decades of immortal life.
The Princess, however, was only 110 years old. She thought she was far too young to think about tying herself down to a husband who would probably want babies and obedience. Male Demons were notorious for their arrogance and their need of total control of all things they felt they had a right to control. The Princess did not need another person telling her what to do all the time. She wanted to choose in her own time, when she felt right and ready, and when she found a male who looked upon her as an equal, rather than a worker who required orchestration.
Sarah shuddered at her own thoughts.
In spite of their high-handedness, males of her race were far better than the human mortals when it came to the matter of marriage. The idea of being treated like property, a man’s chattel he could use and dispose of in the fashion of his own choosing, was a nightmare.
As for Ephraim, the aforementioned King of the Demons, she knew that he held high hopes that she would be one of the rare and lucky Demons who became part of the Imprinting.
The Imprinting was the meshing of the hearts, minds, and souls of a male and a female who were compatible with each other to a point beyond perfection. It was reputed to be a connection that transcended the complexities and intensities of mere love. It was an engagement of power that her father hoped would one day coalesce in her womb and produce the powerful potential of a future King of all Demons.
“Noah, what on earth are you reading to her?” Isabella asked in a curious whisper.
She had just entered her daughter’s bedroom, taking in the sight of her two-year-old, who was draped lazily across the current Demon King’s lap. Leah was lying on her back in the cradle of Noah’s biceps and forearm, with her arms splayed wide, wrists hanging limply as she snored softly and drooled against his silk-covered chest.
The King looked up at his Enforcer, the female counterpart of a pair, and smiled in a way that was both bashful and charming. He winked one gray-green eye at her, his darkly patrician features softened by his mischief.
“It is just a fairy tale,” he explained in a hushed voice, folding closed the small book in his hands before setting it onto the floor by his knee.
He reached for the sleeping child in his lap, touching gentle fingertips to her limp form. At that careful caress, Isabella’s daughter slowly began to turn from her flesh-and-blood form into the soft, localized cohesion of a cloud of smoke. The young mother held her breath as Noah manipulated the little cloud into her railed bed and, with practiced ease, returned her to her natural weight and form.
Isabella had seen Noah make similar transformations dozens of times, including to herself. He was a master of the element of Fire, and she did trust him implicitly. She knew from experience that it was very much a harmless trick, taking only the minimum of his awesome skills and power to perform.
As a mother, though, a mother who had until three years ago been all too human and as ignorant of the existence of these elemental beings as most humans were, she couldn’t help the concern that fluttered in her stomach as she understood that her child was being manipulated on molecular levels. She laughed at herself mentally for her silly anxieties a moment later. Noah was powerful and well practiced, the basest of requirements the Demon race expected from their elected King. Everything about him broadcast the natural fate he had been born to. He had been crafted out of a mighty lineage of Demon genetics, forged and tempered, having the awesome patience, wisdom, and education required of a great leader.
Even sitting as he was, there was no mistaking the grandeur of his height, nor the sculpture of a physique just as artistically molded as his mind was. He was not a warrior by nature, but neither did he remain on the sidelines in a soft, padded throne while others went into the fray for him. Isabella had fought by his side and she knew how strong he was, how cunning, and, above all, how merciless he could be when he faced an enemy that threatened the things he held dearest to his heart.
However, she felt she knew him better this way, cuddled up with her daughter in his role as a foster uncle who had probably spent as much time with the darling little girl as her own biological parents. Bella had barely given birth when it became very clear that Noah and Leah were going to be inseparable in their adoration for each other. He showered the child with love, attention, and blatant favoritism. All of this in spite of the fact that he had more nieces and nephews of his own blood than Isabella could count.
Bella didn’t look too closely at the great fortune of this adulation the King had for her child. As with anything, there were hidden layers to it all, most of it redirected emotions from a man who sat in a position of power, and that kind of enormous sovereignty could be all too lonely. All Bella could see at the moment was that Leah looked diminutive in Noah’s embrace, somehow no longer seeming to be growing too fast and too darn independent, as she had been complaining to her child’s father just the night before.
Leah was truly in no more danger from the King’s power than she was when her Earth Demon father separated the child from gravity and sent her squealing and giggling into the air with barely a backhanded thought as they played. Isabella realized that she was still prone to the occasional human foible of fear, a knee-jerk reaction that was habit more than anything. However, she was always able to overcome her trepidations quickly. All she had to do was think of her Demon husband’s highly moral nature, his powerful sense of justice, and the fact that this intense compass also guided many of the Demons in high positions in their society, a category Noah defined even as he fell into it. He made a point of setting the example he intended all others to follow.
“Well, your fairy tale is apparently a great success,” Isabella whispered, reaching down for the book with clear curiosity.
Noah turned suddenly, grabbing her wrist and deftly removing the journal from her hold.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking the book protectively into a pocket on the inside of his jacket.
Isabella frowned slightly, rubbing her wrist where he’d grabbed her a little too enthusiastically, clearly having forgotten his own strength. It was nothing to her, really. After all, she wasn’t human any longer. Well, mostly not. She was a hybrid of ancient Druid and modern human genetics, and since she’d developed significant strength with her other freshman abilities, she’d barely even bruise from the King’s rough handling. Still, if she’d been wholly human, that grip would have broken her wrist clean through, and it wasn’t like Noah to be so unthinking.
“Time for me to get going,” Noah said, gaining his feet quickly and reaching to plant a fast kiss on her still cheek.
With a twist, the Fire Demon morphed into a column of smoke. The column collapsed and scattered across the floor, scudding in all directions for cracks and crevices leading to the outside of the manor.
He was gone barely a second before a storm of dust swept violently into the room, surrounding Isabella’s tiny figure. It snapped suddenly into the shape of her husband, his arms already wrapped tight around her and her wrist coming under immediate inspection.
“What the hell is the matter with him?” Jacob barked, his displeasure over the King’s rough, thoughtless handling of his bride all too clear in his tone and expression.
Since Isabella had become his Imprinted mate those three short years ago, Jacob had found himself with little tolerance for other men touching her, never mind causing her even the smallest of harm. His possessive temperament was part of the nature of their particular Imprinting.
Until Bella had arrived and threaded herself deeply into the tapestry of Jacob’s soul and of his existence, the Imprinting had been so rare that it had only ever
