Bitten Surrender

by Rebecca Royce

Jenci held the talisman he wore around his neck, hidden most of the time. “The necklace and the book don’t make mistakes. Your bride was born twenty-seven years ago. Given to you to ease the burden you’ve carried for so long. The witch’s last. I’m sorry for what she forced upon all of you.”

  “If she wanted to apologize, she might have found a better way.”

  He stomped toward the doorway, and Jenci lifted his wrist. Although he hated the need, his friend was not incorrect with his assumption of hunger. Hanzi did need to feed. Letting his fangs extend, he bit into Jenci’s wrist, letting the flow of blood satisfy the craving always inside of him.

  Unlike most humans, Jenci did not swoon when fed upon. He continued to speak. “A few things.”

  Hanzi raised his eyebrows. Speaking during feedings happened so rarely, he never knew exactly what to do. Did his friend actually expect him to pull his mouth off his wrist and answer?

  “I’ve called myself Jerome for the last twenty years, so stick with it unless you want initial confusion.”

  They forever had to alter names, places, and histories. Hanzi grumbled internally. Surely at the castle they remained who they were. His bride would have to adjust. He pulled off, then wiped a remnant of the blood from his mouth while Jerome pressed a handkerchief to his wrist.

  “And you’re going to want to speak in English.” Jerome altered his own language as he continued to speak. “It’s her native tongue.”

  “Am I to sound British then?”

  The words rolled off without trouble. In two thousand years, he’d been lucky to have a natural gift for languages. Some of his other brothers hadn’t been so lucky. They still stumbled over dialects and sounded foreign no matter language they spoke. Hanzi had learned how to blend. He walked all the way inside. Maybe he’d look in on the lady while she slept. Although the whole idea of being forced to take a bride irked him, he had to admit he was curious to know her appearance.

  “American.”

  He froze. “Are you serious?”

  “And all the free spirit and independence which comes along with being from the new world. Although if you’ve spent any time with British girls lately, you’ll know they’re not exactly docile themselves. In our new modern era, the women do as the wish.”

  Hanzi heard the unreleased laughter in Jerome’s voice. “What are you not telling me?”

  “She’s not here. About three hours ago, she insisted on visiting a pub. I had the car take her. They reported she didn’t remain at the pub, and our spotter has since then lost her, although he thinks she headed to the bonfire. So, if you wish to find your bride before the sun comes up, I’d suggest getting a move on. Unless you’re satisfied none of the vampires out there in the town are going to want her for their own.”

  Hanzi’s fangs elongated, and it was everything he could do to not turn completely into his vampire form. He had not wanted her. Not even a little. However, since he was here to claim her, he’d be damned if he let some other creature put his hands on what was his alone.

  “Her name is Adrienne, and I really don’t think she’s a virgin, my brother. Fate went and gave you a modern girl. I for one couldn’t be more pleased.”

  “Who gives a shit who’s she slept with before? If she’s mine, she’s not taking anyone else. Screw you and your laughter.”

  Hanzi growled and plowed outside. He would find Adrienne. He had tracked harder prey. Some girls made the mistake of running. They were always found. She couldn’t have gotten far. By morning she’d be back here, safe, where he might better handle the bride situation the way the others of his kind managed the experience.

  Hanzi would be damned if some American vampire bride led him around by the balls. She would soon learn the rules of their relationship.

  ****

  The bonfire blazed, and a mixed group of vampires and humans danced unabashedly. The undead among them at least knew what they celebrated. It was a mating day. Most of the humans probably thought it an excuse to become drunk. Some of them had obviously overindulged. The smell of vomit hung rank in the air.

  His fangs burned in his gums. It was a good thing Jerome had fed him before giving him the news that Adrienne had been partying; otherwise Hanzi might give in to the need to feed off every available human standing between him and his goal. He had yet to lay eyes on his female. Although how he would know her remained a questions since he had neglected to ask for a physical description before he stormed off.

  He couldn’t very well walk the crowd asking if anyone had seen an Adrienne who wasn’t a virgin who was supposed to be waiting for him in the castle. Doing so would draw unnecessary attention. There were days he missed being worshiped as a lord with none to tell him what he couldn’t do. Of course, he didn’t miss the plague, which accompanied those times.

  It was better to have his food supply not dropping, ironically, like flies.

  A woman caught his attention. She swayed to some music he couldn’t hear. If bands had been playing earlier, they’d long since gone home. The female was a tiny thing; he’d put her at no taller than five foot five inches. His brain automatically transferred the figures out of the metric system; he would need to adjust certain things to what his American bride was accustomed to.

  The woman’s hair was brown with red streaks highlighting it. Although the color red in her hair would never be found in nature. It was neon, and it lit the night as much as the blazing fire did. Her features were strained, and, with her head thrown back toward the moon, her movements seemed as much a prayer to the sky goddess as anything else. She was dressed too coolly for the early morning hours. A black t-shirt over a pair of jeans covered only by a flimsy sweater couldn’t be offering enough warmth to her body.

  He approached slowly, watching her. She twirled in a circle, and the closer he got the more he smelled the alcohol wafting off her. The woman was drunk. Her lids opened at his approach, revealing eyes of blue, a deep shade reminiscent of the Pacific. It had been too long since he gazed upon the great ocean. Looking upon her, he longed to take her with him—visit some place where he could see the water every day. From the safety of his hotel room, of course, since he’d never again put his feet in the ocean during the day—unless he wanted to be scorched in the process.

  “Hello there. You’re a vampire.”

  He jolted at her loud announcement. While most everyone here would know the truth, some were still unaware. His kind preferred secrecy—a rarity as of the few things they agreed on.

  Hanzi stroked the side of her face. “Shh.”

  She whacked away his hand. “Don’t shh me. I’ll say whatever I want. I’m here to die against my will.”

  “Who would dare force you to do anything against your will? I’ll have him executed.”

  Was her fear the reason she had gotten so intoxicated? Was someone here threatening to harm the little creature in front of him?

  “Oh, you know all about it.” She poked at his shoulder. “All of you vampires do.”

  He winced again at the use of the V word.

  She continued. “I had to come here. Apparently it’s my destiny to mate and marry some guy of your royal kind, and then the son of a bitch is going to kill me. I’m going to become undead—the same as my aunt who we never saw again. I don’t believe it. I think he’s going to kill me. I’m here for him to feed upon and kill.”

  A ridiculous notion, of course; the vampire brides were not fed on and discarded as trash. Was it possible someone in addition to his bride had escaped tonight? He found it unlikely. Jerome would have known, would have told Hanzi. Was the woman before him the one he had come to find? Was their destiny what had drawn him to her? As he asked the question, he prayed hopefully to any deity who might be listening that he was correct. If the woman belonged to someone else, he would have to fight him for her. Not to mention how awkward it would be to be fighting for a woman when another female had already been chosen for him.

  “What is your name, kincsem?” He dropped the endear
ment without thinking. The good news was he didn’t believe she spoke Hungarian, and wouldn’t know what he had said. She might not like the word lamb to describe herself.

  “Adrienne Mitchell.” She poked him in the shoulder. “What’s your name? I’m thinking of taking a lover tonight. You’d be great for it. Maybe my royal vampire will come, see me with you, and decide to leave me the fuck alone.”

  He knew he should identify himself, let her know he was the vampire she wanted to flee. And yet she fascinated him. How would she behave when she wasn’t drunk? Would she still offer him such unabashed honesty?

  How much to tell her? Finally, when he thought of the right words, he spoke.

  “Do you think the royal vampire who is here to find you would allow me to live?” He brushed her hair away from her face. “Do you think he has lived for thousands of years by letting anyone take what is his?”

  “I don’t know what he does or does not do. I don’t care. He can go jump into a big puddle of molten hot lava.” She waved her hands in the air. “If he doesn’t find me today, he can’t claim me.”

  She had been given completely wrong information. Today was the first day of claiming, but she would be open to him for the rest of her life. Traditionally, his kind didn’t wait. Why would they when they were finally getting the witch’s so-called apology? If she ran, he would have the remainder of her life to find and mate her. There were a few instances of this occurring with previous brides, which was why Jenzi—Jerome—had arranged for all brides to meet their future vampires in the castle. It kept things simple.

  She swayed. “I think I may have drunk a little bit too much.”

  Adrienne needed to go to bed, and he had to take her home before the sun stranded him in the upstairs of some apartment he’d be forced to endure for the duration of daylight.

  “Come on. I’ll keep you safe.”

  His fated woman shook her head and nearly fell over from the effort. “I don’t know you. For the love of Pete, you might be a serial killer. Slaughtered thousands of people.”

  He caught her before she passed out. “As a matter of fact, I have. And you’re stuck with me anyway.”

  Chapter Two

  She woke to complete darkness and a mouthful of cotton. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. Somewhere in the distance, a heater hummed. Nothing of what she felt or heard told her a bit about where the hell she was.

  Adrienne didn’t particularly think of herself as being prone to panic. Waking in pitch-blackness when the last thing she remembered was chatting with a vampire hottie on the street while way too drunk constituted a reasonable cause to really freak out.

  “Hello?” She called and waited to see if anyone would respond. After a second, she concluded either no one had heard her or, if someone did they weren’t answering.

  Waving her hands around, she was at least able to ascertain she wasn’t in a coffin. Too much time contemplating vampires did weird stuff to her brain. Of course she wasn’t in a coffin. Why would she be? There were soft sheets beneath her.

  Adrienne sat up, and her head started to pound. She winced and made herself sit more slowly. Yes, aside from her panic, the hangover she was sure to have thanks to her poor decision-making in drinking her weight in vodka was going to make her sick for the rest of the day. Wherever she was, she needed water and aspirin, badly.

  She swung her feet off the side of the bed and padded out into the darkness with her hands in front of her in case she was about to take a header into a dresser or some torture device. Eventually, she did manage to find a wall.

  Somewhere in the room there had to be a door. Unless she was trapped in an exit-less room of hell. Then of course she would never get out. Oh, the places her mind invented were never good.

  She whacked her foot on something hard and fell with a thud. Seconds later, the sudden brightness blinded her. Who turned on the lights? Her eyes burned while they adjusted from seeing nothing to the dazzle of suddenly having what felt like the blaze of the sun assaulting her corneas. Eventually, she blinked the tears from her eyes.

  The generic bedroom contained a single bed made in dark green and blue sheets with a matching quilt. A brown armoire stood in the corner about two feet from the doorway and across from a closed closet door. She’d been right; no one else in the room with her. Adrienne knew exactly where she was. She had been here before, when she’d been brought to the castle to be claimed. This was her bedroom. Hottie had brought her back here after she passed out?

  Maybe all vampires were as terrified of the royals as the ones from her hometown. She still wore the clothes she’d been in the night before, so he hadn’t undressed her, which was good. Getting naked and not remembering how would be creepy.

  She stood. Vampires other than the royals were never interested in anyone other than the other vampires. He’d discarded her here to wait for her hellish destiny.

  She opened the door to the sitting room—there he was...the vamp with the dark hair and piercing gaze from last night.

  “Did you fall?”

  He stood by the window and didn’t look toward her. The glass seemed to protect him from the rays. She’d seen it before, as the rich vampires always had safety glass installed in their homes. Since all the vamps she knew were loaded, it essentially meant all vampires in existence had their homes protected.

  “I did, actually.” She rubbed at her hip. “I can’t see when its pitch black.”

  He clapped his hands and the lights in the room she’d come out of flickered on and off. “Sound makes the lights come on. You must have been too quiet.”

  “I saw some commercial once where some woman clapped her hands and the lights came on. I’ve never seen such a thing in person before.” What else to say? How embarrassing, knowing he heard her trip. “What if someone talks in their sleep? Do the lights come blaring on?”

  “I think it requires more of a bang noise.”

  He finally turned to regard her, and she had to keep her breath steady. Was it possible he looked even more attractive in the daytime? Most vampires who rose during daylight hours were pale and wan. The man in front of her gave the word beautiful a new definition. She’d never thought beauty was relevant to men.

  Men shouldn’t be so strikingly gorgeous. How were women supposed to compete? Tall, well over six feet, with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. His image would be burned into her brain forever. He’d tied his hair back behind his neck so she wasn’t certain exactly where it would fall when it was let free. His clothes were different as well. Today he had dressed casual, whereas the night before he’d been in all black. She wasn’t certain which look she preferred, dressed darkly or in his jeans and gray t-shirt.

  “Who are you?”

  Before she took another step in the room. She needed to know why he had stayed. For the past ten years, her life had been spinning out of her control. Yet, standing with a stranger’s gaze on her, she felt almost solid on the ground.

  “My name is Hanzi Black.” He waited, as if his words should have some meaning. When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “I take it you haven’t heard of me.”

  “I’m afraid not. Should I have? Are you important? A primo vampire or something?”

  He snorted, a big grin crossing his face. Wow, he was handsome.

  “No, I suppose not. Although I’m told I’m something of the bogeyman to my own kind.”

  “Or maybe you have delusions of grandeur.”

  Hanzi shook his head. “You have quite a mouth on you.”

  Oh, he had no idea.

  “Why did you bring me back here? Afraid of whoever is supposed to be claiming me?”

  The side of his mouth quirked to a slant. “He terrifies me. I never know exactly what he’s going to do next.”

  His words moved through her brain, exploding into her consciousness. Loudly.

  “So, we’re clear.” She wasn’t an idiot. “You are the vampire I’m supposed to be doing the crazy joining with?”

>   “I am he; you are correct.”

  She cleared her throat. What was she supposed to say? She’d never gotten to the actual speaking part in her imaginings of the meeting moment.

  “Is there coffee? I really need some caffeine.”

  “Coffee is poison.”

  Adrienne put her hands on her hips. “Actually there are numerous studies showing regular coffee drinking has lots of health benefits. And if it were, as you say, poison, it’s my own body to destroy as I see fit.”

  He held his hand in front of him like a police officer ordering traffic to stop. “We’ll order you some.”

  With a grace she rarely saw in men his size, and she had tons of burly guys walking through her tattoo parlor, he crossed the room. Hanzi pressed a button and then spoke in a language she didn’t understand.

  “Are two pots adequate?”

  He turned his green gaze on her, and she had to look at the floor for a second. Their meeting was not going well.

  “I need two cups. Pots are way too much.” As an afterthought, she decided to be polite. “Thanks.”

  The same foreign language as earlier, or at least she assumed it was, rolled off his tongue. Finally, he let go of the button.

  “I also ordered you something to eat.”

  Adrienne nodded. “I appreciate your consideration. Listen, let’s lay it all out there. The other women here might be fine with becoming sex slaves to vampires and then dying for their effort, but I am not interested. You seem a reasonable...person. Can’t we come to some sort of arrangement?”

  Hanzi stood very still. She wasn’t sure he breathed. “What kind of arrangement did you have in mind?”

  “Maybe I could do something for you. Find you a woman who wants to be with a vampire. Surely there must be groupies, women who know what you are and want to hook up with you before dying and being reborn.”

  The vampire walked forward so effortlessly, he practically glided. Next to her, he seemed huge. He raised his hand like he wanted to stroke her and then stopped.

  “Okay for me to touch you, kincsem?”