Shadow's Claim by Kresley Cole, now you can read online.
Chapter 1
A savage kick to Princess Bettina of Abaddon's back severed her spinal cord.
A blessing.
The searing pain that had been clawing through her entire being faded below her waist to pinpoints of pressure, then tingles, then . . .
Nothing.
Blessing. She'd long since stopped begging for her life, knew she'd never leave this field of poppies alive.
The four winged monsters who'd dragged her here had plans for her: as much agony as possible before her death.
Just as their kind had delivered to her sorceress mother twenty years before.
Though half demon, Bettina was weak in body, hopeless at fighting. She'd depended on her Sorceri power for protection-the one that these Vrekeners had siphoned from her as easily as they'd snatched the clothes from her body.
No longer could she open her swollen eyes. Her last sight? The leader standing over her, brandishing a scythe, his eyes frenzied. His claw-tipped wings had blocked the light of a low yellow moon. The scythe's blade wasn't fashioned out of metal, but of black flame. . . .
Yet Bettina could still hear, was still aware. In the distance, a new age band played in an outdoor arena. Young mortals danced and sang-
The force of one kick jostled her over onto her belly. Her mauled face shoved against crushed poppies. The leader played with her as a hawk would a mouse, ravaging the meat from its bones. His followers jeered and doused her with bottles of spirits.
Menacing yells, steel-toed boots, the blistering sting of alcohol.
Ah, gods, she was too aware. She tried desperately to lose herself in memories of a boy with smiling blue eyes and sun-kissed hair.
He doesn't know how much I love him. So many things I wish I'd done-
Her upper body exploded with even more pain, as if to compensate for the numbness in her fractured legs. She could perceive her broken ribs jutting from her skin. Her mangled arms draped limply across the ground where they'd fallen when she'd last tried to protect her head. . . . Anguish multiplied.
Or perhaps the Vrekeners' blows rained down more swiftly. The kill was near.
All she'd wanted was to go to a party with her mortal college friends. She'd been excited, happy to fit in with them, or to appear to-as a halfling, she'd never fit in before. Little did she know that she'd already drawn her enemy's notice with her sorcery. She'd never intentionally used it-
Over all other pain, she perceived the heat of that burning scythe descending ever closer to her. Hotter, hotter, scorching.
Alcohol on her skin, the black flame . . .
Bettina choked on a sob. They planned to burn her?
Suddenly she felt weightless. This is what dying feels like?
No, she was traveling. Summoned? Dear gods, yes, the demon in her had been summoned across realms. Naked, powerless, sightless, she slipped from that field in the mortal world to her home plane of Abaddon.
In a flash, the poppies were replaced by cold marble, a balm on what was left of her skin. That awareness returned. I'm lying on the floor of my castle's court, broken, wearing only my blood and the Vrekeners' rank liquor. The courtiers still gossip and laugh. Can't they see me?
She tried to scream for help; blood bubbled up over her lips. Can't scream, can't move. She could only listen. A conversation between her godfather Raum-the Grand Duke of the Deathly Ones-and another was already under way.
"Now you've done it, Raum." It was Caspion the Tracker. The demon she secretly loved. "Tina hates being summoned with that medallion." Not at present! "She considers it a leash."
Her guardians had insisted on it, a condition of her leaving Abaddon.
"Ha! It probably makes her feel more like a demon," Raum said in a gruff tone, knowing that wasn't true. They'd had words over his use of the mystical medallion. "Besides, she told me she was coming home from college by month's end."
"You know time moves differently in the mortal realm," Caspion said, amusement lacing his words. "And more, she said she was very busy but would try to visit-"
Bettina heard a courtier gasp. They've seen me. Murmurs rose to a furor.