Queen's Gambit

by Karen Chance

  Afterwards, we’d eaten an early lunch of hawawshi bought from a street vendor, which turned out to be a crispy pita bread stuffed with beef, onions, peppers and chilies—basically an Egyptian taco and every bit as good as it sounds. Then we wandered the streets, marveling at the artwork on the houses, which was huge, in your face, and exuberant. There was everything from abstract designs to full on murals, including a beautiful one of feluccas sailing on the Nile; from dusky Nubian beauties in traditional attire, to gorgeous Arabic calligraphy flowing along the sides of buildings like water; and, in a memorable instance, of a bunch of pert camels, one with his tongue sticking out.

  Speaking of camels, the real things had been everywhere, with happy-looking pom poms dancing on their bridles in every color of the rainbow, to lure in tourists whose feet were starting to hurt. I had eyed them speculatively, but we’d chosen to walk to the market instead, where the hunt was soon on for the tackiest souvenir possible for my uncle Radu. He managed to combine deep pockets with Liberace taste, so it had been a struggle to find something suitable.

  We’d finally settled on a galabeya, one of the full-length robes worn by men and women all over Egypt, in eye searing purple, with a shimmering phoenix on the back in gold paillettes and sequins. I was pretty sure it was supposed to be for a woman, but Louis-Cesare knew his Sire. He’d immediately declared the search over, and that Radu would love it.

  He was very likely right.

  The day had ended with savory-sweet chicken tagines with preserved lemon at a colorful restaurant overlooking the Nile. We’d completed the meal with spicy Nubian ginger-coffee made on charcoal and hot sand, while a glorious orange sunset splashed our faces. It was one of those perfect days, a picture postcard glimpse of a life that could be, and one that had given me unrealistic expectations for the rest of the trip.

  Because that had been our only night off. I hugged my knees and jealously recalled the dreams I’d had for our honeymoon. Of lazy days sailing down the Nile, of a selfie on top of the tallest pyramid, of an evening making love in a tent in the desert with nobody but our camel around to hear . . .

  Okay, maybe not that last one, since November could be chilly at night. Like this room. Like the knot in my gut, because I’d alienated the only person I had left and I wasn’t even sure why.

  I bit my lip, my own anger having drained away as fast as it had come, which was normal for me. My husband tended to take a little longer. I found myself wanting to go to Louis-Cesare, but not sure that it wouldn’t make things worse.

  Dhampirs didn’t do relationships. Dhampirs were lonely by nature. We had to be, as most of us weren’t much saner than the things we hunted. I’d always been more stable than the norm, but grouping with other people had been a rarity and usually short lived. There’d been hunting parties to take down bigger prey, even a few that lasted a week or two. And desperate groping sessions in the dark sometimes, with other hunters as lonely as me.

  But nothing like this.

  Nothing close to this.

  Louis-Cesare was the longest I’d ever been with anyone, and I was pretty sure I was screwing this up. Make that definitely sure. I was also freezing without his warmth, in more than one way.

  But Hassani’s people had thought of everything, and along with the luxurious sheets and warm blankets on the bed, there was a barbaric looking fur heavy enough to have been a rug, just in case the little half human got cold.

  I sat up and pulled it close about me. And then decided what the hell, and dragged it off the bed to join my lover at the window. It felt barbaric against my naked skin, and looked it, too, with the dark brown color sheened by golden lamplight, the same that played over Louis-Cesare’s body. The wards around this place assured that we weren’t flashing the locals—probably—not that I cared much at the moment.

  I didn’t say anything, not sure what would help, and for a long moment, we just stood there. Me wrapped in my fur, him wrapped in lamplight, neither speaking. I wasn’t even sure that he would.

  But after a moment, he broke the silence.

  “I almost lost you tonight,” Louis-Cesare said roughly. “I know you’re hurting, but did you stop to think how I would have felt if my stupidity had cost . . . even more than it did? You say you’re not important, that you can go running after your revenge and it won’t matter what happens to you. How can you not see—”

  He broke off. He was still staring out the window, never having turned around, so his expression was hidden from me. I didn’t need it. There was pain in every line of his body, although not the physical kind. His healing abilities had already erased the signs of battle as if they’d never been. But there were other ways to hurt, and the stiffness of his stance and the almost painful rigidity of his spine spoke of deeper wounds.

  The kind that even a vampire couldn’t always heal.

  I put a hand on his back, and it felt like velvet stretched over steel. I smoothed it around his side, until I felt the warm, inward dip of his stomach, the ladder of his ribs, and the springy hair and soft indentations around a nipple. There was nothing to say, so I didn’t say it. But my touch seemed to be doing something.

  Slowly, I felt a little of that awful tension start to ease.

  I lay my cheek against his back and continued to say nothing. I didn’t pretend to understand everything that was going on with him, but I got part of it. I got enough.

  Louis-Cesare and I weren’t the greatest with communication, but we were learning. It was like two skittish horses getting to know each other; there had been a lot of rearing and even some biting, but also some snuffling and staring and deliberate prancing, just to see if the other noticed. And, lately, some genuine intimacy, although with serious side eye, both wondering if the other was about to bolt.

  But we were talking—about some things. About us. But there was one conversation we continued not to have. One topic that was till off limits.

  Jonathan.

  Not that I hadn’t tried. But nothing made Louis-Cesare close down faster, or clam up more completely. Maybe because he was the only creature in living memory that had made my husband feel weak. Powerless. Afraid.

  A first-level master rarely experienced those emotions. He’d not only left behind human weakness, but had also forgotten what it was like to be a lower-level vampire, ordered about by the god-like beings on top of the heap. And that was truer for Louis-Cesare than for most, as even among first-level vamps, he was unusually strong.

  He had been a dueling champion for the European consul, Anthony, for centuries, helping to support that crumbling wreck of a court. Because as lax as Anthony was, he was far better of a ruler than some who might have replaced him. And at the same time that Louis-Cesare was almost singlehandedly propping up a failing consul, he was also keeping another first-level master in thrall.

  That was right: Louis-Cesare had kept one of the most powerful vampires on the planet under his control, bending him to his will in order to save the life of a woman he despised. But he had felt responsible for her, and he was honorable to a fault. So, he had expended a huge amount of power to make sure that she was safe.

  Yet Jonathan had found a way to bring that same man to his knees, over and over and over again. Draining him of power and thereby of life, and in doing so, forcing Louis-Cesare’s family to have to scramble to find enough energy to support their master, feeding him everything they had through the blood bond to sustain him. Only to have most of it go to his tormentor.

  Jonathan hadn’t merely victimized Louis-Cesare; he’d held the whole damned clan for ransom. It was a master vampire’s worst nightmare, that he would not be able to protect his family. So, yes, he did know what I was feeling.

  The tension had slowly leaked out of him while we stood there, until he was leaning back against me. I put my arms around him from behind, dragging the fur along with them so that it covered us both. With his regal bearing, long, loose hair and fur draped form, he could have been a king from another time, or a Viking warr
ior lost on a raid and washed up on Egyptian shores.

  But I’d seen plenty of beautiful bodies through the years; I’d seen far fewer beautiful souls.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  One of those large, yet elegant hands covered mine. “You mean everything to me,” he said hoarsely. “Everything. Promise me—”

  “I promise,” I murmured, my cheek flat against the warmth of his back. “I won’t do anything tonight.”

  I felt a little more tension melt out of his spine. “I swear to you, if they live, I will find those who hurt you. And wreak a bloody vengeance on our enemies.”

  Our enemies, I thought, a little startled. But, from a vampire perspective, they were, weren’t they? Louis-Cesare and I were married, meaning that my rag tag crew also belonged to him now. And anyone who hurt one of his . . .

  I smiled against his back. “I know.”

  He turned and swept me up in a kiss, so sudden that it took my breath away, although it probably would have done that anyway. Louis-Cesare knew how to kiss, but tonight . . . tonight there was something fierce in the way he gripped me, his fingers digging into the skin of my back and upper thigh. Something possessive in the way he picked me up and carried me back to the bed. Something savage in the way his lips plundered mine, and yet also shook slightly against my skin.

  I was part of his family, and he’d almost lost me, I realized. He was trying to comfort me, while feeling the same way that I did. He wanted to go after them, too, the ones who had hurt me, wanted it desperately. But he would put that need on hold to make sure that I was all right.

  Tears wet my cheeks, and I couldn’t tell if they were his or mine. If anyone ever asks why I married him, I thought. This, this is what I’ll tell them.

  Chapter Five

  Dory, Cairo

  Louis-Cesare was usually a tender lover, but not tonight. That was all right; I didn’t want tender. It would have ripped me apart, sent me screaming into the void. I wanted a partner who could meet my frustrated fury with his own, and turn the terrible need to hurt into something else, something glorious.

  The light from the nearest lamp threw our shadows on the wall and I laughed, because together, we made a monster. A hunched backed, multi-limbed thing that would have sent anybody else scrambling for the hills. That was good; that was perfect. I’d been called a monster all my life, and for once, I was fine with it. Let the fey find out exactly what they had awakened.

  Louis-Cesare seemed to understand what I wanted without my having to tell him. Although perhaps my body was already doing that. I scratched my nails down his back, hard enough to leave bleeding lines in their wake, and he healed them before I finished the movement. But his eyes caught fire, turning blood red in the lamplight, and I laughed again, baring my throat.

  He already wore my mark, the one I’d given him on the night we chose each other, the one that made him mine. But he’d never reciprocated, I didn’t know why. But this seemed like the perfect time.

  “Take it,” I urged. I wanted to feel his fangs in me, wanted the distraction of the pain, but also the sense of belonging that such a bite gives, a closeness beyond anything else I’d ever experienced.

  But he shook his head. “No.” It was raw.

  “Why not? I’m giving it to you—”

  “I don’t want a gift!” The strange eyes blazed. And no, that wasn’t lamplight. “I want to earn it. I want to deserve you—”

  “And you think you don’t?”

  “After tonight?” It was his turn to laugh, and it was bitter. “No, I think I don’t.”

  He tried to get up, but I wrapped my legs around his waist and hung on. I could feel him next to me, hard and thick and long and perfect, but it wasn’t his body I craved. All right, it wasn’t only his body. I wanted to wipe that expression off his face, the one that said that all the titles and money and success in the world didn’t matter. That to him, he was still that little boy inside, the one whose family had abandoned him, had locked him away, had left him to rot.

  Louis-Cesare had never felt like he belonged anywhere, deserved anything, although I’d thought that had changed after we found each other. And maybe it had, to a degree. I’d never seen him happier than after I claimed him—me, a lowly dhampir, who had dared to mark that aristocratic neck. Any other vamp would have been outraged, appalled and possibly homicidal.

  He had been incandescent.

  But he’d never done it back.

  I turned his face to me and kissed him, gently, sucking on the full lower lip for a moment before nipping it hard enough to draw blood. I smeared it with another kiss, white hot and burning, and then pulled back to watch his body absorb it. That never got old.

  “We’re really screwed up, you know that?” I whispered, and felt rather than heard him laugh.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Some say it’s a danger fetish, having a dhampir girlfriend.”

  “A dhampir wife,” he said, and the bite in the tone told me that he’d heard them, too: the nasty little comments, the furtive looks, the smiles quickly hidden by a fan or a hand. ‘She’s pretty enough, but so is a viper. And you wouldn’t see me letting one of those near my—’

  Louis-Cesare slid against me, making my breath catch in my throat, as if he could hear my thoughts. But he couldn’t. Not anymore. Dorina had facilitated that on the few occasions when it had happened, or I had by borrowing her gifts. And now she was—

  “Don’t,” he said, watching my face.

  He kissed me between my breasts, which was nice but not what I’d asked for. He kissed my stomach, my thighs, the knee I’d unconsciously pulled up beside his ear, opening myself, offering. He kissed me there, too, longer, slower, sweeter, but it still wasn’t enough, wasn’t what I—

  He bit me, finally, and despite it not being on the neck, not being a claiming bite, it was still perfect. I arched up with a cry, the pain and pleasure of a vampire bite being heightened in that particular area to something approaching ecstasy. Make that all the way there, I thought, half delirious in seconds, especially when his tongue joined the action, to kiss and suck and lick the tiny wounds better. Oh, God, so much better!

  If they could put this in pill form, they’d addict the world.

  As it was, the monster on the wall was bucking and flailing and yelling ‘now, damn you’ within seconds, but to no avail. The long, slow warm, wet torture continued, because he wanted me to lose my mind, I thought, panting. If I lost my mind, I couldn’t think . . . about anything . . . oh, God!

  When I could breathe, I pushed him back, caught him behind the neck and sat up, taking him fully inside me as I did so. And groaning as I sat down, straddling his lap as he shivered against me, inside me. He was big, and I wasn’t quite ready, but the stretch and burn were exactly, exactly what I wanted tonight.

  When I finally had him all, I stopped, panting, and stared into his eyes as his forehead came to rest against mine. “You don’t have to prove anything,” I said. “Not to me.”

  “I know,” he said, and then gasped, because I’d just pulled up again, sliding along the full length of him, giving him no rest.

  “Do you really know?”

  “Dory—”

  “Do you really, really know?”

  His face flushed, possibly because I was working him harder now. Or possibly because I had leaned back, supporting myself with one arm on the bed and one on his forearm, giving him a view all the way up my body. Everything from where we were joined to my sweat-slick abs, tightening under the workout they were getting, to his favorite parts of all, which had started bouncing in time to the rhythm I was setting, which meant that they were bouncing hard.

  I had never thought of myself as beautiful before I met him. My looks were something I played up when it would help me bring in a bad guy with a decent bounty on his head, but somehow, they were almost something outside of me. Another tool to be used, not something that mattered.

  Because, when people find out that
you’re dhampir, not much else does.

  But with him . . . I saw myself through different eyes. His eyes. And in those eyes, I was beautiful.

  Even better, the next moment, his head was thrown back, his own eyes closed, and his face, while still flushed, was somehow calmer. Fiercely determined but also at peace. It was a strange combination.

  But it was better than the anguish I’d seen there before, the struggle of a man who insisted on taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he didn’t have to. I loved him, but he drove me crazy sometimes, as crazy as I was determined to drive him. Which wasn’t all that difficult, frankly.

  I clamped down, hard, and he growled and rolled us off the bed. We hit the floor, taking one of the lamps with us, which sloshed out enough oil to set the rug on fire. “Leave it,” Louis-Cesare said, and I arched an eyebrow.

  Vampires went up like kerosene-soaked tissue paper when exposed to flame, but I guess tonight was about conquering fears. Or something. I was having a hard time concentrating, since I had ended up on the bottom, with the powerful vampire on top seemingly determined to pound me through the floor.

  Or maybe that was the door, I thought, unsure of where the hammering was coming from. Or my heart, I thought, getting sloppily romantic, because the orgasm of the gods was about to hit and hit hard. “Louis-Cesare!” I screamed, and I guessed it had been the door, after all. Because it practically blew off the hinges and there they were, half a dozen of Hassani’s servants staring at us.

  They had buckets of water in their hands, I didn’t know why. The sprinkler system seemed to be working fine, I thought, as it proceeded to douse us along with the flames. “Get out,” Louis-Cesare suggested, pulling the crimson and gold robe down from the bed to cover me.

  The servants just stood there, looking appalled, because I guess Hassani didn’t run a den of iniquity sort of court.

  “Get out!” Louis-Cesare ordered, and put some power behind it.