The little lamb was decidedly testing his patience but strangely, he wasn't the least bit vexed or in any hurry to tame her. If she were unimportant, he could have just killed her. Zagan rather enjoyed ruffling Akila's feathers because her reactions were too honest for her own good. He preferred her innocent candor to the fictitious masks donned in his presence, though he couldn't fault his associates for protecting themselves. Sometimes, a meeting with him would cause a man to lose his life on the tip of his sword. Only a fool would dare to incur his wrath, yet the little lamb was fearless. He had yet to decide if she was brave or foolish.
After his reckless impulse to drink her blood, he didn't return as promised, choosing to spend the night with Mara instead. From dusk till dawn, he fought his demon half for control, stopping his beast from ravaging the little lamb. She wasn't ready for him — yet. Hours he spent, wearing Mara out with his inexhaustible hunger that worsened because it wasn't Akila's blood. The more he denied his beast, the harder it raged. He couldn't remember the last time he struggled for control, not since he was a fledging. This daunting revelation warned him that the Blood Priestess could serve as a double-edged sword, imploring him to proceed with caution.
"Not that I'm complaining," Mara breathed, her chest rising and falling with exertion. "But what's gotten into you tonight? You seem bothered and I get the feeling you're not really here with me."
He didn't answer, knowing full well what was wrong with him. Shutting his eyes to stop the demoness from prying, he tried not to dwell on his insatiable desire for a mere human. It grated on his nerves, to be brought low by the very being he loathed.
Distracting himself, he pondered about Akila's unusual scent and knew for certain she was the rumoured Blood Priestess ─ a sentient who possessed immeasurable powers. A descendent of the Almighty Father. Akila was the light to his darkness, the angel to his demon.
Zagan didn't believe in a higher power but, if the little lamb was proof of divinity, then he was willing to acknowledge His existence.
To his knowledge, a Blood Priestess was born into the royal family once every century, and not all of them were told the truth about their lineage. The only way to identify one was through their unique scent, and naturally their blood. Since humans didn't possess enhanced olfactory senses like demons, the probability of finding one was nil. Even if by chance a Blood Priestess was discovered, came to light another issue that took him decades to uncover the truth.
From ancient records, he learned that a sentient must experience an awakening in order to trigger her dormant powers which Zagan surmised varied for each individual. There were conditions and factors to be met and everytime he was close to solidifying his theory, a new rumour would reach his ears. There was another unequivocal method to draw out a sentient's powers, requiring the Blood Priestess to offer up a blood sacrifice. Unfortunately, he wasn't certain about the specifics, leading to his current — stagnant — state of affairs.
Now that a living, breathing sentient was in his grasp, he would be a fool not to confirm his theories. A Blood Priestess could grant him unfathomable power that will ensure his reign for eternity and instill unparalleled fear in all who heard his name. No one would dare to defy or protest his supremacy — Zagan, the Emperor of Cronoa. He would no longer be weak or pathetic. This reassuring confidence and knowledge of his future was the only thing that helped him to sleep — most nights.
He would crush anyone standing in his way. His resolve was unbreakable, forged by the pain and misery he suffered. Never again would he become the hungry, helpless child that was hated by both humans and demons.
---------------
A loud crash woke her up from a fitful slumber, her body tumbling off the bed in a tangle of sheets. She groaned pitifully, sweeping her hair out of her face. Who was responsible for the ruckus? Akila recognised the maid from last night immediately. It was the young demoness — Bennu.
"It's time to get up! The master requires your presence in the dining hall," Bennu fired in a hostile undertone, yanking open the velvet drapes. The maid barely spared her a glance, yet her animosity burned brighter than the sunlight spilling in.
Shielding her eyes, Akila wordlessly objected the sudden brightness.
"I've prepared your bath and laid out your dress in the water closet. Once you're done, I shall escort you to the hall," Bennu continued speaking, fastidiously straightening the room. The way her deft fingers tidied everything bespoke of her experience and it made Akila wonder if demons lived the same way as humans. Did they too comply to a social hierarchy for demons? Apart from her tiny horns, Bennu resembled a human.
"What does that demon want with me?" Akila asked with a cloud of suspicion.
Bennu's mouth firmed. "You should refrain from asking impudent questions, human." With a practiced whirl of her skirts, she paced to the front doors. "Master will not be kept waiting. You have twenty minutes before I return to escort you — dressed or not."
Bennu's distinct resentment settled like rocks in her stomach. As a diamond of the first water, Akila was well-liked and adored by her peers. Conversation came easily to her, and she made it a habit never to offend anyone, unless of course they aroused her anger — which wasn't often. Akila admitted she wasn't perfect but, being disliked was a new and rather uncomfortable feeling. If she wasn't careful, this demoness might kill her before Zagan could.
Setting aside her churning apprehension, she followed the maid's instructions, cleansing her body of all the grime and unpleasant memories that stuck like a foul stench. She was tempted to hug the irritable maid for the scented water, a recognizable whiff that brought to mind the demon in her bed. She flushed at the thought of Zagan while sitting naked in the tub. A flutter of feminine awareness pooled low and delicious in her belly at the recollection of a lean body stretched over a canvas of hard muscles.
"Stop thinking about it," she quietly berated herself. "You shouldn't be admiring the enemy." Grabbing the wet cloth, she scrubbed until her skin protested before drying off and pulling on a soft, buttery baby blue dress. It was an old but serviceable dress that wouldn't give the demon any indecent ideas. Bennu had chosen well.
Minutes later, the maid returned as promised to collect her. They entered a small dining hall reserved for intimate gatherings she used to share with her family. The memories brought a twinge of pain in her heart. She hoped her siblings were alive and safe, and that they would one day reunite. First, she had to wrest herself out of this sticky demon situation.
Sitting at the head of the table, was the incorrigible demon king with his face buried in a woman's neck. Akila tried not to cringe. It would definitely take time for her to digest the fact that Zagan was a creature who survived on blood. Putting that aside, she wondered if he also drank animal blood, arousing a genuine curiosity to ask him what blood tasted like from his perspective. Once she had licked her sister's wound to staunch the bleeding and it left a bad impression of rust in her mouth.
Zagan's blatant display of his nature made her feel strangely hot all over. It was the same reaction that surprised her in the tub. He must have heard her footsteps and knew she was standing there watching him but simply ignored her.
Rude demon.
Unused to being disregarded, her hands tightened into fists, and she cleared her throat as loud as she could, taking a seat where a steaming hot bowl of porridge sat with a side platter of sliced fruits and hot tea. She assumed it was hers because no one else was around to eat it, and Zagan was otherwise preoccupied. Her annoyance grew when his meal let out an indecent moan that turned her ears pink.
The vileness of this man!
She tried shutting out the needy noises by drinking her tea, spurting noisily when it scalded her tongue. Snatching a napkin, she dabbed clumsily at the mess she made.
"I'm glad to see your appetite has returned," Zagan finally addressed her, cleaning his mouth with a handkerchief.
Akila struggled not to notice how his meal sat in his lap with her blouse left open to reveal the rose bud tips of her larger than average breasts. She didn't miss the milk leaking from one nipple and her eyes narrowed when she realized this woman was a young mother. Whatever potential opinions she might harbor about Zagan were instantly crushed.
Unable to ignore the bubbling anger in her chest, she disregarded his comment and dipped her spoon into the lightly fragrant oatmeal. Taking a bite, she decided that it was quite delicious and cleared up the entire bowl. For the first time in eight days, her spirit regained a shard of its liveliness and she felt like herself again.
At the other end of the table, Zagan was pleased to see the returning glow to her cheeks and the brightening of her unique topaz eyes. He signalled for his meal to be removed, knowing the sight of the woman bothered his little lamb. He had intended for her to witness his feeding, wanting to gauge her reaction, feeling quite disappointed when she refused to give him a desired reaction. He had anticipated a verbal barrage of insults.
Had she learned her previous lesson? Pity that. And here he was so eager to bait her.
Eyes dropping to her lips, he noticed her tongue darting out to lick a spot of oatmeal and imagined himself doing it for her, bringing his hunger roaring back to life.
Akila abruptly lifted her head, as if reading the lurid thoughts overwhelming his mind. "Tell me, what are your plans for me?"
His brow arched at her bold question. Idly he leaned back against the padded chair and crossed his legs in a relaxed posture. "Where would you like me to begin? Your position in this new empire I am going to build, or your role as my concubine?"
She grimaced at the last one. "Let's start with the empire."
"Very well." He inclined his head. "Once you're done with breakfast, we're going to take a little trip into the outer regions. I will explain more once we get there."
Akila could count on one hand the number of times she had ventured outside the castle walls. Twice. The first time was when she was nine and she still remembered the excitement of occupying the royal carriage in the official parade in honour of the Empress's thirtieth birthday. The second and final time was when she attended Sevia's wedding in Ouvla to serve as her sister's bridesmaid.
Today marked the third time she would be travelling beyond these protective walls. Despite Zagan's new identity as the emperor, he insisted they both ride unchaperoned on his prized stallion, Ares. Either he was confident in his abilities, or he didn't think anyone would attempt to ambush them. It was a bold and foolhardy. A demon crowning himself as emperor was the perfect set up for an enemy attack.
"You don't seem excited to leave the castle," Zagan observed, securing an arm around her waist.
A sharp gasp escaped her when it brought her back flat against his chest and her bottom snugged between his firm thighs. Her mind faltered at the intimacy, vividly conscious that she had better get accustomed to his touch if being his concubine meant sharing his bed.
"My father forbade us from leaving the castle walls unless it was absolutely necessary." She hated how breathless she sounded, giving away his effect on her. "He said it was for our protection and like a dutiful daughter I obeyed. I've only ventured out twice. On both accounts, I was heavily guarded." Her voice held a hint of regret. "Now that I'm out here again, I wish to experience something different. I've never visited the town area and I've always wanted to experience how the locals live. The castle maids often share with me their lovely treats and trinkets from the marketplace and carnival. There were times I became envious of their freedom."
Akila fell silent. She'd never admitted her deepest desire to walk amongst the people — to be one of them. So, what made her confide in her enemy? She doubted Zagan cared to heed her trivial request. Yesterday, he had made her position very clear.
Except everything about her intrigued the demon king.
How different we are — like day and night, Zagan thought wryly as he gazed down upon her lovely profile. He grew up as a street thug — a criminal and low born demon while royal blood flowed through her veins. Akila was a beloved daughter and a descendent of God. Ironically, he felt unclean to be in her presence. "Your father wasn't wrong to keep you sheltered. You were better off living inside the walls, little lamb. The hardship of a commoner's life isn't for the likes of you. You wouldn't last a day in their shoes."
Akila caught the censure in his voice. Instinctively, she understood he wasn't being mean or presumptuous but speaking the truth from experience. Not for the first time, she was bombarded with curiosity of who Zagan was and how he had led his life until today. "What do you mean?"
"There are things you don't know about your beloved emperor and" — he tilted her chin upwards so that their gazes locked — "that fiancé whom you claim to love? He is as rotten as I am."
Golden eyes flashed with outrage. "You're lying! Ywain is Cronoa's beloved hero. He will never sully his reputation or betray my affections. How dare you slander my father's good name!" She fisted his shirt, forgetting herself in the heat of anger. "Don't you forget that he's dead because of you! You're a cold-hearted murderer!"
"Poor Akila," Zagan sneered, his face suddenly all hard lines and angles, his lips curled in distaste. "How they have kept you in the dark about what's truly happening out here in the real world. You ignorant fool! Orsova may be a doting father in your eyes but, he was no great ruler. He was a greedy, manipulative bastard too afraid to get his hands dirty, so he played everyone around him like pawns on a chessboard. Orsova played a role in triggering the Great War that lives on in the memories of its victims. He was no hero, little lamb."
His voice lowered with palpable contempt. "A lesson you should learn is that people are expendable just like your dead fiancé. Orsova may be the brains behind the veiled corruption, but the duke was his sword and shield — eager to jump at your father's every command." Hatred and distaste for Ywain filled him. Not only was the duke a deceitful bastard but, he was the object of Akila's reverence. It was unacceptable. "Assassination and murder were the Duke of Ryre's forte. He was your father's trained lap dog and that was how he earned his title. It's the truth whether you want to believe me."
Akila flinched when his fingers dug into her waist. "Zagan, let go! You're hurting me!"