Demon Lover by Bonnie Dee Page A

her. Gwyneth inclined her head. It struck her that if she was unlikely to make friends in this world, at least she didn’t need any more enemies.
    “May I know your name?” she asked the woman.
    “Agnet. I’m the king’s housekeeper.”
    “Thank you for looking after Br…”
    “Hush, don’t speak her name,” Agnet exclaimed. “You barely know me. I will gladly care for the baby until you return. Go!”
    Unsure whether or not the housekeeper was laughing at her, she elected for dignity and sailed along the passage before the opulent Karnak. He fell into step beside her.
    “The king will dine alone with you tonight,” he said. “But I hope to have the pleasure of better acquaintance with you tomorrow.”
    “Thank you,” she said faintly, for she had difficulty dragging her attention from his stunningly bright apparel. Becoming aware of silence, she glanced up and found his pale, almost white eyes glinting at her.
    “You’re admiring my suit. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
    “Gorgeous is the exact word I was looking for.”
    Karnak grinned. “I’ve got an orange one, too. I keep trying to interest Svartan in something a bit brighter, but he will go for those somber blacks. See if you can’t make him more…”
    “Gorgeous?” she suggested, and Karnak laughed. He didn’t seem remotely like a demon. “What do you do?” she asked curiously.
    “I organize and arrange,” Karnak said grandly.
    “Social gatherings?” Gwyneth hazarded.
    “N-no. Matters of government—ventilation, food, light, drainage, meetings of the tribunal.”
    Surprised, Gwyneth looked at him more closely. His frivolous clothing and conversation hadn’t led her to suspect him of anything terribly serious, let alone worthy. And some twinkle in his strange, light eyes told her he knew it. Intelligence gleamed there, too, and in the high, proud forehead. Had her observations become too superficial in her months as queen?
    But then, had she ever looked below the surface? Wasn’t that how she’d been fooled by the demon, by Svartan, in the first place?
    “I also have the honor,” Karnak said, “to count myself among the king’s friends.”
    Was it a boast or a warning? Or just simply information? Though unlikely, perhaps, she inclined to the last.
    “And here we are.” With a flourish, he threw open a door on his left and bowed for her to go in.
    Gwyneth’s heart was drumming. She felt as if she was taking her life in her hands, entering here alone with the demon. Part of her wanted to stay with the amusing and likable Karnak. But if she was ever to get out of here, if she was to save Brea from a life of darkness underground, she had to speak to Svartan.
    Taking a deep breath, she sailed into the room as regally as she knew how.
    Svartan stood by a huge, dark-stone fireplace, his back to her as he gazed into the leaping flames. His elbow rested on the beautifully carved mantle piece. He didn’t wear his hood or his cloak, but she would have known him anywhere just from his all-black garb and by his stance, straight and still, poised and proud.
    But his hair wasn’t white like everyone else’s. It was raven black and smooth, just curling over his collar. While she was still getting over the surprise of that, he turned.

Chapter Eight
    Gwyneth’s hand crept to her throat. She almost forgot to breathe.
    Oh, yes, this was her demon. Raven hair and white skin, stretched taut over the fine, sculpted bones of his grim face. There was nothing remotely colorless about this powerful being. Instead, there was something dramatic about the contrast of light and darkness, something undeniably handsome about the hard, proud, arrogant face.
    He bowed very slightly and walked toward her.
    Panic rose like a tide. Oh, dear God, no wonder he was king. No one would dare to disobey this man, this demon… How could she even imagine tricking him into releasing Brea and her? Sheer power radiated from every inch of him, every confident, graceful movement