Page 11 of The Demon King's Unruly Mate

It only took a few more strokes before I tumbled after her, following her into bliss. I buried myself to the hilt and came hard, spilling inside her in hot, pulsing waves.

For several long moments, we lay tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing gradually slowing. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, the rhythm syncing with my own. The mate bond hummed between us, satisfied for now but still demanding more.

What now? What did one say to a mate claimed in such circumstances? To a woman who, by all rights, should hate me but instead had just wrapped her legs around me and begged for more?

I’d never felt more out of my depth. Battle strategies, tactical maneuvers, clan politics… I understood those. But this? This was uncharted territory, and I had no map to guide me.

What have I done?

CHAPTER THREE

KAZ

Iflicked on the lights, and the new base hummed to life in all its fluorescent glory. Dust motes danced in the air of the converted warehouse. The whole place needed a good cleaning, but it had potential. Solid brick walls, reinforced windows, back exit through the alley. Not bad for something we’d secured on short notice.

“Once again, I’d like to lodge formal complaints over the location,” Rava groused behind me. “This feels a little like spying onme, Kaz.”

I turned to face my sister, who stood with arms crossed and tail swishing irritably behind her. The barbed tip twitched with each sweep in a telltale sign she was genuinely annoyed, not just performing her usual dramatics.

“Silvermist Falls is strategically positioned,” I explained for the twentieth time. “Close enough to major cities for easy access, remote enough to avoid unwanted attention.”

“Top concerns for someone who can teleport anywhere in the world he’s been before.” She rolled her eyes. “Just admit you’re checking up on me and Zral.”

I wasn’t, but arguing would only convince her otherwise. I liked Zral, and the several years of eating shit before gaining approval he would have needed had been drastically shortened by the beating he’d taken while I’d been under Javed’s control.

My sister and her orc were still early into their mating, but even I could see past the protective older brother act that they were good for each other. Trouble for the rest of us, absolutely, and still finding their footing with each other, but still good.

At least they’d done it in the right order, and without blackmail at the center.

The truth of the relocation was simpler and more pathetic: I needed distance from the old compound. Every room, every hallway, every shadow still carried echoes of imprisonment. I’d ordered a complete purge after his death—new furniture, new paint, new everything—but he still lingered.

Some nights I’d wake gasping, convinced I could feel the phantom control of those damned infernal relics crawling under my skin, forcing me to hurt the people I loved. To hurt Rava.

Even now, thinking his name sent ice down my spine. Memories flashed: the gleam of the hellfire opal, the cold weight of compulsion, my hand closing around my sister’s against my will?—

And then Talia’s face, flushed with pleasure beneath me. The scent of jasmine and embers still clung to my skin despite the three showers I’d taken since leaving her bed. Since abandoning her while she slept.

Coward.

I’d marked her, claimed her, spilled inside her, and then fled like a thief in the night. What kind of male did that make me?

One who killed her brother and then fucked her on royal orders.

“Kaz?” Rava waved a hand in front of my face. “You in there?”

I blinked, shaking off the memories. “Morning meeting in thirty.” I cleared my throat. “Tell the others.”

I didn’t wait for her response, just strode toward the office I’d claimed at the far end of the building. Behind me, I heard Zane’s heavy footfalls and Malak’s lighter tread as they entered, carrying boxes of equipment. Good. We needed to get operational as quickly as possible.

My office was bare except for a desk and chair I’d teleported in last night. I’d handle decorating later. Right now, I had more pressing concerns.

I unpacked the slim file on Leona Cadum, spreading its contents across the desk. A photo showed a young ifrit female with her dark hair twisted into an updo for some formal function or another. Her file listed the basics: education, lineage, magical aptitude. Nothing remarkable. Nothing to suggest why someone would target her.

But my gut said this wasn’t a standard kidnapping. The security footage from her family compound had been suspiciously turned off that night. Some personal items—clothes, jewelry, a few books—were missing, suggesting she’d packed before leaving. The room was neat, not ransacked.

This had all the hallmarks of a planned escape, not an abduction. Yet her family insisted she’d been taken against her will.

Malak could hack security systems along her likely escape route, Zane could check with his contacts in the underground, Rava could?—

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