Claimed by a Demon King by Felicity Heaton Page A

square jaw in her palms, tip his head up and gently kiss him until his restraint shattered and hers broke with it.
    Thorne growled low, flashing a hint of fang, and his eyes brightened, burning crimson and setting her aflame.
    “Perhaps it is time we retire to attend to our men and other business ahead of this evening’s gathering?” the vampire commander said.
    Her eyes darted to him, her heart skipping a beat as she realised he had been staring at her the whole time, studying her while she gazed at Thorne, and was now insinuating they needed to be left alone.
    “Very well.” Thorne rose from his seat and, damn, his body shifted sensually beneath his white shirt and tight dark mahogany leathers, cranking up her temperature to boiling point. He bowed his head to the assembled and then did something unexpected. Rather than looking at her, he swiftly turned to his second in command, a demon called Fargus.
    Sable closed her pad and stood. Evan got to his feet beside her.
    “We should run through the drills and make sure everyone is prepared.” Sable turned to Evan and pretended she didn’t hear the barely audible growl coming from Thorne’s direction. She had to speak to her second in command and Thorne would just have to deal with it.
    Loren said something and Olivia stood, and Bleu followed suit, rising to tower over her friend. Sable glanced his way, her gut twisting and heart telling her to follow him from the room and speak to him. She had to know whether they were still friends because she didn’t want things between them to change.
    The other elves filed out together with the members of her team. The vampires moved off to one corner of the large library beyond Thorne and his men. Their dark-haired commander looked back at her, a wicked smile curving his lips. He had enjoyed taunting her in front of the others. She stroked the blade strapped to her thigh, staring at him as she imagined acquainting him with it.
    A pale slender hand curled around her arm and drew her aside. Sable glared down at it and then up into the purple eyes of its owner, expecting to find Bleu. It was Loren.
    “That vampire is not one to trifle with,” Loren whispered and she glanced back at the man in question, finding him still staring at her. “He is extremely vicious and dangerous, with not only a reputation but a history of carnage to back it up.”
    Little wonder the guy was the commander of the First Legion in the Preux Chevaliers corps.
    All the more reason to keep away from him.
    Since meeting Loren, she had learned about the Preux Chevaliers. They were the sons of the pureblood vampire families, or aristocrats as they loved to call themselves. Each son served centuries in Hell as a Preux Chevalier, bloodying their claws in the wars that were a constant fixture in that realm.
    Because they were of pure vampire blood, they were strong enough to withstand the impact of the weak daylight in Thorne’s and many of the demon realms and other kingdoms in Hell besides Loren’s.
    No wonder the vampires liked it in Hell. They could move around at any time without risking going crispy, could fight all they liked, and were a law unto themselves, free to drink victims dry and kill without consequences such as Archangel putting them on their naughty list.
    “My prince, we should see to it that the men begin their daily training routine,” Bleu said, dipping his head at the same time, and Sable wanted to slap him.
    He was ignoring her and it hurt.
    They had become friends and she didn’t have many of those in her life. Olivia was the only person she had considered as a friend for the past ten years. Bleu and Loren had achieved that exclusive position in the short time she had known them, and now Bleu was angry with her and without reason.
    She hadn’t betrayed him and had never felt anything beyond friendship and a smattering of lust-filled moments. Those had been a product of loneliness. She had seen what Olivia had and she had been