Page 2 of The Demon King's Unruly Mate

There was nothing. No beacons of power threatening to control or destroy.

Just some glinting of gold, the same as any shiny object catching the light. Waiting for someone to slip on a finger or around a neck.

Waiting to tighten and press and snuff out any stray, unwanted thought of freedom or happiness.

“We need to destroy them,” I told him. “Now.”

Zane approached with a slight limp from the fight. “Agreed. But first, we need to deal with...” He gestured at the mess that had been our prince.

I forced myself to look again at what I’d done. At the head staring up at me with sightless eyes. At the blood coating my hands, my clothes, myhome.

The fucking puppet show of Javed’s control twisted in my gut, a phantom pain where his magic had taken root. Even dead, his presence clung to me like a second skin. I could still feel his commands slithering through my mind, forcing my body to move against my will.

Strike your sister. Break her wrist. Make her submit.

My hands trembled with the memory. I’d fought against the compulsion with everything I had, but in the end, I’d still hurt her. Still betrayed her. The shame of it burned hotter than any fire.

Behind me, I heard Rava’s voice: “Kaz, this is Zral Shieldthorn. My mate.”

I turned to see my sister standing tall beside the battered orc, her chin lifted in that stubborn tilt I’d known since she was a child. Challenging me to argue. To protect her. To control her.

Just like Javed tried to do.

The thought sobered me. I studied the orc—Zral—taking in the bruises blooming across his face, the way he favored his right side. Injuries I’d inflicted under Javed’s command. Yet he stood straight, one arm around my sister’s waist, protective despite his own pain.

I stepped forward, clasping his hand in a firm shake. “Welcome to the family,” I said, then yanked him closer, unable to resist one last brotherly threat. “And good luck. This is just a taste of the hell she puts us through.”

Zral’s mouth quirked in a pained smile. “Worth it.”

Rava’s tail flicked against his leg, her eyes softer than I’d seen them in years.

I turned away to give them privacy and joined Malak crouched beside the relics. He looked up at me, his expression grim.

“What now?” he asked quietly.

I stared at the hellfire opal glinting in the pendant, at the gleaming gold of the ring. Power beyond measure, forged in the depths of the underworld before half-breed demons were locked on the earthly plane. Just being near them made my skin crawl with warning, a sensation every ifrit was born knowing to fear. They were capable of enslaving our entire race, of twisting our magic against our will. Of turning brother against sister, warrior against clan.

“Now,” I said, reaching for the pendant, “we make sure this never happens again.”

The moment my fingers touched the relic, power surged through me—dark, seductive, promising control over anyone who crossed my path. For a heartbeat, I understood why Javed had been so addicted to its use. Why he’d never willingly let it go.

I snatched my hand back as if burned, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Fuck.

The king would demand answers. The Fitsum clan would cry for blood. And I—we—would have to face the consequences of what we’d done here today.

But as I looked at my sister leaning against her mate, at my brothers standing tall and free, I knew I’d make the same choice again. A thousand times over.

I’d killed a prince to save my family.

Now I just had to figure out how to keep us all alive.

CHAPTER ONE

TALIA

Red smoke swirled around me as I teleported, my body dissolving into particles before reforming in the traveling hall of the ancestral seat of Fitsum power. Griffin materialized beside me, his presence as constant as my own shadow.

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