by Eva Brandt
He didn’t address that comment. Instead, he knelt by my side and sliced his wrist open with his claw. I went rigid as the scent of his blood invaded the air. If this was another torture technique, it might be more effective than anything Chen had tried to use.
As it turned out, Bjorn’s plan was far more straightforward. He simply offered me his wrist as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Here. Drink. I know it’s not ideal, but on such a short notice, I can’t provide you with a substitute, even something like the serum.”
I stared at his still bloody skin in disbelief. My fangs ached with the desire to feed, but I held back. “You can’t be serious. Why are you here, Bjorn? What do you want with me?”
“Oh, dear. You’re so suspicious of me. And here I thought that, for a vampire, consensual feeding is the ultimate expression of mutual trust.”
He wasn’t wrong about that, but at the same time, we didn’t know one another that well. While we had worked together in the past and most recently, to save Darius and Lucienne, he had no reason to go out of his way to help me. If anything, he of all people should’ve known this was very unwise and kept his distance from me.
What was his angle? Was it because I knew that he was a scavenger too? But if that was the case, why would he assist me? Drinking his blood would make me more resilient to Alarian interrogation techniques, but it would’ve been far more practical to kill me outright.
“I don’t know what you’ve done,” I said, “but whatever it is, I don’t blame you. That doesn’t mean I trust you.”
I half-expected Bjorn to react poorly at my hint that I knew about his true nature. He didn’t. Instead, his lips twisted into a tiny grin and he calmly replied, “I suppose you’re in your right to have that opinion. But this isn’t a joke, a trick or a torture method. It is an offer and a plea for help.”
“Help?” I repeated. “What could I possibly help you with?”
“Our shared goal, of course.” Bjorn’s smile widened, turning into a demonic smirk I’d never seen on his face before. “You see, I have a problem with the way The Pure Kingdom of Alaria has been handling the matter of Lucienne Hastings and her soulmates. I think you agree with me. So, drink and hear me out. I have a plan, something that will help us save her, Prince Darius and Guardian Whelan.”
What the fuck?
* * *
Declan
Four white, windowless walls. One door, made out of a metallic alloy that I couldn’t hope to break. One floor, and in its center, a grating that covered an ominous-looking drain. The ceiling, with one simple light bulb to provide illumination. These were the only things I’d seen since my capture, since I’d woken up in this strange room, sore and alone, but very conspicuously alive and unbound.
Honestly, it was a little insulting. A prisoner or not, I was a werewolf and a guardian. One would have thought that my captors would deem me enough of a threat to at least use chains or cuffs, like Alarians did on scavengers. There was nothing, no type of surveillance equipment, no trace that the people who’d engineered my accident had any plans for me at all. Just me, the light bulb, the grating and little else.
I leaned against the wall and flexed my fingers, wishing not for the first time that werewolves had not abandoned magic-wielding so utterly. Granted, my ancestors had only done so because the alternative would’ve been to continue eating people, but still, some earth magic would’ve come in handy right about now. The fact that I couldn’t spot my captor’s method of monitoring my activities didn’t necessarily mean that it didn’t exist at all. He could easily be using a hidden camera, sensors or even magic. Unfortunately, none of my existing abilities could offer me any hints on that. I was stuck here, with no way out, no plan of escape and no answers.
My captor had said that he was unhappy with me due to my inability to display gratitude. He’d claimed I’d questioned his existence. What in the world had that meant? And if I’d made the person in question so angry, why was I still alive?
My frustrating lack of knowledge made me get up once again. I started to pace, well aware that it made me look like a caged animal, but unable to control the impulse.
If someone was out there, watching me, he was probably getting a kick out of my behavior, but at the end of the day, who gave a shit? I had bigger problems than my captor’s opinion and mockery.
Surely there had to be a way out of this mess. Someone would eventually check up on me. I had to be alert and not panic so that when the moment finally came, I could make my escape.
It was easier said than done. When the door opened, at last, the air rushed out of the room, as if I was suddenly standing in a black hole. I went down, the shock too great for even a werewolf’s enhanced biology to endure.
By some kind of miracle, I didn’t black out, although that didn’t give me much comfort. I could only lay there, prone and immobilized, as my enemy sauntered into the cell.
The first thing I noticed was that the new arrival was not the same person who had attacked me. It didn’t make my situation any better. In fact, I might have been in more trouble than I’d originally thought. I hadn’t expected my true captor to be the same guy Lucienne had supposedly killed at the club. I hadn’t witnessed the whole episode, but I’d trusted the report I’d received on it. I really should have known better. The guy was a plague, and a very powerful one at that.
The stranger eyed me with unconcealed amusement and crouched by my side. “Don’t look so upset, Declan Whelan. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not planning to treat you the way you treated me. I can have manners when it suits me.”
Still struggling to draw air in my lungs, I croaked out a response through sheer stubbornness and spite. “Forgive me if I... If I have a little trouble believing that.”
The man laughed. “How unkind. You’re alive now, aren’t you? That should tell you enough about my intentions.”
It didn’t tell me shit. “Do you think I’m stupid? People leave their captives alive for all kinds of reasons, and most of the time, those reasons aren’t good.”
“Ah, yes, of course. My mistake. You’d know that very well since you were actively involved in a similar process throughout your time with the Alarians.”
If he was trying to make me feel guilty about my work as a guardian, he should have just saved his breath. I might have had countless doubts about my past choices and decisions, but I didn’t regret taking out scavenger scum, nor could I be bothered to feel bad that some of them had had less than pleasant ends at the hands of Bjorn and his ilk.
Could that be what this whole thing was about? Had I merely killed the wrong scavenger, and someone close to them had decided I needed to pay my dues? This man didn’t look like the person who’d incapacitated me, but that didn’t mean anything since my attacker had displayed abilities to conceal his true form. Then again, as far as I knew, plagues didn’t possess shape-shifting powers. This was all so odd.
“Is revenge what you’re after then?” I asked. “What did I ever do to you? What makes me... ungrateful?”
“Don’t worry about that now. As I said, I have no intention of killing you. I suspect someone important to both of us would get very mad if you were to perish.” He grinned as if he knew something I didn’t. “Besides, you intrigue me, and I’m bored. Living for centuries on end can get tedious. The sole werewolf guardian in the world can provide me with more entertainment than the trash I’m regularly forced to deal with.”
He leaned in closer, so much so that we were practically sharing a breath. From this distance, I could see the specks of green in his blue eyes, and for some reason, they struck me as familiar. “Play your cards right, and you might even get your revenge on the people who wronged you,” he whispered. “That’s what you want, right? To make the bastards who hurt your soulmate suffer.”
I hated the fact that he could see straight into my soul with such ease, that my hostility toward the Pures was so obvious even this man had spotted it. “What I want is for
Lucienne to be safe. No matter what I might think about the Alarians, the fact remains that they’re most likely to have her best interests at heart.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. She’s dangerous, and you know how the Pures deal with that if they’re pushed into a corner. The fact that her magic managed to affect the Alarian Vow makes her a serious threat, and while Prince Darius’s parents might not hold real love for him, he was still their heir. I can’t imagine that his decision to prioritize Lucienne over their ideals made them very happy.”
Assuming Prince Darius had been honest about his claims, this man wasn’t wrong in his assessment of the situation. But on the other hand, something struck me as very suspicious in his words. “I’m sorry... Did you say ‘was’? How do you know about the Alarian Vow anyway? And what is your interest in Lucienne? Who are you, really?”
My captor pulled away, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction. “Oh, dear. It appears I did it again. You are as perceptive as Lucienne. Well then, I might as well tell you. My name is Mathias Vandale, and I may have accidentally gotten both Prince Darius and your dearest friend Malachai in lethal danger. It’s very, very unfortunate, but in my defense, they’re not actually dead... yet. You can still save them, save everyone, as long as you work for me. It is what I want as well, you know, to help them, and to help dearest Lucienne. Considering that, I don’t think switching sides should be too problematic for you, would it?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
THE END
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Now available, free for download - the interlude/prequel to my Harem of Seasons series Winter’s Dragons. Draconic Affairs.
About the Author
Eva Brandt is a romance aficionado who likes to spice up her stories with an extra bit of something special. Dragons? Perfect. Vampires? You got it. Any other type of mythological creature you might not have heard of? Absolutely. Sexy, snarky heroines and heroes with a penchant for falling head over heels in love with them? Yes and double yes.
She also believes in a very simple motto. Be passionate about passion. Embrace temptation. Life is too short to deny yourselves the most beautiful things about it.
When she’s not weaving her latest sexy tale, she enjoys relaxing in bed with a nice mug of tea and her ebook reader. Because nothing is better than writing a book, excepting reading one.
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Also by Eva Brandt
Harem of Seasons. Winter’s Dragons
Book 1. Melting Ice
One exasperated snow queen who simply can’t find reliable help. Three dragons who really just want to claim their female. What could possibly go wrong?
Book 2. Frozen Flames
A firedrake, a wyvern and a ryū walked into the life of a snow queen and melted the ice over her heart. But what happens when their bond brings about some unexpected consequences?
Book 2.5. Draconic Affairs (free interlude)
Once upon a time, a firedrake, a ryu and a wyvern melted a snow queen’s heart and learned to love and be loved in the process. But before they were her soulmates, they were bitter rivals. What secrets does their past hold?
COMING SOON. Harem of Seasons. Spring’s Vampires
Book 3. Withered Rose
One youthful queen of eternal spring who is far more than she seems. Three vampires who run the risk of forgetting all about their important mission, just because of her smile. Things are about to get steamy in The Land of Eternal Youth.
