Nightborn: Lords of the Darkyn

by Lynn Viehl

  You I trust as no other, Korvel, his master had said as he sliced open his own wrist to feed him the blood he desperately needed. You will be the eyes at my back, my third blade.

  The terror and joy of that second reprieve had preoccupied Korvel as he learned how to survive and protect himself and his master from humans who despised and hunted their kind. It would be another century before he discovered that somehow during Richard’s last days as a mortal he had discovered he was not dying of plague, but making the change from mortal to Kyn. By commanding Korvel rather than one of the women to attend him, Richard had exposed him to the same sickness. His only reason for doing so had to be in hope that his captain would also rise to walk the night.

  From that time on Korvel understood that his master had never had any true regard for him. In some ways it had acted upon him like diluted acid, slowly eating away at his heart until he had no feeling left for his master. Still he served the high lord, for even Richard’s most grievous exploitations did not violate his oath. No matter what the high lord felt for him, Korvel would not sacrifice his honor. Only death would end it.

  Perhaps that will be my punishment for what I did to Alexandra. He touched the green scar on his neck. Because I would not free her from the bond between us, now I will never be free of Richard.

  A flash of red caught his eye, and Korvel turned his head to see a tall, willowy female step up to the bar. Red satin ribbons snaked through the long ponytail of her shining hair, the ends of which curled against the curve of her buttocks. He could see her bare skin beneath the panel of lace that raced down her long torso; she wore no undergarments beneath the clinging silk sheath. The dark-haired Spaniard standing beside her gaped at her breasts, which were all but falling out of the provocative bodice.

  Korvel had seen a thousand women so lovely it hurt the eyes to look upon them, and yet somehow this lady outshone them all.

  He briefly regarded the mortal females around him. “You will leave me and return to your rooms to sleep. When you wake you will have no memory of me.”

  Like sleepwalkers, the women agreed and rose to walk in single file toward the elevators. Korvel picked up his wine to finish it, but over the rim of his glass his eyes strayed back to the bar, and the elegant perfection of the blond siren’s form.

  The woman in red uttered a low, husky laugh as she put her hand on the Spaniard’s shoulder. The man spoke rapidly, gulping down his drink between sentences before he anchored an arm around her waist and pecked at her cheek.

  Korvel didn’t know why he wanted to rip the arm from the mortal male’s body. As lovely and tempting as the siren in scarlet was, he had no time to dally with her. Certainly not with Simone upstairs; by now she had to be fuming over his absence. Perhaps his unfulfilled desire for the nun had bloomed into an unreasonable, temper-riddled lust for any woman. But if that were the case, then why had it been so easy to send away the other four, who would have happily permitted him to do anything he wished with them? And why could he not stop looking at this vision in red?

  The siren leaned close to her drunken companion, speaking to him as she gestured toward the exit. At that moment the flashing lights above passed over her face.

  The woman with the Spaniard was Simone.

  Disbelief held Korvel locked in stunned silence as he watched the nun behave as shamelessly as a courtesan with her lover, her lips smiling as she spoke to the mortal, her hands landing to pet and stroke and tease until he became overwhelmed and pulled her into his arms. She turned around, hugging his hands to her waist while she led him toward the exit.

  Simone was leaving with him. In that dress.

  Over my dead body.

  Korvel rose to his feet, knocking aside the table as he went after her, growing more furious with every step as he picked up her scent mingled with that of an exotic French perfume. From behind he witnessed the artful sway of her hips and the coy manner in which she looped her arm through the Spaniard’s; she was all but throwing herself at him. And where did she think she was going? Did she mean to leave the hotel? With a drunken stranger? It seemed she did.

  The concierge stepped in front of him, temporarily halting his progress. “Monsieur, I must apologize, but—”

  “Not now.” Korvel brushed past him, his fists curling as he saw no sign of Simone or her easy conquest.

  If she thought she could elude him, she was sadly mistaken. His Kyn senses could track her from a mile away.

  Unless she gets into a taxi with that sodding buffoon.

  Outside the hotel Korvel scanned the street, relaxing a little when he saw no cars passing. Simone’s scent drew him down the walk and into a side alley, where several cars had been parked.

  He strode up to a sedan at which her scent flared strongest and grabbed the door handle. He jerked, metal ripped, and the sedan rocked as the entire door came off. He threw it aside and reached in to pull the Spaniard away from Simone and out of the car.

  “Monsieur?” the man squeaked as Korvel lifted him off his feet and held him, legs dangling, in the air. “What are you doing?”

  “Far less than I want,” he grated, forcing himself to put the mortal on the ground. “Go back to the club.”

  “But…but…my door!”

  Korvel bared his dents acérées. “Go back. Forget all of this. Now. Or I will tear out your throat.”

  The Spaniard’s feet slipped and slid over the slush-wet stone as he ran from the alley. Only when he was gone did Korvel look back into the sedan. Simone had gotten out and stood on the other side, her hands braced against the vehicle.

  “Are you going to rip out my throat now?” she asked, her tone insultingly polite.

  “What were you thinking?” He flung a hand toward the clinging red silk. “And what is that?”

  “You told me to buy a dress. I followed your instructions.” She came around the car to stand before him. “Don’t you like it?”

  She must still be addled by the drugs, he decided. “Come inside.” He closed the gap between them and took her by the wrist. “I will send for the doctor.”

  She didn’t move. “I am not sick.”

  “Do the other nuns at the convent dress and behave like trollops?” He tried to pull her along.

  She came around him, her skirt riding up as she delivered a side kick to his knee and another to his shin that sent him sprawling. As Korvel lay there, stunned, she walked up to him and planted one shoe on his chest.

  “I am not a nun, and you are not my master,” she said calmly. “So you may go back to your women and leave me alone.”

  Simone had reached the end of the alley when Korvel jerked her around. “Say that again.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  He shook his head. “The first of it.”

  She moved faster this time, but Korvel felt the coil of her muscles and countered the attack, using just enough strength to subdue her. When she stopped resisting he put his face close to hers. “Say it again.”

  “I am not a nun.”

  He released her and moved a short distance away, staring at the brick wall as he battled back his temper. He heard her come up behind him, her movements causing the red silk to whisper against her skin.

  “I never told you that I was a nun, Captain.” She stood close enough for her breath to warm his air.

  “You live in a convent,” he told the wall. “You wear nun’s garments, and pray with a rosary, and do good works. There is—was—a cross hanging about your neck.” He felt steady enough to look directly at her, which he realized at once was a mistake. “What the bloody hell was I supposed to think you were? An exotic dancer?”

  “You’re not supposed to think about me at all,” she reminded him. “I’m nothing to you.”

  His fangs pulsed as they stretched out in his mouth, as aching and eager as if he had not fed in a week. “Why do you live at the convent, Simone?”

  “When I was a girl the sisters were my teachers, and they became very fond of me. When I left my fat
her’s house they offered me a home and a purpose. I wear a habit when I leave the convent because that is what is expected.” She touched the place at her throat where her cross usually hung. “I’ve never taken vows or joined the order. I can’t. I don’t believe in God.”

  “In your room, I watched you pray.” His jaw tightened. “Another pretense?”

  Simone shrugged. “Habit. I do it because it pleases Flavia to believe I have faith. It is easier than arguing with her.”

  “Why let me believe you were a nun?”

  “You did not tell me what you believed.” At last a flicker of shame passed over her features. “Besides, if you had asked, I would have told you.”

  “I have been calling you ‘sister’ for days,” he said, snarling the words. “You knew precisely what I thought. You wanted me to believe you had taken vows. That you were an innocent.”

  The laugh she uttered had a tinge of self-mockery. “I offered you sex, Captain. You refused me.”

  “Another of your maneuverings,” he countered. “You knew my honor demanded nothing less.”

  “I knew nothing of you, you oblivious ass.” Her upper lip curled. “Your precious honor didn’t stop you last night, did it?”

  Simone regretted the taunt from the moment it left her lips. Last night Korvel had not forced or coerced her; she had wanted it as much as he had. If she had refused him he would not have touched her. Now in her anger she had wanted him to feel as wretched about it as she did, but she had succeeded only in shaming herself.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize, Captain.” Unable to look at him another moment, she walked out of the alley.

  The few pedestrians Simone passed stared at her, as if they knew what a fool she had made of herself. She changed direction, retreating to a narrow, shadowed lane that led between the gates and walls surrounding some private homes.

  The sound of water tickled her ear, and she stopped outside the iron gates leading to a private courtyard. Inside a garden of ivy, lemon trees and evergreens surrounded a tall, tiered fountain. Simone gripped the bars of the gate, resting her forehead against them as she watched the silvery streams cascading into three basins cast to resemble blooming flowers.

  The sound of approaching footsteps made her look down at the latch on the gate, which was not locked, and then up at the shuttered windows of the dark house. She opened the gate and slipped inside, ducking behind a lattice of leafy vines. As the scent of larkspur mixed with the greenery around her, she closed her eyes.

  “My women.”

  Simone looked up at Korvel, and braced herself as he lifted his hand. When he caught a tendril of her hair and drew it away from her face, she shivered. “What about them?”

  “You told me to go back to my women.” He traced the contour of her cheek. “You meant the females from the club. You saw me with them, and it made you do this. Why?”

  “I woke up and you were gone.” She sounded like a sulky child, but she didn’t care. “I came downstairs to find you, and there you were, with four of them crawling over you. How could you be with them after last night? What’s wrong with me?”

  “I used them for blood, Simone, not sex.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck, where his thumb brushed over the fine hairs on her nape. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

  “I watched you put your mouth on one of them.” She touched her breast. “Here.”

  “In public I must feed with discretion. I took blood from her there so that her dress would cover the marks from my dents acérées.” He glanced down. “Are you wearing anything under yours?”

  Now he was teasing her. “It doesn’t matter.” Another time she might have joked about her outrageous behavior, but not tonight. Not while the longing for him still twisted inside her. She ducked out from under his arm. “I will return to the hotel and collect our things.”

  “I am not done with you.”

  Korvel turned her around, backing her up against the iron gate as his big hand slid down over her hip to the hem of her skirt. She forgot to breathe as she felt his fingers stroke up the outside of her thigh.

  “Stockings.” He pushed the skirt up out of his way, his fingers inching along the satin ribbon of her garter from the outside of her thigh to her waist. He then slid his hand around her and followed the small of her back down to the bare curve of her bottom.

  “Captain.”

  He ignored her shocked whisper. “No knickers.” With his other hand he tugged the edge of her bodice away from her body. “And no brassiere. I thought as much.”

  “The girl in the shop said they would show through the lace.” She inhaled sharply as he shifted his hand back to the front of her hips. “If you want sex—”

  “You are obsessed with sex.” He worked his fingers through the thatch of her body hair, playing with the small curls. “Is it because of me, or have you always been this way?”

  She went rigid. “I am not a whore.”

  “No, you’re not. No whore offers such passion.” One finger parted her. “Feel how wet you are here, how hot you burn beneath my touch? A whore is hard and cold. You’re softer than the silk you wear, Simone.”

  He was touching her as he had last night, but only because he felt sorry for her, because he wanted to appease her. It made her angry all over again. “I don’t need you to pity me.”

  He stared at her. “Is that what you think this is?”

  Korvel scooped her up into the cradle of his arm, snatching her off her feet and carrying her over to the fountain. Simone grabbed his shoulders, too startled to do more than hold on, and a moment later found herself on her back on the widest of the lounges beside the splashing water. The cushion under her sank as he straddled the lounge.

  “Are you mad?”

  “As it happens, I am.” Korvel loomed over her, positioning her before he reached for the front of his trousers. “Look at me. Look at me.” When she did, he guided his penis to her, working the dome of it between her folds. “This is what I have for you. Only you.” He pressed it, breaching her body. “This is why you wore that dress. For me. You want to tempt me, inflame me, have me on you like this.”

  Even flat on her back and pinned as she was by the weight of his body and the spike of his sex, Simone could think of a hundred ways to hurt him. All she could do was watch his eyes as he pushed into her, and feel the stretch and ache of her softness around his thick, hard shaft.

  Korvel pushed her skirt up around her waist and looked down at the mesh of their bodies, holding himself deep inside her as he reached for her bodice and pulled it down to bare her breasts. His hands covered them, weighing and kneading before he pinched the tight tips.

  It was too much, Simone thought, feeling the welling of some terrible emotion inside her. “Why now?”

  “Because this is what I want.” He slid his arms under her, lifting her up to give her a slow, deep kiss before he pressed her face to his throat and began to move. “I want to fuck you, Simone. And I think you want it too.”

  The delicious scent of his skin captivated her; she parted her lips so she could put her tongue against his cool skin. He stiffened as he felt the damp caress, and within her body she felt his penis surge.

  Korvel draped her legs over his arms, spreading them wide as he forged deeper. “This time I want to feel you come all over me. You come on my cock.”

  Simone clenched around him, trying to hold him in the deepest part of her, but he dragged his shaft back, leaving behind a hot, wet emptiness. She almost shrieked until he stroked into her again, stabbing through the quivering ache and touching some part of her that sent a jolt through her belly and breasts.

  “Yes,” he said, watching her face as he did it again. “There you are.”

  With his hands and his mouth alternately ravishing her breasts, he worked in and out of her body, dragging the heavy thickness out before driving it back in again, over and over. Simone could feel the lounge shuddering beneath her, and heard the low, gasping sounds tha
t escaped her lips and the liquid glide of his penis as he went deep into her core. Only some remnant of pride forced her to resist the delight that coiled inside her, begging to be released.

  Simone could not bear it another moment. “Please.”

  He lifted his mouth from her nipple, his eyes glittering as he took her hand and brought it to the juncture of their bodies. Gripping her forefinger, he pressed the end into the top of her sex, rubbing the pad of her fingertip against the wet knot there.

  Simone tried to pull her hand away, but he held on and whispered to her, words that made her cringe and pant and whimper. He told her how it felt to be inside her, to watch his cock push into her, to feel her body tightening around him, to see the bulge of her sex. As he spoke he made her stroke her clit faster, harder, matching the rhythm with his hips, until he brought her finger to his mouth and sucked on it.

  Pleasure took her apart as her body convulsed under his. Korvel shoved deep into the heart of her delight, shuddering as his semen erupted in long, hard jets.

  Chapter 11

  P

  ájaro waited for nightfall before he entered Le Panier, Marseilles’s oldest quartier. Once the refuge of whores, sailors, and other scum from the docks, the shameful ghetto had been gradually revitalized by a curious infusion of new blood.

  Artisans, always in need of cheap lodgings, had first gravitated to the rough shantytown to rent rooms and studio space in its tall, squash-colored houses with their ladder-long white shutters. Of course, they had to peddle their wares as well, which ranged from decorative pots to hand-painted santons, tiny figurines used in traditional crèches to illustrate the Nativity scene. In time the stink of fish, liquor, and sex for sale had faded from the alleys, replaced by the pungent aromas of damp pots, gas kilns, and sunscreen-slathered tourists.