Sky Lord's Mate (Sin & Salvation Book 1) Page 4
I get myself into a sitting position, holding my knees to my chest, and just start shaking again. I just want to go home, more than anything in the world, but instead I’m surrounded by demons on some kind of sky ship, and they don’t speak English.
Yesterday, I would have given anything to just be left alone. To not have to go to family dinner, to not have to deal with my sister or my oblivious parents. Now, that’s all I can think about. I miss my dorm, my own stuff. My own life. It might’ve been weird and confusing but I could deal with it. I can’t even begin to deal with all of this.
Sharp, shrill cries erupt somewhere below me and I jump, my head whipping upwards on a gasp. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it sounds...excited? Dark shadows begin to cut across the sunlight on the deck and I look up, realizing that the demons are flying above me with the other women in their arms.
Relief washes over me when I spot Gwen. She appears to be fighting with the demon carrying her, pounding small fists against his expansive chest, and he drops her on her feet with a snort of annoyance. “Asshole,” she tosses back, her face softening when she looks down at me. “Are you okay?” she continues, holding out her hands to pull me up.
“Yeah,” I answer, rubbing my arms. “Terrified of heights. And, um…” I indicate the demons with a tilt of my head, the amber-eyed one still watching me. I meet his gaze, feeling some tug in me as I look at him, but my attention is drawn away by the girls.
“What the hell are they?” the sandy-haired girl asks, holding herself around her middle. “And were those…?”
“Angels?” the black-haired girl suggests, shrugging. “I hope not, or I am going to have some words with the priest back home.” She looks around, those blue eyes taking everything in. “Assuming, you know, I ever get back.”
My stomach seizes again, not wanting to think about that, so I focus on the sandy-haired girl. I think I’ve seen her before, and finally come up with it. “You’re Liz, right? We had bio together last semester, I think.”
She looks relieved. “Yeah. I thought you looked familiar. And you,” she nods at the black-haired girl. “You’re in my dorm. Are you Brianna?”
“Yep. I’d say nice to meet you, but…” Brianna trails off, shrugging.
I laugh, the sound a little strangled. “Yeah. Brought together by a need for fifty dollars and solid desperation, and now we’ve been taken from angels by demons. I’m Allie, and this is Gwen.”
This one fragile bubble of normalcy comforts me a little, but it’s dashed over with cold water when I hear a musical, feminine laugh behind me that forces me to turn around.
“Ixisa, if we are making introductions.”
She’s one of the alien women. Green skin, bronze hair, small stumps of horns. She’s lithe like the angels with the same shimmer in her skin. “And those demons are the Daevosi,” she explains, her accent heavy. “They war with the Anjari.”
Ice forms in the pit of my stomach. “So we’re...prisoners?”
She shrugs. “Who knows. We are not mated to the Anjari, so all is well.” She inclines her head at the amber-eyed male, who continues to watch me. “That one is the young Warlord.”
I glance back at him again, feeling the faint edges of heat in my veins as he looks at me. “So will they...mate us too?” My cheeks flush as I ask, and I have to turn away from him.
She grins, baring pointed teeth to me. “It is likely, though they have not had mates in many years.” She looks me up and down, and looks to the amber-eyed male. “He looks at you as though he wishes to.”
I look back, meeting his gaze once again, and the ice in my stomach melts away. Those eyes say far more than words, burning brightly as they take me in. I take a step forward, compelled by something I don’t understand, and it’s enough of a sign for him. He comes directly over to me, his warm hand sliding over my cheek, murmuring words I can’t understand.
I can’t help it, immediately flinching at the sudden warmth, and the way his face falls pierces my heart. Resolve seems to take over, though, a fiery determination that has him touching a single finger to my chin, forcing me to look at him. It’s the very lightest touch, but that gaze pins me so decisively that I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
After a moment he removes his hand, my eyes still riveted to his in some breathless spell that calls to me. His eyes beckon me as surely as his hands, which he places on his own chest. “Aramon,” he says, pounding once for emphasis.
His name, I realize. It must be his name. My lips curve into a smile, and I mimic the gesture. “Allie.”
The answering grin on his lips lifts my spirits immensely, reigniting that fire in my belly, until he places his hands on my face again. For half a moment, it feels like the best thing in the world.
Until I remember what he is.
I draw back, shaking my head. “No,” I say, pleading with my eyes. “No.” He’s a demon. Some kind of evil. I’m his prisoner, and I...can’t deal with it.
The green-skinned woman steps between us, her accented voice speaking his language, and he answers back in wounded tones, looking to me. I shake my head and turn my back on him, wrapping my arms around myself, and stare at the deck until he walks away.
6
Aramon
Every time she looks at me with fear in her beautiful emerald eyes, I am stricken by the worst feeling I have ever known.
I’ve spent the majority of our flight telling my mate I will never let any harm come to her. When she could not stop herself from looking over the side, her eyes widening in terror, I told her I would not let her fall. I’ve done my best to show her, to soothe her, but she flinches away from me every time I come near her.
I would bleed for her if she demanded it. I would do absolutely anything she wished. But right now, my heart aches just to watch her with the other women. They talk to one another in a language I cannot understand in the same way she cannot understand mine. There is only one among them who has picked up a few of our words, and even then, she is far from fluent.
Just give her some space.
Those were the words the other female said to me, or as close a translation as I could gather from the broken sentences she spoke. She called me something, I believe, but there is no word in my language that equates to the hard, crass sounds she used.
Standing at the bow of the ship, I have given her as much space as I dare. I still watch her, my gaze never straying, my arms folded over my chest as I consider the best way to approach her.
“The other Warlords aren’t going to believe you, you know.” Talran takes his place beside me, and I see him chase away a scowl as he looks at the women. At one in particular. “I wouldn’t believe you, if I didn’t know you as well as I do.”
I level a hard stare at him. “You are treading dangerous ground.”
“I speak only the truth,” he says, his chin lifting, jaw tense. “She’s so… small. She looks as if she would break if you touch her the wrong way.”
A growl rips through my throat, fierce and sudden. I grip one of his long horns and yank him to face me. “You will not speak of my mate with such disrespect, do you understand?”
“She can’t even fly, Aramon. How is she meant to be the mate to a Daevosi Warlord?”
My free hand goes for one of my blades and I can feel the onyx warm against my hand. Talran doesn’t even flinch. He holds his neck out for me as if inviting me to do it. He isn’t ashamed of what he’s said. He believes in his right to say it, too.
And so do I. I would not have named him my second if I did not trust his opinion on all things. In truth, these are thoughts that have played through my mind as well, though I have banished them as I’ve found them.
“She is small, but she is fierce.” A prideful smile chases away any doubts I might have had. “And she will certainly break when I touch her, but not in the way you mean.”
Talran chuckles, shaking his head. Whatever tension exists between us drains in that moment. There is a gleam in his eyes and he clutches my shoulder.
“I’m pleased for you, brother. There are none among us more deserving, and if she truly is your mate, then I shall honor her as my queen.”
I clasp his shoulder in return, my brows lifting playfully at him. “If my hunch is right, my mate is not the only one among them. What about the dark-haired one? She would make a fine match for you.”
He fixes me with an immediate glare and I let out a hearty laugh, my spirits feeling lighter than they have any right to be, given the fight still ahead of us.
“That woman is the most hateful creature I’ve ever met,” he growls.
“You only say that because she didn’t immediately beg you to bed her.”
He snorts, his arms folding over his chest. “Trust me, I have no interest in bedding her.”
“Because she’d break you?” I can’t help the smirk on my lips, or the laugh that follows as he mutters an oath at me.
The mood between us grows somber, though, and in the distance I can see the shimmer that marks Daevos. My heart yearns to see it again—to show my mate its splendor and erase all of her fears and doubts. Once she sees where she is meant to be, once she feels that sense of rightness, she will understand.
“I’ve not resonated with her. Or any of the women, for that matter. To the best of my knowledge, none of the other men have either,” Talran says quietly. “You’ll have a hard time convincing the other Warlords that these are our long-lost mates if only one among them has resonated, and—conveniently—only to you.”
“I know,” I admit, “but I can feel in my soul it is the truth. Perhaps your mate isn’t among them, but these women are meant for us. I know that. And if we can find them—if I can find her—I have to believe we can break this terrible curse.”
 
; He’s not looking at me, but I can see his cheek twitch as he smiles. “And that is exactly why you’re Warlord.”
The Juggernaut approaches the shimmering barrier and I hold my breath, awaiting the moment when it falls away. Like clear, silver water cascading down the face of a cliff, obscuring some mystical cavern, the barrier falls away to reveal the second most beautiful sight I have ever beheld.
Tall cliffs of onyx jut into the sky, layered in four tiers that stratify Daevos. The stone creates natural walls, with massive spires marking the corners, rising well past the clouds. Even from this distance I can see the sentry posts contained therein, the large horn that alerts us to any danger, the many entryways and exits carved into the stone like open caverns.
I can see the many homes of my people, arranged vertically, with none of us claiming more space than the stone grants us—including the Warlord. Towering trees join the architecture, leaves of many different colors glittering in the sunlight. So much of what we have made ours comes from stone and wood, and we have given both a place of honor in our city, building alongside these natural features rather than enforcing our will upon the lands the gods have granted us.
A smile is etched across my features and I feel the sudden urge to share my joy. Pride swells in my chest, a quickened stride bringing me to my mate and the other women. Some of them seem especially afraid of me, but my brave little mate does not flinch away. Even if she does not understand, I have to believe some part of her soul recognizes mine.
Her body certainly does.
She rises, cautious but drawn toward me just the same. Her emerald gaze darts to the side of the ship and she wavers slightly. I am there in an instant, my arms encircling her, supporting her. As tempted as I am to do it, I do not pull her against me. I simply hold her steady, leaning down so that I can be nearer to her when we speak.
“You are home now, brave one.” I hold her gaze, then nod toward the city, imploring her to understand.
The gasp that falls from her lips tells me she does. The ship crests the mist that obscures the city and I watch her lovely face, see her eyes widen as she takes in the splendor of it. I can see my home—our home—reflected there, and it has never been more beautiful to me.
She says something, a question, I believe, her gaze turning toward me. Not for the first time, I wish I could understand her. I will find someone to help us better speak, and the bonding ceremony will ensure we always know what is written in the other’s heart, but for now I must rely on instinct alone.
“This is Daevos.” I gesture toward it, then look at her, waiting.
“Daevos?”
Her mouth cannot quite form the sounds of my language just yet, but she is close enough that joy blazes through me just the same.
“Your home now,” I tell her again. “Our home, where you and I will unite our people. Where we will raise children together and bring hope to a new generation.” I step into her, my voice lowering, my words only for her ears. “Where I will make you mine.”
Every shred of my existence wants to take her into my arms, fly her to my home, lay her down upon my bed and discover every facet of what she enjoys until she’s so wet for me I can claim her with ease. Until she begs me for it, for that connection that will bind us for eternity and beyond.
As she looks into my eyes, I know she senses it. She does not know what I ask of her yet, but on some level I believe she knows the pleasures I am offering. I will devote myself to her and only her. Worship her beautiful body in every possible way. Make her my mate in truth and show the entire world her strength.
It’s impossible to think. I feel like some untested boy, my cock straining against my leathers. Desperate for her. Desperate to sink inside of her, to take and give and make her mine forever. It is where I belong, the only place I belong, and if only she could understand—
“Warlord Aramon.”
A glacial chill douses the fires that rage within me and I turn with gritted teeth to face the source of the interruption. A familiar face stares back at me, weathered and weary, though age has done nothing to curb the sharpness in his eyes.
Snapping out of my stupor, I realize my men are beginning to tie off the rigging, mooring the ship at the docks. I’d not even realized we’d come this close, and I certainly hadn’t seen Vazzak approach.
He stands before me now, tall and proud. He looks up at me despite the fact that I feel as though I am still a child, made to look up at him. My father’s brother in blood, he is one of the few left of my direct ancestry, and one of the only ones I claim any positive relationship with at all.
“Vazzak,” I say, dipping my head in a respectful bow.
An old habit, but I do not care if my men or my mate see. I want her to know the regard I have for this man. I reach for her, my hand at her shoulders.
“This is Allie,” her name feels unbelievably sweet on my tongue. I want to say it a thousand times over; to trace it into her skin, into the sweetness I know I will find between her thighs. “She is my mate, and soon she will be my queen.”
My chest puffs out with pride and I hold my head high, expecting his acknowledgment. Craving it. But he does not look upon me with the pleased smile I expect. He is not smiling at all. His face is pure granite, storm clouds in his eyes.
“Find a safe place for the humans,” he instructs one of the matrons who approach the docks, “I am sure our Warlord will wish them well-cared for. In the meantime, Aramon, we must speak.”
Human? I look down at Allie, confusion written across my features. It is possible. She has no wings, no horns. She is small and fragile compared to my people. But humans have not been seen in this realm for centuries. Longer, perhaps.
“Anything you wish to say to me can be said in front of my mate,” I tell him, feeling as though I’m being pulled in two different directions.
Human or not, she is my mate. I know this deep in my soul, as much as I have ever known anything. But Vazzak was more a father to me than my own. He is what I always wished to be—what I still wish to be. It’s hard to imagine outright defying him, even if he answers to me now.
He steps closer to me, casting his regard to Allie before his eyes meet mine, dark and clear, that sternness pressing down on me. It’s impossible not to feel as though I am a child again under his gaze.
“Look at her, Aramon. She is afraid.” There is a surprising softness to his voice that catches me off guard. I glance to my mate and instantly feel a stab of guilt. “Let her stay with the others. If you truly believe she is your mate, you can return to her after we speak.”
I had wondered where my loyalties might lie between the two of them, but in that moment, I know the answer. My jaw tightens, my eyes narrowing at him as I speak. “I will do as you suggest. For her comfort. But understand this, Uncle: Allie is my mate, and I won’t tolerate anyone saying otherwise. Not even you.”
His eyes widen just a fraction, his surprise obvious. He dips his horns to me in deference I never would have made him acknowledge before this. “As you say, Warlord. My apologies.”
“I will join you shortly in the High Council chambers,” I tell him with a final, curt nod.
He returns it, his wings spreading behind him. The black, leathery expanse is thinner than it once was, with cracks and tears and visible veining. It is a reminder of his age, yet when he pushes into the air, he is as powerful as I have ever seen him.
I watch him until he lands on a balcony high above us, his wings folding once more as he makes his way inside. Turning back to Allie, I find the matrons are beginning to usher the humans off the docks. She looks at me with uncertainty in her eyes, her suspicion obvious.
“Allie,” I call, pleasure threading through me as she smiles, just slightly. For a moment, there is a warm light in her eyes that draws me in. “I must speak with my uncle, but I will return to you. You have nothing to fear here.”
I know she does not understand my words, but I believe she understands my heart, and as I watch her leave with the matron, I feel more at ease.