The dwarf straightened promptly, recognizing the unbending command. A cold shiver ran down his spine. There was violence in this demon. Primal and predatory, it cloaked him like an aura of death, overwhelming even their seedy environs. He tugged nervously at his collar. "R-Right! Sorry, sir. Please, come this way."
Their footsteps echoed along the short corridor. Filling in the silence, Kobal asked, "Where are you taking us?"
"To the buffet room, sir."
Kobal's eyes lit up with childlike excitement. Over his shoulder, he hummed, "My, my, Mara, I believe you have outdone yourself. How on earth did you find this place? It's not exactly...conspicuous."
"I have my sources," she replied cryptically, a cattish smile on her painted lips. "This place only caters to our kind, and I've put in a special request for the noblest bloodlines to grace our tongues this evening — a veritable buffet of noblewomen."
Kobal couldn't help asking, "No men for yourself?"
"The only male I want is right here," she purred in Zagan's direction, but he conveniently ignored her.
With his heightened sense of smell, Zagan detected the salty notes of metallic blood mingled with the musky scent of sex. His nose twitched in disgust, warily reminded of his boyhood days begging around filthy streets where prostitutes sold themselves in darkened alleyways and drunkards staggered after a wild night, picking random fights.
"Right through here." The dwarf pushed apart black velvet drapes, uncovering a demon's playground — sex, defilement, bondage, and blood orgies. The stench of sin intensified, blasting them in the faces like a furnace of hot air.
In a shadowy corner, a chained demoness hungrily sucked her lover's cock while another plowed her ruthlessly from behind, the lewd sounds of their slapping flesh echoing violently. Lounging on a sofa not faraway sat two moaning females, their nude breasts in full view, round and heavy with engorged nipples and the other was pierced. They had their tongues down each other's throat while their wandering hands pleasuring their undeniably wet pussies.
"What a nostalgic place," Kobal sighed, appreciating the carnal display. "I once attended a sex orgy by a cult of sanctimonious aristocrats who wanted to fuck each other's spouses. Some humans host the most depraved parties, and it was the best night of my life. I took a young man's virginity and fucked his wife too."
Zagan pierced him with a distasteful scowl. "I see the years haven't changed your sexual deviation."
Kobal shrugged offhandedly. "I was bored, and it was an exhilarating experience."
A female screamed in pain laced ecstasy, her cries accompanied by her partner's grunting.
Zagan decided he'd seen enough. "What's the real reason you brought us here for, Mara?" Impatience lurked in his tone, his posture rigid. Though he didn't begrudge others of their sexual proclivities, this place taunted his unfulfilled cock about a certain female he denied.
"Why else but to enjoy the depravities only a demon club can offer? And it's a surprise." She looked fleetingly impressed by her own response. "Fret not, Zagan. The buffet course doesn't hold a candle to this vulgarity. This section of the club is reserved for sexual voyeurs and exhibitionists who enjoy the pleasure of being watched. We're headed to a private enclosure."
Indeed, they were being led down the cellar, sidestepping barrels of wine and crates of imported cured meat yet to be unloaded. The air was stale, and the area poorly lit. Their only light source came from a flickering pair of fire sconces in the distance.
Kobal chuckled at Zagan's uneasiness. "Is the vicious Demon King feeling squeamish about sexual public displays? Surely you jest."
Zagan grinded his teeth. "It's not the sex but what it represents."
"Here we are," the dwarf announced, stopping before a gilded gate. He pushed it wide open and pointed below. "If you follow them steps, you'll find yourself in the buffet room."
"Thank you, old chap." Kobal patted the dwarf's shoulder, earning an irritated glare. Clearly, the little fellow only feared and respected Zagan.
"There's one important detail to heed," Mara said over her shoulder, the muted flames casting a soft glow upon her flawless features. "This club is owned by a human who is of interest to us."
Zagan's gaze sharpened. "Who is it?"
She smiled deviously, unwilling to ruin the surprise. "He's eager to make your acquaintance, thus this invitation. I promised him a private audience with you."
Kobal's carefree demeanor shifted at once, his back straightening and his face lined with suspicion. "There's only one man in this entire kingdom I can think of — King Zen of Ephalon. As tempting as it is sounds for him to be our ally, he could easily be our foe and we just walked into his trap."
"Tsk. Come now, Kobal." Mara threw him an offended look. "I don't appreciate your underestimating my ability to discern our allies from foes. I wasn't born yesterday."
"There's always a first," he muttered as they advanced deeper underground. Passing through an archway, they were greeted by a long table decorated with silver platted candelabras, expensive linen and buckets of chilled wine.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" A lofty voice boomed, drawing everyone's gazes to a brawny, middle-aged man sitting languidly upon his makeshift throne at the end of the room. He was garbed extravagantly in a fur-lined purple coat and polished leather boots that boasted his wealth. His chestnut hair was shot through with threads of silver, slicked back from his forehead to feature a stark, prominent scar that slashed across his face from his left eye down to his opposite jawline. On another man, it might have appeared hideous but on this particular male, whose presence exuded a sense of ruthlessness and a promise of menace, it lent him an air of danger and rawness — an unpredictable but familiar opponent.
Zagan regarded him warily, like recognizing like. They were cut from the same cloth — shaped by life's injustice and brutality.
"I've been expecting you, Emperor Zagan. I wasn't certain you would accept my invitation but I'm glad you did." Rising from his throne, the human king approached him with an extended hand. "I am King Zen of Ephalon. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
Zagan's expression betrayed nothing. While he acknowledged this surprise caught him off guard, he was no less vigilant. He disliked being held at the slightest disadvantage, making a mental note to have a word with Mara. She should have known better.
After Kobal's report, meeting the human king was inevitable, but he hadn't expected it this soon. He accepted the firm handshake. "Likewise, King Zen. You've made it easier for me not to seek you out." His gaze narrowed perceptively. "But then, you already know what I am."
"Call me Zen and yes, your demon heritage doesn't bother me unless your reputation proves to be untrue. I'm certain you've done your own digging about me, and I won't hide the fact that I'm untrustworthy. There's only one thing I care about — Ephalon's triumph." He gestured for them to take their seats at the table. "Orsova and I share a history of bad blood, and you've done me a great service by eliminating the enemy. Your actions prove you're a force to be reckon with — unwilling to be ignored — and your sobriquet 'Demon King' paints you in an intimidating light."
Their gazes clashed. "Allow me to speak plainly, Zagan. I wish to form an alliance with Cronoa. Since I caught wind of your name, I gathered all the information I could about you. Safe to say, your past isn't hard to uncover when I have eyes and ears in the right places."
Zagan's jaw tightened at the unspoken threat.
"I have a feeling we'll get along famously." Zen lifted his wine goblet to his lips. "You and I — we have the same goal — to build our nations' riches which in turn makes us wealthier. Our alliance will be extremely beneficial." Knowledge filled his gaze. "I also understand that Ouvla and Avoria have declared themselves enemies of your state."
"And what of it?"
"With Ephalon's power, the other nations will be forced to think twice about making Cronoa their enemy. Unless of course, you plan to obtain the smaller nations' loyalty," Zen snickered, sounding as if they were beneath his notice.
Zagan met Zen's gaze without flinching, his tone flat and unrelenting. "You're getting ahead of yourself, human king. It's wise for you to remember that I don't share your human mindset or sentiments. It's true that I require allies to further my cause, but I don't need someone who will trespass and stab me in the back. Smaller nations have caused greater capitals to fall in history, and it's bound to repeat itself because greed lives in all of us." A fang glistened as his lip curled into a soft sneer. "As allies, I require your unconditional submission to my authority. Can you agree to that?"
Zen's face tautened, a visible crack in his ostentatious confidence.
"Most assuredly, the decisions you make for Ephalon is none of my business," Zagan continued. "However, anything that affects Cronoa will have to be mutually agreed upon. I can be fair and generous." His voice lowered, his features smoothening as if he realized something. "The fact that you've gone through the trouble of setting this meeting tells me that you're the one who needs my alliance — not — the other way around."
Zagan leaned forward, holding the king's gaze in a captive stare, the flicker of the candlelight making his silver eyes glow like a predator. "I'll kill anyone who gets in my way and disobedience is unacceptable. Since you claim to know my history, you must be aware that I have no remorse or conscience. Demons have acute senses that allow us to see, hear and smell what humans are incapable of doing. We are more beast than man, so I'd caution you to tread carefully if you ever intent to betray me. I'll hunt you down, rip out your heart and organs and stake your corpse on a pike like how our ancestors celebrated their victories," he growled softly, deliberately baring his fangs. "Right now, I can hear your pulse, the blood rushing through your veins. Are you nervous, King Zen? Are you afraid this barbaric demon is going to attack you?"
Intimidation suffocated the room, sucking the breaths out of the occupants — mainly the servants.
Looking unexpectedly calm, Zen leaned back in his seat and snapped his fingers. "Do you honestly believe I would leave myself vulnerable?" Emerging from the shadows were two masked figures dressed completely in black. Nothing but the strip of their cat-like eyes could be seen.
Oriental shadow warriors.
Their strange and unique attire reflected the rumors Zagan heard about these deadly assassins. He'd never seen one — or two — until now. How they evaded his sense of smell attested to their skill.
"I didn't get this far in life by playing by the rules," Zen boldly declared. "I'm hurt by your lack of faith in my character, demon king. Were your resources about me that unreliable?"
Zagan succumbed to a wry smile, easing the stretched tension. "A fool I'm not, King Zen. I would have done the same if our roles were reversed, except I wouldn't have needed assistance. I can easily rip out your throat with my bare hands." He allowed the threat to sink in. "But rest easy for I don't feed from men. I prefer soft and willing women."
Zen read the humour in Zagan's eyes, realising he was being tested. He'd expected it but, it still rankled to be underestimated by a demon. "I take it that you're willing to shake on this alliance?" He cleared his throat, turning the conversation back on track.
"Not yet" Zagan conceded. "But you may consider us unofficial allies for the time being."
Zen appeared baffled and upset. "Do you require a more compelling reason?"
"No, you misunderstand." Zagan shook his head. "Cronoa will be throwing a ball in honor of my coronation and during the celebration I intend to announce our alliance to convince the other leaders the unity of our strength."
"In other words, you are giving them a warning," Zen surmised, reading between the lines.
A fleeting nod. "As I said, I can be fair."
Zen regarded the self-possessed demon with newfound respect. He wasn't completely honest about knowing Zagan's background. The things he heard were only baseless rumors. He'd expected an adversary with the demeanor of an uncouth criminal, a murderer or even a rapist who derived pleasure from hurting others — all of which he'd encountered before. Zagan would prove to be a formidable enemy if Zen ever reneged on their treaty. "Then I anticipate the official invitation." He spread his arms in goodwill. "Enough political talk. I've invited you here for a meal and as your lovely mistress bade, I've assembled the purest of noble blood for this feast."
Zen nodded at the attendant across the room and promptly, a stream of women paraded in from behind velvet curtains. Tiny bells tinkled as their bare feet carried them towards Zagan. Beside him, Kobal licked his lips at their skimpy costumes that flaunted their lovely breasts and feminine curves.
"These young women herald from the Ephalonian elites. I've been informed they worship your kind and consider it an honor to be of service," Zen explained with hidden amusement, rising from his seat. "Now that my purpose here is done, you'll forgive me if I excuse myself from the main event. Believe it or not, blood makes me queasy. Should you crave physical excitement, the club is more than willing to provide. Nithran — the dwarf — will attend to you once you're ready to leave. I look forward to our next meeting, Zagan." There was no derision in his voice, only frank admiration.
They shook hands one last time before the king left.
Kobal proceeded to select his meal partner, leading a buxom blonde to a vacant seat where he dragged her into his lap and started nuzzling her neck. The woman giggled amorously, no stranger to a demon's touch.
Mara sidled up beside Zagan, placing a hand on his chest. "Do these women displease you?"
"No," he answered distantly.
She beckoned a petite woman with black hair and kohl-rimmed eyes. "Come here."
The human obeyed and stepped forward; her eyes fixated upon the attractive demon. She immediately curtsied. "I'm Lady Savon, the youngest daughter of Lord Savon. How may I please you, Your Majesty?"
"You will provide His Majesty your blood and do whatever he bids you to," Mara instructed sternly. "Undress yourself."
Lady Savon eagerly removed her dress. She was proud of her body, knowing that men enjoyed the curves of her petite but taut and lean frame, her breasts while not large, were a nice handful with rosy tips. Disappointment speared her chest when the demon neither praised her beauty nor did his eyes light up with lust. He remained indifferent.
Were demons different below the waist? For a male as gorgeous as he, she was willing to surrender her virginity.
"Come closer," Zagan commanded, his masculine baritone made her shiver with longing and excitement to be touched.
He brushed the human's hair aside, exposing the long column of her neck. She smelled pleasant but soon she would become a distant memory like every other meal...unlike one golden-eyed female who harassed his thoughts. He licked her skin, flexing his jaw to take a bite when he caught a whiff of HER scent. His body froze. A swift need surged from within, rousing the beast. His irises bled into red, and his claws dug into soft flesh, eliciting a cry of pain.
MINE!
The beast thrashed against his mental restraint.
Zagan grinded his teeth with enough force to crack. Fucking Balan! What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to guard the princess, yet here she was...somewhere within this depraved den of sin — an easy target for all demons.
MINE! MINE!
He roared, alarming everyone before tearing off at preternatural speed, yielding to the beast's demand for once.