Siena looked at the Demon with wide, cautious eyes, trying to make sense of everything she was feeling. He finally met her gaze, but remained as silent as the grave. His eyes were a swirl of numerous shades of green, the chaos of color reflective of how she was feeling.
How had she let this happen? Why had it happened? Demons and Lycanthropes were as different as cats and dogs. At least, that was the common view in both their societies. If that was true, then how had this been able to occur? They should not have been chemically compatible, never mind the fact that mentally they were in some ways still at war with one another. There was no denying, however, that they had been more than compatible, chemically and otherwise. Her body still, after all this passed time, burned with the memory of his touch and the depth of his passion. What was more, it boiled with her reciprocation of it, of the very clear message that it was perturbed with its unsatisfied yearnings for him. She felt hollow and unfulfilled, felt as though he had vacated her very soul when he had been forced to pull away in defense of himself.
The Queen rose to her feet, turning her back on him and padding quickly into the next room. She felt better once she had dropped another of the loose baby-doll dresses over her head, this one as green as his eyes had been when he had kissed her. She brushed the backs of her fingers over her mouth, feeling the bruises and memory-provoking soreness of her lips. She felt him approaching, her thoughts swirling with a confusion of what she was feeling and what she imagined he was feeling. She was grateful when he did not stop to talk to her, instead retreating into the bedroom. When he was gone, she sank down into the nearest seat and exhaled silently.
Siena could not believe what she had almost done. If things had gone much further, her entire life would have changed dramatically, provided there was such a thing as a life after a mistake of such incomprehensible proportions. She was the sole ruler of her people, no mate, no children, and had never wished for either. The ruling class of her people had one distinctive trait, and that was the fact that when they mated, it would be for life. There were several species that carried this trait, such as wolves and swans, just as there were the polygamous animals, like horses and deer, who changed partners not only year to year, but sometimes moment to moment.
But no matter what the form the ruling monarch took, he or she was driven to mate once and for always. One mate for all time. It was historically believed that this was in order to assure the fidelity and purity of the royal line. The royal's mate would also succumb to this loyalty to monogamy. How this was accomplished, no one knew for certain. They suspected it was a genetic virus of some kind, rather like the one that caused a Demon to trigger the birth of power in a specific Druid. Perhaps one day they would know for certain.
This was why Siena had chosen to remain absolutely celibate, letting no male anywhere near her in a way that would tempt her. She did not want a mate, and she absolutely refused to share her reign with a man who would become her equal in her monarchy just because she had taken him to her bed. In fact, she actively despised the notion of mating with a male who, in the event of her death, could potentially gain her throne.
If Elijah had taken her body in that one wild moment, he could very well have written out both their executions. Fourteen years of peace was not enough of a base on which to lay making a Lycanthrope King out of a Demon. As adored and lauded as she was, the chances of rebellion and overthrow of her reign would have been an unfathomable and inexcusable risk.
The next thing of importance after that would be the very concept of being forced to spend the rest of her life as part of a pair. Part of a pair that included a male who didn't trust a single thing about her. Bad enough to be forced to bear the lifelong company of any male, but this Demon warrior? He had sent so many of her people to their deaths during her father's war, and, even though she had learned to be wiser than her male parent, the families of those the warrior had slain would have disemboweled her as a traitor to her kind, seeing to it her carcass was dragged from here to the original Russian province they had hailed from for daring such an abomination.
How had she ended up in his arms? Why had he even pursued her? True, they had never personally battled each other, but they were the harshest representatives of their people, who had done so for centuries. The idea of kissing, of wanting such a man in any way?
What in the nine hells had gotten into her? Into him?
And why couldn't she erase the feel of him from not only the front of her mind, but the entirety of her body, both inside and out? Her skin was humming even now. Also, she could feel something else, a depth in her body and in her thoughts she had never known existed. She now could name this hollow, clawing sensation for the hunger of desire that it was. Had she not been paying attention to her own thoughts? It was utter insanity to go on feeling such a thing for even one second more! She should be shamed that she had allowed him such intimacies with her body, not continue to crave them.
The Queen rose to her feet, no longer able to sit still. She absently rubbed a palm over her flat stomach as she began to pace the width of the room. She felt as if he had somehow embedded his presence into her, staining her permanently. They had not mated, so why then did she feel as if his very essence was already swimming inside her womb? She was confused, taunted by his scent on her body, struggling with both the human and feline memories of the past days in his presence.
In spite of herself, she was impressed by the way he had handled the cat in its frightened state. She was aware of it now, now that she had changed back, but in those minutes she had been nothing but the puma, more likely to snap his neck in two than anything else. By all rights, she should have been so threatened by him as to gut him on the spot. But instead, the cat had run away. Hidden. Just as the lions in the wilds would do when threatened by anything they deemed more powerful than themselves.
But then to approach him once more and use such a low-aggression mode of punishment for frightening her into the change?
Siena loped up the stairs as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, hurrying as far from him as she could without exiting the cave. However, it was no better for her in that place near the pool. The room reeked of pheromones and the scent of sexual arousal. Hers and his. It seemed no matter where she turned, she could not escape him. And the sunlight streaming through the trees outside prevented her from bolting into the comfort of the forest.
The Queen bit back a sob, twisting her hands together violently and biting down hard on her bottom lip. She would not do this weak, feminine thing called tears. She had never once cried in all of her life and she would be thrice damned before she would do so over a Demon male. Still, she could not escape the feelings of confinement that rushed through her, the rampant emotions, the confusion of thoughts that seemed permanently tainted with impressions of his.
Siena suddenly, blindly, leapt for the entrance to the cave. She was barely six yards into the sun before Elijah's arm hooked around her waist and hauled her back against his rigid body. She screamed, kicking and struggling against his hold. She would have made it impossible for him to hold her if not for the quick effect of the sun on her physiology.
The light bored into her with astounding speed. In that moment she was susceptible to it in a way she had never experienced before. Had even this changed about her? she wondered with despair as he swung her up into his arms and strode back into their shelter. By the time she was safely shielded, she was already quite nauseated from her exposure. He took her straight back to the bedroom and laid her in the bed, pressing a cool hand to her burning face.
"Are you insane?" he asked softly, the phrase void of the reproach it should have held. It was the brimming concern that was in the question and in his touch that finally broke her. She sobbed once, hard, and then burst into full-blown tears.
Shamed, she tried to turn her face away, but he cupped her cheek in his palm and prevented her from doing so. Elijah, the ruthless Demon warrior, then proceeded to catch each and every tear with his calloused fingers, hushing her softly under his breath, reaching to take her hand in his.
"Siena, please," he begged softly, his fingers moving faster from one cheek to the other to catch the saltwater misery. "I am so sorry. More sorry than you will ever know. I did not mean to hurt you like this. Please, kitten, you are killing me. Please, stop."
But the gentler he was, the more it seemed to hurt. And she had no idea why. After a moment he gave up on keeping her tears out of her hair and, with a strong tug on her captive hand, he drew her up into a comforting embrace. He pressed his hand to the back of her head, holding her face in the curve of his neck, her cheek pillowed on one broad shoulder. She felt his hand move over her back, rubbing gently, soothingly, in one direction only.
How did he know that it would be the most comforting way to touch her? Like a cat who could only bear its fur being stroked in a single direction, she was filled with a powerful sense of comfort and relaxation. She felt the change flushing through her as he petted her so perfectly.
"Siena, listen to me," he said softly. "You are done here. Your duty to my King is done. Come dark, I will leave this place and return home. You will not see me again. I swear to you…"
"No. You are not yet well enough," she protested, pulling back to look directly in his eyes. "I committed myself to your care and I will see it through. I…I am just…" Siena shook her head, unable to find words as she pushed away the last remnants of her weak tears.
"You have to realize what's behind all of this," he urged her quietly, touching fingers to her chin to lift up her eyes. "Samhain is only a week away. Your species is as afflicted by it as mine is. Demons are cursed by the moon of this month to desire nothing more than to mate, however misdirected it may be, with any beautiful humanoid that catches their eye."
Elijah took a deep breath, looking away from her golden eyes and the liquid lure within them that still tempted him. As much as he was forcing himself to believe his own explanation, he couldn't escape the haunting feeling in the center of his gut that whispered with sinister amusement that there was far more to it than that.