In the Arms of the King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  In the Arms of the King

  Thirteen Sultry Love Scenes from The Kings series,

  by NYT and USA Today bestseller Heather Killough-Walden

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  Website: http://killough-walden.com/

  Artwork by Viviana Izzo, Enchantress Design & Promo

  http://www.enchantressdesignandpromo.com

  The Vampire King,

  The Kings, Book One

  Evie’s fingers and toes felt cold. Not numb, but cold.

  “Werewolf blood,” Roman said, not taking his intense gaze from Evie.

  “This is a different wound, Roman,” said Lalura. “You know it.” She came forward again, closing the distance between them so that she stood beside Evie, who lay on the ground, her upper body cradled on Roman’s kneeling form. “Ward knew he was dying and decided to take her with him. He did not mean for her to survive.”

  Roman was trembling. She could feel it where he held her so tenderly. But as she stared up at him, something hard crossed his features and he asked, “Evie, can you sit up?”

  Evie thought about it. She felt strangely weak. Growing colder by the second. But she couldn't tell why. Nothing in particular hurt except her wrists, where Ward’s fangs had torn cruel gashes in her flesh.

  She nodded. For him, she could sit up.

  “What are you doing?” came a third voice. It was a man’s voice.

  David Cade, Evie thought. She was so good, remembering all these names.

  Roman didn’t answer as he helped Evie sit up. His hands on her were strong, but gentle, and his touch warmed her where he made contact.

  “He’s going to turn her,” came yet another voice.

  Evie turned to take in her surroundings. They were in the living room of what she could only guess was another of Roman’s safe houses. There were several people there. David, she recognized. And Jaxon. There were two other men there as well, both incredibly handsome and obviously vampires.

  There were three other women. One was Lalura. One was a young redheaded girl who looked to be in her early twenties. The third was a gorgeous dark-haired woman with piercing green eyes. They were both clearly vampires as well; Evie was getting used to identifying them. The dark haired woman was the one who had spoken.

  They were all watching her in stark silence, their expressions as intense as Roman’s.

  Evie blinked. Wait.

  What had the dark-haired woman said?

  “It’s the only way, Evie,” said Roman softly. His voice, so deep and melodic, acted as a salve on Evie’s nerves. “I know that Ward told you what to say.” He gently cupped her face in his warm, tender hands, and brushed his thumb across her lips, sending rivulets of pleasure across Evie’s skin. “Say those words for me now.”

  She gazed at him, not comprehending. Everything felt fuzzy and disjointed. She felt light – too light.

  “Please, Evie,” Roman repeated, his hands shaking where he held her. “You don’t have much time. Say the words.” He closed his eyes and appeared to be fighting with something unseen when he said, “Say them, Evie. Addo Nox Noctis.”

  The words, she thought. The words. She knew them now. She remembered what Ward had told her.

  And as she remembered what Ward had told her, she realized what was happening.

  “Ward’s spell damaged you where nothing else can reach, Evie,” said Lalura, her ancient voice nearly as charismatic in its own way as Roman’s was. “He injured your soul, child. Nothing will save you now but this.”

  If she says it, then it’s true, thought Evie. Somehow, she simply knew that. If anyone knew anything at all about the way the world worked, it was Lalura Chantelle.

  Evie opened her mouth and licked her lips. “Addo…” she said – and Roman went stiff beside her. His eyes flew open, their deep, deep darkness shimmering like stars on the verge of going supernova. The room had grown silent and still around her. The other vampires in the room waited; she could sense them holding their collective breaths.

  If I say this, I will become like him, she told herself.

  “Nox…” she whispered. Behind Roman, the other vampires began to move forward. Roman’s eyes widened and she caught the hint of fang behind his lips.

  If I don’t, I will die.

  “Noctis.”

  “Restrain him!” Cade gave the command, turning to the men who had been waiting behind Roman. They responded at once, readily obeying the command to blur into vampire movement. Roman suddenly had more than four pairs of hands on him, some securing his arms, some wrapped tightly around his broad chest.

  Evie was confused, and that confusion fed into a dawning fear, but the black-haired woman was beside her, kneeling so they were on eye level. “You have to feed from him, Evie,” she told her quickly. “You’ve said the words – now you need to finish the spell and make the transition as soon as possible.”

  With vampire strength, the woman reached under Evie’s arms and lifted her up until Evie could feel her knees beneath her. She braced herself, trying to steady her body. She was on eye level with Roman.

  Never in her wildest writer’s dreams could she have imagined eyes that looked like his. They had gone supernova. Now they pulsed with hellish light at every heartbeat. Those eyes ripped through her, their heat almost burning her physically. They could see into her again, into her mind – even into her soul. She knew because she could feel him there.

  A dot of red caught Evie’s attention. There at the base of Roman’s neck, a small gash had been ripped. Blood welled at the opening, crimson and precious. It hadn’t been there a second before, and Evie instinctively knew that her spoken words had opened it.

  She trembled violently.

  “Drink now,” Cade instructed, glancing at his fellow vampires as if to tell them to hold their king with everything they had. Evie could see Roman’s corded muscles straining against the grips of his subjects.

  She could also feel the magic her words had released. It pulsed in the air around her as if it waited impatiently for Evie to finish what she’d started.

  “Do it now, Evie,” said the black-haired woman.

  Evie gently placed her hands against Roman’s chest, the muscles tensed there beneath the black material of his shirt. The wound her words had opened in his throat waited, small and red and promising. With strength that could only have from her will to live, Evie leaned in – and placed her lips over the tiny gash.

  Roman bucked against her. She could sense the other vampires holding him were communicating with one another. She could almost hear it, like she was already one of their kind. They tightened their holds on him, straining with the effort of keeping him in place. Evie could feel every one of his muscles beneath her fingertips, absolutely taut with barely contained power.

  Tentatively, she brushed her tongue against the bleeding gash. A low growl emitted from deep within him. He tasted like a heady, potent, and salty wine. It burned across Evie’s tongue and numbed her throat as it slid down. It felt good. Very good.

  At once, she closed her lips tightly over the wound and drew in more of his blood. As she swallowed, the misery riding her body ebbed away. The blood she lost was replaced, the wounds in her wrists stopped aching, and the fuzziness that had been sitting over her lifted.

  In its place remained a kind of peace. It was like drinking liquid bliss; it erased the agony, the uncertainty, and the torment and replaced it with soul-deep contentment. There was no greater pleasure than the cessation of pain, and this right here, right now, was the cessation of every kind of pain Evie had ever known. There was no more resentment at having lived
a normal life in the midst of supernatural she had never known were there. There was no more panic or anxiety. It was all gone – all of it.

  She continued to drink from the Vampire King, and every time she pulled and swallowed the magic liquid in his veins, Roman fought harder against the hold his men had on him.

  What is wrong with him? Evie’s sudden apprehension felt like a spear of hard, sharp light in a sea of warm, tranquil darkness. Her question was more to herself than anyone else, but it went out on a mental link that she hadn’t even known she’d formed.

  His blood is healing you, Cade answered, also mentally.

  Evie’s eyes widened. She’d just communicated telepathically with someone. She could actually hear the others now! Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to stop drinking. Not just yet.

  “When you drink from him, it is an act that fills him with a dangerous desire, Evie,” said the woman beside her. “If we don’t contain him, he will take you all the way to your last drop before you are strong enough to heal yourself when he’s finished.”

  Evie could feel something happening inside. It was almost unnerving, but not quite, because there was no uncertainty and no fear attached to this change.

  Somewhere in the outside world, lightning split the Oregon sky and thunder rolled through the safe house. The surge of magic being taken from the king’s veins and infused into Evie’s was so powerful, she was sure it was a liquid aphrodisiac. The heat that had warmed her tongue and throat spread through her chest and slipped lower, warming her belly first and then the space between her legs.

  She moaned against Roman’s throat, the sound involuntary and soft. In response, Roman lowered his head to her neck and Evie could feel his hot breath against her skin as his lips parted.

  “Hold him!” the dark-haired woman shouted. “She’s not ready! He’ll kill her!”

  “Forgive me, my liege.” David Cade grabbed a fist full of Roman’s thick black hair and, just as Evie felt Roman’s fangs graze the skin on her neck, the other vampire yanked the king’s head back hard.

  Roman roared in outrage. The sound echoed off of the walls with more force than the thunder. The lights overhead flickered. Tiny pieces of plaster and dried paint crumbled to the floor. Waves of his power rippled out in anger, abrading everything in the room, including the men who were holding him. They gritted their teeth in pain, their own fangs showing, their eyes beginning to glow. But they held on.

  Evie could feel them all struggling behind Roman, and she experienced a hiccup of fear that she wouldn’t make the change in time. They wouldn’t be able to hold Roman for much longer.

  But then, with a slowly mounting certainty, she felt it.

  There it was, clicking into place, as if it had heard her silent plea and answered her just in time.

  It was like realizing every dream she had ever had. It felt like every story she’d ever written was coming true. With a sense of bewilderment that left her fingers and toes tingling, Evie slowly stopped drinking and pulled away. Then she dropped her hands from his chest and straightened.

  The Vampire King in all of his broad-shouldered beauty was shaking in his men’s grasps. Evie could feel his power more tangibly now, as if it were a living, breathing entity. Where it grazed everything else in the room with unspent wrath, it wrapped around Evie possessively as if it didn’t want her to pull away.

  But she had power of her own now. She felt it building around her as surely as Roman’s did around him. And that inherent magical strength allowed her to put enough space between her and the king that David was able to let go of his head.

  Roman’s gaze dropped to Evie’s. It lingered there, red and burning. The men holding Roman released him all at once and took a simultaneous step back. The Vampire King didn’t move at first; the room had fallen into silence. But his power still whipped out around him, and where it touched her own, it sent shivers of anticipation through Evie.

  In a blur of impossible movement, Roman came forward. She felt his arms slide around her, but it was only one sensation among many. Everything happened at once. He spoke a word of magic, but it sounded in his mind, and because she could hear those thoughts now too, it sounded in hers as well.

  It was a single-word transportation spell. The transport took hold, the room melted, time warped, and the other vampires that had been around them were gone.

  The world pulsed outward, receded quickly, and solidified once more. Evie inhaled and looked around. They were alone in Roman’s secret cavern, kneeling in a patch of thick grass and clover on one of the islands. The waterfall on one side of the cave filled the magical space with a static, peaceful sound. The tributaries of river babbled like brooks, and the trees on the individual islands swayed ever so slightly in some unfelt breeze. Smoke curled from the cottage several islands away, and Evie could smell fresh baked cookies.

  Roman looked down at her now through eyes that pulsed between red and black.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, his beautiful voice gruff with lust and unspent power.

  Evie felt fantastic. Nothing hurt, there was no weariness, no anger. There was only the feeling of life – immortal and strong. It was his blood pumping through her veins.

  “I feel good,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.

  “Glad to hear it,” he told her, his lips spreading into a grin so devious, so darkly determined, it was cruel. Beautiful, and absolutely cruel.

  And then he was on her, taking them both to the ground. Despite the fact that she carried Roman’s blood, she barely saw him coming. His body blurred before her, his hands grasped her firmly but tenderly, and before she could blink, she was on her back and he was straddling her in the thick grass and clover.

  She inhaled a sharp gasp and stared up at him through wide eyes. He loomed over her, his black button-up shirt open at the collar, his fangs bared. His muscles pressed threateningly, promisingly, against the tight material of his clothing, and his ultra-black hair curled in damp locks against his forehead and cheeks. He was breathtaking. Something out of a wet supernatural dream.

  Did you enjoy the way I tasted? he asked, smiling as he whispered the question into her mind. One of his strong hands expertly captured both of her slender wrists and pinned them to the clover above her head. She thought about fighting him just for fun, but abstained. He was the Vampire King. He’d lived three thousand years; he had a good two thousand, nine hundred and seventy on her. No matter how strong she’d just become from his infusion, he would win. And for once, it was fun to just give in.

  You’re delicious, she told him, taunting him with a lascivious smile.

  He chuckled above her, the sound sending tempting vibrations through her body from their point of contact at her hips.

  Then you’ll understand why I have to do this.

  The words had barely registered in her mind before he was turning her head to one side with his free hand and she was crying out as he sank his fangs into her throat.

  The sensation was mind-blowing. It was everything Evie had ever imagined, written about, and dreamed of. And it was more.

  The tips of Roman’s fangs were razor-sharp. They slid into her throat with expert purpose, straight and fast, and lodged so deep within her that Evie felt well possessed. She was being owned in that moment, taken by a man who had ruled a supernatural kingdom for three thousand years. He was a man so indomitable, he occupied the fantasies of millions of women around the globe. And of all those women, he had chosen her.

  There’s no turning back, my love, Roman’s words poured through Evie’s mind, igniting the fire that erupted into an infernal blaze as he pulled for the first time and swallowed against her throat.

  Oh God…. There was a deliriousness that was not a thought, not a word, but a sensation of such chaotic magnitude, Evie felt like she was flying and falling at once. She moaned as moisture gathered between her legs and her nipples hardened almost painfully.

  Addo Nox Noctis… my queen.

  He pulled
and swallowed again, his body pressing down upon hers, his hardness the perfect match for her yielding, burning form. The heat within her intensified, swirling and pooling between her legs. Her back arched, and Roman’s grip on her wrists tightened.

  Again, the king took of her, drawing and swallowing her blood with languid determination that was becoming like a gradual torture. Each second brought more of Evie’s nerve endings to life, each pull against the giving veins in her body driving her ever closer to some kind of perfect insanity.

  No more…. The notion floated through her mind, released in desperation. I can’t take any more, she thought. He was eating her alive, his power licking at her skin, his lips caressing her throat, his vampirism taking the blood from her very soul as if he would never, ever get enough.

  Laughter rolled through her mind, imminently cruel. It was Roman’s laughter, devoid of mercy, devoid of restraint. The sound mocked her, tempted her, and teased her as if to say, “You can take so much more than this, and take it you will.” He was going to take her to the brink of death and bring her back again. He was going to take her very last drop.

  As he purloined another swallow of her blood and the ache in her body became unbearable, a noise that was half frustrated growl, half need-filled scream bubbled up in her throat, threatening to break free. “Roman!” she cried, not even knowing why she was saying his name or what she was asking him for.

  It didn’t matter though, because whatever her need was, his must have been ten-fold. He answered her cry with a growl of his own, pulling his fangs from her throat to rise above her. She hated to have them removed from her; the feeling was like being torn away from pleasure itself.

  I can fix that, he told her, not bothering to say it aloud. They were connected now, deep down where it counted.

  What he did speak out loud was a magic word. There was a flash of light, a brush of warm wind across Evie’s body, and when it passed, her skin prickled at the feeling of fresh air against her nakedness.

  She looked down, but whatever magic Roman had used to remove her of her clothing had taken his clothes as well – and that was where her gaze stopped. All coherent thought fled her mind. Her lips parted, her breath hitched, and her eyes decided to do what they wanted, trailing across the ridges and slopes of what she was certain was the most perfect body ever formed. The sight of him before her filled her with unbearable yearning. And it was more than clear he needed her just as unbearably.