“Interesting idea.”
“Is it true?” The words were soft but he could hear the fear under them. He didn’t like it. Once she knew who he really was, would she challenge him as she did now? Or would she cower? A growl caught in his throat at the thought.
But she was watching him, waiting for her answer. There was no hiding now.
“Yes,” he confessed.
Her sharp inhale echoed in his ears.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“Jaral.”
Recognition lit her eyes. Apparently he hadn’t been as secretive on past missions as he’d thought if she knew his name.
“Jaral. Abaddon’s son.”
He liked the sound of his real name on her lips. The fear in her eyes, however, made him want to break something.
“It’s all true?” she asked. “Demon princes supporting Abaddon. Others with gifts like yours.”
“Not many,” he replied. “I have many brothers but few rival my abilities. Those who do, my father keeps close at hand.”
She grew silent, her mind no doubt already working on how to use this information to the hunters’ advantage. But when she spoke, her words weren’t what he expected to hear.
“I’ve read ancient, half-crumbled stories about you. I thought it was myth. The demon’s version of a boogeyman.” Her gaze rose to meet his. “Why didn’t you kill me the night we met? Surely it would have been a simple matter for you.”
He looked down at her, seeing wariness and fear in her face, when before she had gone toe-to-toe with him. Jaral should have rejoiced. Finally he had the key to making her a biddable puppet he could use.
And he hated it.
With a growl he pulled her closer, his mouth slanting down on hers. Darcy’s lips parted under his. He could almost taste her surprise. For a moment she stood still under his hands as if uncertain of what she should do. But he was a determined man.
He pressed her soft body against his as his tongue teased hers. His kiss was meant to dominate, to consume. He meant to overwhelm her with passion until she thought of nothing but him.
It wasn’t long before Darcy yielded against him, tilting her head to give him better access. Her hands gripped his shirt as she used him for balance. The hesitant, unsure woman who had stood before him just seconds ago vanished under their mutual lust. As he returned her aggressive kiss he knew she wasn’t thinking of his royal demon blood. He’d wager she was focused on a far different part of his anatomy.
But as much as he’d love to waltz her back into the bedroom, he had other things to worry about.
Regretting the necessity, he pulled away. “The night we met I wanted to kiss you just like that,” he told her. “I might be Abaddon’s son but I’m still a man. What I feel for you has nothing to do with my bloodline.”
She looked up at him, this time with an expression far more calculating than fearful. Jaral knew he should mourn the return of her confidence but instead the sight made him want to smile.
“You need to go to the bedroom and stay there while I speak to my father. He cannot know you are here.”
“I want to hear what’s going on.”
“If my father suspects I’m hiding a hunter he will destroy you, Darcy.”
She shook her head. “He can’t come to this realm expect on Halloween.”
“That was before the magic holding our worlds went to hell,” he pointed out. “Besides, he doesn’t need to be here in the flesh to wreak havoc. You have to go.”
“But—”
“Please.”
The word startled both of them. Jared had meant to argue with her but instead the word that emerged was one he hadn’t uttered in centuries.
But it seemed to do the trick. Her mouth snapped shut, though the determination didn’t leave her eyes.
“You will tell me what happens,” she commanded him.
He smiled at the words. Only his father dared to give him orders. “I will share what I learn.”
Darcy nodded, glancing at the hall leading to the bedroom. Before she left, however, she turned back to him. “Are you going to be all right?”
He arched a brow. “Worried for a demon?”
Her gaze sidled away from his. “It’d be inconvenient to find a new demon partner.”
“So I’m replaceable,” he murmured, teasing her with the words she’d thrown at him not so long ago.
She looked up, her eyes wide and far too serious. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t think you are.”
Something tightened in his chest. Not my mate, he told himself. Not my bloody mate.
“Good,” he said. “Don’t make a sound.”
She nodded and ran for the bedroom. Waving a hand he cast the strongest enchantment he could weave over her door. Not only would the hunter be unable to hear his conversation, anyone in the suite would be unable to sense her. At least, in theory.