Page 101 of Demonic Cage
Every decision has a price.
I can’t help it. As I taste the first drop, I want more. As I drink, Darya strokes my hair and whispers in my ear. I shiver in his arms, and with every tremble he presses a kiss on my neck.
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”
When he takes his wrist off my lips, I know he’s right. I no longer remember why I was afraid.
The Kraldem escorts me back to the throne and kisses the blood from my lips. I’m not angry with him; his outburst filled me with challenge, not fear.
Nárs sits beside me, legs crossed, clapping his hands and giving me a stern look.
“Had fun?”
I raise an eyebrow
“What’s your problem?”
He takes my hands and presses my fingers to his forehead.
“You. Have. Darya. Kripot won’t even look at me!”
He throws away my hands, pouting and glaring towards the blue giant.
I chuckle and lean on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you jump on him when I threw myself at Darya?”
“He declined,” Nárs sniffles.
“Can I assist?”
Stars shine in Nárs’s hazel eyes. He nods eagerly, resembling a puppy wagging its tail.
“Yes, yes!” he replies enthusiastically.
I wink and push myself off the chair, standing beside Darya a moment later. I place my hand on the Demon King’s arm. His muscles tense beneath my palm.
“Mind if I speak with Kripot?” I ask, smiling. Darya nods slowly and steps away.
“Do whatever you truly desire, Kindra.”
With that, he turns away from me.
I look up at Kripot. My mentor stands there like a pillar, unmoving. The only reaction he has is the tightening of his arms across his chest.
“So?” I begin. “Don’t you have something to tell me?”
Kripot swallows hard, and as his throat thickens, an unpleasant image surfaces from the depths of my memory – me trying to strategize against the cyclops when fighting it. But somehow, I feel challenged again, not offended. Not frightened. The giant bites into the inside of his mouth and sighs heavily.
“So…rry,” he croaks, and I wave my hand dismissively.
“No worries,” I say, and Kripot’s emotional range visibly expands as he arches an eyebrow.
“Actually, yes. I’ll forgive you if you tell me why you won’t give Nárs a chance.”
“He’s just playing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The cyclops sighs heavily.
