The Vampire's Bride--A Paranormal Romance Novel

by Gena Showalter

  No!

  “From Nola.”

  First there was anger that Zane had strung him along, most likely out of shame. Then relief. It nearly felled him, and he realized he’d been reaching for the dagger he’d sharpened only a few hours ago. Thank the gods. His hands fell into his lap. “She allowed this?”

  “She did, though I doubt she remembers.” Yes, that was shame dripping from the words.

  He blinked in surprise. “Why would she not remember?”

  “I went to her while she was sleeping.”

  “And she did not awaken?”

  “No.”

  “How?” he insisted. The Amazons were highly trained; they would awaken the moment a man settled atop them. That he knew firsthand. And even if Nola had somehow failed to do so, she would have noticed puncture wounds afterward.

  “I invaded her mind.” The shame morphed into self-loathing.

  Layel scrubbed a hand over his face. Some vampires were gifted with the ability to insert thoughts and images into another’s mind. Most were not. Layel could not, though he’d always wished otherwise. How much fun would it have been to convince one dragon warrior to slay another?

  “I filled her mind with dreams of making love to me, and when she opened her arms and spread her legs, I took what I needed.”

  “And how did you hide the marks from her? From others?” The moment he spoke, Layel realized what the answer had to be. With as little clothing as the Amazons wore, there was only one hiding place.

  Zane glared at him for a moment. “If you were not my king and my friend, you know I would kill you right now, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still you wish me to say it?”

  Another, “Yes.” Without hesitation. Making him say it might prevent him from doing it again, the shame voiced, never to be forgotten.

  “I bit between her legs.”

  Though he’d known what Zane would say, the words still managed to shock him. Once again, I have lost control of my men. Under Layel’s rule, the vampires lived by a code. They could drink from dragon warriors anytime they wished, but never—never!—were they to take from another race without permission.

  Some creatures enjoyed being bitten, but some refused to even consider it, mistakenly afraid of being turned into blood-drinkers themselves. Over the years, Layel had learned only humans could be turned. Most died, however, which was why he’d never attempted to turn Susan.

  Suddenly a flood of his mate’s screams bombarded Layel’s mind, loud enough to crack glass if they’d been audible, and sharp enough to slice his soul. They were always close to the surface, but he usually could keep them at bay. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

  It was only when his gaze locked with Delilah’s that he was able to beat them into submission. How? Why? He was sweating. Panting. Frowning, Delilah turned to her sister. To escape her hold, he did the same. Thankfully, the screams did not return.

  Earlier, Delilah had called Nola pale, but the woman was pallid, the blue lines of her veins evident. Dark circles formed half-moons under her eyes.

  “You took too much,” he told Zane.

  “I know,” was the gritted response.

  “You will not touch her again. Do you understand?”

  “She is your teammate. Of course you want her strong. What next? Will you demand I lose for you?”

  Fire burned beneath his skin. “You had best watch your tongue before you lose it. She deserved a choice, Zane, a real choice, and you did not give her one.” Hypocrite, he thought, for wasn’t he planning to take the choice from Delilah?

  “I know!”

  “Trouble among the bloodsuckers?” Brand laughed, drawing Layel’s attention and rage. “How sad.”

  Several creatures chuckled.

  “Save it for the next challenge,” Delilah said. At least she sounded angry rather than amused.

  Tagart arched a brow, his golden eyes glaring. “An Amazon with a soft heart. Who knew?”

  “A dragon with a bleak-looking future,” she shot back. “I suspected.”

  His eyelids slitted. “Is that a threat?”

  She pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders. “No. A promise. I will not tolerate insults. Especially from my supposed ally.”

  Layel was standing a heartbeat later, at her side before he even realized he’d moved. “Challenging a girl, fire-bastard? Perhaps you finally realized the big boys were too much for you.”

  Tagart’s attention settled on him, pure menace. “I haven’t forgotten the way you bit me.”

  “And I haven’t gotten your foul taste out of my mouth.”

  A look of utter rage passed over the dragon’s face and for a split second, his bones elongated, revealing a glimpse of snout, razor teeth and green scales. The beast was never far from the surface, apparently.

  “I’m not going to wait for your team to vote you off, vampire. Nor will I allow the gods the pleasure of killing you. I’ll take care of you here and now.”

  Layel’s blood boiled, turning his veins to ash. “Come and get me.” Please.

  “Enough,” Delilah said, stepping between them.

  Layel’s gaze snapped to her. The length of her hair whipped around her on a sudden burst of wind. Wind—he suspected each breeze brought the gods closer to them, watching, always watching. She was tense, fingers arched into claws.

  That she kept her back to Layel was telling, though he wasn’t sure Tagart understood. The dragon was smirking now, as if the Amazon thought to protect him. Stupid. Delilah trusted Layel not to attack her while vulnerable.

  Stupid, he thought again, this time directed at Delilah. She should not trust him like that. She should run from him. Fast and forever.

  I would probably chase her.

  Stupid! That curse had been for himself. She was not his, could never be his.

  For that, more than anything, he suddenly wanted to launch himself at Tagart and eat him, organ by organ. The bastard’s eyes would be the last to go, so he could see every terrible thing Layel did to him.

  He fingered the hilt of his blade. “I’m waiting.”

  Delilah reached back and ran her palm over his stomach. He barely held in a shocked, aroused gasp.

  Whatever look she gave the dragon had his cheeks coloring. He tossed Layel a final glare before stomping toward the trees, Brand close at his heels. They probably meant to plan his murder. He hoped they did. Foiling their attempts might prove to be a nice distraction.

  Multiple sets of eyes watched as Delilah turned and faced him. Those violet irises framed in black climbed the length of his body, practically stripping him bare. He found himself stepping backward, away from the strength and heat and temptation of her.

  “The waterfall,” she whispered. “Will you meet me?”

  “Will you be there this time?” he whispered back, hating the huskiness of his voice.

  She shivered, her lips falling open in surprise. “You went?”

  “Last night? No,” he said. Truth. But obviously she hadn’t gone at all.

  “And yet your tone chastised me for not going. No, don’t say another word. I was detained by my sister,” she explained.

  He would never admit to the relief he felt that she hadn’t changed her mind.

  The creatures around the fire leaned toward them, shamelessly doing their best to listen to the conversation. Layel hissed at them, and they quickly looked away. Someone even began whistling.

  An eternity ticked by while Delilah studied him. No, surely only a few seconds had passed. “Did you pleasure the female nymph?”

  Was that jealousy in her tone? He was not delighted by that. Really. Still refusing to voice the answer she seemed to crave, he said, “Would you care if I did?”

  “No. Of course not.” She lowered her gaze to the ground. “But I saw you in the forest. With her. So—”

  He didn’t owe her an explanation. He didn’t. “What is to keep you from becoming distracted by your sister again?”

  As she
eyed the surrounding crowd, she said softly, “I want to talk to you. About the nymph. Did you—”

  Would she never allow him to change the subject? “If you truly saw us, you would know what happened.”

  “I didn’t stay and watch until the end. I would have killed her, and then your team would have been down two members.”

  So even though she’d thought he was bedding another woman, she’d been unable to commit a deed that might ultimately bring about his execution. The thought warmed him. “If you go to the waterfall, I will not be in a mood to talk.”

  Instant arousal banked her features. “What will you be in the mood for, then?” she asked in a wine-rich tone. “The same thing you probably did with the nymph?”

  “If you show up at the waterfall, Delilah, I will bite you. Do you understand? I will drink your blood.”

  Her breath hitched. “But you swore never to touch me like that.” She didn’t sound upset by the possibility that he had changed his mind. “Did you bite the ny—”

  “I lied, as you are always accusing me of doing. I will bite you.”

  Frustration darkened her expression. “What else have you lied about? The nymph?”

  If she said that word one more time, he might…laugh. “You cannot trust me. Ever. That is all you need know.”

  “This is how you think to lure me to the waterfall? I may be an Amazon and not all that familiar with the ways of men, but even I know to expect a few tender words in a situation like this. You’d better rethink your approach if you really want me to join you. Because I doubt that ugly little nymph will be there.”

  His lips twitched and he felt a tickling in his throat. “I did not ask you there. You asked me. And I will go. Part of me hopes you will stay away.”

  Sparks lit her eyes, a blaze of fury and that seemingly ever-present arousal. “And what does the other part of you hope? That the sex-hungry bitch will go instead?”

  “That you come, that I can rid myself of the thought of you.”

  She softened somewhat, as did the growing ache in his chest. “And if you can’t?”

  “That you’ll be so weak from loss of blood that you fail during the next challenge and are chosen to die.” There was stark truth in his tone, though he wasn’t sure he meant a word.

  “Liar.” She arched a brow, not giving him the reaction he’d expected. “You want me, you’re just afraid to admit it. Besides, you’ve told me time and again never to trust you,” she said with utter confidence. “But you never told me if you bedded the nymph.”

  Do not give her the reaction she’s looking for, either. “And I won’t. Now, I’ve delivered my warning. That’s all I can do. Come to the waterfall at your own peril.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Layel,” she said, raising her chin.

  “Foolish.”

  “Confident in my abilities.”

  “Foolish,” he insisted. But he was the foolish one. The world around them had long since faded. He was aware of her and only her. Anyone could have snuck up on him, and he would not have cared.

  She stepped closer to him, cutting away at his prized personal space to gaze up at him in challenge. “Tell me one thing at least.”

  “Let me guess. The nymph?”

  Irritation curtained her features as she snapped, “Do whatever you want with her. I don’t care.”

  When she sounded ready to slay the other female? She cared.

  “What I want to know,” Delilah continued, closing even more distance, “is if you would mourn for me if I did get executed.”

  Any closer, and he might wrap his arms around her. Might press his lips to hers, and devour her. The thought of her death…hurt him, made him want to hold on and never let go. “No,” he managed to squeeze past the lump growing in his throat. “No.”

  Surprising him still further, she grinned slowly. “Once again I’m forced to remind you that you told me never to believe a word out of your mouth,” she said. “I think you would miss me greatly.” With that, she sauntered off in the direction of the waterfall.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WOULD LAYEL COME?

  And had he touched that nymph bitch? Delilah had the sudden urge to drive the length of her wooden blade through the nearest tree. Or heart. She wasn’t picky. She’d spent more time worrying about him and his actions than about Lily, the next challenge and the frightening days ahead. Sadly, she doubted that would change.

  All around her, water cascaded into a dappled pool of liquid crystal. Lily pads floated dreamily and lazy moonlight seeped from the sky. Everything around her evoked peace and romance, yet her heart pounded like a war drum.

  Layel had stayed away from her for an entire day. Pleasuring that nasty nymph? How she’d hoped to see him, had looked for him in every shadow; she’d missed him terribly, dark temper, cruel words and all. She hadn’t sought him out, though, lost in the wake of Tagart’s sickening revelation. He’d had a mate. Obviously he still mourned her.

  Delilah couldn’t tolerate the idea of Layel thinking of another woman while he touched her. And the nymph?

  “Argh!” She was taking a chance—a big one—just to appease her curiosity. At least, that’s the reasoning she gave herself. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would believe it. Right now, she wanted to experience possession. Utter, dream-about-forever possession. He wanted Delilah. On some level, he wanted her.

  Oh, gods. Would he come?

  Layel had considered her a fool for suggesting such a rendezvous, but then he had suggested one, as well. Perhaps she was a fool, but she had to know more of him. The compulsion to be near him, have his teeth in her vein, made her crazed. Wonderfully crazed, and that compulsion only intensified with every moment that passed. Actually, it was now buried so deep inside her she could not find and destroy it. Could only tolerate its ever-growing presence and follow wherever it happened to lead.

  Would he never come?

  Back and forth she paced, droplets of water splashing her calves. Tendrils of fear drifted through her. She didn’t fear him. She was too much a warrior, too well trained, to let him conquer her completely and hurt her in the process. What she feared was liking everything that he did too much. Liking him. Wanting, needing, craving more and being unable to let him go.

  That didn’t drive her away. Oh, no. She doubted anything could drive her away right now. Nothing and no one had ever fascinated her as Layel did. All he had to do was show up and she would take care of the rest.

  Another minute ticked by, then another. She had spent most of the day making more weapons, and now she fisted the two blades at her sides before tossing them down. The razored sticks crisscrossed at her back soon followed. They plopped against each other in the moss. Next came the arrows she’d painstakingly carved.

  Without them, she felt naked. Not as naked as she wanted to be, though. With a humph, she sat on the driest rock at the water’s edge and unwound the laces of her boots. She tossed them aside as she had her weapons and dipped her toes into the warm, soothing water.

  Where in Hades was he?

  If he’d changed his mind, she would hunt him down and—

  “I should not have come,” he said, somehow behind her.

  Gasping, she twisted. Not a single sound had given away his presence. Not so much as a blur of movement. But he was here now. Right in front of her. Beautiful, eerily so, those haunted, tragic eyes devouring her in a white-hot perusal. At least he wasn’t eyeing her with hatred.

  But seeing him, the first stirring of vulnerability overtook her. Suddenly she was unsure about what to do and say, and despised herself for the weakness. What did he think of as he looked at her like that? Perhaps nothing good. He still mourned the death of his human mate, after all. Still defended her honor.

  Delilah, he threatened to slay at every opportunity.

  “But you are here,” she finally said.

  He gave a stiff nod. “Here I am. I…did not touch the nymph.”

  Relief thundered through her, so potent she wo
uld have fallen if she had been standing. Thank the gods. Heads would have rolled had he delivered a different announcement. “As if I care,” she lied airily.

  Clearly, he was not so easily fooled. “You care. You shouldn’t, but you do. I, however, only came for your neck.”

  “You need to feed,” she said, and the answer suddenly didn’t sit well. He hadn’t come for her specifically, hadn’t come for passion and satisfaction. He’d come for sustenance, nothing more.

  “You knew that. I told you so. But need?” He shook his head. “No. I’ll never need anyone.”

  What did that mean?

  She hadn’t voiced the question, but he answered her anyway. “I want your blood. I do not need it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He ignored her. “First, you will tell me why you are so willing to help me.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He studied her, gaze probably taking in details she didn’t like him being privy to. How badly she still wanted him, how much she wished she didn’t. “You know nothing about me,” he said.

  She knew he was strong, loyal, resourceful. Kind when he wanted to be, sensual even when he didn’t want to be. She knew his kisses were addicting, his body living art.

  “And I know nothing about you,” he added, stepping toward her.

  A tremor slid the length of her spine. Close, so close. She had only to reach out to touch him, but she didn’t. She turned back to the water and toyed with the ends of her hair. “No, you don’t.” Did he even want to? She hoped that he did, but she couldn’t be certain.

  Another step, and his knees brushed her shoulders. At both points of contact, her skin tingled.

  “What happens here can only end badly.” Awful words, yet hunger pulsed from his tone, slamming into her and fueling her own.

  Sexual desire wasn’t new to her. How many nights had she lain awake, sweating, panting, aching and wishing? Countless. How many times had she dreamed of a man to love her? Again, countless. This man didn’t love her, but he was strong, beautiful, her secret fantasies come to sizzling life.

  Gone was her pride. Gone were her self-protective instincts. With desire this intense, there wasn’t room for anything else. They were burned away, rendered ash. She had no defense.