by Ana Calin
My eyes rest on Isolde just before she touches the tumbler to her lips.
Maybe this is the best thing that can actually happen to her—falling in love with her husband, if there’s no way out of this. Even if she manages to get away from him, even if I help her, he will stop at nothing to get her back. And when he gets her back, he’ll hurt her so badly she’ll wish she were dead. There’s no way out for this girl, and the realization makes my heart twist in my chest.
But just before the liquid laps to her lips, Mark raises his hand, stopping her.
“On a second thought,” he says, turning his head to me with a grin. Fuck, I could whip out my dagger, and slash his throat right now, letting him bleed to death, even if that means getting an entire squad of serpents on my back. Even if I die, it’ll be worth it watching this shit bag end his filthy worthless existence in agony.
Mark takes the other tumbler from the table, and offers it to me.
“Why don’t you and my wife drink at the same time, Tristan? If it works on vampires, too, the poison will take you both, and the one left behind won’t have to live through torture. Because, if Isolde does die of poison, I will torture you again, Tristan, and it will be much worse than the first time.”
I hear bloodlust behind his words, and there’s a twinkle in his eye, too. It’s the same twinkle from centuries ago, as he whipped me in front of the Devil’s Son for having tried to assassinate him. The twinkle of pleasure. Now I understand the son of a bitch is a sadist, which is why he torments Isolde the way he does.
My lips curl in disgust. I take the tumbler, and slowly raise it to my lips, eyes on Isolde.
This is it. We both sip, the crisp liquor prickling my tongue. As I look into Isolde’s eyes, I feel the connection between us—we both suffered at the hands of this sadistic bastard, and we are both at his whims right now. Except that she is afraid of him, while I am not. I make a vow to myself that I’ll deliver this woman from Mark Serpaint’s evil, and then I will kill him in the cruelest way of all the ways I imagined over the years.
As we both drink—Serpaint demands that we empty the tumblers—I can see in Isolde’s eyes that she fears what will happen next. Will she fall in love with her despicable husband? Or will she fall in love with me? This has gone very wrong from her perspective.
But I know from Magda that the potion only works on those it had been destined for, or those who touched it. But even if it could affect me, I come from the order of assassins. We were trained to control and annihilate our emotions. There’s no potion that can make an emotional cripple like me feel love. I can feel loyalty, dedication, duty, even camaraderie, but those are all concepts the assassins fostered and nourished. Love was the sign of the weakling.
Finally, Isolde and I set our empty tumblers on the table. We stare into each other’s eyes, and I try to convey to her all the calm that I can. Everything in my demeanor says ‘I got this’, and I hope she picks up on that.
Serpaint circles us, giving the drinks the time necessary to kick in.
“Maybe it takes a while,” he eventually says, the grin returning to his lecherous face. “But we have all the time in the world.”
He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “I have a proposition for you, Tristan, one that you might actually like. Lord Dracula now knows about our presence here, so he sent you to find out what we’re all about, right?”
My jaw tightens, but I nod.
“Well, then, here’s what I suggest. Provided that you survive the next twenty-four hours—some poisons take that long to kick in—I invite you to stay.” He pauses for the effect. He stares me hard in the face for any signs of discomfort, but I got them all in check.
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” I say. “But I need to know how long that will be. As much as I’d like to keep my nose in your business indefinitely, I can’t be away from Lord Dracula’s operations forever.”
Mark keeps his hands behind his back, but I can see that twinkle in his eye again. Evil schemes are swirling around in his head.
“Don’t worry, we serpents didn’t come here to stay, Tristan. If my little wife here had given up the man she protected when I first approached her—” He glances at Isolde, whose eyes are fixed on me, and her face white as alabaster, “we would have left a long time ago. But she chose to help him escape, and so we were forced to stay until we get what we want.”
I look from Isolde to Serpaint. “Is that why you married her? As punishment for helping your target escape?”
“Oh no, how can you even say that?” Mark replies sarcastically, brushing his terrified wife’s cheek with the back of his finger. “I married her because I fell in love with her on first sight, of course. We serpent shifters need only a minute to know who we want to have for a mate. The moment a woman strikes us as the most attractive thing we’ve ever seen, we take her to our bed, and imprint on her.”
A tear of hopelessness rolls down Isolde’s pretty cheek. She belongs to this monster, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Mark takes in the sight of her crying like it gives him a fucking orgasm, and my teeth crunch—I could kill him for it.
“Do not be deceived by appearances, Tristan. I assure you Isolde is enjoying a lavish lifestyle.”
“I know. It’s what happens behind closed doors that worries me.”
Murmur and tremor goes through the gathered serpents. I guess touching the subject of the boss’s wife is a no no. A glint of temper crosses Mark’s face, too.
“Tread carefully, Tristan, because you’re treading a mined field.”
“Isolde is a member of the vampire royal family, and I’m the Vampire King’s second in command. I will sure as hell meddle, if I notice the lady is in distress.”
Hope lights up in Isolde’s sparkling blue eyes. Hell, the woman’s irises are like jewels, they distract me.
“But she is not a vampire,” Mark protests.
“She isn’t a serpent either.”
“She’s not a serpent, but she took my blood. For as long as she takes it, she stays young, immortal, and mine.” He says that last word with so much greed that Isolde grimaces as if she’s just sucked lemon.
“I haven’t taken your blood in months,” she blurts. All heads turn to her. Serpaint grabs her waist roughly, pulling her close. Her body slams into his.
“You don’t talk to me like that in front of my men,” he grunts between his teeth.
I take a step forward.
“I’ll stay and help you find the man who escaped,” I offer. “But you will not touch Isolde against her will again as long as I’m here.” My eyes dart from him to her. She stares at me with those big sparkling eyes like I’m the sun.
The serpents all around hiss. I can hear their inner beasts coiling and wheezing inside of them. They’re ready to shift any moment, all it would take would be their leader’s signal.
But after moments of staring at me like he could chain me in silver and then pour some down my throat, Serpaint releases Isolde, and opens his arms.
“Well, then, welcome to my personal retinue of bodyguards Tristan DeKnight, Prince of Spades and son of the assassins’ order. It’s an honor to have a fighter of your caliber on my side.” His face darkens. “Even if it’s just for this one mission. Maybe we can become friends after all.”
CHAPTER III – Lady and the Knight
Tristan
SERPAINT WANTS TO HAVE me monitored at all times, of course. He gave me a spacious chamber on the ground floor of his villa, right behind the grand stairs, and by the alligator’s room. A serpent walks down the hallway outside my door every ten minutes or so, because the boss wants to make sure I don’t roam the place given the chance.
I talked to Lord Dracula a few days ago, persuaded him to give me a month to deal with this alone. It would be a mistake to have the vampires openly involved. I asked him to trust me and let me avoid a possibly unnecessary bloodbath. Wisdom won over his warlord impulses, and he agreed.
A shift by the door stirs my
senses. I keep my face to the open window and my back to the door, letting the intruder think I haven’t sensed them. But what serpent would be so clumsy? Sneaking is natural to them, they do it even better than vampires, why does this one stomp in the dark like a big baby?
The creature stills for a moment, gauging my reactions. I cross my arms, seemingly relaxed in front of the window. What I’m actually doing is reaching for my blades under my sleeves.
My nostrils flare as I take in the scent—the same scent that Isolde had at The Wreck, a scent that she shares with her husband. I despise everything about Mark Serpaint, but I must say I would love to sink my teeth into his rich veins. Some of the most violent scenarios I played in my head over the years about how I was going to kill him involved torture, and me drinking his blood while he squealed like a pig.
The intruder approaches on tiptoes, but then steps swoosh outside the door, and he lunges at me fast. I whip out the blades and flash around, ready to stab him under his chin.
I grab and slam him against the wall, my blade at his throat. To my astonishment though, it isn’t a serpent. It’s Isolde.
Isolde
TRISTAN DEKNIGHT HAS me pushed up against the wall, holding a blade at my throat, and even though I’ve almost pissed myself, I gasp at his beauty. His perfect face with sharp, masculine features is growing on me. Or maybe it’s just the way he stood up for me a few days ago. Or maybe it’s the fucking love potion.
“Jesus Christ, Isolde,” he says in that sexy voice of his. “What are you doing?”
“I came to help you escape,” I whisper, glancing at the door. My heart beats like a rabbit’s. “Quickly, a serpent guard could burst in any second. If they find me here I’m dead.”
“Isolde.” Tristan takes my face between his strong hands, those electric blue eyes on me. “I don’t need help.” He motions with his head to the open terrace door. “All I have to do is jump off that terrace, and no serpent would be able to stop me. I’m staying because I intend to free you from this monster, no matter what. But.”
“But what?” I breathe, staring deeply into his eyes and relishing the feeling—this knight is ready to fight all these monsters for me.
“I need you to give me some time.”
I look down and push his hands from my face, moving away from him toward the open terrace door. I close my eyes and breathe in the salty air, bracing myself, my fingers sinking into the satin bathrobe. I ran over here the first chance I got, namely right after a bath. Opportunity presented itself while I was drying my hair.
“Time. It already feels like it’s been forever. If you only knew how much I’d like to jump right off this terrace and run away.”
Tristan comes close behind me, his scent of frost mixing with that of the salty breeze. Emotion swells in my chest, something I haven’t felt since I was a schoolgirl. I breathe in, enjoying the feeling.
“Isolde, back when you and Mark met, who were you protecting, and why?”
“It’s irrelevant. Because Mark getting the man or not wouldn’t help me in any way. He’d leave this town, this country, vampire territory. But he’d take me along, to some place from where I could never escape.” I raise my face to the breeze. My fingers sink into my arms as I brace myself, Tristan’s body close behind me. “I miss my sister. I miss Magda, too, and my sweet little Rux. I couldn’t bear to be taken to some place at the end of the world, without a hope of seeing them again.”
“Sweet little Rux, you say?” I can hear the smile behind his words. “Most people would call her anything but. She’s half vampire and half demoness, a nasty one, too. I’m saying that with all due respect, of course.”
“Most people didn’t know her as a malnourished ten year old, who’d been buried alive by evil aunts. They didn’t see her little black eyes cling with affection to Juliet and me, offering us her cookies when her ribs still showed like a skeleton’s. They didn’t see her baring her teeth like a little animal in her first attempts to smile—she’d never smiled before, she didn’t even know how to.”
I feel a vibration go through Tristan, and I know that my words moved him. Must be the tone of my voice.
He touches my elbows, his body brushing my back. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation—my vampire knight, comforting me in the depth of my despair. Maybe the potion is to blame for what I feel inside, but I’m pretty damn sure I’d feel this warmth towards him even without it. He’s the first person showing me kindness in a very long time. Only now that I receive it I realize just how badly I needed it.
“I promised Serpaint that I’d help him get his target. Let’s use the time that I’m here, and try to use the potion again on him and his assistant. I still have some, and I’ll surely find an opportunity to slip it into their drinks. They deserve each other, those two slimy scumbags. Then, when he has what he wants and we have what we want—him in love with Soraya—I’ll get him to let you leave with me.”
“Leave with you,” I repeat, letting the words roll sweetly off my tongue. I’d love to run away with him. I turn around, looking up into his face. This could be embarrassing.
“Tristan, did the love potion have any effect on you?”
This must be the longest second of my life. Tristan DeKnight, the beautiful Prince of Spades, looks down at me out of those electric blue eyes with an expression impossible to read.
“Why do you ask? Do you feel anything for me?”
“I don’t know,” I lie. “I’m not sure.”
“If you do, I can help you,” he says with a reassuring squeeze of my shoulders. “We assassins have ways to deal with emotion.”
Kill this feeling? Hell, no. It’s the most beautiful thing I have.
I turn around, looking out the window towards the forgotten harbor.
“I’ll ask you for tips in case it happens. Now would you please check the hallway, help me leave your chamber? If anyone spots me I’m lost.”
He comes closer, and my heart beats harder. “But you don’t really want to leave this room, do you? You feel safe here.”
Hearing it put into words makes me break. I burst into tears, covering my face with my palms. My shoulders shake as I sob, and Tristan takes me in his arms from behind.
“I swear I’ll do everything in my power to free you, Isolde,” he whispers. “Even if it’s the last thing I do. But there’s one thing you need to know before you leave Mark Serpaint.”
He turns me around. I look up at him, my salvation rock in an ocean of despair.
“Even if Mark falls in love with Soraya and leaves you in peace, you will never be entirely free of him. When a serpent imprints on a mate, and takes them to bed, they are mated for life.”
My stomach revolts. “Please don’t tell me I can never be free of him. Tristan, the man is a monster. He did things to me, I’d prefer death to sex with him again.” I can’t withstand another wave of tears that makes me choke on my words and cover my eyes. Tristan pulls me to his chest.
His white shirt is open, my forehead pressing to hard pectorals with skin as smooth as my satin robe. That fresh scent of frost and power wakes in me the desire to lick him, letting the taste of him purge me of the serpent’s essence. It’s hard to refrain, so I push away.
Compassion shows vividly in his face.
“You pity me,” I breathe, trying to turn away, but Tristan’s hold tightens around me, keeping me in his arms.
“I understand exactly what you’re going through, Isolde. Your husband and I have a history, and I know how cruel he can be.”
“Yes, I got that. What exactly happened between the two of you?”
He pauses, his lips pressing in a hard line. “You are the only person in the world I feel I can share that with, Isolde, and maybe I will. Someday.”
“I understand. You’re not ready.”
“But there is something you and I need to talk about urgently—the reason why Mark sought you out in the first place.”
I hesitate.
“Come on, you n
eed to relax first.” He walks to the mini-bar. The white shirt is tight on the muscular sides of his back, and narrow at his waist, luring my eyes to slip down his frame as he pours us both whiskey-cola. I force myself to look into his face when he comes back and offers me a glass, keeping myself from staring at his beautiful body that glistens between the open sides of his white shirt.
“Please, have a seat,” Tristan invites me, motioning to the small round table at the side of the open window. This is a guest room, furnished very much like a luxury hotel.
I sit in a chair hidden behind the curtain so no one can see me from outside, and Tristan takes the other chair.
“May I ask you something?” I whisper.
“Of course.” He smiles at me, and butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’m afraid that damned love potion is seriously messing with my head.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He sips and then shakes his head, his white blond hair glistening in the starlight.
“No, because the ability to fall in love develops in childhood, and I had to grow up at a very young age. I do know love, though. I had a mother, a father, and a brother once. Until I lost them all, but I do remember family affection.”
“Oh. What happened to them?”
“My father was a member of the assassins’ order, and that came with risks. He started training my brother and me when we were only two years old, so we turned hard and ruthless pretty soon, but when our mother got killed it still hurt like hell. My older brother went in search of revenge. He was only twelve when he died.”
He stops talking, his features turning cold and hard again.
“Does it still hurt?” I dare in a small voice, my hands clenching around the glass of whiskey.
