Demon Untamed
DEMON UNTAMED
by
Kiersten Fay
Published by:
Kiersten Fay
Edited by:
Rainy Kaye
Copyright © 2013 by Kiersten Fay
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination.
License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, recommend them to Kiersten Fay’s website above, where they can purchase a copy for themselves.
Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work,
and please enjoy.
Chapter 1
Sonya’s latest concoction oozed out of the carafe as she poured it into a serving mug. The soft floral color gave it a pleasing façade. The plopping sound it produced upon landing? Not so much.
“What
is
that?” Venna, a female of the Rutorian race asked, cringing away from the bar. Her dynamic skin morphed to a deep shade of amber, reflecting her trepidation. Oddly enough, the song flowing through the pub’s speakers ended and a more ominous tune erupted.
Sonya gave a wry smile and leaned forward, forearm resting on the bar. “You too coward to try it?”
Patches of red erupted over Venna’s skin, growing in size and overtaking much of the amber. It reminded Sonya of how her own dark demon horns became molten when enraged. Hell, even mild anger would sometimes do the trick.
Eyes narrowed, Venna snatched the glass off the counter and held it close to her mouth. She hesitated for only a moment before tilting it to her lips. The instant the liquid hit her taste buds, her face twisted in disgust.
Sonya laughed. “Tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”
Venna gagged. “What evil sludge is this? Why would you offer that to me?”
Sonya poured, or rather, plopped, a glass for herself and took a hefty gulp. “Because this little baby’ll do the job of five large ales. I call it cosmic oblivion. You get used to the taste.”
“Don’t bet on it. I’ll take something else.”
Sonya’s delicate tail flicked, and her shoulders sank. “Fine.”
No one appreciated her more unique mixes.
However, with her supplies dwindling, she had no choice but to dig down deep and conjure up some creativity. The ship had been in transit for weeks now and, under the current contract, no one was allowed to enter or leave the ship. Not until after the precious cargo delivery.
The irony of it all was that the ship’s pub, which Sonya had aptly named The Demon’s Punchbowl, was more crowded than ever.
“You know I’m running low on everything, Venna. I can make you something sweeter, but it will be weak.”
“That’s fine. I’d prefer anything other than that…muck.”
Sonya shrugged, admitting to herself that it did taste pretty awful. She’d save it for Marik or one of her brothers.
As she mixed Venna’s drink, she thought back to the mysterious cargo. So much trouble over such a small box. She wished she knew what it was they were freighting across space, but she wouldn’t dare jeopardize the contract for a peek. Something like that could instigate a war between
Marada
and the Serakians who had commissioned them, as well as with the pirates who were to receive the package.
Sonya had been aghast, and not a bit horrified, that her brother, Sebastian, had even agreed to deal with such filth as the Pirate King—a most ridiculous title that Ethanule, leader of the pirates, had probably given to himself—but the pay was too generous to refuse.
“How’s this?” Sonya handed Venna a pale-colored drink made from various liquors and a good deal of juice.
Venna took a sip before replying. “The flavor is adequate enough.”
Sonya nodded and then turned to straighten her backsplash of liquor containers, taking pride in the well-organized array.
Anya appeared moments later and claimed a stool at the bar, her typical sweet smile in place. “Good evening, Sonya. How are you?”
Sonya took in the lithe female’s odd blue eyes and lengthy blond hair. She reached out and gripped the point of Anya’s ear between her thumb and forefinger and gave a playful tug. It was possible that the rest of her people boasted ears like this. If only they knew who, and what, they were.
“Your hair is up today,” Sonya said, dropping her hand.
A soft pink entered Anya’s cheeks as she shrank in her seat a little. “I believe Sebastian likes to see my ears.”
Sonya couldn’t help but smile. Sebastian was smitten for his little Anya, and most of the crew privy to demon culture assumed she was his destined mate, though he had yet to claim her. “I’m sure he likes you any which way.”
Anya flushed darker, but concurred with a wobbly nod. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right, but the style looks good on you nonetheless.”
“Thanks. I wish I had your dark hair though. It shines beautifully.”
“The grass is always greener,” Sonya replied.
“What does the color of grass have to do with hair?” Anya tilted her head.
“Never mind, hun.”
Anya was as naive as she was sweet. Often it was endearing, but at the same time dangerous. Space could be treacherous, from the gritty space cities to wandering ship. Threats lurked constantly, especially for one such as she. Lucky for Anya, she had fallen in with a protective and ruthless group of demons. If Anya accepted Sebastian as her mate, she would forever be safeguarded.
Sonya in no way required protection—badassness ran in the blood—but some nights, the ones that felt colder than most, she did long…for something. Not that she was looking for a mate, just something. But, thanks to her aggressive, overprotective, and all around frightening brothers, males admired her from afar and nothing more.
Sonya caught Anya’s studying gaze and tempered her emotions. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Sonya bypassed the cosmic oblivion in favor of a lighter mix. They’d found out the hard way Anya couldn’t handle a stiff drink. The poor girl hadn’t even heard of alcohol till she set foot in Sonya’s pub.
After filling Anya’s glass with something weaker than even Venna’s cocktail, Sonya poured a small amount for herself and raised it in the air before drinking it down—a gesture of trust and friendship among demons, and one of the few rituals they carried on from their despoiled home world.
Anya took the offered drink and sipped it gingerly, then proceeded to compliment Sonya with a string of gratitude and thanks.
“Enough, enough,” Sonya chided. “Anyway, where is our oh-so-diligent Captain?”
“Bastian is in the control room. I believe we are to arrive at our destination soon.” Anya’s shoulders hunched.
“Is that so?” Sonya studied Anya’s sullen expression. “What’s the matter?”
Anya’s frown deepened. “He said once the contract is complete, he would leave to hunt down Darius.” Her lip quivered. “You must talk him out of it.”
Sonya already knew of Sebastian’s plan and was in full support of it. Darius seemed intent on reclaiming Anya and enslaving her once more.
He obviously didn’t realize one simply did not pursue a demon’s mate and expect to live.
“I’ll talk to him,” Sonya lied.
“Good.” Anya’s expression lifted a bit before turning stubborn. “And if he goes anyway, then I’m going with him.”
Sonya clamped her teeth together, struggling to school her features. No way would Sebastian allow Anya to go with him, but this wasn’t Sonya’s battle to fight.
Sonya decided to change the subject. “Why don’t you come with us when we deliver the package? We could all stand to get off this ship for a bit.”
Anya considered that a moment, then nodded. “I would like that.”
Chapter 2
The crowded control room buzzed with anticipation as
Marada
reached the rendezvous point where they were to meet the pirates. However, beyond the protective walls of the ship, there was nothing except endless space.
No sign of Ethanule or his pirates.
Sonya shared a wary look with Cale. What if he was right and this was nothing more than a trap? If so, it was an overly elaborate trap beyond the cognitive functions of a common pirate. And really, to what end? It wasn’t like
Marada
was swimming in riches. In fact, the opposite was true.
But it wasn’t like they could cut and run. The cargo must be delivered to Ethanule before the Serakian’s wards would dissipate, allowing the crew to finally leave the ship. Besides that, reneging on the contract meant war with the Serakians, and no one wanted that.
The wall-sized front window flashed, and the starry view of space vanished, replaced by an image of the pirate in question.
Sonya glared at Ethanule, her lips peeling back in a sneer. His appearance boasted everything she hated. White-blond hair fell over pretentious dark-blue eyes, framing a face dripping with conceit. The color and cut of his hair matched that of her father’s murderer, and she was suddenly bombarded by horrific childhood visions she hadn’t considered in ages.
She shook the memories away, but could not unclench her jaw.
His facial features differed, however: even skin tone, straight nose, and sharp jaw. His deep green coat with gold trim and buttons fell open, revealing a black undershirt.
He perched on a chair with a tall back encrusted with red, green, and blue jewels. Intricate gold vines wove around each stone, rising to the top. It looked ridiculous and lavish, and had most likely had been pilfered from some wealthy family on some far-off planet.
Pathetic
.
Both of her brothers, Sebastian and Cale, mirrored her disdain for Ethanule. Pirate blood was only worthy of staining their boots. Why the Serakians, with all their so-called power and wisdom, would align themselves with such scum, Sonya would never understand.