Free Claimed by a Demon King by Felicity Heaton Page A

the main entrance of the great hall kept their eyes fixed ahead, gazes locked beyond him, as though they did not see their king in turmoil before them, his heart ripped open by a slender, small female, bleeding into the cavity of his chest. That cavity had felt empty before the night he had set eyes on her and had been a source of constant pain since.
    What was he supposed to do now?
    He couldn’t think straight. The whole feast had been a disaster. He had attacked Bleu. Sable had passed out. On top of both of those things, another fight had broken out towards the end of the banquet, this time between the vampires and the elves.
    Three vampires and one elf were now in the wing of the castle currently acting as a hospital. One table and eight chairs were also casualties of the battle and his staff were not impressed. They had limited furniture in storage and the feasts were using most of it in order to seat the visiting armies. It was a headache he didn’t need. Finding quarters to house the thirteen hundred and fifty men and women, while keeping species separated and keeping the mortals safe had been difficult enough. Many of his men had had to take up residence in the outer courtyard in tents in order to accommodate their guests.
    Thorne shoved his fingers through his hair. This was going to end in disaster. He was going to lose his female and then the war and his kingdom.
    The doors opened and he growled, feeling sure it was the elf. The last thing he needed was Bleu coming to confront him, to blame him for Sable’s poor condition and sickness.
    He turned to face the bastard.
    It was the prince’s female.
    She looked as fiery and dangerous as Sable often did and he could sense her anger as she stormed towards him, but with each step it drained a little, and by the time she reached him, she had lost her spark.
    “How does Sable fare?” he asked, afraid of the answer to that question but needing to know.
    Olivia stared at him in silence for long seconds, her glare cutting, and then her shoulders sagged. “She’s sleeping off the booze.”
    “Is she sick?” He couldn’t hide his fear that she was.
    She shook her head, causing her wavy brown hair to dance across her shoulders. “No. The elves gave her something to settle her stomach.”
    Thorne growled. Why hadn’t he thought of that? She might have smiled at him again if he had. He had taken his cue from Prince Loren at the feast, feeding his female vegetables more suited to her delicate palate. That had worked in his favour.
    He stepped down off the platform, moving closer to Olivia. “I desire to see her.”
    “It might be wiser to wait until she’s awake and feeling less foolish.”
    This female made as much sense as his did on occasion. “Why would she feel foolish?”
    Olivia sighed. “On top of everything else… well… she embarrassed herself by getting drunk. Feeling like a fool around everyone the morning after is a natural human reaction.”
    “I will order all in this castle not to look upon her in such a fashion.”
    The petite female smiled. “That isn’t quite what I meant. It will be Sable who is looking upon herself like a fool and I don’t think you can order her to feel any other way.”
    No. He couldn’t. He had already decided that orders didn’t work on Sable and her friend was right in her observation that you could not order someone who felt foolish not to feel that emotion. He felt like a fool too and could not stop himself.
    There had to be a way to smooth things over between him and Sable, and have her smile at him again. He wanted her close to him, as she had been while he had been feeding her.
    “Will she be hungry when she wakes?” Food was all he knew as a method of pleasing her. Perhaps it would work again.
    “Probably.” Olivia shrugged. “She’ll be hung over.”
    Thorne frowned, already putting a plan into motion in his head. “And there is a cure for this… hung over?”
    The female nodded. “Bad