anyone else would ever approach. Even knowing how powerful he was and what he was capable of, I had to admit that I was starting to like him just a little. And though I was aware how naive it was, I couldn’t help but cling to the thin belief that I held some sort of appeal for him as well—an appeal beyond that of simply being a means to gain access to this sphere.

 

Rowland, Diana's books