Page 38 of Drawn to the Demon Duke
Whatever.
He clears his throat. “Dagon. His grace has requested your presence in the throne room.”
“My loyalty is to the duchess,” he rumbles. “I will not leave her even if Duke Haures demands it.”
Oh, jeez. Talk like that will have Dagon on his knees again, Glaine’s killer sword swinging over the back of his neck.
Tropp would see to it, too. The guards don’t like that a mere hunter from one of the smaller villages in Sombra has taken a position that they feel, by rights, should’ve gone to one of them. Given the chance, they’d get rid of Dagon. I’m sure of it.
No.
I shift in my seat, turning toward Dagon. “Go,” I tell him gently. “I’ll stay right here in the garden. See what my mate wants. I’ll be fine.”
Poor Dagon looks torn. On the one hand, he means it when he says that he’s here to take care of me. On the other, his loyalty better be to Haures first in public because, otherwise, that’s a shadow offence and evenIknow that. I could probably save him again, but then I’llneverget rid of him.
And I like Dagon. I do. He’s the puppy I never had as a kid, but I wouldn’t mind five seconds to myself for once.
“Go,” I tell him, a little more oomph in my voice. “Really.”
The order does what it’s supposed to: Dagon nods, then strides toward Tropp.
“I will return,” he says solemnly to me.
I smile.
Trust me, Dagon. By now, I don’t doubt it.
Tropp doesn’t even give me a second look. Leading the hunter-turned-bodyguard toward the throne room door, it’s as though I’ve ceased to exist to the guard.
To Tropp, maybe.
But the red-skinned, spiky-haired, one-horned demon that seems to take his place?
Nah. As he stalks out of the garden’s furthest shadows the moment Tropp and Dagon are gone, it’s clear to me that I haveallof his attention.
I don’t want it. There’s something crazed in his vibrant purple eyes. He’s hunched slightly, racing right toward me, and I’m barely standing before he’s mere inches away from me.
He smells sickly sweet, a hint of wispy shadows coming from the tips of his pointed ears, his fingers, his elbows adding a burnt aroma to it. Like when you try to make homemade caramel and keep it on the pot too long.
My lips twitch, a quick smile. “Hello. I’m Susanna. Can I help you?”
His eyes flare, going from purple to white and back. From what I’ve learned, purple means ‘magic’.Mage. He’s a spellcaster.
And I’m in trouble.
“I see,” he whispers, his voice low and ragged. “The gods grant me visions and Isee… I see that you will lead to the end of Sombra. Your arrival in our world will bring about its ruin.” Another flicker, white, then purple, then white this time. “I can’t allow you to destroy our people.”
I hold up my hands, heart starting to pound wildly as he leans into me, spitting on my face as he hisses at me. “No. You’ve got it wrong. I wouldn’t?—”
I never get the chance to tell him what I would or wouldn’t do. Faster than I expected—and I should’ve known better because Sombra demons can bequick—he wraps his big paws around my neck and squeezes.
He closes my throat off right away. I gasp, unable to get one last breath. He squeezes harder. Black spots form at the corner of my eyes.
I claw at his hands, but I’m human. I’mmortal. My fingernails don’t do any damage to him. Even if I did, all he would have to do to heal would be to turn to shadow before returning to his solid form and he’d have nothing to show I even tried.
That’s why Haures has scars when no other demon does. He has his own unique abilities, but he doesn’t heal the same way. And me?
I’m a goner.
