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.”

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.

Eyes as golden as the sun meet mine. His hair is as dark as a starless night. Tendrils of his ebony hair fall over his forehead and barely reach his eyes. His jawline is sharp and defined—on his left side, a red scar curves along his cheek bone. The olive tone of his skin matches mine, perhaps a hint darker. He must be from the northern mountains, likely a demigod, or perhaps a human. I’d know more if I could see his ears.

I’m an apothecary, and I’m searching for a species of toadstool for a medicine I’m developing. This forest is old, and I recall it having a wealth of them.”

“No. I’m a demon. Most of our species don’t get cold at all. The thick clothes are more or less for appearances only.”

There is so much our kingdoms don’t know about each other, yet we slaughter one another so readily. It’s disgusting. It’s pitiful how I’ve come to be much more thoughtful after all the bloodshed. Weariness grows wisdom in guilty souls.

Thornhall was the first demon village that the demigods took siege over after a false treaty was signed. A trick—something the gods are notorious for and us demigods don’t stray far from our parents. King Borlin wanted their guard to be down. He knew they would take the treaty seriously while he plotted their demise. A truly horrible act. We killed every man, woman, and child. If they were a demon, they were marked for death in Thornhall.

I should’ve refused to participate in the first place, but I didn’t. I followed orders blindly. And that decision has tormented my every waking moment since. Part of me believes what happened in Thornhall is the reason for my curse, but if it’s true, then why am I the only one being punished?

“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.”

A breeze gusts through us and blows onyx strands of hair over his forehead. His brows are prominent and dark. A stark contrast to his fiery amber eyes. They look like the jewels the royal family wear. Ears pointed and pierced with four rings of gold. The cut of his jaw is striking. A scar that looks like a series of x’s runs up his left cheek groove, and his straight nose is just as sharp as someone I met only a week ago. Kalel?

“There is a mark of fertility on the maidens born of Venus. How else would anyone know?”

Contrary to his expression and intimidating appearance, he touches me with gentle hands. Searching respectfully and stopping once he spots it. “It’s here,” he says so quietly that it almost sounds like disappointment. “You really are the daughter of Venus.”

Kalel’s amber eyes find me over his shoulder and the softness in them flickers as the muscles in his jaw feather. “I wish it wasn’t you, little godling.”

“All that is left is for you to make the sacred oath and then you may rest.” 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. I clench my hands at my sides. It’s taxing on our bodies—it puts demigods into a deep slumber after.

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.

“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.”

“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?”

“I wasn’t lying to you. I am an apothecary.” He pauses to consider his words before lifting his eyes back to mine. “I knew you were there, but not that you led it. Not until I saw your armor.”

“Why am I marrying you out of all the high lords? You loathe demigods more than any of your kind. I’ll happily switch to someone else.” Someone who won’t fantasize about killing me every other second. “It wasn’t up to me if that’s what you’re assuming, but it serves a purpose.”

“And what exactly are you, Kalel?” I already know. But I want to hear him say it anyway. His cruel grin is as frigid as his hands. “Partaker of demigods—a Devourer.”

“It shouldn’t hurt as bad next time. The venom from my bite should help you build immunity to the pain.” He almost sounds apologetic. I could be imagining things though, considering I can’t even lift my head. “It w-wasn’t so bad.”

“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.

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

I hate her so much, is that why I want to rut into her so badly? I want to make her scream in pain, but I’m not allowed to hurt her. Fucking her isn’t hurting her, but it would fulfill that dark need I have building inside me. King Achill would have my head if he knew I bruised her precious little knees from knotting her before the ceremony.

I tamper down my monstrous urges and let my teeth sink into her neck instead. It’s either feed and bring her body back to normal levels with my venom, or I’ll end up breeding her in here for fucking hours.

We watch one another carefully, distrustfully. Borderline lustfully. A demigod lusting for a demon—gods, I must’ve fallen into madness.

“If hurting me will soothe the pain that wreaks havoc in you, then hurt me, Kalel. You’ll find there’s not much left inside me that can be broken.”

“I won’t knot you. I only need enough relief to make this go away. I despise you, little godling. I hate everything that you’ve made me do.”

“You made me a monster. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” He stares down into my watery eyes as he thrusts his hips into me like I’m nothing more than a ragdoll. His face is contorted with hatred, but his eyes are filled with so much misery it hurts.

“Having to scent you is causing my heat cycle to flare up.”

“You need to wear it to prevent any more,” he clears his throat, “mishaps.”

My eyes travel to his hands. There are bite marks on them, and they look like they belong to him. Was he trying to desperately stop himself last night?

My heart stutters. Kalel? Who did this to him?

“Scenting, not affection. And just follow my lead, little godling.” “What about the kiss in the hallway?” I blurt out before thinking it over. Kalel’s eyes widen. “A drunken kiss,” he insists, clearing his throat and sharply looking away. I don’t know if he’s aware that his ears turn red when he’s flustered. I smile to myself. Though the way he’s holding my hand right now feels a lot like affection to me.

I once longed to be the girl in the beautiful dress, dancing with the handsome prince. Although I’ll take the broody demon any day over a prince.

“I wished it wasn’t you, Alira. But I was lying. To myself. To you. I’ve longed for this. To make you mine forever.”

If she knew that each of those peonies were once demigods, would she still covet them so? After finding their gilded blood in the stems? After learning that I buried their bones there in the flowerbeds? How does she think we keep our kingdom warded with such magic?

If she knew I prayed to Pluto to put a loop curse on her that day in Thornhall—that I cursed the knight who led the attack on my mother’s home—to relive many lives until I was satisfied with killing them repeatedly for punishment, could she forgive me? I didn’t know my precious little godling was the knight I’d slain twenty times. Evil and vengeful as I am, I couldn’t willingly kill the only being that has plagued my mind for the last thirty years. And yet I did. Many. Many times.

Would she forgive me if she knew that my blood was the only way to save her and break the curse? At least, that’s what Pluto told me.

I couldn’t let the loop reset again, not after finally finding her. But if she should die now, it would be for good.

“You should know that I die slowly with each tear you shed. I love you, Alira. I’m sorry for what I am.”

No, she will never love a man like me. Not after what comes next. Not after vengeance is served. I will bring Alzhor and every half-god to rubble now that she is out of harm's way.

If Venus hadn't sent him that wisp to try to stop the attack on Thornhall, her only daughter would’ve died the first time he had slain her in Alzhor. Venus’ wisp showed him a specific knight to put his rage toward.

Every demigod should know that any being cold to their touch is evidence of a curse they’ve placed on you. Once the curse is lifted, they are warm once more.

unlike the gods in the sky, I require a prayer from one with holy blood to keep a soul from entering the Gates of Mortem. So, when I watched that young demigod girl weep over his body and cry out to the divine beings who abandoned them, I answered her call.

Once upon a demon’s heart, it was done—only written in gilded blood can it be undone.