Her Demon Prince (Forbidden Fantasy) Read Free Page A

Envy. Could he see into her soul, despite having no
eyes? Would he know how she envied King Sol’s queen her freedom? Would he be
aware she had hoped that Prince Agrat would be her chosen husband before she
had discovered how treacherous he was? She tried to shield her thoughts. How
soon, before he dragged her out before the Prince to display her foolishness?
    And then
what?
    Death.
    All except Prince Agrat wore
the brand of King Sol’s Seal, showing their obeisance to the king. Oh good God,
how did she think she ever had a chance of escaping this powerful king who
honored not his promises and could control evil itself?
    Women around Phoebe crumpled
to the ground while their children clutched their mothers’ bodies. Even the men
turned their faces away, clearly fearing to catch the eyes of the Djin General,
Prince Agrat, lest he cleave their heads from their bodies.
    “Cast aside your cloaks. Let
fall your headgear. The prince wishes to gaze upon the faces of the women,”
shouted Snarcus, the monkey-faced demon.
    A shudder passed through the
crowd.
    Phoebe watched as one brave
man stood in front of his wife. No woman was permitted to show her face to men
not of her tribe, to do so would make her a whore.
    Snarcus lifted his sword and
ran the husband through. The husband fell to the ground unmoving. His wife
screeched in terror, sank to the ground and put her palm onto her husband’s
chest. “He is dead,” she wailed. She looked around, her eyes wild, her gaze
settling on the prince. The woman crawled toward him. “Please, great prince. I
beg of you. Give me back the husband I love. I carry his child. A child cannot
be without a father to protect him. Oh, please, great lord, grant him life.”
Wretched with tears, she clutched his foot and kissed it.
    Phoebe sank to the earth,
recoiling at the abomination of these monstrous demons.
    “I desire no bloodshed,”
Prince Agrat said. “I am here to protect my father’s people, not harm them.” He
pointed toward the husband and an incantation left his lips. Black energy left
the prince’s fingers and hovered over the dead man. Inside the black cloud grew
the glowing shape of a man. The force lowered over the man’s body, shifting and
buzzing and the man-like form entered the body.
    The man took a great
shuddering breath, groaned and clutched his side. Although blood stained his
fingers, it no longer soaked the sand. The wife let out a cry of joy. “He
lives. Thank you, great Lord.” She crawled back to her husband, clutching and
kissing him.
    Phoebe shoved her hand to her
mouth to stifle a cry, awed at the prince's magic. Prince Agrat must truly be a
demon if he could force a soul back into a body. It was hideous. Not natural.
No one in her country possessed this type of power.
    “Do not test my patience,” the
prince said to the crowd. “Show your faces. All of you. Now!”
    Whispers of fear rose from the
mass of women as they cast aside their headwear. As the prince approached, the
woman nearest Phoebe crawled away crying, “No, no, no.”
    “Show your face,” the prince
ordered, but the woman buried her face in her hands, clearly too terrified to
show her face in a culture where women must be covered.
    The prince nodded and Snarcus
ripped off her headdress.
    "Go gently, Snarcus.
These are my father's people."
    “She is not the one. She has
dark hair,” Snarcus grunted.
    Phoebe could feel his gaze
upon her. She had not removed her cloak. She understood the terror of the woman
beside her. It flooded her body until it chilled her bones and she couldn’t
move. How had she not sensed his demon nature before?
    “You,” the prince said.
“Remove your headdress.”
    Sheer, ice-cold fear stopped
her breathing. Phoebe felt Snarcus grab hold of her head covering and pull it
from her face.
    She heard the rising babble as
the people saw the color of her hair. Vicious hands with claw-like demon talons
gripped her shoulders, ripping her robe, so that the air hit her