by Aline Hunter
She snickered and shook her head. “That sounds really…romantic.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He lifted his glass and drank an ample swig, throat constricting as he swallowed. Then he said, “One of my brothers is tight with the vampire king. I asked him about this before I traveled here. There are things you don’t know, Willow. Things I can’t tell you. But I will say this. Bridon truly believes you are the reincarnation of Aislynn McKendry—”
“He can believe whatever he wants.” She cut his words short, vocal cords rippling in anger, distorting her voice. “I’ve seen the painting that hovers over the fireplace of Norvallen Hall like a goddamned shrine. A monument to a foolish girl who made bad decisions and got an arrow through the heart as a souvenir. It’s a constant reminder of what’s at stake if I fuck up. But it’s all right, because I’m not her. I am not Aislynn McKendry.”
Nox cackled, exhibiting his renowned tendency to be an asshole. “It’s funny you should mention that. I hear you bear one hell of a resemblance.”
“Not really.” She disregarded the remark, knowing that without the magikal shade that distorted her true physical form, he would be right. “She was blonde. I’m a brunette. She was short, I’m tall.”
“She was human, and you sprout fur.” He grinned, flashing a knowing smile.
Clever Draigen. Fair enough.
She laughed without humor. “Among other things.”
“But it’s all about the face, isn’t it? And the eyes? They say the eyes are the window to the soul.”
“Fuck you, Nox,” she growled. Slamming her glass down, she rose from the stool, pulled a bill from the inner pocket, and tossed it onto the bar.
“Anytime, aor jacueraa,” he purred in Draigen tongue, bringing his glass to his smirking lips. “Happy hunting.”
She intentionally collided with his shoulder as she moved past, causing his drink to slosh across his hand and onto the wooden counter. She was eager to cross the dimensions and return home. Five of the most deadly Lycae warriors from her pack were waiting just outside, and they would tear anything and everything apart in their path.
Including a vampire king.
Chapter Two
“They have crossed. I sense them coming from the north.”
Bridon turned to the last nygromancer daemon in the realms and the most powerful of all daemon kind, Lucian Kross. His services hadn’t come cheap, but hearing those words made the pact seem more than fair. Now it was time to pay the piper, call the tune, and claim his due.
“You are certain she is with them?”
Lucian nodded. “I am.”
He turned to Ian. “Have everyone at the ready. No one is to do anything until I give the order. Warn them there will be hell to pay if she is harmed.”
Ian hiked his chin in acknowledgment and walked past the trees to the cabin nestled in the center where his men waited. A dozen of his most trusted brethren accompanied him to bring their future queen home, but the daemon before him was the proverbial ace in the hole.
Bridon slid his thin sleeve back, baring his wrist, and held it aloft. “Remember our agreement, Lucian.”
The daemon’s obsidian eyes flared silver in insult. “My oath is as binding as yours, King Walkyr.”
Bridon didn’t flinch when Lucian’s teeth cleanly scored his skin. Giving blood freely meant his unique abilities would be gifted to the nygromancer. It also meant the daemon would be able to track him at any point across the realms. His kindred thought him mad for allowing such a thing, demanding they go to war and retrieve his Fated from Norvallen Hall by force. However, the daemon had vowed he would never use Bridon’s freely given blood as a means to harm him or any of his, seeming desperate to collect the ability Bridon was endowed with.
Lucian lifted his dark head from Bridon’s wrist, and Bridon slid his sleeve down, surveying the trees in the distance. He’d never cast his gaze on the reincarnation of his Fated. She had been constantly shaded from the moment of her birth six decades before. Kept in a shroud of haziness no oracle or charm could permeate. But he had heard the rumors, the hushed whispers.
It was appalling enough that she was Lycae.
“Wait until they enter the circle before you remove your talisman,” Lucian instructed, stressing the importance of his words. “When the illusion vanishes, it won’t take long before they discover the entrapment. If any of them try to break the circle before I’ve invoked the spell, this will get messy.” The daemon studied him for a moment, and then his upper lip shifted slightly in a semblance of a smile. “This is what you’ve been waiting five hundred tides for. Go inside and take your place. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I would ask you something, daemon.” Bridon waited for Lucian’s consenting nod and asked, “Why would you get involved with this? My abilities are menial compared to the hundreds you’ve accessed over the tides. Altering perception can be done easily with a spell or an enchantment. My ability to enter dreams is voyeuristic at best.”
“That’s where you are wrong.” Lucian shook his head and exhaled into the night. “In dreams, people reveal themselves. It’s there you’ll find what they most want to hide.”
“Why would you want to see what someone has hidden in a dream?” Bridon asked, struggling to understand. “With your powers, you can obtain the answers easy enough.”
“There are situations when coercion will reward you far better than force.”
Until someone forces your hand, Bridon thought grimly. “Once, I might have agreed with you.”
“You do. In this case especially.”
“How so?”
Lucian started off in the direction of the cabin and answered over his shoulder. “Enlisting my talents to deliver Willow Miloradovic safely into your keeping attests to your awareness of the advantages of coercion versus violence.”
* * *
“That’s it.” Willow pointed at the cabin tucked in the base of the mountain, surrounded on all sides by dense trees. She spun around, facing the five strongest females from her clan, and pulled the charmed necklace from inside her jacket. If the vampires somehow managed to uncover the spell that bound them as one and shielded their intentions, it was her last hope if she wanted to remain hidden.
As she secured the chain around her neck, she said, “Stick to the orders we’ve been given. No matter what happens. Got it?”
They all nodded, and she padded silently down through the trees, keeping the cabin downwind. She tried to push aside the tension creeping up her neck, brought on by the knowledge that none of the females in the group cared an iota for her—save one. She didn’t take their distrust personally. The legends all foretold of a future in which she would betray her own people. She could convince herself that the future wasn’t set in stone, but if she were them, she wouldn’t trust her either.
She breathed in deeply, scenting the air. Pine, grass, dirt, water, squirrel, possum, the carcass of some misfortunate creature…then an odd sweetness, light and slightly earthy, with a tang of something bitter—sulfur, perhaps? The strong odor burned her nose, and she snorted a lungful of air, clearing the passageway. She studied the dark cabin in the distance, noting the dim lighting from the shuttered windows.
The oracles had forecast the location, nestled away in the middle of nowhere in the mortal state known as Tennessee. However, they couldn’t see who cared for the child or why they chose this location. They could only draw one thing with their visions—the cabin directly in front of her.
The wolf under her skin guided her actions, taking control of her nose, eyes, and other senses. So far she couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. There were no discernible noises other than the sounds of nature, no scents but those that inhabited the trees and forest.
“Sister.” Amber’s hushed whisper broke the silence, and Willow stopped. “I’m the designated hook. I’ll lead from here. Stay back.”
Her friend glided past, entering the open circular space around the cabin with
the remainder of the group in tow. They spread out, black leather suits visible in the dark due to her enhanced vision. Willow peered up, gazing at the star-filled sky complete with a waxing gibbous moon that was wholly visible.
Amber crept onto the wooden porch, placing silent feet along the swirling grain. When she reached the door, she turned and met Willow’s anxious gaze. This was where all of the oracles’ visions had ceased—the outcome. They each sensed a greater good resulting from her venture into the fray, but they could never tell her what came after the moment the cabin door opened. That was how the final plan was decided on by her father. Sacrifices had to be made on the whole—on the larger scale—for the benefit of her people. Now it was game time. From here on in, the future was unseen.
Willow nodded and started to step around the tree and into the clearing when a burst of light burned her eyes, sending her flat on her ass as loud shouts and voices vibrated inside her sensitive ears. Amber snarled, and Willow leaped to her feet, gaping at the sight that greeted her.
Blood drinkers were everywhere, garbed in leather and carrying silver weapons that shone brightly in the dark—enchanted blades. They surrounded her crew, their pale skin glistening, and attempted to herd them into a circle.
A growl erupted from her throat, a warning cry as she ran into the center of the action and latched on to the first leech in her path, commanding, “Kill them. Kill them all!”
She grasped the parasite by the chin and twisted his head until she heard a gratifying pop and snap. Her pack reacted instinctively to the order, lashing out and attacking with devastating punches, kicks, and slashing claws. Chaos, blood, adrenaline, anger, and survival—it was what she was born to embrace, what coursed through her veins.
“Stay in a circle!” Amber roared, slashing at a nearby vampire and bloodying his chest with her claws.
“Stop!” a voice commanded, echoing crystal clear amid the chaos, and everyone did.
Including her.
What the hell? She tried to move, but found herself unable to do so, limbs and extremities frozen in place.
The cabin vanished, and a rotten shack with wooden slats and logs that had fallen and decayed into the earth centuries before replaced it. A charred fireplace stood at the far end, the only portion of the structure that was wholly intact. In the center of the decrepit structure was the most breathtaking male she had ever seen. Her breath caught, and she wanted to curse herself for thinking so.
After all, the male was a vampire.
His thick black hair was cut short, the color stark and beautiful against his porcelain skin and bright gray eyes. He was as tall and alluring as the most sought-after Lycae male, broad shouldered and heavily muscled. A black turtleneck hugged his corded and toned torso and met neatly pressed black slacks at his waist. He could have been any respected businessman her father dealt with on a daily basis, but none had ever looked so delectable…or sensual.
“Which of you is Willow Miloradovic?” a lyrical baritone demanded.
All eyes turned toward the sound, the compelling voice impossible to ignore. The speaker was tall and sinewy, dressed in jeans and a black button-down shirt that was left untucked. His long brown hair fell freely about his shoulders, making him appear both civilized and wild. He looked human. She scented the air. He smelled human. Yet a raw power radiated from him like dizzying electricity that sizzled across her skin, the smell of sulfur so strong, she knew he had to be a magik wielder of some kind.
Wizard? Sorcerer? Demigod?
“Let me ask again. Which of you is Willow Miloradovic?” The compulsion to answer was difficult to resist, almost impossible.
Move. Do something! She railed mentally, able to do little more than stare. Her gut twisted as reality struck. There was only one explanation for this, a heady magik spell that she’d heard about but had never witnessed personally. The oracles hadn’t seen what was coming because their perception of events had been shifted.
They’d all been tricked by an entrapment.
“I see,” the powerful male said. “Where are your charms? You can answer me, or you can be separated from your clothing until I find what I’m looking for. It’s your choice.”
“Is that necessary, Lucian?” a blond vampire asked, stepping closer. He examined each of her sisters with brooding eyes, roving up and down their bodies as if he was looking for something. Waiting for something…
Her heart lodged itself firmly into her throat. Looking away, she experienced a petrifying fear, raw and intense. If the blond vampire hadn’t killed them yet, there had to be a reason. Enemies didn’t allow enemies to live, not unless they wanted something. And she had a damned good idea what it was.
It had to be him. Her Fated. The vampire king.
Bridon Walkyr.
“Someone has given them impervious charms, powerful ones,” Lucian answered. “Otherwise they would have been raising their little claws and fighting over who would answer me first.”
The vampire strode up and down the line, paused in front of her, and resumed his trek. “You know she’s here as well as I do. Let’s just take the lot of them back and unravel the mystery when we arrive.”
“Let me try.” A sinfully thick and rich voice purred in her ears and sent tendrils of electricity up the back of her neck. She stared at the beautiful man as he made his way from the cabin, unable to look away.
“Good luck with that.” Lucian chuckled. “I have a feeling I know who twined the spell. If I’m right, it won’t be as easy as you think. She’s a clever little witch.”
Willow willed herself to move, desperate to protect her own, and her eyes flickered nervously to Bridon Walkyr—the vampire king. He was exactly as she expected, dressed in leather and geared to kill like the murderer and blood letter he was. Gaze unrelenting, he met her stare. She didn’t look away, unwilling to sever the eye contact first. She was an alpha by birthright and would never shy from a bloodsucking parasite. He studied her for several agonizing seconds, bright blue eyes boring an invisible hole into her skull, before looking away.
Would he brutalize each of them until he found what he was seeking, just as all the stories and tales suggested from her childhood? She and her sisters had been told that under no circumstances should they reveal the secret that would keep her safe, nor the plans that led them to the wooded clearing like sacrificial lambs—even if it came to torture. Torture was to be endured proudly, an outward display of strength of will. Shame was something you could never overcome, a living death.
The beautiful vampire from the cabin walked to Amber. “Tell me your name.”
Amber’s lips curved into a sarcastic sneer and she showed fang, snarling in outrage. “You first, blood drinker.”
The vampire smiled, and Willow nearly sagged as her knees went weak and her body felt as if it had suddenly become boneless. Her heart raced frantically, and her throat went dry. She dropped her gaze in bewilderment, staring at the ground before her chaotic emotions gave her away.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Her head snapped to attention and her eyes widened into barrels when the vampire that fascinated her beyond all reason spoke and she got her answer.
“Bridon,” he answered silkily, displaying slightly tipped fangs of his own. “My name is Bridon.”
Chapter Three
“Hello, Bridon.” The woman before him laughed caustically, hazel eyes flashing green. “My name is Sister.”
“Sister,” Bridon echoed, peering down the line. He stepped to the next one, a sinking sensation of unwelcome awareness warning him of what they all would say. “Let me guess, your name is…”
Her lips formed a sneer that matched the one he’d just come from. “Sister.”
Of course it is. Damn them.
“Would you prefer I take what I want from your mind using force?” he threatened icily and slipped inside her head. Her thoughts were blank, a black void of nothing.
“That won’t do you any good.” Lucian’s hand cupp
ed his shoulder, and Bridon slipped from her mind. “You can’t read them, and you won’t be able to sense shit. They are being shaded.”
“Shaded?” he blurted in disbelief, staring at each of them, and finally understood why they all appeared nearly identical. “All of them?”
The daemon nodded. “I didn’t perceive the shield initially because the witch responsible for the hex has managed to mask her own fucking magik, which is unheard of.” Shaking his head, Lucian smiled, as if he were appreciative of the weaver of the shade. “I imagine it’s the same spell that prevented you from spying on your Chosen or viewing her through the eyes of others. However, this is a large-scale enchantment, a mass veil if you will. I can break the shade, but first I need to locate the charm keeping the magik intact.”
“Bridon,” Ian said. “Listen to him. You were warned this might happen.”
Hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Lucian had cautioned him repeatedly. But holy Fates, the thought of his Fated confined to the fucking dungeon rankled him. He dredged up the image of Aislynn, holding it clearly in his mind. She never would have survived a night in the hold. She was too delicate, too fragile…too human.
Determined, he trailed his gaze along the eerily similar women who were frozen in a semicircle. They were dressed the same, in fighting leathers, several covered in the blood of his kindred with clawed fingers stained red. This was what the gods had gifted him with.
It’s better than losing her completely.
“I’m giving you one opportunity to spare others that have no stake in this,” he warned his Chosen, willing her to listen. “Come forward, Willow, and reveal yourself. No one will harm you. Don’t force others to suffer in your stead.”
When none stepped forward, he muttered unhappily, “So be it,” and waved a hand up and over. He was about to commit the most atrocious and unforgivable of crimes against a Lycae, but they left him with no other alternative.
