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

by Kayleigh Sky

  Asa’s jaw bunched. “You’re in shock. You can’t make any decisions right now.”

  “I’m pretty clear.”

  “You’re not, and you’d better not do anything dumb. I did after my dad died, and I regretted it for a long time.”

  Isaac smoothed the glare off his face. Asa had run away from his fated love. He’d been fed from against his will and other times sold his blood to survive. But he wasn’t alone anymore. He had somebody to love him. Isaac didn’t, but he held his tongue. He’d managed on his own before, and he could do it again. He didn’t need his fated.

  At dinner that night, he munched on a cookie and tried not to sidle his eyes toward Asa and the king. They all sat together in the big dining room. The usual chatter of conversation when the household got together was only a buzz, but when Isaac’s gaze strayed to Dennis and Will, and Dennis bit back a laugh, he choked on his cookie and gulped half his glass of tea to wash it down. How could they laugh? He wanted to chomp Dennis’s head off.

  The cookie turned to sawdust. Was it stale? He swallowed past the lump it made in his throat.

  Asa kept an eye on him from across the table, but the minute Asa bent to Zev’s ear, Isaac ducked out. He stole through the back halls to the servants’ quarters, blinking back stinging tears the minute he closed the door behind him. Rowena bounded up, but he shook his head.

  “Later.” She huffed but settled on the rug with her chin on her paws, following him with her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  He was a lousy owner. If he gave her to Dennis, she’d be just as happy. Would she even notice? Isaac doubted he’d be missed, not like Marcus. Would Isaac’s fated miss him?

  “You bastard.” The out-loud curse startled him, and even Rowena raised her head, ears perked. “It’s not fair.”

  But what wasn’t fair? Marcus’s death? Or Isaac having an AWOL fated? In what kind of world was the crusty Otto Jones a heroic lover, and Isaac’s lover was a vagabond vampire prince?

  That oughta be in a book. Jessa would love it.

  “I know, puppy. I’m not nice to you.”

  Rowena cocked her head, and the interest in her gaze pierced him in the heart. His eyes stung again, but he waited until it was dark and quiet before he sighed and stood.

  “Come on.”

  A few minutes later, he slowed outside the kitchen. Was somebody in there? There was no sound, but light spilled through the door.

  Stopping altogether, Isaac leaned against the wall, hitting it with the back of his head. Rowena padded to the yellow patch on the floor and whined.

  It stayed quiet in the kitchen though. Quiet as a tomb.

  Well, vampires moved without any sound.

  When he’d been eight, one of them had snuck up on him without a footstep or rustle of clothes. Though he’d lived in a human city, vampires had broken the lines with ease by the war’s end. He’d been living in a foster shelter, not quite an orphanage, and nobody had watched them, so he’d roamed the streets, scavenging things to sell, scraps of food, anything hoardable in case it came in handy. A backup plan mattered. Even at eight, he’d figured that out. But an eight-year-old was still… weak. So nothing’s changed, right?

  He kicked his heel against the wall and let the pain-burst clear his head. Rowena huffed and plopped herself onto the floor.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Glowering at her, he pushed off the wall and took a step to the door. Rowena jumped up and bounded inside. The light came from the light panel over the far end of the worktable. Somebody had deliberately left it on. It spread over the bright metal surface and Marcus’s binder.

  Isaac looked away and circled the edge of the space to the pantry off the back wall between the refrigerators. The tension in his chest eased in the smaller room. He opened a cabinet against the far wall and dragged out Rowena’s kibble and bowl. She pranced at his feet, nails clicking on the tile.

  “Okay, okay. I’m a meanie. I’m sorry.”

  It was past midnight now. His eyes burned, but his muscles twitched with energy. He set Rowena’s bowl down, filled it halfway, then returned to the kitchen for water. After she ate and drank, he cleaned up the slopped-on floor and reached for the light switch. His fingers barely touched it before he pulled away and let his gaze move to the table. His notepad, pen, and coffee cup sat beside the binder. The desire to let it stay that way forever filled his chest, but it wouldn’t. He couldn’t glue it all down or post signs forbidding anybody to touch anything. Forbid Dot. She’d be in here come breakfast, ready to do her job.

  Isaac approached the table and stared until the shapes and positions of the four everyday items burned into his retinas. He stretched his hand to his cup, fingers curling in slow motion around the handle, lifted it and took it to the sink. Rowena sat under the table, eyeing him with a pensive frown.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll let you out in a minute.”

  He put the notepad and pen back in the drawer, picked up Marcus’s binder, and turned off the light. The binder went onto his dresser, then he took Rowena outside. Her snuffling was the only sound. The air was still, and stars pricked the sky.

  Behind him, the house loomed dark.

  A few minutes later, he returned to his room where he got undressed, climbed into bed, and picked up his book. It was called The Face by Dean Koontz. He’d found it in a bookstore in Monterey where he’d gone with Anin twice now. Each time, Anin had left him at the store, run his errands, then picked him back up. The first trip they’d said nothing to each other. The second time Anin had talked about the town he’d grown up in. It was human because Anin had been born after the Upheaval. The vampire cities were as alien to him as to Isaac. But the whole world was alien to Isaac now, as though everything had gotten picked up and moved an inch to the side. It was different without being different. Like a joke everybody but Isaac got.

  He set the book down, turned out the light, and pulled his covers up.

  The weariness spreading over him took him aback. So did the tears.

  And the voice—

  “Why are you crying?”

  He bolted upright, grabbed his bedspread, and scrambled back against the wall. Rowena ruffed, the bed sinking as she bounded up on all fours. Wagging her tail? Was that what was hitting him on the shoulder? For fuck’s sake. But he took his cue from her and slowed his breaths, not as afraid as he ought to have been considering there was somebody in his room. He searched the darkness and found a shadow-shape in the far corner.

  “I won’t hurt you,” it said.

  Isaac exhaled. “I know. It’s you.”

  “Me?”

  Its whisper was soft and rough and warm. It detached from the shadows and came closer.

  Mine…

  3

  Tempted

  Yours… Always and never.

  The pain that coiled and uncoiled like a venomous snake inside Rune’s guts had led him here. Awake in his motel bed, he’d dug wounds into his palms with his nails, bristling with returning strength, waiting for Uriah to fall asleep. And now…

  He’d dimmed and raced here like a storm-driven cloud, taking shape again in this small, quiet room where a dog stood on the bed and pinned him with a bright, eager gaze. As though following his thoughts, Isaac cupped the back of the dog’s neck and swiped his face with his other hand.

  “Why are you here?”

  He took another step closer and stared into Isaac’s eyes. Were they brown, green, blue? The color of human eyes mesmerized him. “You called me.”

  A befuddled frown puckered Isaac’s brow. “I… No. I was asleep. You broke in.”

  The hint of irritation in his voice sparked Rune’s smile. “You let me in. Even your dog let me in.”

  Isaac huffed. “She’s a puppy. She doesn’t know any better.”

  “I heard you call. I always hear you.”

  “I’m calling the cops.”

  Rune chuckled and flipped on the light. “What cops? Enforcers, you mean? I
didn’t call the cops when you broke into my studio.”

  “I didn’t—” Isaac took a breath. “I was just looking. The door was open. I didn’t break in.” Isaac scrubbed his face again. “The earthquake broke one of your statues if that’s what you mean.”

  Rune’s head swam as though an earthquake shook underneath him right now. He sank onto the bed. “Which one?”

  “The red and gold one.”

  Damnit. His beautiful statue.

  “That was special.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t… I can make another one.” A dozen. A hundred…

  Isaac spread his fingers. The lamplight glowed like a golden-red halo around him. Tousled curls like the humans’ version of a cherub. The shadow of a man’s bones floated under the remains of baby fat. It appeared beneath Isaac’s skin like the images that formed in burning glass. Images of things that didn’t exist until Rune made them. Had his statue shattered? Coming here was a bad idea. The certainty of it hit him in the chest with a shivery chill, and he gritted his teeth against it. Love isn’t for you.

  Isaac took a shaky breath. “You’re Rune, for real?”

  He inclined his head, his gaze blurring. Maybe he was a dream. Wouldn’t that be strange? Only alive in Isaac’s imagination. The thought was so bizarre, his head swam. It had taken too much out of him to come here. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He needed… blood.

  Warm… spicy like sage and cinnamon. He let his hair fall over his face and hide the shadows under the sunken eyes he’d seen in the mirror.

  “Are you hurt?” Isaac asked.

  He looked up, a smile tugging at his lips. “I just need to sleep.”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “I told you. You called me.”

  Isaac choked on a laugh. “Now you’re here?”

  The human’s anger stole Rune’s smile.

  “I wasn’t sure you felt it.”

  “That we’re connected? Of course, I felt it. I felt you. You were the fog in the room with me when Mr. Wrythin was killed. You told me to feed Mal. You called to me. Of course, I felt you, and then you ignored me.”

  “No. No, I didn’t.” He wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. Why was he here? The last time he’d seen Isaac he was stroking the arm of Rune’s statue. That was special, he’d said, because it had been the embodiment of everything he’d felt for a fated he hadn’t even met yet. He was so damn lonely, but nothing had changed. Qudim was still dead. The Adi ’el Lumi still hunted him. Otto still suspected him of murders Rune cursed himself for because he hadn’t been able to stop them. The Adi were always ahead of him, and the treasure… It still eluded him. It didn’t matter how tired he was. The only chance he had to redeem himself lay ahead. “I’m here now, but I’m not free.”

  “At least you’re alive.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Isaac’s jaw clenched. He shook his head and balled his fists in his bedcovers.

  Rune dragged the tip of his finger across Isaac’s white knuckles. A gasp escaped the human’s lips.

  “What happened?”

  Isaac’s throat bobbed. “Marcus… He was the cook here. He died today.”

  “Was he sick?”

  Isaac shook his head. “No. He was teaching me to cook.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  All this way. Away from Baggins and Thomas Mithrinin and whatever it was Thomas had in his possession, and there was nothing Rune could do. This was why he’d stayed away. He had little comfort to give and no promises to offer. “I wish I could help.”

  Isaac glared at him. “I left Jessa for you. You called me.”

  “Not to come to me. You were safe where you were. I wanted you to wait.”

  “And you expected me to do that?”

  He bit back a “Well, that would have been nice,” and said, “I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I wouldn’t be here now, except—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I called you.” Isaac sneered. The expression looked strange on him. Not uncomfortable but not familiar either. It didn’t appear honest, but more like a mask he wore because sometimes he had to. “Sorry to burst your hero bubble, but I’m not alone, and I’m good at taking care of myself. I owe you, I know—”

  “You don’t owe me. You saved Jessa.”

  “Well, you don’t owe me either.”

  Rune smiled again. “Glad we cleared that up.”

  “You aren’t here for good, I can tell, so you shouldn’t be here at all.”

  He rested his palm on the bed and leaned closer. “I was eighteen when I first heard your voice. I didn’t ignore you, but yes, I pretended I didn’t hear it. You can pretend too if you want, but it changes nothing. Fate isn’t ours to call.”

  “Or answer.”

  Rune locked his gaze on Isaac’s. Green. His eyes were green. Like a mix of moss and jade. His nostrils flared, his long lips pulled into a line. He’d had it easier than many, harder than others. But whose life was good anymore? And how much worse could it get if Rune ignored the Adi. He was more than a prince. He was the prince who was supposed to be king.

  He lowered his voice. “I lost everything. And I heard you. You live inside me, but my people—your people—must come first.”

  “Why?”

  Rune blinked. Why? Was that a selfish question? But nothing in Isaac’s face was selfish. His brow screwed up and aggravation moved under his skin. He’d been prey for most of his life, but not all Rune’s people were monsters. Isaac had had Jessa, a place to stay, his own money. For fuck’s sake, didn’t he understand sacrifice?

  “You’re free,” Isaac added.

  The ludicrousness of that tore a bitter laugh from Rune’s throat. “I’d never leave you.”

  “Maybe I want you to.”

  He brushed Isaac’s knuckles again. A shiver ran up the human’s arm, goosebumps erupting on his bare skin.

  Rune looked up, a whisper passing his lips like a breath. “Tell me to.”

  Isaac swallowed. “Okay.”

  His grip on Rune’s wrist startled him into stillness. But instead of pushing Rune away, Isaac pulled him closer, leaned his weight on his other hand, and smacked his face into Rune’s. Maybe it was supposed to be a kiss, though somehow it didn’t work out that way. He gasped, and Isaac squeezed his eyes tight, frozen in the strange position. His trembling rocked him closer. Yes… sweet sage. The bed rocked—the dog. Struck through with heat, he gripped Isaac’s neck.

  Isaac jerked back, flashing a scowl at him. “Let me do this. I know how to kiss.”

  Laugh rumbling in his throat, Rune softened his grip, and Isaac sagged against him. The bonfire inside his belly burned down and smoldered.

  This… the wiry human in his arms… teased him like his lonely dreams. Dreams that never ended in Isaac’s anger. He hadn’t been prepared for it, and a part of him, lost as he was in the kiss, sparked with unease. His guard, his suspicion, his removal from everything he loved and wanted, kept him safe. If he lost it now… faltered for even a moment, he was dead. And it was all lost then.

  Was he losing his edge?

  The desert’s heat had sucked him dry and dumped him half dead by an empty pool. His muscles groaned with a lingering ache. Or was it his spirit giving in? Betraying him.

  Because he wanted this. Wanted Isaac, a human he didn’t even know. Rune wrapped him in one arm, lifting the other and burying his fingers in the mop of curly hair. He brushed Isaac’s lips, as warm as a summer sun, with his. He sighed into his sweet scent. “You smell like vanilla.”

  A lovely spice that should have been Ellowyn. Warm and earthy.

  The tip of Isaac’s tongue teased his. He tugged on Isaac’s hair, every pull drawing a shiver from him. Isaac groaned, and Rune opened his mouth and let him in. The human’s lips slipped against his, sliding over the sheaths in his gums. He moaned, his fingers tightening. The pleasure shot straig
ht to his balls. Holy fuck.

  He pushed, lowering Isaac onto the bed, covering him, the reverberation of the touch to his fangs rolling through him.

  He sank into the dark behind his eyelids, floated in it, Isaac’s body firm as rock and soft as a cloud. It lifted him. Stole him away.

  Stole him from—

  He jerked his head back. “No,” he gasped.

  Isaac squirmed from under him, kicking at the mattress until he sat against the wall again. His breath came in pants.

  “No?”

  “I told you. I’m not free.” The sluggishness of a spell fell over him, and his head spun for a moment.

  Isaac laughed, clapped his hands over his face, and pulled them down. “You bastard.”

  “I’m worse, and I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I don’t,” Isaac growled. “I lost my friend today.”

  “And you want comfort. But I want more than comfort. More than a kiss I didn’t come here to get.”

  “Right. Why would you want a kiss from a blood whore? I take it back. You can go. I don’t have any hold on you.”

  Rune gritted his teeth. His body jangled, balls sore, lungs on fire. “I came because you called me.”

  “I didn’t call you!”

  “I hear you everywhere.”

  “That’s romantic. Fantasy must run in the family.”

  Rune sat back, a frown pulling at his brows. Anger grew hot behind his eyes. “You feed vampires and still can’t figure us out? Listen to me, human. Right now, you choose who you feed. If I fail in what I must do, no vampire will ask you for permission ever again. This isn’t romantic. They will bleed you dry, and bleed your friends dry.”

  “Then you’ll all die too.”

  Rune blew out his breath. “Be mad. Hate me. But I can’t rest. The world will fall to them if I do.”

  “Them? Fall? Why do you vampires always talk like that? Like there’s some kind of cosmic battle going on.”

  Rune bit back the hiss swelling his throat and leaned closer. “Because there’s some kind of cosmic battle going on.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s not. And I won’t lose you too.”