The Demon's Deception (Demons Unleashed Erotic Novellas) (10 page)

"Because they stole my love," her father roared.

Aine blinked. His love? Fae didn't love. Fae had sex, they had multiple partners, but they didn't love. At least that was what she'd always been told. So what was this?

"Your...love?"

"It was a long time ago," he dismissed her question with a flick of his fingers as he visibly reined in his temper. "It has no bearing on the present situation."

And yet, it did since he still hated the Demons and everything they stood for. So the only way she would ever get him to release her was if she could convince him that she was working for the good of the Fae, at least her father's interpretation of the good of the Fae.

Goddess, would she have to beg? "I can do this for our people."

Her father paced the small hallway in front of her prison, hands clasped behind his back as he contemplated her plea.

"Agreed." He nodded his head once as if to seal the bargain.

Her pulse thudded in her stomach as she realized she'd talked her way into seeing Barbas again. What had she been thinking? Bile roiled, and her body wanted to rebel but she pushed the sickness down and straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She would do this.

***

Barbas wandered the Demon Castle. A hundred days older, a thousand lies later, and he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to that clearing. To her. His enemy.

A wicked cold wind blew through the castle as he trudged toward the meeting with Prince Gaap. Gods, he was like a lovesick fool, moping around, longing for a woman he could never have.

He ambled into the large conference room, the ornate rowan table dominated the meeting place. Barbas blanked his expression and took a deep, centering breath. One unexpected result of his encounter with the Fae princess was the absolute need to make sure he gave nothing away. He hadn't lied about what had happened with Aine but it had been a tale largely of facts without the subtle nuances of emotion that had infused their fleeting tryst. Barbas certainly wasn't about to tell Prince Gaap that he had fallen in love with a Fae princess.

He had ruined his mission by telling Aine of his Demon heritage. At the time, he'd believed that once back in the Demon Castle that they would know who the traitor was based on who had seen Barbas's note. But Gaap had reported that the note that Barbas had left in their dead drop location had still been magickally sealed when it was delivered to Gaap. Which meant, they still didn't know who was giving the Fae information.

It also meant Barbas could have no more contact with Aine, even if she would have him. He refused to further betray the Demons who sheltered him, befriended him for all of his life, even if lately he felt more and more an outsider.

"Have a seat." Gaap gestured to the ornately carved chair across from him, the velvet upholstery lush and sensuous.

Barbas shut everything out of his mind. He knew he'd disappointed the Demon. He'd disappointed himself. And yet, he would do nothing different.

His short time with Aine dominated his thoughts, and changed everything he'd thought about Fae before their loving. Barbas eased gently into the chair and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the prince. "You wanted to see me?" he finally asked somewhat reluctantly.

Gaap only stared at him, his face settled in a perplexed frown, his hands clasped tightly on the table in front of him. "I'm through waiting."

"I'm sorry?" Barbas had no idea what the prince meant.

"I've been waiting for you to come to me. To tell me what is wrong. To tell me why you are a changed man and yet you continue to ghost around the castle, a shadow of your former self."

"Are you complaining about my healing?"

"No. What the hell happened to you when you were in the Fae realm?"

"So you are unhappy with me," Barbas stated calmly.

"You are unhappy with you," Gaap rebutted.

"Hardly, my prince."

"Barbas, forget the prince thing. Talk to me, man. What is going on?"

But before Barbas could answer, a loud banging interrupted their talk. Barbas eased slightly, rolling his shoulders and trying to shake off the tension the conversation had produced. For what could he say? He was in love with his Fae princess? He'd be in the dungeon faster than he could say, 'she was a virgin'.

The Demon of Battle strode into the room, his motions sharp and urgent.

"What is it Leraye?"

"We have a situation."

Leraye's demeanor was intense. Concern shaded his eyes and revealed no hint of the playful Demon who fucked his way around the castle. That Demon was submerged beneath his duties as the main architect of Castle's safety.

"Out with it," Gaap demanded.

"There was a...young woman in the village asking after Barbas."

Gaap smiled and glanced at Barbas. "Perhaps she can pull you out of your doldrums."

Barbas inwardly cringed. He didn't want a village girl. He wanted what he couldn't have. But before he could tell Gaap to ignore the girl, Gaap asked, "Why is that a problem?"

"She is Fae," Leraye said softly. "She walked straight up to some lesser Demons enjoying a pint of brew and asked them to give Barbas a message."

Barbas straightened in his chair, and narrowed his gaze at Leraye. It couldn't possibly be Aine. Could it? "What was the message?"

"She said she needs to see you."

His heart leapt. But then reality set in. If she needed to see him it couldn't be for anything positive. She'd considered killing him after he told her his secret. Maybe it wasn't her.

Barbas pushed out of his chair. "What does she look like?"

"Apparently she's a beauty." Leraye said stiffly, "Skin, a burnished bronze, black curly hair, and tilted eyes a deep brown."

Good gods.
Aine
.

With that description, he lunged for the door. Something had to be terribly wrong. Before he could leave, Gaap curled his hand around Barbas's bicep and yanked him to a halt. "I'm assuming she is the reason you are so unhappy."

"She is a Fae princess." He sidestepped the question. "Meeting with her could be advantageous."

"We need to approach with caution. It could be a trap," Gaap replied.

"True." Barbas knew this. Just as he knew he didn't care. "Did she specify a time, a place, for when and where this meet shall happen?"

"She told the Demons she would wait at the tavern for you."

"Cocky bitch," Gaap snapped. "Assuming you would come."

His rage, never far from the surface these days, came snarling out of him. "She saved me from the same stasis that corrupted Leraye. Show some respect."

Gaap raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his whiskey-colored eyes.

"The same could be said to you," Leraye bit out when Gaap did not reprimand him.

"I'm sorry." Barbas bowed his head in deference. "As you know, if the instructions I gave her for resuscitating the king didn't work, she would have been left in the dungeon to rot." Barbas kept the fact that she could compel Fae to go against their will to himself. No sense in causing any panic or unnecessary caution about Aine.

"We need to consider our response," Gaap said slowly.

But Aine knew Barbas's secret. She had the power to expose him. He couldn't afford to ignore her. Nor did he want to.

"I want to go to the tavern," Barbas said honestly. Although want was too tame a word. He needed to see her. The longing that he'd suppressed for the last three months returned with a vengeance.

"I'll be your backup," Leraye said to Barbas. Then pointed at the prince. "You, stay here."

Gaap gave Barbas a hard look. "You know what must be done." In case the meeting was a trap. Everyone left the words unspoken.

***

Aine sat at the scarred oak table in their pub. Her stomach, not the best at normal times, swelled with nervous apprehension as she waited with hope for Barbas. When she'd gotten to the tavern, she'd spotted the Demons right away. She approached them and requested they tell Barbas that she was here. But would he come?

Goddess, she hoped so. Anticipation warred with dread. She had so much to figure out. She should be worrying about how she could balance her father's needs with hers. About how she would be received by the Demons. About how to negotiate a truce. But all that swirled in her mind was an overwhelming need to see her lover again.

She should believe Barbas was her enemy. But how could she when her memories were filled with the anguish in his deep blue gaze when he revealed his Demon side and his final look before he walked away? After the last three months and her father's increasing paranoia, Aine knew something had to change.

Although she knew where the Demon Castle was located, she had no intention of approaching the Castle without an escort. In their forays to infiltrate the Demon enclave the Fae had uncovered many of the Demon secrets. But she knew better than to approach the Castle on her own. She requested the meeting in the village. Hopefully he understood that she was making a move of non-aggression.

What if Barbas rejected her proposal?

She would have to approach Gaap, the Prince, on her own.

The best case, she could get Barbas to invite her to the castle. Her pulse thudded with unconcealed trepidation as the door opened yet again. But it was only a small group of Humans, getting ready for the upcoming celebration. There was a healthy amount of traffic in the dim atmosphere. The festival of Lammas, the celebration of abundance and fruition, was almost upon the village. She knew why her father had waited until now to release her. He'd tried to quell the Demons on his own. Winter was coming. Her father wanted the information now because as the sun began to appear less in the sky, the power the Fae could harvest from the sun would diminish. Right now the Fae's power base was at its strongest but with each day past Lammas, their power would wane.

And so her father had released her to contact Barbas. She thanked the Goddess that her father's increasing paranoia hadn't interfered with his need to get information from the Demons.

Aine needed to convince Barbas that she meant no harm.

The yeasty scent from her tankard of ale turned her stomach. The smell of sautéing onions and peppers and beef, the luncheon special, simmered in the close air. Onions were an issue. Her stomach roiled.

The door shoved open and Barbas stood in the doorway. He'd paused. She could tell the exact moment his gaze found her. Even with the hood of her cloak covering her hair and shielding her face, he stilled preternaturally as if he scented her. As soon as he identified her, he strode toward Aine.

The clink of rough metal forks against the hearty stoneware muted the sound of his approach but Aine swore she could hear each bootfall as he marched purposefully toward her. Her future, her very life depended on his acceptance of her story. Remotely she registered that someone else had come in the back door of the tavern. From her vantage point she had a good view of both the front door and the exit through the back of the kitchen.

She'd given herself plenty of avenues for escape. But she sincerely hoped she didn't need the chance.

As he silently pulled out a chair, the high pitched scrape of its wooden legs screeched against the cement floor. Barbas deftly turned the chair around and straddled the back. The position put the chair back between the table and his body. A defensive move? She didn't know.

"Princess." His voice was low, deep, and familiar. The rough endearment sounded like a caress to her ears. But the look in his eyes was anything but affectionate. His face was set in harsh, unforgiving lines. His gaze strong, resolute, and in no way welcoming. He'd come as a Demon warrior not as her lover. It was to be expected, and yet, she couldn't suppress a shimmer of hurt.

Aine studied him. He'd lost weight. The mischief that sparkled in his gaze had disappeared.

"Barbas." The acknowledgment was breathy, as she forced herself not to betray any emotion. Not to reveal the longing that the familiar arch of his brow invoked. She curled her fingers into fists and pressed them into her lap to stop from reaching out to touch him.

"Hands where I can see them." The voice in her ear was menacing...and unfamiliar.

Aine turned her head slowly to look into the flat gaze of another warrior. As she pressed her hands on the scarred table top, she perused his features. She knew him, recognized him from that fateful fight in the clearing. This was the Demon that her father had frozen. The prince's bodyguard.

Aine turned back toward Barbas. "Was he necessary?" she asked coolly.

He ignored her question, reached out his rough palm, and pushed the hood from her face. "You look...."

She knew how she looked. She couldn't regularly keep food down. Her skin was washed out, pasty. Without her hood, the overwhelming scent of the frying onions blew toward her. The sickness that plagued her intermittently chose this moment to rear its head.

Aine shoved up from the seat.

"Where do you think you're going?" The Demon behind her snarled.

But she couldn't answer, she was using all her energy to hold the sickness inside. Aine ran for the back door with both Demons hot on her trail. She burst into the alley behind the tavern. A bin with refuse and rotting meat assaulted her senses.

"Leraye, wait," Barbas said sharply.

She rounded the trash receptacle just as Barbas's hand curled around her bicep. He jerked as if blasted by an energy pulse. But she couldn't worry about that as she bent and spewed the meager contents of her stomach into the overflowing container, and her humiliation splattered all over the garbage.

Barbas held back her hair, nearly holding her body upright as she expelled the sickness from her body. Aine slumped for a moment, collecting herself before straightening to face the two Demons. The slight contact was the first she'd had in months. She wanted to weep because the touch was harsh and not at all tender. Aine held the memory of Barbas's sweetness in her heart and hoped that he would protect her from this Demon warrior. Like he tried to protect her from her father in the prison. But as she looked at his face, her heart splintered.