by Bella Klaus
My eyes snapped open, and I stared down at the hands wrapped around the quartz. They remained as pale as ever, without so much as a glow. An annoyed breath heaved from my lungs. Why did I think quartz of all things would bring out my power?
I set down the clear crystal and picked up the massive lump of firestone. While it didn’t have the triple-A quality of the bracelet that had melted into my flesh, I doubted that its flaws and lack of clarity would make it less powerful. If this didn’t do the job, I didn’t know what would.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath and pressed the stone into my solar plexus. Whoever had prepared it had polished its surfaces to the smoothness of a crystal ball. I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on my burning attraction for Valentine.
Everything about him was a wonder, from those mesmerizing eyes that ranged from a deep turquoise to a crimson as dark as blood, to those full, sensual lips that lavished me with such pleasure, and his wonderful, strong physique.
He was deadly. Every instinct in my body feared him as a predator, yet my passion for him still smoldered.
When I opened my eyes again, a flame danced within the stone. An annoyed breath huffed from my lungs. I wasn’t supposed to transfer my power into the bloody crystal!
“Alright,” I muttered to myself. “One more try, and I’ll hit the books.”
A little voice in the back of my head said that I should have read the books before trying to express my magic, but I’d done it successfully twice before when defending myself against Valentine. Three times, if I counted what had happened this morning. I could be reading all day and not even get close to generating a spark.
Something cold and damp slithered beneath my knee and settled on my inner thigh. I straightened my leg and pulled up my jeans. The cursed mark now snaked all the way around my calf, ending three inches above my knee.
“Shit.” I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my magic.
At the curse’s rate of growth, the enforcers at the door would be the least of my worries. What would happen to me if it reached my heart?
Instead of picking up a crystal, I balled my fists and focused on my worst Valentine-related memory. The same car that had taken me from the palace after we had made love drove me back for our engagement ball. Because it was the first time he had decided to marry, Valentine had invited every member of the Supernatural Council, along with several members of vampire nobility.
The car pulled into the palace courtyard, and I smoothed down the voluminous skirt of my gown. Valentine had commissioned the foremost faerie seamstress in Logris to create a dress as green as the forest to contrast with the red of my hair. She had even produced a headdress, which Valentine planned on replacing with an emerald tiara.
My chest swelled with pride, and I sank into the leather seat, unable to contain my happiness. The only thing that would have made this moment perfect was if Aunt Arianna was sitting beside me. I wanted to prove to her that she could trust Valentine, even if she had an innate dislike for vampires.
“Miss Griffin?” said the driver. “Are you ready to step out?”
“One moment,” I murmured.
After tonight, I would no longer be an anonymous Neutral. After tonight, everyone in Logris and beyond would know I belonged to Valentinus Sargon de Akkad, Vampire King of Logris. I released a shuddering breath, savoring my last few moments of obscurity.
I turned to the driver, meeting his maroon eyes in the rearview mirror. “Alright.”
He opened his door, walked around the car, and held my door open. A red carpet stretched out from where we had parked, up the palace steps, and to the open double doors, where vampire footmen in white livery stood with security wizards, checking their invitations.
“Thank you.” I let the driver help me out and made my way on trembling legs over the red carpet.
My heart pounded to the beat of the distant orchestra, and sweat gathered on my palms. Valentine had taught me to waltz, foxtrot, tango, and a whole host of other dance steps, but what if I messed up in front of Logris high society? I picked up my skirts to navigate the steps, breathing hard from the thrumming of my nerves.
The two footmen at the top of the steps straightened. Each wore long, white tailcoats with silver buttons, silk lapels, and matching pants and waistcoats. The entire outfit was set off with white bowties in shimmering silk.
When I reached the door, the taller of the footmen stepped in my path. “Your invitation, miss?”
I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if someone was standing behind me. Another black vehicle pulled up to the bottom of the stairs, and a tall, blond-haired vampire male stepped out to let out a blue-haired female wearing a gold dress.
“Valentine didn’t give me an invitation,” I said with a frown. “He’s holding the ball in my honor.”
The vampire’s lips formed a tight line. “Please step aside.”
I reared back, my gaze darting from one footman to another. “What?”
“Today’s function is a welcome ball to celebrate His Majesty’s new heir.”
“What are you talking about?” I shook my head. The whole point of getting married was because Valentine wanted to make an heir. With me. “This is my engagement ball. It’s been on the calendar for weeks.”
Both footmen exchanged annoyed glances. The shorter of the pair turned, looking like he was about to call on the security wizard, a man from another coven I’d seen around witch-related functions.
I didn’t give him the chance to have me thrown out. “If you don’t believe me, call Valentine.”
The taller footman offered me a condescending smile. “I hardly think His Majesty would—”
“Call King Valentine right now.” I fumbled through the folds of my voluminous skirt, looking for the pocket. If these people didn’t fetch him, I would call him myself.
He exhaled an exasperated breath, making my skin tighten. Didn’t he know I was the woman their king had chosen for a wife? In a month, I would be a queen consort.
“I say, what’s the hold up?” asked the blond-haired vampire a few steps behind.
“Gate-crasher, my lord,” said one of the footmen. “It happens all the time at high-profile events with eligible young men.”
Sparks of irritation exploded through my insides. Anyone who genuinely worked for Valentine would have seen me at the palace over the past three years. I’d never seen these two before, but how could they just assume I wasn’t telling the truth? My finger brushed the metal of my phone, and I pulled out the handset.
“Never mind,” I snapped. “I’ll call him myself.”
The footman rolled his eyes.
I pressed the home button and searched for the shortcut for Valentine’s personal number, but it had disappeared from my phone.
“Have you lost His Majesty’s number?” the footman asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You’re making me sound like I’m addicted to vampire bites,” I snapped. “Valentine and I are engaged—”
“You?” The blue-haired vampire woman standing behind me placed a gloved hand over her lips. “Why would His Majesty bother himself with a…” Her nose twitched, and laughter exploded from her lips. “My dear girl. You’re a Neutral!”
“So what if I am?” I whirled on her, heat exploding across my skin. “In Logris, all races are equal.”
“All supernatural races,” said the blond-haired vampire. “Neutrals are barely a cut above humans.”
I turned to the footman, who tilted his head to the side as though telling me it was hard to disagree with the man’s words. Disgruntled mutters broke out on the stairs around me, and some of the palace servants stepped out through the doors to see what was happening. Since they were mostly vampires, I guess they could hear my voice.
Among them was Valentine’s butler, who had served the royal family for over a thousand years and had always been kind.
“Caiman.” I raised a hand.
The butler stiffened. Like most vam
pires, it was hard to tell his age. Vampires didn’t stay the same forever. When born, they grew at the same rate as everyone else until they reached their late teens or early twenties—whatever nature decided was their peak beauty. They’d stay that age for a century before aging about a year for every hundred.
Caiman was starting to get that uncanny look the older vampires got when the experience behind their eyes outmatched their youthful features.
He inclined his head. “Miss Griffin.”
Relief escaped my lungs in an outward breath. “Could you please tell them there’s been a mistake. Valentine—”
The blast of an explosion knocked me out of my memory with a jolt. Splinters of magic and broken wood hit my skin. My eyes flew open to find the candles flickering. My heart thudded loud enough to fill my ears. What the hell was that?
I turned to the open door, but before I could even register what had happened, a large body pinned me to the cushions and sank his fangs into my neck.
Valentine.
Pleasure flooded my veins, filled my body, and spread across every nerve ending. I let out a low moan as it travelled downward with a rush of sensation and heat.
Valentine moaned, the sound going straight between my legs, which he wedged open with his muscular thigh. As he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of blood, the pressure behind my clit swelled until it was fit to burst.
Somewhere beneath the maelstrom of desire and alarm, I finally understood why some blood cows found feeding vampires from the vein so compelling. Each bite brought a rapture that made me crave him more and more.
My leg curled around his, and without meaning to, I bucked my hips against his leg, riding out the pleasure until it spilled over, and a climax rippled through my core muscles. Waves upon waves of ecstasy crashed against my senses, and I moaned and shuddered beneath the powerful vampire.
A voice in the back of my head screamed at me to break out of Valentine’s grip. But my mind spun before I could concentrate on the words, and that part of my consciousness drowned in a whirlpool of lust. I dug my fingernails into his hard flesh, silently begging—yearning for him to take more, to never stop, to keep drinking until he consumed me.
My pulse echoed in my ears, picking up volume with each rapid beat. It was a sign that I’d lost a significant amount of blood—too much. Valentine gulped around his mouthful of neck, humming his desire.
If he continued like this, I would die.
I knew this and I didn’t care because Valentine was giving me enough pleasure to last a lifetime.
A whimper reverberated in my throat, and Valentine growled, the sound making the pulse between my legs quicken. Something he’d said earlier surfaced through the vortex of bliss.
Valentine would never be able to live with himself if he killed me. He would fall into misery. I wanted to warn him, but the words caught in the back of my throat.
Then, just as suddenly as he had pounced, Valentine slumped on top of me like a dead weight.
Chapter Nineteen
Valentine’s larger body still pinned me to the floor cushions, his heavy weight crushing my ribs. I opened my eyes to find flickers of reflected candlelight dancing across the ceiling. I tried turning my head but the position of his mouth against my neck made movement near impossible.
I couldn’t tell if he had fainted, had fallen into a food coma, or if something had gone terribly wrong. Warm blood trickled down my neck, creating an expanding wet patch on the cushions.
It took a few moments to free my hands from beneath his weight, but I placed them on his shoulders and tried shoving him off. The sharp pain of his fangs nicking my neck made me fall back with a wince. Blood trickling down my collar now seemed to pour, and the pounding of my pulse filled my ears like a boombox.
“Valentine?” I slapped his arm. “Get up.”
When he didn’t so much as twitch, I slapped harder, trying to figure out this peculiar behavior. Had the curse poisoned my blood?
“Valentine,” I said, making my voice sharp.
He still didn’t move.
Clenching my teeth, I placed my hands back onto his shoulders and pushed all my magic and strength into my arms. Valentine shifted a few inches, but not enough for me to slip out from under his body.
“Wake up,” I said. “You’re crushing me.”
He exhaled a long breath, somehow giving me the momentum to push harder. Eventually, I rolled him onto his side, slipped out from underneath his body, and then pushed him onto his back.
Half the candles surrounding us now lay extinguished on the wood floor in puddles of congealed wax. The dim light brought out the sharp angle of his jaw, the slight hollow of his cheekbones, and the depths of his eyes. He lay among the cushions, breathing rapidly through his parted lips.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He stared up at me through glazed eyes as dark as the night’s sky, blinking every few heartbeats but not making a sound. I still couldn’t tell if he was drunk or stoned or if this was what happened to vampires who consumed too much blood.
Blood continued pouring down my neck, seeming to come in rapid spurts that synchronized with my pulse. I placed one hand on my wound to stem the flow and another on his warm stubbled cheek. “Talk to me.”
His lips parted, but he made no sound.
My brows furrowed. If I wanted to know what was wrong with Valentine, I would have to check for myself. I glanced down at his neck for signs of injury. After finding none, I ran my hands over his broad chest, pausing at his heart, which reverberated against my palm.
Vampires had much slower heartbeats than humans or Neutrals, but his heart thudded about twice the speed of mine.
I gulped. It had to be the curse. Maybe it had turned my blood into some kind of addictive vampire amphetamine. I sat back on my heels and slid my hand to his bicep, wondering what I could do to help him.
Valentine twitched, and something on the bottom-right edge of my vision caught my attention. I swept my gaze down his arm to find his hand clenched into a fist, but something poked out from between his thumb and forefingers. It was ivory colored and small enough to fit in his entire hand.
Just like the hilt of the solid flame dagger.
The solid flame dagger Valentine told me would kill a supernatural. The solid flame dagger that I slipped into my pocket. The solid flame dagger Valentine told me to use against him to save myself.
Already knowing what I wouldn’t find if I checked my pocket, I groped around in my jeans for the bulge and found nothing.
“Valentine,” I whispered. “What did you do?”
The question was futile because the scene lying before me on the cushions spoke for itself. Somehow, through his haze of bloodlust, Valentine had sacrificed himself to save me. He’d sacrificed himself by taking my dagger and cutting his hand with its poisonous blade.
“Why?” I rasped.
When he didn’t answer, I uncurled each of his fingers, revealing a palm soaked with blood. The dagger rolled out of his hand and landed on the cushions with a soft thud. Ignoring it, I gathered the edge of my shirt with my hand and used the fabric to wipe off the blood.
Maybe the dagger could work like snake venom. He was still alive—just dazed. If I squeezed out enough blood, I might also drain the poison.
I wrapped my hands around his wrist and kneaded, but his cut had already healed, sealing in the toxic blood. Scrambling to my feet, I glanced around the vast attic space for inspiration. Maybe Valentine just needed an antidote. Or something that could soak up the poison in his blood.
Activated charcoal worked much like a bezoar—it had a vast surface area that could draw in impurities so the body could flush them harmlessly through the digestive system. Doctors and healers used it all the time. My gaze landed on the incense table, where I had earlier seen some charcoal. Maybe if I placed it in his mouth—
“Mera,” he croaked.
My heart somersaulted in my chest. “Valentine?”
He lay within
the nest of cushions, his gaze clearer and his blinking more rapid. His black hair spread out like a halo against the pale fabric, and a tiny trail of blood streamed from the corner of his full lips toward his earlobe.
“Go to…” His voice was so quiet, I had to kneel at his side to hear his words. “Go to the basement.”
“Is that where you keep the antidotes?” I asked.
“Mera.” His voice was harsher, and the muscles of his face hardened with determination. “Leave this villa, immediately. There’s a panel in the sauna that leads to a staircase—”
“No.” I grabbed his arm, digging my fingers into his bicep. “How do I counter the effects of that dagger?”
“There is no cure,” he rasped.
“You wouldn’t have given me a weapon I could use against you.” I delved beneath the cushions, looking for my phone, which must have fallen when he had tackled me to the floor.
The wards were tied to Valentine’s life force. Maybe whatever was imprisoning us would ease off, now that he was hurt, and I might be able to call someone.
My fingers brushed against cool metal, and I pulled out my handset only to glance at the screen and find no signal bars.
Dread rolled through my belly like thunder. I turned my gaze toward the light streaming into the hallway and shouted, “Is anyone here?”
“We left them behind when we took that taxi.” His hand brushed against mine. “Mera, listen to me.”
I turned my gaze back to Valentine’s shining eyes.
“The wards will fall,” he said.
My breath caught. “You can’t die—”
“They are tied to my life force.” His voice strained as though each word was an effort.
A rush of emotions flooded my system—confusion, disbelief, and a creeping sense of helplessness, all gathering in my tightening chest and thickening throat. Valentine couldn’t die. Not from a cut on the hand. Not to save me from himself.
