The Vampire's Bride--A Paranormal Romance Novel

by Gena Showalter

  As the years had passed and she’d grown into a woman, her fantasies of hearth and home had taken a more sensual slant. No longer had she wanted him as her brother. She had wanted him as her lover. No one else would do, though she’d given several a chance. They hadn’t compared to her dreams of Shivawn, not in any way.

  Determined to experience the bliss of Shivawn’s touch, she had journeyed to the nymph camp and sought him out. He’d taken one look at her and vomited.

  She hadn’t known why, still didn’t, but she hadn’t given up. Should have. Should have given up. Look where she’d ended up. Broken, raw. Physically doomed.

  “I’ve seen the way the vampire soldiers watch you,” he said now, slicing his way into her dark thoughts. “Choose one of them for your mate.”

  While she loathed the thought of him with another woman, he could not wait for her to have another man? Give him what he deserves…

  I am not like my demon sire. I am not vindictive and corrupt.

  Nor are you a martyr. He will hurt others this way until he is stopped.

  Yes, he would. “They do not appeal to me,” she finally replied, not yet ready to act.

  “I am nothing special.”

  “Perhaps I like the way you kill.” She had seen him in battle, had even fought next to him.

  His lips twitched, as if for once he was amused by her. “You try and act like a warrior, vampire, but I have seen you hesitate before delivering the death-blow. You might fight, but you do not like it.”

  He was the first to notice her secret revulsion during battle—a revulsion that stemmed, no doubt, from her desire to set herself apart from the demonlike acts of war—and she blinked in shock. Fought against a softening in her chest. “You know nothing about me, nymph.” She uttered the last with as much disgust as she could muster. “You avoid me at every turn.”

  “True, but I know women.”

  Oh, that burned. Wiped away any hint of softening. She was one of a thousand others to him. Give him what he deserves!

  Yes, she decided. Yes.

  “I have always wondered why you fight when you so obviously hate it.”

  “You? Wondering about me? That’s twice now you’ve admitted to such a thing. I’m surprised you haven’t exploded.”

  Once again his lips twitched.

  She ground to a halt. He kept moving, realized she’d stopped and turned, facing her. Looking at him, her heartbeat sped up. Are you truly going to do this?

  “Nothing I’ve said has been meant to hurt you,” he said softly. “But I had decided weeks ago to take a female as my own, even one who is not my mate, because I crave stability. That means I cannot be with you and you cannot…ask it of me again.”

  Any female would do but her, was what he was saying. Yes, I am going to do this. Slowly, so slowly, she closed the distance between them. “You do not want me to come around and bother her.”

  He gave a stiff nod.

  “Then I will give you my word, Shivawn.”

  Slowly his features relaxed.

  “I will not come around your woman.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But then, neither will you.”

  He frowned.

  She launched herself at him with the last reservoir of strength she possessed, fangs bared.

  * * *

  VALERIAN CRADLED his mate in his arms, his skin sweat-slicked from the pleasure they had just shared. This woman never ceased to amaze him. She was beauty personified, softhearted, yet a tigress every time they fell into bed.

  “If Shivawn doesn’t return soon, I’ll have to leave the palace and search for him. He is faithful, and would’ve sent word of a delay. If he could.”

  Shaye stiffened in concern. “Do you suspect foul play?”

  “I’m not sure, but something isn’t right.”

  “The vampire—”

  He shook his head, certain. “Alyssa will not hurt him. She obviously loves him. Besides, nymphs and vampires are allies.”

  “Uh, I hate to break it to you, sugar, but a woman in love is an ally to no one but her heart.”

  “I know women, moon, and—”

  “Stop right there. You don’t know shit, big boy. Otherwise you would not be telling your wife how you learned about other women.”

  Softhearted? Had he seriously thought such a word in connection with his human mate? He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. So fierce and possessive, his wife. She would slay anyone who “made a play for his bod,” she had once said. And he would not have it any other way.

  She placed a kiss on his chest, just above his heart, tongue flicking out and leaving a spark of fire. “Maybe I’ll talk to Poseidon. He might tell us what’s going on—if he’s bored and looking to stir up trouble, that is.”

  Much to Valerian’s consternation, Shaye and the fickle, annoying god had become friends. “No. Every time you speak with him, some kind of disaster happens.”

  “Hey, he brought us back together. Give the guy a break.”

  “I would like to break his—”

  She slapped a hand over his mouth.

  “I heard that,” an irritated voice said.

  Valerian reached for his sword, but it disappeared the moment his fingers curled around the hilt. Scowling, he glanced at Shaye to make sure she was covered, saw that a black silk sheet draped her from chest to ankle and relaxed. Barely.

  The air crystallized in front of the bed, thickening until the body of a man appeared. Some women had said Poseidon was the most beautiful male ever to walk under the sea. Lustrous hair, blue eyes. Muscles, power. Valerian did not see the appeal, but he covered Shaye’s eyes anyway.

  That amused the god, and he laughed. “As if that will make a difference.”

  Valerian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding. One wrong word, and the sea god might destroy the entire city. Almost had, in fact.

  Shaye shoved Valerian’s fingers away. “Welcome, oh mighty god of the sea. And since you have graced us with your presence, I wonder if you would be willing to help us. We seem to be missing two of our soldiers,” she said. “Well, three now. Would you know anything about that?”

  “Perhaps,” was the unconcerned reply. Poseidon strolled to the far wall and traced his finger over the center. Valerian’s sword finally reappeared—hanging upside down with colorful ribbons falling from the tip.

  Not a word.

  “Will you tell us?” Shaye asked sweetly. “Please.”

  Valerian squeezed her side in warning.

  “I’ll give the women here another lesson in women’s rights,” she added. “That will frustrate the warriors and provide much entertainment for you.”

  Valerian shuddered. Last time she’d done such a thing, his warriors had gone without sex for days and had become snarling beasts, picking fights with everyone they encountered.

  Poseidon shrugged and then disappeared as if he’d never been. Valerian thought that was the end of it and was grateful. He didn’t like the god. But then that unearthly voice whispered across the room, startling him.

  “The first two are playing a little game. The third, well, he was just eaten alive.”

  The god’s laughter echoed long into the night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAYEL NEVER REACHED the waterfall that night.

  Along the way, he had encountered Jada, the female nymph and Broderick’s sister, and she had been determined to have him “for strength” because she “trusted him, friend to her king.”

  Over the years, many females had offered themselves to him. Unattainable as he was, he’d been labeled a challenge, a prize. He had denied them all, yet some had still claimed to have lain with him. In their anger over his rejection, the stories had not been kind.

  Here, now, there were two beautiful females vying for him. One, a temptation. One, an annoyance, though Jada’s beauty outshone even Delilah’s. Or would have, to some. To him, Jada’s hair was too fair, her sapphire eyes lacking any hint of pur
ple. She was tall and slim with curves that should have been impossible, her nipples permanently hard.

  Yet all he’d been able to think about when she pressed herself against him was the lean firmness of Delilah’s body and how perfect it was to his palms. How he loved the way her nipples hardened right before his eyes.

  He’d pushed Jada away, but in her ardor she’d taken the gesture as approval and had quickly stripped. He’d been unmoved. As unmoved as he’d been for the past two hundred years, which made Delilah’s ability to tantalize him all the more undeniable. Thank the gods he had not gone to the waterfall, after all, but had hunted animals to distract himself.

  Had he found her, he would have drunk from her. How close he’d come to talking himself into it.

  And now, after an uneventful day by himself—without a run-in with his team, the other team or even the power-loving gods who had, for whatever reason, not forced a challenge on them today—Layel found himself stalking to the waterfall, unable to turn away this time. What was Delilah doing? Was she all right? Night had fallen again. He should have seen her, heard her.

  To his consternation, she was not there. Even her sweet scent was curiously absent. There should have been a hint of it, at least a lingering imprint of her essence. Instead, it was as if she had not once neared the area. That didn’t seem to matter to his body. Hard and aching, that’s what he was, because she’d offered herself to him here in this location.

  Thoughts of her played through his mind. Thoughts of her naked, writhing. His.

  In his mind, every move she made was a sensual dance for him. Every sound that escaped her moist, ripe lips was a benediction to him. Every beat of her heart was a mating call.

  The images were wrong, so wrong, but his mouth watered and his teeth sharpened. What would it take to purge her from his mind? Besides killing her, which he’d already admitted he could not do, there was only one thing left to try….

  He would have to drink from her. No more resisting.

  He’d told her that he never would. Yet the idea had been planted, had grown and intensified. Now, he realized he must.

  He was a bastard for even considering it; he was lacking in honor and integrity. Truly, he was a monster. She wanted everything from him, but he only meant to take. He was going to fill his veins with her life’s nectar, was going to reduce her to a meal. Finally he would know the taste of her and then he could forget her. His fantasies had built her up, but reality would tear them down. There was no possible way she could taste as wonderful as he imagined. No one could.

  Sex would not enter into the arrangement. This time, when he placed his lips on her body, he would control himself. There was no better time to drink from her. Hunger did not ride him; weakness had not claimed him. He had gorged on the dragon yesterday and didn’t need the blood.

  Where was she? If she’d bathed in the waterfall or lounged on the moss-covered rocks, she’d left no trail. Layel walked through the forest, muted beams of twilight, hazy purples and pinks, illuminating his path. The lush emerald trees were different from those in Atlantis, yet somehow familiar to him after only two days. More moss covered the ground, soft against his feet.

  Were he home, he would be training with his army and thinking of ways to thwart and slaughter the dragons. He would be torturing the fire-breathers locked in his dungeon, their screams his only real sense of peace.

  Evil, he’d often been called. He did not deny it. Couldn’t deny it. His heart was decayed. Rotted. His soul was black. No longer was he a man Susan would have loved. At the moment of her death, he had become everything his beloved mate had despised.

  Yet there was no going back. No reverting to the man he’d once been. Not for him. Hate pulsed in his veins, thicker than blood. Revenge was the only thing he allowed in his mind.

  Until Delilah.

  Always his thoughts returned to her. Gods, how she haunted him. He should be searching for Zane, who had not yet shown up to report on his team. He should be planning his next move against Brand and Tagart. Instead, here he was, wishing for a taste of Delilah.

  What was it about her that constantly drew him? While she possessed a breathtaking beauty, a sharp wit and an undeniable hum of energy, she would never hesitate to betray a lover to protect her sisters. That much was obvious every time she looked at Nola—a woman he wasn’t even sure Delilah liked—with determined loyalty. There was no warm affection in her voice when she spoke to the girl, no softening of her expression. Yet she clearly felt responsible for her.

  A flicker of jealousy sprang inside his chest, and he blinked in surprise. Jealousy? Over what? Delilah’s loyalty to her tribe? Surely not, but he didn’t want to consider the other option: that Delilah placed the welfare of another above him.

  Made no sense, that line of thought. He didn’t truly know her, certainly didn’t like her and wouldn’t even contemplate a future with her. You’re confused, his mind explained. That’s all. Your life has been disrupted. When things return to normal, so will your emotions.

  Where was she?

  He sniffed the air. The sweet scent of her, so at odds with her warrior personality, suddenly seemed to infuse every crevice of the surrounding area, yet he caught no glimpse of her. Still his cock swelled once again, the hunger he’d denied only moments ago suddenly upon him. His mouth watered. Blood…

  She was near.

  A tender side of him he’d thought as dead as his heart broke through mire and debris, shocking him. You cannot do this to her. She will feel betrayed. She will hurt.

  His teeth gnashed together so sharply his gums were sliced. What was better? Delilah’s betrayal or Susan’s?

  The answer was obvious. Or should have been. Delilah must be purged from his mind. Soon, very soon, she would be. For he would not stop hunting until he found her. The gods could summon them for another challenge at any time. The losing team would then be called before the fire, and Layel would be forced to wait. If he lived through another counsel.

  “Eat this,” he suddenly heard Delilah say. “You’re pale.”

  Every cell in his body heated, sparking into small infernos. There was a muttered reply from a female. Most likely the other Amazon, Nola. Layel floated above the ground with only a thought, nearing the door of leaves arching in front of him.

  Remaining in the shadows, he peeked through. And there she was, crouched beside Nola. His azure-haired, violet-eyed tormentor. The two teams were together, sitting around a fire, some kind of animal roasting in the center.

  Tension swirled between winners and losers.

  The teams might be together, but they were in no way unified. Glares abounded. Zane sat off to the side, sharpening a stick. Every few seconds, his narrowed gaze flicked to Delilah and Nola. His skin was flushed, his motions a dance of power, yet he pulsed with anger.

  He would have to wait, it seemed. Layel broke through the trees with only the slightest rustle and approached the other vampire. As king, it was his responsibility to ensure no animosity grew between them. When he sat, Zane gave no indication he noticed Layel’s presence.

  Everyone else, however, did.

  Conversations tapered to quiet. There was even an angered hiss from Brand. Layel ignored him, knowing it would rouse Brand’s beast. Trying not to grin with the thought, his gaze shifted to the Amazons. Nola stared down at her food, flicking it with her fingers every few seconds but never actually eating. Delilah tipped back a coconut half, draining the milk inside.

  Her eyes remained on Layel, ensnaring him, holding him captive. He could not have looked away had a blade been pressed to his throat. Her gaze was guarded, no hint of her emotions present. Why? What did she hide?

  He bared his fangs at her and licked them.

  Finally. Emotion. A flash of desire before she gulped and looked away. Only then, free of her powerful hold, did he realize something hard and tight had taken residence in his chest. Slowly it loosened, however, allowing him to breathe. His cock did not settle but continued to throb.


  “All is well?” he asked Zane, noticing the bloodstained lips his friend still possessed. Blood always strengthened a vampire no matter its source, but blood overflowing with wine or medicines could cause a spike in aggression, anger and violence. Could that be the cause of Zane’s current dark mood? Had he taken blood from someone inebriated?

  “Yes.” No pause in movement. Every time they were summoned, the god continued to remove their weapons, forcing them to make more at every opportunity. During their “off” hours, they had to be prepared for anything. “I am well.”

  Truth? A lie? “You do not like your new duties, then.”

  “I do not mind them.” Flat tone, twitching muscles.

  “Something is wrong with you, Zane.”

  “Yes.”

  At least he did not deny it. “Tell me.”

  “As king?”

  “As…friend.” The one friend Layel had allowed himself over the years was Valerian, and that was only because he’d known Valerian before Susan’s death. They’d met in the Outer City and had become allies when they were too young to know better—the mixing of the species was most often frowned upon. They’d played together, discovered a passion for females together, and they’d fought together, guarding each other’s backs.

  After Susan, well, the nymph king had taken him in and cared for him until the emotional anguish gave way to a thirst for revenge.

  Perhaps Zane needed someone to care for him. His time with the demons had probably razored his soul to tatters.

  “Sure you want to know?” Zane inquired.

  Layel nodded.

  “Before, when you asked me whose blood I had taken…” Zane’s fingers tightened over the rock and sparks erupted at the tip of the stick.

  His stomach twisted into a knot. Do not say Delilah. If her name left the vampire’s lips, Layel wasn’t sure how he would react. Someone would die, he suspected. “You refused to tell me.”

  “I took from a woman.”

  No.

  “From an Amazon.”