Once Upon a Demon's Heart (Cruel Fates, #1)

by K.M. Moronova

“With gilded blood, pray upon a demon’s heart, for it very well might save you.”

Because, you see, the demons and demigods have never gotten along. Not before the war, and certainly not now. So why would a wish upon a demon’s heart save you?

The demigods are on the brink of extinction. We’ve pushed the demons too far this time, and now, only a marriage in peace between the two species will bring an end to this senseless war—A deal suggested by the Demon King of course, whom I assume will be choosing one of his high lords or dukes as a suitable groom.

I couldn’t imagine being one of the princesses and having to marry a demon duke. None of us wanted to let our freedom and dignity go that easily.

The Blood Knight has killed me in twenty-time loops—a cruel curse that I’ve found myself trapped in.

But you can only die so many times before all of your hope is stolen away.

He’s nearly as tall as I am sitting down.

Dragons don’t roam our territory; they haven’t for centuries. Not since Devilstones and dire wolves were still a problem, and the gods hadn’t yet abandoned us.

He’s kind. A very long time ago, I once knew a demon to be kind. But we were children then. I’m sure he would’ve grown into a ferocious man who killed many demigods, just as I’ve grown to slay demons.

“No one can outrun their fate.”

“No, I couldn’t, but you don’t seem all that daring. What does your heart yearn for most? I’m sure you’ll find that the gods will hear your wishes. You are a demigod, afterall. They’ll likely be listening.”

I pray that the gods will hear me and alter my fate. Even if I’m about to do something I really don’t want to do.

“The demons only ask for a demigod bride for peace to be brought between our kingdoms. I know it has been insinuated that the bride must be of royal blood, but I would like to offer myself as the bride to be sent to them,”

Of all the demons, he alone stands out. Even the air around him is ominous. It’s him. The Blood Knight.

My eyes lower down to the crystal sword sheathed at his side. I know its power all too well. The sword of the Blood Knight can cut through the bones of a forest spirit—a creature all metal blades are useless against. It certainly had no trouble slaying me time and time again.

“You.”

“I’ve watched you slaughter many of my comrades, little godling. I watched you reign ruin upon the innocent villagers of Thornhall, burn cottages and forests to the ground, take and take and take… Now you will know what it is to suffer at my hand. I swear to you it will be far worse than a vile being such as yourself can fathom.”

Wait, Duke Lornhelm? My eyes slowly drag over the Blood Knight. He’s the duke?

How have I never seen the Blood Knight’s face in all the times he’s slain me?

Kalel?

He told me he was an apothecary.

I’d known he was the commander and duke of Devicit, I would’ve killed him on the spot. Well, I would’ve tried to.

How can a demon as merciless as him be so handsome and lovely?

“The deal is complete. You have safe passage to the edge of the holy lands. May the sparrows be with you,”

It has been years since I’ve heard anyone mention the sparrows. We stopped saying it when they too abandoned us. The little birds use to protect us with their warnings and bring us food while on the battlefield. They became a symbol of hope for us. A phrase to wish someone good luck.

“I need to verify that she truly is a daughter of Venus first. Please escort us to a private room, King Borlin.”

what a fucking bitch

“Don’t keep me waiting, I’m already holding myself back from just killing you, little godling,”

“I wish it wasn’t you, little godling.”

My throat is tight with dread. The sacred oath leaves a mark on the bonded, and it requires a high degree of soul essence to perform. I’ll be out for days.

The sacred oath is a power all beings with holy blood hold to make with another willing party. It’s used when trust needs to be established. Both individuals must have the desire for the bond, or it won’t work. It will tie his life to mine, so he can trust me not to try to kill him. If I die, he’ll be fine, but I can’t hurt him.

The oath mark is brandished on his sternum like it is mine, a golden circle with a single gilded line vertically cutting through it.

“Why do I smell like you?” I sound as mortified as I feel. “Where are my clothes?”

“Unless you want to be torn to shreds by the demons outside this tent and the ones when we reach Devicit, then you will carry my scent. Demigods smell like death and rot. We can detect the odor of all those you’ve slain, and Alira, my little godling, you smell worse than a fresh graveyard. I’ll need to scent you frequently to get the tarnish off your skin and to make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

“Scent me?”

“Yes, I prefer it while you sleep. You don’t struggle at all.”

Whatever version of him I met in Florum is not the version I get to converse with now. It puts a weight on my heart, because I liked him. I changed my path because of him.

“You know, you really are such a pretty little thing for being so vile. Far more broken and ignorant than I thought you’d be. Tell me, have you heard of me?”

“Are you ready to do what it takes to be the bride of the Blood Knight, Alira?”

I’m not going to flat out say it worked because I’m still here.

I’m still alive, aren’t I?

He’s consuming me.

“It shouldn’t hurt as bad next time. The venom from my bite should help you build immunity to the pain.”

I outlived the cursed day.

I caught a small glimpse of the healer, just enough to know he was beautiful like Kalel. Only with fawn hair and gentle eyes that took me in with sympathy.

“Oh, little godling, you’re right about that. I am a monster. Your worst nightmare. I’d kill you in your sleep if I wanted. I’d kill you while fucking your brains out if I so pleased.”

My lower abdomen warms, and my undergarments are already wet from his foul mouth. Please if there are any gods left, don’t let him know how my body lusts for him. Kalel stills, hands clamped down on my waist and thigh. He inhales hesitantly. Oh. This is bad.

Do. Not. Fuck. The. Godling. I chide myself as her sweet scent nearly knocks me over.

I can’t despise her less just because she’s the most enchanting creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but the curve of her pouting lips begs to differ.

I want her to suffer, but why do I also want her to see me? I want her to find comfort in my arms as much as I wish to bring tears to her weary eyes.

“You’re not my prisoner, Alira. You are going to be my wife. Even if we don’t like one another, I will respect your status as my equal.”