The Forbidden Prince (Dracula's Bloodline Book 5)

by Ana Calin

  It felt good trying to get Tristan’s attention from a distance, make him wonder about my open attitude towards my husband, but sitting face to face with him might expose my pretense. I’m not ready to play this game close up. Blood rushes to my face, and I have a nauseating feeling that everybody can see the truth about last night’s affair in my face. I’m also afraid Tristan can see too clearly that I have a full-blown crush on him.

  “So this is how it’s going to go down,” Mark says, while arranging the white napkin on his lap before he starts eating. He continues talking while he eats, spewing crumbs every other sentence.

  “Serpents will lay low in the villages around Ruben’s area, but I need someone on the inside, with the two of you.” Sure, he can’t leave us alone, can he? I can’t believe I actually hoped he would.

  “Ruben surely knows most of my serpents, especially after one year in which they’ve been looking everywhere for him, but I still need someone. I’m a control freak, you know.” He glances meaningfully at Tristan, who’s sitting across from him. “No offense, I hope you understand. You’re a vampire, a natural enemy to serpents.”

  “None taken.”

  My eyes dart to Soraya as Mark mentions her name.

  “Soraya is the least known of my people. She’s always kept a low profile, which proved a very smart strategy—designed especially for situations such as this one.” He turns his attention to me, which can only mean both Soraya and Tristan already know what he’s about to say. “Tristan will play the new priest in town. Orthodox priests need to be married before they’re assigned a parish, and Soraya will play his wife.”

  The blood drains from my head, and I’m sure I’ll faint. But what I do is laugh, low, then burst out harder.

  “You gotta be shitting me.” Fuck, jealousy is gonna expose my feelings for Tristan. I drop my fork, raise my tumbler, and say, “Congratulations then to the new happy couple.”

  Mark takes my hand under the table, my stomach twisting at the slimy touch of his skin on mine. As for Tristan, he stares hard into my eyes, electricity lighting his irises. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, but he controls the expression of the rest of his face so well that I have no idea what he actually feels.

  “For now it’ll be only for show, but I admit I do hope something more will come out of it.” He grins at Soraya and Tristan. The woman displays her usual quiet but sly smile, while Tristan doesn’t react at all.

  “And where do I come into the picture?” I sip from my wine, damning it for not numbing my senses quickly enough.

  “Tristan and Soraya will spend two weeks in the village, then they’ll send for you. This plan is centered on your set of skills, beloved wife.”

  “Then cut to the chase already,” I prompt, edgier than ever. Mark’s back stiffens at my disrespecting tone, but then he chooses to let it go. I might have to pay for it later, though.

  “It’s simple. The village already has a priest at the moment, but he’s so old he’s fucking ancient. He can’t even hold mass anymore, and the villagers have to take care of him and tend to his every need. Our boy Tristan will take his place in church, and soon afterwards send for someone with both the skills and the will to come to that remote village and take care of the old man—you.”

  That is a good plan.

  “You will stay with the ancient priest in his home, and you’ll milk him for information—what a great opportunity, isn’t it?” Mark says. “After awhile, you’ll confide in the old priest and a few other villagers that you escaped your abusive husband, and are looking for a way out of the country, with a new identity, if possible.”

  I keep sipping wine, eyes on Tristan to gauge his reactions. But there’s nothing I can interpret, the vampire controls himself so well it’s frustrating. His indifference to me hurts so badly that my frustration turns to anger.

  “Al right, I’ll do it.” I conclude coldly.

  “Wonderful,” Mark reacts, and claps his hands like an enthusiastic child at the circus, or rather like a deranged clown.

  “Soraya and Tristan will be leaving tomorrow. You, my love, will follow in two weeks.”

  Mark forks another piece of beef into his mouth, while I drain my umpteenth glass of wine. This is so fucking sick.

  Tristan

  “DON’T FORGET, BOY,” Mark warns me in the semidarkness of his study. “You’re going there not only for Ruben, but for the secret of human immortality. Bring it to me, and I’ll grant you any wish.”

  I snort, and Mark laughs.

  “Actually, if you get me the secret, I’m thinking maybe we should keep in touch. You and I can help each other in the long run.”

  I could snap and rip his face off. Everything is slimy about him, from his looks, to his voice and his intentions. The tone he uses on me, overly sweet, like honey, and slippery as venom. But I can feel his real urges behind all that, I know that he’d tear into me with his fangs, coiling around me and squeezing the life out of me.

  “If I get you the secret of human immortality,” I say as I stand up and pace the study, my back to Mark so I don’t have to see his face. “I want you to let Isolde go, Serpaint.”

  “Be careful,” he warns. “Some husbands would misconstrue your interest in their wives’ well-being.”

  “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, until you understand—she is a member of the vampire royal family, and I’m bound to protect her.” I draw a chair and lean forward, my eyes piercing Serpaint’s. He doesn’t flinch, but something crosses his eyes, maybe a shade of insecurity.

  “Listen, and listen well,” I begin in a low, growling voice. “When I agreed to stay and help you, I had a condition—that you wouldn’t touch Isolde again against her will. But you did. If I hear that you hurt her while I’m gone—” I let him finish the threat in his head.

  Serpaint’s hands grip the elaborately carved chair arms. He’s growing so angry he’s about to shift. On the inside of my mouth, my fangs start to lengthen, too—I’d love to end this right here, right now. Resisting the scent of his blood is causing me a lot of trouble already. But attacking him would start a war between serpents and vampires, so I have more than myself to think about.

  “Let me put this differently,” Serpaint begins. He looks at me with all the force of his sadism. “If my wife miraculously disappears during this mission, it’ll be on you. If I lose her, Prince of Spades, I’ll have you take her place in my bed, even though I’m as straight as they come. I will chain you in silver, keep sunlight only a curtain away from your pretty face, and do to you all the things I did to her, and more. Then, I’ll bring together all the serpent cells that I’m close to, and wage war against Vlad Dracula—with you in my power, he won’t dare use all his strength against me, because that would mean your death. I’ll make sure he knows that.”

  My blood boils in my veins, and I can’t hide it. Fury burns its way out through my eyes. All I can think about is Isolde, my sweet white dove, trying to throw herself into the sea last night, determined to end her life. The life she spent helping women and children in wheelchairs, and wiping the excrements off of old people, saving their dignity and offering them warm beds, soup and comfort.

  And what did she get in return from this fucking life? An abusive serpent husband who takes pleasure in hurting her, and an emotionally crippled lover who gets hard-ons while thinking about coming on her sweet angel face. My cock twitches as I remember her soft, warm thighs wrapped around my face last night. Yes, I gave her pleasure, and I’d gladly spend my life with my tongue inside of her. But I’m a monster and, in the long run, she’s in no less danger with me than she is with this monster.

  Maybe I can’t make her happy, but I’ll sure as hell free her from this slimy bastard if it’s the last thing I do.

  “So you see, Tristan DeKnight, Prince of Spades,” Mark continues, satisfied to see the rage in my face. “I have this figured out, and I’m five moves ahead.” He grins. “Look at you—did I actually crack that mask of ice of yours
?”

  “You’re the first one to do it, congratulations,” I grunt through my teeth.

  He taps his lips with his forefinger, studying me. “I haven’t seen emotion on your face since I whipped you to death two hundred years ago. Now the subject of my wife is the first thing that brings out emotion in you. Interesting.” He studies me deeper. He pulls out his phone, turns on the camera and turns it around so that I can see myself.

  “Look at you.”

  I don’t want to play along, but curiosity gets the better of me. My eyes drop to the screen—the device is made of special plasma, a new kind that reflects vampires. Sure, as a serpent, he would have one of these.

  I see a young man with blue eyes glinting sharp, like metal. My cheeks are harder than usual, the skin tight over my bones. The expression on my face growls I’ll-have-your-balls-and-stuff-them-in-your-mouth at Mark.

  I push the device away. I force myself to speak, even though every muscle in my body screams for me to pull out my dagger and slash his throat. “If you keep hurting this girl, she won’t survive. I won’t go to the village, and implement the plan unless you do something to assure me she won’t be harmed while I’m gone.”

  “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to trust me, Tristan boy,” Mark mocks. “But look at it this way—would I hurt my only weapon? Isolde is the only way I’ll get my hands on Ruben. I may enjoy bruising that white-rosy flesh of hers, but I have enough sense to refrain until she brings me Ruben.”

  I’m ready to lunge at him over the desk, but a knock on the door saves him, followed by the alligator stepping in without permission.

  “Boss, Timur is here. He says he has information on Father Ruben, and he’d sell it to you.”

  Mark would usually reprimand the alligator harshly for having stepped into this study just like that, but I guess this news is just too good. By now I can read him all too well.

  “Well, invite him in.”

  The alligator shakes his tattooed head. “He won’t step inside the villa. He said he’d remain on the terrace.”

  “Of course,” Mark looks at me as he pushes himself up from his chair. “There are stories in the town underworld about people coming in here, but never coming out. Can’t say I don’t understand the poor bastard’s concerns.”

  I get up, too.

  “No,” Mark says. “Wait here. We’re not done.”

  He goes out of the office, and the alligator waits a few moments with his hand on the doorknob, giving me one of his best glares out of his scarred face. I run my tongue over my fangs on the inside of my mouth. Hatred is bubbling up inside of me, and I’d love to take it out on this big mean shifter.

  But then Mark calls his name, and he closes the door behind him.

  I turn to look around, thinking of using the opportunity to discover some more of the serpents’ secrets. Even though he wouldn’t have left me here alone if he had any worthwhile information, but still. As I expertly go through a row of files in one of his drawers, a secret door slides aside.

  It’s a part of the bookcase. At first I think maybe I must have touched a file that worked as a lever, but no. It’s Isolde, my pure white dove, her chocolate hair tumbling down her frame that’s hidden behind a long black cloak.

  “He doesn’t keep his important stuff in here anymore, not since the night I said I heard someone heading into his study,” she says as she steps inside, leaving the secret door open. It seems to lead to a narrow secret passageway.

  “It leads to our bed chamber,” Isolde explains when she sees me eyeing the entrance.

  “Isolde, why are you here?” I talk to her coldly, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. I know she’s falling in love with me, I could feel it last night. But I am dangerous to her, and I can’t risk getting close.

  “Your husband could return any second. You should probably leave.” But she walks around the desk, her finger swiping over the back of Serpaint’s chair, then lowering herself in it. I move away, now standing in front of her. Being near her stirs my desire, and that unsettles the hell out of me, which is why I choose to keep my distance.

  “No, he won’t come back, I took care of that.” She looks at me from the boss’ chair like a porcelain queen, the black cloak only emphasizing the beauty of her face. I feel like I’m at her service, which makes my balls tense.

  “You had Timur come here,” I realize.

  “I called him, yes.”

  “Why do you keep such a man in your confidence?”

  “I won’t explain myself to you, Tristan.” She raises her chin, and her gaze is more controlled than yesterday. I can sense the frustration of a scorned woman behind her hardness. “But you owe me an explanation—what is this plan of yours all about?”

  “You wanted to get away from Mark, didn’t you? This will give you the opportunity.”

  “You know damn well that if I disappear during this mission he’ll start a war. I thought we were going to use the love potion on him and Soraya, getting him off my case that way, but instead you went and wooed the woman.”

  I push my hands into the pockets of my pants. “So that’s what this is all about.”

  “No, don’t jump to conclusions.” She puts her palm up. “This isn’t jealousy. I made it clear last night that I didn’t expect you, the cold assassin, to go lovey dovey with me just because we had sex. The problem is that, with Soraya in the village playing your loving wife, she won’t be here for Mark to fall in love with her, will she?”

  “I can do it when I return from the mission—without you.”

  She forces a laugh. “When you come back without me, Mark will kill you first, and ask questions later.”

  “I seriously doubt that. I’m not an easy man to kill.”

  “You know what I think, Tristan,” she gets up from the chair, and walks around the desk over to me, gracefully, her shoulders square and her chin up. “I think your plan is to help him get his hands on Father Ruben, then leave me behind, in his claws, and return to whatever you were doing in Lord Dracula’s closest quarters before all this happened.”

  “If that were so, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place. I wouldn’t have brought you the potion, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have stayed to help you slip it in their drinks.”

  She looks up into my face with suspicion. Her scent infiltrates my senses, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from grabbing her waist, pulling her close, and claiming those rosy lips.

  “Either way, if I am to trust you, and go through with your plan,” she says, “I’m going to need something to assure me that you won’t be just using me. Something like a token of your allegiance.”

  “I am on your side, and you damn well know it.” I let my feelings show in my gaze, and search her eyes. She must see it, she must see that she means something to me.

  I hear Mark’s voice coming from the terrace. He’s talking to the human, Timur. My muscles tense all over as I prepare to react in some way and stop him from catching us.

  “Quick, go back,” I urge, but Isolde doesn’t move. Instead, she slowly opens the upper button of her cloak, and pushes it off her shoulders, all the while staring into my eyes.

  “What the fff—,” escapes my mouth as my eyes slip down her body. She’s wearing a black lace bra and mid-thigh black stockings wrapped around her white legs. She seems an angel in a devil’s clothes. But what strikes me most is that she isn’t wearing any panties. Her smooth, silky folds are naked, beckoning me with that scent of lilies and arousal. My cock hardens in my pants.

  “I want you to take me, Tristan,” she whispers, now close to me, her breasts pushing against my upper abs. Hell, how I want to cup that naked pussy and slip a finger inside of her, feel how wet she is for me. I clench my jaw until it hurts, and speak through my teeth.

  “Isolde, Mark is just outside the—”

  “He won’t return for a good while, I told you. Timur is going to keep him talking at least half an hour. I made sure of that.”

&nb
sp; “He might still decide—”

  She raises a finger, and places it on my lips to shut me up. “Tristan, I have everything under control. And now I will have you under my control.”

  I’m about to crack and invade her with a kiss.

  Luckily, she steps away on time, but keeps her eyes on me. They drop to the bulge in my pants, her eyelids fluttering up and down. Her nipples push through the lace. Hell, the sight of my erection through my pants alone is enough to turn her on, and I can barely control myself. I feel so fucking wanted.

  Mark continues talking outside, making me uneasy, but Isolde doesn’t show any signs of distress. It’s as if she couldn’t care less if her husband discovers us or not, even though it would mean certain death for her—or at least he’d try to kill her, because I’d protect her with my life.

  “Isolde, he’s right outside.”

  “Exactly.”

  She hoists herself on his desk and spreads her legs, her fingers sliding through her folds. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms in the process, leaning her head back as she feels the pleasure.

  “Come on, Tristan,” she says seductively. “On your knees. I’ll rub this horny pussy in your face.”

  That’s it, all bets are off. The heat takes over my body. I stride over, and come down to one knee in front of her. I want her to take control of me, claiming me.

  I keep my eyes on her face as her cheeks go red with anticipation and desire. Her lips part a little as mine touch her folds, kissing slowly, lovingly, my tongue sliding between them. She hisses with pleasure, sinking one hand in my hair, and leaning on the other as she moves her hips into my mouth, claiming my face.

  “That’s it, lick me like a slave.”

  Fuck, I swear my cock is gonna burst. I lick her harder, my hands cupping her butt cheeks, my tongue lapping greedily at her. I can’t help but groan with pleasure as she pushes herself into my face, relishing the sight of me on my knees. I pause only to encourage her.