Ellowyn Found: An MM Vampire Trilogy Omnibus Edition Books 1 - 3

by Kayleigh Sky

  Otto chuckled.

  From this room, they had a view of the circular driveway. It had snowed during the night, and the sun shone like cut diamonds.

  At a knock on the door, Moss opened it, and Emek entered with cups, cream and sugar, and two pots of coffee on a trolley.

  “We’ll serve ourselves,” Zev said.

  Emek didn’t respond, but he met Zev’s eyes with a hot flash before the door slid shut behind him again.

  Zev forced a smile into Otto’s narrowed stare. The human should have been an enforcer. If he’d been a vampire, he would have been. Right at the king’s side. Qudim had had a pair of enforcers like that. They would have died for him without question. He had protected them because of their obedience and loyalty, but he should have kept them at his side always.

  Moss passed Zev a cup of coffee as the first car arrived. An old Lincoln Town Car, but as glossy as though it had just rolled off an assembly line. A few seconds later, before anyone had emerged from the first car, another one arrived.

  Otto grunted when a vampire opened the back door of the Lincoln and a tall, gray-haired vampire stepped out, followed by a younger one. The older one had a grizzled beard cut close to his skin, his hair in a bun at the back of his head. The younger one wore his hair strikingly short. Human style. They were not so far away that the distain on his face wasn’t obvious.

  Otto set his coffee cup down. “The Wrythins.”

  “Yes. March and Bronwen, his remaining son.”

  “Your thoughts on them?” Otto asked.

  That they dodged a bullet. The idea of Wen marrying a Senera had never really gone down well despite the improvement the marriage would have brought to their social standing. Jessa was a drainer. Flawed to them. It didn’t matter that drainers drank the human blood all vampires desired. They were different, and vampires shunned outsiders. The Wrythins were probably thankful Otto had stolen Jessa away, but they had still lost a son in the process.

  “What reason do they have for wanting me dead? Wen, I suppose. I put you on the case, and he’s dead.”

  “Wrythin should have picked better friends.” Otto tipped his head to the window. “And them?”

  A pair of vampires stood on the bottom step, gazing at the lodge, ringlets of long dark hair framing their faces, long lips curving in smiles.

  “The Lotis sisters, Alva and Darlith. Twins, and distantly related to Justin, and to me on my mother’s side. They are a reclusive family for the most part. With the exception of Alva and Darlith, who don’t seem to have a brain between them, they are intellectuals and not fond of humans.”

  “There’s a surprise,” Otto muttered.

  Zev shrugged. “Less fond than other vampires, let us say.”

  “The Lotises stayed underground,” said Moss.

  Otto stared at him, then turned his gaze to Zev. “I know some have, but isn’t it illegal? Not to mention, unsafe?”

  “I’ve been negotiating with them, and it’s not all of them, clearly.”

  Otto frowned. “Would they resent your interference enough to want you dead?”

  “Perhaps,” said Zev, “but I don’t think the sisters could muster much of a threat.”

  “It’s almost an insult to have sent them,” Moss said.

  Zev nodded. “Yes. They’re incapable of negotiating and probably the Lotises’ way of telling me they intend to negotiate nothing.”

  The sisters were whispering, heads together, tangled arms and hair. Another car turned into the driveway and Justin appeared on the steps, spoke to the twins, and motioned them toward the door.

  The first two cars followed the driveway around the house where it sloped to a ten-car garage. The third vehicle, a crimson SUV, pulled up out front. Seconds later, another vehicle turned in.

  Zev set his cup down, and Moss circled behind his chair to the window. “Who is that?” Moss asked. “Flashy car.”

  “The red one?” The color stood out like blood on snow and woke a tickle of unease in Zev’s belly. “I don’t know.”

  Nobody emerged until Zev’s greeter trotted down the steps and opened the back door. A long leg emerged, followed by a slim and graceful body.

  Zev gritted his teeth. Shit.

  “How dare they?” said Moss.

  Uriah grunted. “Camiel.”

  Otto shot a glance at each of them. “Who’s Camiel?”

  Zev cleared his throat. “A Nezzarram.”

  “A witch,” said Uriah.

  Zev nodded. “The most powerful one since Abadi.”

  “He shouldn’t be here,” Moss said.

  Zev wanted to agree. It was an insult to attend without notice, but Zev wasn’t about to appear disturbed by it. “They have every right.”

  Otto looked between them, then back at Zev. “I thought they didn’t send anyone.”

  Zev shrugged, his eyes on Camiel. A smile lit the vampire’s face, a dimple flashing in his cheek. “They don’t usually.”

  “Your assessment?” Otto asked.

  “Is he a threat? Most Nezzarrams are a threat. I guess it could be coincidental that he’s here.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Zev smiled, Rune’s voice playing in his memory. “Similarities are not coincidences. Things that are similar sometimes happen at the same time.”

  “I don’t either.”

  They fell silent, waiting as another car approached the lodge, and the one that had been idling behind the SUV pulled closer to the steps. A moment later, a pair of vampires climbed out of the back, one after the other.

  “The Gennarahs,” said Zev. “I can only describe them as fundamentalists. They support the monarch. An unbroken line of kings.”

  A twitch of a smile curved a corner of Otto’s mouth. “Which you broke?”

  Zev inclined his head. “Which I broke.”

  “Who are they?” Otto asked.

  “Og and Morjin.”

  The brothers made their way inside, and Zev’s greeter reached into the last car and helped an elderly female vampire climb out.

  “Essie Orla,” said Zev. “A venerable and honorable vampire. The Orlas are loyalists. They shifted their support from Qudim to me without question. I don’t see a threat from—”

  Moss gasped, and Uriah advanced toward the window, halting at the side of Otto’s chair with an abrupt jerk. He exchanged a bewildered look with Moss before stepping back again.

  Otto gaped at him.

  “Is that… Yair?” Moss asked.

  “Yes.” Zev looked at Otto, who’d turned back to him.

  “I haven’t seen him in years,” said Moss.

  “Essie’s grandson,” explained Zev. “A Lotis, actually.”

  Otto looked outside. “So how’s he for a threat?”

  Zev worked his jaw. “Essie raised him. He’s a threat only in name.”

  Otto raised an eyebrow. “And to hearts from the look of him.”

  Zev forced a smile and a shrug. “No doubt.”

  The male who stood by Essie’s side was small for a vampire, willowy and delicate. A few braids decorated his sleek, dark hair. His pants were leather, his coat a long red and black plaid. Rings adorned his bottom lip, eyebrow, and ears, and black eyeliner ringed his eyes. But for all the flamboyance of his appearance, he kept his gaze low, following his grandmother as they were ushered inside.

  “Beautiful,” Moss muttered.

  Otto stared into Zev’s eyes. “Anything else I should know about him?”

  Bastard human was too observant for his own good.

  “No,” said Zev. “He has no say in the family.”

  Otto nodded, lips twisting. “He’s a knockout.”

  “I suppose,” Zev said noncommittally.

  At least, he hoped he sounded noncommittal.

  29

  Zev Taunts Asa

  Asa stood in the center of Zev’s study, bristling at the smirk on Zev’s face. He sat in an upholstered wingback chair—maybe it was supposed to look li
ke a throne—with his legs crossed. Asa gritted his teeth as he stood there. What the fuck? Was this a staring match?

  “Do you want me to leave? Or do you want something else?”

  Zev flicked his gaze to the trolley with his dinner on it. Then he sighed and said, “Feed me.”

  What the—

  “Are you sick?”

  “I’m tired,” said Zev.

  For a moment his eyes flashed truth, and Asa had to smash down the impulse to squeeze the back of Zev’s neck and loosen his tight muscles. The vampires had made themselves at home in the lodge, and Asa hated being in the halls right now. Even Isaac kept to the kitchen or his room. Though he’d bolted out of the kitchen once when Asa was fixing a leaky spigot in the butler’s pantry. He’d glanced behind him in surprise then looked in the opposite direction and found Otto standing nearby, the usual frown on his face turning into a pissed-off scowl.

  “Fucking great,” Otto had muttered before storming out again.

  Asa planned to find out more about Isaac and Otto. Like hell you are. The dippy kid isn’t your business.

  His business was right in front of him. In the arrogant bastard demanding to be fed with that smirk teasing at his lips again.

  Asa approached the trolley and removed the lids on the trays. Well, it was better than waiting on vampires.

  Except Zev was a vampire.

  Right.

  Asa handed him a glass of Synelix. The glass was crystal, cut in diamond shapes, and decorated with a lapis lazuli rim that reminded Asa of the glassware his parents had had. Was it Waterford? Maybe. He followed the flicker of the fire on Zev’s face, its glow lining the curves and edges. Golden and warm. Not cold like the long-ago moonlight that had stolen into Asa’s bedroom when he’d been a boy. Back when his secret vampire, lit by a million jewel-like stars, had crept through the window he’d left open for him. Crept into his heart with the lies that Asa was a part of something bigger than himself when all he’d been was a part of his own father’s murder.

  “Want me to make you drink it?”

  The smirk faded, and the vampire’s eyes burned as though coals had burst into flames behind them. “No respect,” Zev murmured. “You remind me of Otto. It must be a human thing.” He took the glass. “The families will respect me when I am done with them.”

  He dropped his fangs, decorated with the finest tattoos, then retracted them a second later and drank.

  Asa turned back to the trolley. The main dish was human—green beans and glazed carrots with half a Cornish game hen. The smaller dish contained two dark mushroom balls swimming in a thin amber-colored sauce. But he’d never seen the tarts before. Some kind of pale green jelly filled the insides of the ruffled crusts.

  “What is that?”

  “A moon lace tart. I have a friend who loves them, but his brother loves them more. No matter how many he bought when we were kids, they’d be gone before he could get to them himself. We only have them once in a while now, mostly on special occasions. We make a juice out of it too, but the moon lace fern only grows under the surface.”

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Licorice. You can have one.”

  “No thanks.”

  “No,” murmured Zev. “You wouldn’t want to corrupt yourself with our food, would you?”

  Asa clenched his jaw and sweat broke out under his arms. What did Zev know? But what could he know? Asa hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t met with anyone here. Zev had all the power. Just as he’d always had.

  Taking a breath, Asa pulled a chair near the fire, close to Zev’s, brought the plate with the Cornish hen over, and sat. He picked up the fork, handle toward Zev. Zev raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine,” Asa muttered.

  He turned the fork back around, stabbed a carrot, and brought it to Zev’s mouth. The vamp’s lips parted, the pink of his tongue appearing, and Asa’s cock twitched.

  Goddamnit.

  He refused to shift as the damn thing pressed into his zipper. How many vamps had worked him with hands and mouth, and now his balls ached over a stupid carrot. Over the bastard with the shine of butter on his lips.

  “Hm,” said Zev. “Oregano. I think that’s on the hen too.”

  “What meat did you eat below?”

  “The same as here, just not as much.”

  “Take what you want, huh?”

  Zev’s eyes flashed, and his mouth opened just as Asa shoved a green bean into it. He chewed, a flicker of a smile on his lips again. Asa picked up another bean and bit down on it. It crunched and spritzed a green and fresh taste into his mouth like the snow he’d sampled. Crisp. Dry but not dry. Refreshing but not. He’d forgotten what snow tasted like. The way it crumbled and melted in his hands.

  “We used to ski near here.”

  “A rich kid,” said Zev, his smirk growing wider.

  “You don’t have to be rich.”

  “It helps.”

  “Says the king.”

  Zev’s smile disappeared, eyes narrowing, and Asa regretted the loss. Up close, the lines around Zev’s mouth and eyes were deeper. The vampire had been made to laugh, to rejoice, to be happy. But he seldom smiled around Asa, only over chess. Maybe that was the only thing they’d ever bond over, but at least it was something that didn’t make him want to grab hold of Zev and shake him until his fangs fell out.

  He shifted, about to get up and bring over the board when Zev said, “I could starve while you sit there daydreaming. Is serving me my dinner such a difficult job?”

  Heat flooded his face, and Asa yanked the drumstick off the hen, a puddle of butter and juice spreading across the plate. “I’m not a fucking servant.”

  “I believe you are,” Zev said mildly. “Aren’t you?”

  Well, what was the alternative? A spy? A blood whore?

  He brought the drumstick to Zev’s mouth, the firelight shining on his glistening fingers. His cock throbbed, and he ached to ram himself down Zev’s throat. His breath came fast and shallow as Zev sank his teeth into the flesh and jerked his head to rip it off the bone. He chewed with heavy-lidded eyes.

  After he swallowed, he licked his lips and said, “Only a servant or a lover would feed me.”

  “I’m neither.”

  Zev cocked his head. His eyes glittered, but not with the firelight. They’d grown hard. “Exactly what are you?”

  “An employee.”

  “Semantics.”

  “It’s a way for people to keep the roles and boundaries straight.”

  Zev chuckled. “I’m a king. The boundaries are for me.”

  “Poor you.”

  “Yes,” Zev said. “Poor me.”

  He took another bite of the hen. Asa followed it with a bite of his own. The woodsy flavor of the oregano tickled his tongue as he chewed.

  “You own this place, don’t you?” Asa asked.

  “I bought it.”

  “That means you own it.”

  Zev shrugged. “It’s a house.”

  “It’s a fucking mansion. It has twenty-seven rooms.”

  “And a dungeon,” Zev added.

  That took Asa aback. “A dungeon?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you torture people?”

  “I’ve been known to. Usually vampires, but I can make an exception.”

  “You’re fucking monsters.”

  Zev leaned forward, the reflection of flames flickering in his eyes. “And you forget yourself. You forget we no longer drink your blood. You forget I pay you, employee. You forget this house means nothing to me, because I am homeless. You forget how many of my kind you have murdered.”

  Asa gritted his teeth, his insides corroding with fury, before he said, “I was eleven years old. I did nothing to you. I killed no one. I lost my dad to you.”

  Zev’s lips parted, his face as soft and slack as though he’d just come. As though every bit of tension had fled. His breath mixed with a laugh, soft and bewildered. “Me?”

  Of course him.
Who else? Who else had betrayed Asa’s trust? Accusations tumbled to escape his mouth, but the minute his tongue formed the words he wanted to say, he imagined Solomon leaning in close, whispering, “Seduce him.”

  “You,” he said. “Your kind.”

  He dropped the half-eaten bone. He was done. He had to leave before he lost control. Before he killed him. Before—

  He stood, and Zev’s eyes rose with him. Locked on his and held him in place. Asa had no desire to seduce him and play with flirty smiles and batting eyelashes. He wanted to consume and tear and rip and—

  He lunged, sank his fingers in Zev’s hair, and pushed him tight against the back of his chair. “Your kind,” he whispered. “I’m a whore because you… You and your kind made me a whore.”

  Zev groaned as Asa slammed their mouths together. He pulled hard on the vampire’s hair and dragged Zev’s tongue into his mouth, swallowing another groan. Zev’s hot breath warmed his blood, burning in his veins, surging in his ears like the geysers that had drowned Abbatine.

  Zev.

  His vampire. The one he’d dreamed about as a boy before one bloodthirsty night broke his heart.

  Zev brushed his lips over Asa’s and caressed Asa’s cheekbones with his thumbs. The whisper of a touch woke flames under Asa’s skin as Zev softened the kiss. Asa sank against him, half straddling his thigh and the arm of the chair. Zev gripped him around the waist. His tongue fought against Asa’s and invaded his mouth. His fingers dug into the muscles of Asa’s back, and his scent drowned him until—

  No.

  With a growl, Asa jerked harder on Zev’s hair and got a hiss before Zev yanked his head back and broke the kiss.

  “Fucking human.”

  “Demon,” Asa spat.

  Zev curled his lips and dropped his fangs. A rough chuckle broke through the vampire’s teeth. “I am your nightmare, remember?”

  “I fucking remember.”

  Asa pushed up and stumbled back a step before reaching out and grabbing Zev’s shirt. He yanked, and the fabric ripped. Zev gasped. Asa grabbed another handful of hair and pulled him out of the chair. He’d never dare do this to a human, but a vampire…

  Well, Asa was no match if Zev wanted to fight back, so it was fair enough.

  And Zev smiled, though underneath the smile… pain glittered as bright as the snow outside. Clean, pure, beautiful snow that hid the scars of the old world.