Claimed by a Demon King by Felicity Heaton Read Free Book Online Page B

demon tongue, “She is not your ki’ara. You would know your fated female and would be unable to ignore the urge to fight me. How dare you dress her as your ki’ara!”
    Bleu’s hand calmly encircled his wrist and he looked as if he would allow his armour to transform his fingers into claws and wrest Thorne’s hand from his throat, yet he made no move to fight him.
    Thorne needed to fight.
    His blood pumped hard and hot, and his mind screamed with fury over what this male had dared to do with his fated one. His female.
    He wanted to throw him across the room, to rain blows down upon him until his temper flared and he fought back. He wanted to snag the female with his free hand, curl his claws over the metal bodice of her dress and rip the offending garment from her body.
    He yearned to kiss her until she knew that she belonged to him.
    He could do none of those things.
    Everyone was staring at him and clarity was beginning to pierce the red haze in his mind like the rising sun drove back the darkest night, bringing calm to all those its rays touched.
    He had brought these elven folk and mortals to his world because he needed their aid, and he was ruining his chance of keeping his kingdom safe.
    For the sake of a female.
    Thorne snarled, torn between tightening his grip around Bleu’s scrawny neck and releasing him. His chest heaved with each harsh breath he sucked down into his lungs in a fight to calm himself and his fingers twitched against Bleu’s flesh. The urge to press his claws in, to draw blood and ignite the male’s anger was hard to ignore. He wanted to tear into him with claw and fang, to push him into responding, all to sate his need to ensure this male no longer dared to pursue his female.
    He needed to kill him.
    Sable moved, taking a brave step closer, and shock rippled through him when his rage lifted enough for him to realise that she looked only at him. Broken words reached his ears, filtering through the red mist clouding his senses.
    She spoke to him directly and everything male in him demanded he listened to his female.
    He eased his grip and turned to her. She appeared small and delicate, but formidable too as she stood with her hands braced against her hips, her bright golden gaze locked on him in a scowl.
    His female was fearsome. A warrior.
    He wanted to grin at that.
    A female fit for a king.
    “Dial it back, Tiger,” she said.
    He didn’t understand her strange words or why she equated him with a savage animal of her world, but he knew from her gentle tone and softening expression that she meant to calm him.
    Thorne could only obey.
    He lowered the elf to his feet and fought to convince himself to release his throat. Sable continued to stare into his eyes, her gaze commanding his to remain rooted on her. It took a few seconds before he managed to uncurl his fingers from Bleu’s neck, and only a few seconds more than that for him to notice the ragged state of his clothes, the horrified expressions of the mortals surrounding him, and the barely concealed anger flashing in the eyes of the elves.
    Thorne turned away from Sable and shoved past Bleu, heading for the door beyond the mortals. They scurried out of his path, their fear tainting their scents.
    He growled and tossed over his shoulder, “I will return. Prepare the feast.”
    He stormed out of the great hall, needing space to rein in his anger, and requiring a change of clothes. There was little point in donning a new shirt until he had his temper back under control though. He growled and snarled as he stomped along the torch-lit corridor towards his rooms, his mood degenerating again, thoughts of Sable with Bleu dragging him back towards the red mist. He female was there with the elf, no doubt checking on the male, touching his bruised throat and speaking words of concern and tenderness.
    Thorne threw his head back and roared until his throat burned and he had no breath left. He dragged his claws along the stone walls, craving the