Soul of the Imperian (D'Vaire, Book 26) by Jessamyn Kingley

Author:Jessamyn Kingley [Kingley, Jessamyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

When Chander invited Paszra to come over for dinner at the Daray condo, he immediately agreed. Although his family made inroads into befriending every sentinel, they had less time with the Daray men, and Paszra jumped at the opportunity to strengthen those relationships.

As for the imps, they elected to stay home to work on their projects. Paszra might be attuned to their emotions rather than their exact thoughts, but they were definitely up to something, and he suspected they were encouraging his matebond with Sashati. For weeks, the demon had hung out with them, and the derision had disappeared from Sashati’s deep blue eyes, confusing Paszra. If Sashati was unopposed to the union, what did that mean for their future?

Paszra would always have issues with demons, given his past, but he refused to lump Sashati or Hexaniys into the pile with men like Masal’akra. They’d expressed a desire for friendship, and Paszra had joined the Council with a promise that he’d find accord with every race.

Pushing aside his rambling thoughts, Paszra knocked on the door of the penthouse and smiled at Alaric, who answered it.

“Come on in,” Alaric stated without inflection.

“How long will you persist in being angry at me for taking Chand to the demonic realm?”

Alaric lifted a dark brow. “We’re both immortal, so I think a century is fair.”

“May I have an exact date for the end of this impasse?” Paszra asked, amused by Alaric’s teasing.

“I will consult a calendar and let you know.”

“Very well,” Paszra said. “Thank you for the invitation to your home.”

“You are always welcome,” Alaric stated and led him into a lovely living area done in browns and teals. There was a plethora of once dead men lounging on the plush furniture along with an elf and his brother, who’d long ago separated himself from other pointed-eared folks, a cat shifter bustling around in the kitchen, and two demons in red leather.

“Hey, Paszra,” Sashati offered in greeting.

Pleasure swept through Paszra, and his gaze swept over Sashati’s muscular frame in appreciation.

“I hope the evening finds you well, Sashati.”

The other men in the room said their hellos, and the Arch Lich embraced Paszra tightly when he emerged from the library.

“If we’d invited anyone else over, Chand might not have stopped reading,” commented Daemon Lord Baxter Daray with a grin. He was one of the two men whose duty it was to guard Chander and had done so since the Arch Lich was sixteen.

It delighted Paszra that the sentinels had guarded Chander since his youth, and it was one of the many reasons he held a deep appreciation for the elite assassins.

“I am well used to imps being unable to stop doing their favorite things,” Paszra responded.

His brows creased as a strange frisson of fear swept through him. It was not distinctly from a single soul. Then, panic rose. There was conversation around him—the friendly teasing of men who loved each other with the deep accord of a found family like his own—but Paszra barely heard their voices.

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