The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance

by Trisha Telep

  A thing like her? What, was she a television? Or a laptop?

  Nikolai sighed. He had no idea what he was doing, with her or with himself. She made him feel . . .

  Feel? Was that it? He hadn’t really felt much of anything more than indifference for such a long time. His life was composed of endurance, duty, hatred and occasional envy (but that was brief, and usually only directed towards his own kind).

  And his kind didn’t associate with her kind.

  She was food. More than that, she was mortal and still had her immortal soul. She wasn’t just sustenance. She was an enemy. The worst kind, as she was clearly undeclared territory in the War Between The Sides.

  She was undeclared and unclaimed, and he wanted her.

  Some of his kind took brides, and he was both old enough and high enough in rank to be afforded that privilege. He just never thought he would wish to take it. However, once the idea had occurred to him, he wanted it more than anything. Not ‘it’ more than anything, but her, as his bride, more than anything.

  But she hadn’t been selected. And that would prove a problem.

  “Excuse me a moment, miss,” a cultured voice came from behind Nilolai. “May I borrow Nikolai for a moment? Please, if you could wait in the café just there. A double mocha sounds particularly good at the moment, does it not?”

  Katrina just nodded, barely questioning the suggestion in her mind.

  Nikolai growled through gritted fangs.

  “Now, now, Nikolai. Not in front of the mortals.”

  “What do you want, Betrayer?” Nikolai asked as low and as dark as he could manage, given that he was held captive not only by the hand on the back of his neck, but by a power far greater than his own. Far, far greater.

  “Such ill manners,” came the reply. “Still the Destrati haven’t moved out of the Dark Ages.”

  Nikolai was released, and allowed to face Kail.

  The taller man in the dark suit held Nikolai’s piercing blue eyes with his own pale sea-green ones. Kail’s long, chestnut ponytail hung casually down his back, secured with a black strip of leather.

  “Kail,” Nikolai said warningly.

  “It’s Kyle now, actually,” the older presence said with a smile. “I’d formally, and politely, introduce myself, but you already seem to know me. As I already know you. And I must say, Destrati, you were far too easy to sense.”

  Kyle looked toward the café and back to Nikolai, his point made clearly.

  Nikolai looked away scowling. “It is none of your business,” Nikolai said grudgingly.

  He looked back at Kyle. “And as Destrati I should kill you where you stand.”

  Kyle laughed richly. “Don’t think I don’t know your reason for being in London, or that I an unaware of exactly how long you’ve been here searching,” said Kyle, very amused. “I abhor destroying anyone when there are other ways of settling things. Besides what would pretty Katrina say if I destroyed you and left her alone? I believe the term these days for a woman who is deserted by a man while on a date is ‘stood up’. She would wonder for the rest of her short, mortal life where you’d disappeared to and what she had done to cause you to leave. For she would blame herself, you know. It would quite probably scar that pretty little soul of hers deeply. Such attachment in so little a time. Dare I speak the forbidden? Could she be your –” Kyle stepped easily out of the way of Nikolai’s lunge “– mate?”

  He continued speaking as though nothing had happened. “It is rather too bad that your soul has already been–” Kyle dodged another lunge, again without effort “–traded for immortality, isn’t it?”

  “Nikolai? Are you coming?”

  Katrina’s voice broke into Nikolai’s thoughts and immediately soothed him. He made to round on Kyle again, but the other vampire seemed to have vanished.

  Oh, but he was still near. Nikolai was sure of it. But Katrina was waiting for him. How strange that felt. To have someone care where he was and if he was coming to join them.

  Nikolai knew Kail/Kyle lived in London. It was why Nikolai was here. He’d been here for months, trying to find the Betrayer and bring him before the Council for justice.

  The vampires – these lost souls – lived in virtual peace. Not, however, with each other.

  Each vampire clan had their own Council and their own code.

  Kyle was an outcast among them all.

  To bring the Betrayer to justice would put him as second to the leader of the Destrati – not the largest of the vampire clans, but the most powerful. The Sovereign’s second had been killed in a duel a century ago by a rival and Sarina now sat at Dominic’s left hand.

  It was rumoured that they were lovers, but Sarina had won the rank in a fair fight.

  There was no way for anyone to ascend to her position without challenging her. And Sarina, both as second and the ranking female of the clan, would select his bride, when Nikolai announced he was ready to take one.

  Brides were culled from a select group of mortal women who were suited for the burden of being soulless and immortal. Docile, doe-eyed, beautiful and worshipful women who would remain so throughout eternity, and who would never question their place or their purpose.

  Katrina wasn’t one of those. Beautiful, yes, but not Sarina’s idea of beautiful. All Sarina’s selections were the same. What did he do if he wanted to choose his own bride?

  Meet me at the County Hall at midnight and I will tell you what to do.

  Kyle’s voice spoke in his mind, almost halting Nikolai as he entered the café where Katrina stood waiting with two mugs of a brown beverage with a white frothy top.

  Oh, God a human drink. A vile human drink at that. And she wondered why he didn’t date.

  Nikolai dared a silent reply to Kyle.

  But before he asked the question, the reply was there.

  Of course you can bring her. In fact, it’s a good idea she doesn’t leave your side until then.

  Nikolai was mystified and, for some reason afraid for himself. He hadn’t been frightened in a very long time. He was immortal. Why should he be afraid of anything?

  Then he realized he wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for her. He was afraid of losing her.

  Isn’t that being afraid for yourself? Kyle’s voice asked in his mind.

  Go away, Betrayer! Nikolai bit back silently. I am on a date!

  Kyle’s laughter was faint in his mind, but it was there.

  Wait! Nikolai found himself shouting telepathically. She is offering me a mortal drink! What do I do?

  Figure it out, Destrati. Kyle’s voice was barely an amused whisper, but Nikolai got the point.

  He was on his own. He sat down on the barstool and contemplated the drink for a long moment.

  “You know, I am not really in the mood for coffee,” Nikolai said, setting his mug back on the counter.

  “Nor am I,” Katrina said, looking confusedly at her own drink before she set it beside Nikolai’s. “I don’t even drink coffee. I don’t know why I thought to come in and order them.”

  “Where are you staying?” Nikolai asked.

  Katrina eyed him. “You move fast,” she said wryly.

  If he’d been a true human, his cheeks would have flushed at her insinuation. “I . . . I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

  Katrina smiled and brought a hand to his cheek in comfort. He looked so hurt, so suddenly crestfallen. His skin was soft and cool beneath her hand.

  Her touch. How long had it been, since anyone, mortal or otherwise, had touched him for the sole reason of touching him? Oh, there were always willing women (willing men too, to be honest, if one’s tastes ran to such, which Nikolai’s didn’t). But this was different. This touch was freely given.

  Free will.

  He closed his eyes, remembering what it was to have free will. Free will came from the soul.

  He didn’t even feel her move between his loosely parted knees, it was so effortless. His arms went around her waist as though he had held her ever
y day of his existence.

  Katrina’s hands cupped his face and slid into his hair. He tilted his chin up, enjoying her touch. Then she kissed him, sweet, hesitant and entirely chaste.

  “Is this a parting?” he asked, opening his eyes to look at her when she broke the kiss almost as quickly as she’d begun it.

  She nodded, unable to explain. She was with Dan and not about to go to some hot stranger’s place for a one-night stand. This guy had ‘player’ written all over him and she’d almost gone for it. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, that’s what. One did the craziest things on vacation.

  “I’m not,” he said suddenly.

  Her brow furrowed. “Not what?” she asked.

  “A ‘player’, he replied.

  “I didn’t say that,” she protested immediately.

  “You thought it,” he said.

  “And you’re a mind-reader?” She pulled away from him.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did you bother asking me where I was staying?” she asked, patronizingly.

  He just looked at her. What kind of conversation was this?

  “I was being polite,” he offered, almost hesitantly, as though he didn’t know if that were the answer she wanted, but the only way he knew to answer her.

  She rolled her eyes at him and made to leave.

  He caught her hand. “Please,” he found himself saying. “Don’t go.”

  She turned back to look at him, her eyes unsure and hurt.

  Why was she upset? Was his truthfulness thought dishonest? Was she afraid of him?

  “It’s not like that, Katrina Francesca,” he said softly. “You asked how I knew. Do you want me to lie to you, like you think I’m doing anyway?”

  Her eyes widened. How did he –

  “ – know your middle name?” he finished for her.

  Instead of waiting for her answer, he stood and looked down at her. He brought her hand to his chest and pressed it over his heart and gathered her close to him while he closed his eyes and murmured softly for a long moment.

  She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Everything was so foggy and she was suddenly cold. When she took in the sight before her, she gasped and took a step back from the railing she found herself pressed against.

  It was Paris by night. They were on the topmost viewing platform of the Eiffel Tower.

  “Hotel!” she gasped insensibly. “The Tower Hotel!”

  “Forgive me,” Nikolai said, though his tone held no contrition. “My apologies. All I heard was ‘tower’, and that’s where you wanted to be. You have a fondness for France.”

  She barely had time to take another breath before they were back in London, in the dark shade of a pillar outside her hotel.

  Nikolai’s hands rubbed her upper arms slowly. “Breathe,” he encouraged softly.

  “That did not just happen,” she managed through her shivers, trying in vain to control her violent shaking. “I drank too much, or I slipped down those God-awful stairs at that horrid bar or it’s all a dream. You’re certainly proof of that . . .”

  “Oh? Now why would you think that?” he asked.

  “Well, just look at you,” she said, stepping away from him a couple of paces. “And look at me. You’re handsome, gorgeous. And I’m –”

  “Beautiful,” he interrupted with a smile. “That is what you were going to say, was it not?”

  Katrina blushed. It wasn’t, but he knew that. Didn’t he?

  “Yes, I knew that,” he replied aloud. Nikolai’s eyes went to the door of the hotel. “You will stay here tonight? With him?” he asked.

  Katrina nodded mutely, still stunned. Then she shook her head, negating what she had just automatically confirmed.

  “So you do know, and acknowledge,” he said quietly as he slid a possessive arm around her waist, feeling something warm him from within.

  “I don’t believe in vampires,” she said stupidly.

  “Truth does not require belief,” Nikolai replied, quoting an oft-repeated ethereal adage.

  “You have –” she could hardly bring herself to use the word “– fangs.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you drink blood? Live off it? Need it to continue to live, or whatever?”

  “There’s more to it, but yes.”

  “Show me.”

  Nikolai was taken aback at her demand. “Here?” he asked, completely flustered.

  “Well, where were you planning on doing so?” she asked. “What were you doing in that bar, anyway? Go there often? Is this a nightly thing for you?”

  “I came for you,” he replied, scowling. “I thought . . . I felt . . .”

  “Oh, come now, don’t fight, children,” Kyle’s voice came from the shadows. His eyes pierced Nikolai’s. “Destrati. What have you done to enrage your family? Come. Quickly now.”

  Kyle barely glanced at them and suddenly they were both inside a large dark room. Oil lamps burned to illuminate it, casting long shadows on the elegant antique bed.

  Nikolai was again in awe. Such effortlessness. Kyle displayed his power with such a natural ease. Nikolai had known he was formidable, but Kyle hadn’t even needed to touch either of hem to shift both him and Katrina at the same time. Kyle had also accompanied them without even a hint of the effort it always took Nikolai (and Nikolai was considered one of the best at manifestation). Such grace. He could rule . . .

  “Do not even think it, Destrati.”

  Kyle’s voice had gone flat and cold. Forbidding. Then he smiled at Katrina.

  “Welcome, lady,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “Please forgive all this confusion. The Destrati are ill-mannered Nikolai will explain, I’m sure. Do so, won’t you, Nikolai, while I see about your kinsmen that follow.”

  Kyle was gone before Nikolai could reply.

  Katrina just looked at Nikolai, unsure of where she was.

  Words would not come. The only way he could think to explain was with actions.

  One hand slid to the back of her neck while the other pulled her closer to him by the waist. His thumb pressed gently into the side of her neck and, when it moved almost of it’s own accord beneath his touch, he bent his head and kissed her throat.

  Katrina shivered as her eyes slid shut.

  Nikolai kissed her sensitive flesh once more before parting her lips with his tongue. He savoured the taste of her, enjoying her trembling.

  Enjoyment. That too, had long been absent from his existence. He’d smiled more tonight than he had in a very long while, and another graced his lips before he found the pulse at her throat with his lips.

  Katrina didn’t even feel the bite. She knew he bit her though, and that he was drinking her blood, just like in a horror film. Why it didn’t disgust her she could not fathom. Instead of revulsion, she felt a deep sense of . . . pride. She was able to provide him with something he needed. She felt wanted and beautiful, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She never wanted this feeling to end.

  She buried her hands in his hair and held him closer, arching her back into his touch. She was beginning to feel weak and dizzy, but she didn’t care.

  “I care,” he murmured against the delicate flesh of her neck. “I care so much, Katrina Francesca. You know that, don’t you? Tell me you know. Tell me you feel it.”

  She couldn’t think how to answer him. Thought itself seemed entirely too much effort. For the first time in her life, Katrina was allowing something to just . . . happen.

  And, oh God, did it feel amazing. Everything. Anything. Anything he wanted, as long as it was just like this.

  “You have to tell me,” he urged softly. “You have to say it. Give me permission.”

  Oh, God. Permission? Was he kidding? Oh, that was inexplicably hot somehow. Knowing he wouldn’t – couldn’t – take this further without her permission.

  Coherence returned somewhat. Her body was ablaze with a wanting she’d never known before, not with anyone. She pulled back a little. She just had t
o look at him.

  Tormented anguish was all she saw etched upon his gorgeous face. A tiny drop of red glistened at the corner of his mouth. Her hand moved to cup his cheek automatically. She brushed the drop of her blood away with the pad of her thumb and met his eyes.

  His arms tightened around her waist. Would she turn from him in horror? When he wanted her so badly?

  She put one hand to her throat. She touched her neck gingerly and then brought her fingertips near the candlelight. They, too glistened with blood.

  She looked back at him. Her hand returned to stroke his face and he closed his eyes to shudder beneath her touch. He kissed her fingers as she brought them to his lips, taking the stain of blood from them contritely. Then he leaned down again and kissed the healing wound he’d made.

  It was permission enough.

  His hands found the bottom of her shirt and slid beneath it.

  She closed her eyes as his hands caressed her skin. She’d sated his hunger, she knew. Now it was time to satisfy him.

  “I care.”

  Nikolai’s tone was dark and defiant as he faced Kyle in the latter’s very formal dining room.

  “That’s all well and good, Destrati, but do you think that will in any way, shape or form move Dominic and Sarina?” Kyle swirled red liquid around in a crystal wine glass he held between his middle and fourth finger.

  “My name is Nikolai,” the younger ethereal stated with a scowl.

  “Is it?” Kyle mocked him. “You’ve been a Destrati for so long you don’t even remember your own surname. Now you’ve found something worth turning on your own family for and suddenly the name offends you?”

  “The way you say it offends me,” Nikolai replied, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom where Katrina lay sleeping.

  “’Recovering’, more like,” Kyle corrected, taking a sip of his drink. “Did you do as I instructed?”

  “You know I did,” Nikolai nearly spat in disgust. “Why do you ask what you already know?”

  “Courtesy,” Kyle replied, before draining his glass and setting it upon the mantelpiece above the fire he’d been absently watching. “Unlike you, Destrati, I have manners.”