Kiss of Surrender by Sandra Hill

Author:Sandra Hill
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-11-27T05:00:00+00:00

The only thing missing were the umbrella drinks . . .

“Bring me the girl.”

Jasper’s demand hit Zebulan while he was distracted, watching with morbid fascination as several of Jasper’s hordlings turned the screws, literally, on one of the naked victims pinned to a butterfly-type display board down in the dungeon of Horror, Jasper’s Arctic castle. They were sitting in soft chairs in Jasper’s lounge, a revolving dais raised about ten feet above the stone floor. A sound system was blaring out that old Ricky Martin song “La Vida Loca.” The demon master did like his material comforts.

While Zebulan nursed a cup of mead, Jasper sipped on a straw stuck in the neck of the shackled and gagged, kneeling Russian Spetsnaz that Zebulan had brought in this morning, along with a British SAS, both of whom had been already rotten to the core and very easy to turn. The Brit was in a killing jar in one of the anterooms, not yet accepting his fate.

All around them, down below, dead people who had been fanged by Lucipires were in various stages of torture, the ultimate goal being consent to join the ranks of the demon vampires. If they were smart, and they rarely were, they would agree from the start. But then the mungs, and hordlings, and imps would be deprived of their pleasures.

It’s amazing how a demon like myself can become inured to the screams of tortured humans after all these years. At one time, I would have been cringing at the sounds of hundreds of cries for help, despite my black soul. And sympathy . . . hah! I lost the sympathy gene centuries ago.

He and Jasper were both in demon personas today. Red scaly skin, elongated fangs, burning eyes, and tails. Luckily, the chairs in Jasper’s lounge were specially designed to accommodate their large tails. Once, these bodily changes would have been repugnant to Zebulan. He no longer cared.

But Jasper’s demand finally registered with him. “What? What girl?” he asked, shaking his head to clear it.

“The one you said Trond was dancing with at that tavern.”

“She’s a woman. Not a girl. A female SEAL.”

“Girl. Woman. Bitch. Harlot. Same difference.”

“Why her? She isn’t a candidate for Lucipire, not being evil or close to it. You can’t turn her.”

“Bait. If we have her, the VIK will follow. Plus I’ve kept a close eye on her. She has anger issues from her past. We might even be able to turn her.”

“You’re assuming that the VIK has affections for the woman.”

“Doesn’t he? I assumed . . .” Jasper waved a clawed hand dismissively. “The idiot is in one of those SEAL training programs, isn’t he. Fidelity, loyalty, and all that crap. He’ll want to protect the softer sex. But wait. This is even better. You said she was a female SEAL. Praise be to Satan! What a coup that will be for us! We can prolong her torture for years. It will drive Michael insane to know that we hold her.”

Zebulan shrugged.

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