"There's a good boy," Lotharus said, patting his head like a dog's and lifting his foot.
Instantly, the cold metal heated. The skin around his neck tingled in an icy burn. Panicked, Declan's fingers clawed at the device as the flesh beneath the apparatus sizzled. The scent of burnt flesh filled his nose. He recognized the reaction immediately.
Silver.
Declan's back arched as he fought to wrench the band free. Nostrils flaring, he gasped for breath as the collar sucked even the will to breathe from his labored body.
"It burns, does it not?" The vampire's deep voice cut through the pain-induced fog. "Can you feel your strength ebb? I must admit, it is one of Alexia's more ingenious designs."
Alexia? Declan's eyes flashed to that female he had fed from. The one he could still taste on his tongue, feel on his lips--the one his body still wanted to ravish. She created this? But of course, she would. Her mother would surely expect no less of her. Well, neither would he.
Narrowing his eyes, he vowed the next time he had her beneath him, she would feel only the pain of his bite as he bled her dry.
LOTHARUS WATCHED THE DRAGON stare at Alexia.
Such hatred in those eyes.
He turned his head to the side, trying to figure out why. Although that dragon lord was now weakened by the collar and clip of silver bullets lodged in his abdomen, he'd somehow regained his strength between the time he was captured and when Lotharus came to check on him. Somehow, in that little bit of time, he had recovered enough strength to use the fiercest and most devastating weapon any dragon owned--dragonfire. But how?
Lotharus's gaze slid to Alexia. Her leather-clad body was flat against the wall. Crimson streaks and dirt stained her usually pristine blond hair. Under his perusal, her shoulders jumped and her eyes slid to the floor.
Ah, so his future stepdaughter had something to do with it.
Eyes narrowing, Lotharus reached her in two seconds. Curling his fingers around the soft skin of her biceps, he hauled her to him. The tips of those hooker boots she wore, only because he hated them, barely skimmed the floor as he held her up. Instantly, the fear he worked so hard to instill in her fired up her onyx eyes. Lotharus smiled, relishing every minute of it. Like a drug, taking her innocence, her trust, her joy was never enough. He always wanted more.
"Would you know how this dragon came to be fully healed, Alexia?"
When she didn't answer, he pinned her back against the nearest wall. Alexia gasped, the air bursting out of her with a woof. As he stared at her, resentment lingered in his throat like stale blood. Stupid females. How did anyone ever think this weak sex could lead their kind?
The horde had not always governed this way. Centuries ago, in what female leaders now called the dark times, males had ruled the horde. More precisely, one male. The first pureborn of their kind. A vicious warrior feared by mortals and immortals alike.
Stefan Strigoi, the dark prince.
Over the last few years, Lotharus had painstakingly collected every text he had ever written. Every private diary entry he'd ever penned. Granted, he had done so illegally. The holy women sequestered in the samostan temple had been the only ones with copies of the books. In a maneuver reminiscent of how the human kings of auld suppressed their serfs with the divine right of kings doctrine and their Holy Bible, the female monarchs of the past deceived the horde. The truth had been so far buried beneath their lies that even Lotharus had problems believing it all at first. Yet, the further he dug the more painfully obvious it became.
Their horde ran better under the dark prince's thumb. His rule had been total, his philosophies infallible and his political infrastructure flawless from conception to execution. Their army had been strong, efficient against other beings who might challenge them. Indeed, they'd won every battle set upon them. Until the war that claimed the dark prince's immortal soul. It was during that wandering and purposeless aftermath that his wife had stepped up to govern. The idea of a female leader had arisen as an interim arrangement, only to become permanent.
At the thought, a surge of heat rushed through his veins. By the blood, not many things baffled Lotharus. Yet simply looking at Alexia now, quivering and wide-eyed before him, reaffirmed everything he'd come to believe in. Women were weak, pathetic, destined to be submissive to men, not rule them. Unlike other beings, female vampires held no prize in Lotharus's eyes for their reproductive capabilities. He'd realized years ago they did not need the weaker sex to breed. In fact, there were methodical biological ways of creating the soldiers one needed, and none of it involved the act of mating.
Lotharus smirked, recalling the one way he had managed to use the act. Remembering the heady thrill of power, the one he still felt vibrate through him every time he neared Alexia. He tilted his head and allowed his gaze to slide over her body, relishing her instinctive shudder.
Releasing one hand, he ran the flat of his palm down the side of her beautiful face, down her cheek, slowly inching toward her neck. When he got halfway down her throat, she visibly winced. Lotharus lifted a brow in question and tilted his head to inspect her neck.
At the sight of the mark, an obvious vampire bite, all the arrogant certainty drained out of him. Fury tackled him from behind, taking its place. The force blinded him, nearly making him black out.
It should be me at her vein. Will be me. No one else.
The words repeated a litany in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to quell the voices along with his vision. It didn't work.
Lips curling tight, he snatched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Have something you'd like to explain to me?"
The flesh beneath his finger trembled, but she did not answer. Again, his gaze fell to the two teeth marks on her throat. Using his forefinger, he slid his long black nail over the bite. At the twinge, she hissed in a breath. He smiled at the sound and brought his finger to his lips, slipping it between them. At the taste of her blood on his tongue, light burst behind his eyes and he instantly grew hard. Her power surged through him like a jolt of electricity. Sucking in a breath, he rode the wave, coming close to orgasm as it crested and lapped through every nerve ending in his body.
A low growl of dominance bubbled up from his chest.
None of his men would dare bite her. It was that beast. He had fed from her. Rage at that dragon thing and Alexia for allowing him to absorb her power, power that rightfully belonged to him, engulfed him. The wound on her pale neck mocked him, his power, his plan. He could almost hear the dark prince laughing at him from beyond the Fatum.
Quaking in anger, he wanted to rip Alexia's head off, but settled for shoving her back with a push instead.
"Hold him up," he shouted, turning back to the soldiers. The dragon groaned, his face a mask of pain as the men seized him under the armpits and forced him to his knees.
Lotharus stared down with disgust in his eyes at the filthy flying rat. These creatures were below his race. For centuries, vampires had lived amongst human civilizations, evolving alongside them. The dragons rejected change and kept to the shadows, clinging to their barbaric ways. Shameful beasts. They reeked of animal. He could smell this dragon's filth, taste it in his mouth, feel it smother and cling to him like a wet towel.
Squatting, he fisted the beast's hair, wrenching his head up to meet his gaze. With his other hand, he forced his jaw open to inspect his teeth. Two canines similar to those he'd looked at in the mirror all his life stared back at him. "Interesting."
The dragon growled in his throat and the two fangs lengthened, hanging over his lips. "Very interesting. It appears there is more to you than meets the eye, Derkein."
He lowered his head even further, wanting to be sure his next words rang clear as a bell in the dragon's ears and only his ears. "Or should I call you Declan?"
A flash of fear passed over the dragon's face before his features twisted into a study of rage. Like a leashed pit bull, he lunged for Lotharus. The soldiers held him in check, a
s Lotharus knew they would. Slowly, he stood, giving a nod to the guards.
"Take him to the dungeon." Then he turned to Alexia who stood watchfully in the corner. "Let us see what he knows of our lost little bauble, hmm?"
A ripple of sickness folded over Alexia. She turned, heading toward her chamber, needing some free air, some space to think.
Lotharus's hand snaked out, his long fingers digging into her flesh. "Where are you going?"
"I don't feel well," Alexia muttered. The anger pouring off him was palpable and cold. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him. But his grip on her arm tightened.
"Perhaps it is because you let him feed from you?"
"I didn't let him," she snapped, tugging her arm free. "He attacked me."
Lotharus offered her a smile that didn't reach his onyx eyes. The next thing she knew, she was airborne, flying across the room. Her back slammed painfully against the far wall, and the side of her face went numb from the force of his blow. She cupped her cheek protectively, staring in shock as Lotharus straightened the cuffs of his suit jacket as though he'd merely swatted a fly.
"You will not lie to me again, Alexia. You know I do not approve."
"Lie?" she began, but the look he tossed her froze the words on her tongue.
With lightning-fast speed only ancients possessed, he crossed the room in a flash and stood in front of her. Dragging her to her feet, he pinned her between him and the wall at her back. At the feel of his erection digging into her hip, she sucked in a breath. "Yes, lie," he seethed. "I saw you kiss him."
Alexia swallowed down the acrid taste of bile rising in her throat and pressed back against the wall. He leaned closer. So close his nose brushed hers. "I saw your body writhing beneath his, begging for him to claim you." The hot breath of his words fanned against her neck before he swooped, licking the wound. His low groan vibrated against her throat and a shudder moved through his body. That male part of him grew harder, pressing more insistently against her.
"I watched you grab his face," he said against her neck, sliding his fingers through her hair. "Saw you pull his mouth closer." With a feral snarl, he dug his fingers into her scalp, pressing his mouth against her. Alexia's stomach rolled when he forced his tongue into her mouth, flopping it around with the finesse of a fish.
Thankfully, it was over almost as soon as it had started. He didn't enjoy kissing. Didn't do it with the dragon lord's passion.
Lotharus pulled back. His head cocked to the side as his bottomless eyes regarded her. "Thinking of him, are you?"
Alexia swallowed.
"So am I." He released her. She breathed deep, filling her lungs with the air she'd been depriving them of.
"I think I'll go and see if our soldiers have broken that bird yet."
Vivid images of the dragon fighting earlier flashed across her mind. He was so strong, so proud. He would not fall, would not go down on bended knee before Lotharus.
"You are coming with me, aren't you? After all, torture is your forte."
CHAPTER THREE
DETERMINED TO BREAK the dense fog that had clouded around her mind since the dragon's arrival, Alexia notched up her chin and fell into step behind Lotharus. After descending the spiral stair, they maneuvered down the narrow corridor to the dungeon. The dark walls on either side of them wept. Musty water and stale minerals filled the air. The scents comforted her like a reassuring security blanket would a child. She'd made this trip dozens of times. This was what she did, what she was good at. Although she never found the twisted pleasure Lotharus did in torture, she'd always successfully retrieved information she needed from her captives.
And she needed that crystal.
The sharp crack of a whip followed by a tensed, muffled groan pierced the quiet. She stopped, her heart pounding in her ears. The whip lashed again. At the answering grunt of pain, the bite mark on her neck burned. Alexia fingered the sensitive flesh, covering it with a curtain of her hair when Lotharus looked over his shoulder at her.
A moment later, they rounded the corner into the subterranean bowels of the catacomb. Lit only by torch-light, the dungeon boasted everything one might need to punish, maim or kill an enemy. An assortment of bloodied weapons hung on the flagstone walls and littered the tops of the scarred wood tables. A row of iron-barred cells lined the wall to the right, while a rack and other instruments of torture numerous rulers or their minions had collected over their centuries on earth occupied the space to the left.
Tonight, the soldiers had strung the dragon up against the center wall. His arms and legs were shackled to the sides. The silver collar was attached to a bar above him. His gorgeous body in complete human form was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Every corded and ropelike muscle was taut like a bowstring. His hard, muscled abdomen, peppered with bullet holes, flexed under the next bite of the whip.
Unbidden, her body warmed, remembering his body pressed flush against hers. Her palms burned to skate over every smooth inch of him. The peaks of her nipples tightened beneath her leather corset.
What was wrong with her?
Again, the whip lashed his flesh. She flinched at the sound.
"Come, Alexia."
At her name, the dragon lifted his head. She stilled as striking blue eyes burned into her, watching her with unwavering intensity, even when a soldier rained an other biting blow on his shoulder.
"Do you want the honors, or shall I?"
At the query, her mouth parched. Lotharus was known for his insatiable bloodlust. Somehow, although she had no idea how, she knew this dragon would not break easily. In anger, confusion and frustration she strode forward to the soldier doing the flogging. "Give it to me," she ordered, holding out her hand.
The soldier smiled and set the leather instrument in her hand. She palmed the handle, feeling its familiar smooth line and curves. After a deep breath, Alexia put it on the table. Instead she stepped up and smacked the dragon square across the face.
"Where is the crystal?"
He slowly turned his head to face her, a cold smile in his icy eyes. "I don't know."
She hit him harder and asked again. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he let out a low laugh and locked his gaze on hers.
"I guess it's true what they say about blondes."
Alexia raked her palm across his flesh again. This time, her claws broke the skin of his handsome cheek. And this time when he stared at her, his smile held no trace of humor.
"The crystal?"
"I told you. I. Don't. Know," he said through clenched teeth.
"You're going to have to lie better than that."
"Lie? Where could I possibly be hiding it?" He nodded to his bare body.
Lotharus stepped up from behind her, offering her a spiked cat-o'-nine-tails, an instrument designed to peel flesh from bone. "Let's find out, shall we?"
Sickness rose up her throat at his words. She swallowed it down and took the whip. The burden of it hung like a lead weight in her arm. She did not want to do this. For the first time in all her years as a warrior for her people, she did not want to torture her enemy. And she couldn't explain why.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" At Lotharus's prod, she knew if she didn't whip the dragon, not only would she be punished, but Lotharus would take over the interrogation. And none ever survived Lotharus's questioning. Ever. Although, some far corner of her mind whispered that if anyone could last more than a night in the horde dungeon, it would be this dragon lord before her.
Clamping down her jaw, Alexia stepped closer. Her eyes fixed on the dark nipples on his bloodied chest, the hard lines of his body. So different...
She stepped closer, so close that the heat from his body curled around her. She leaned forward and spoke so only he could hear. "Just tell me and end this."
The dragon stared down at her, faint creases lining his brow. Then he looked at Lotharus and back to her. Understanding finally lit up his eyes. She noticed they stared at her with less cold revulsion, less hate. He let
out a sigh as if coming to some kind of decision. Then he inclined his head toward her.
"Do your worst, vixen," he whispered before leaning back again. "You'll get no answer from me." The latter he shouted loud enough for all ears to hear.
When she still did not move to strike him, the dragon smiled. "It is a shame we didn't have just a few more minutes together, you know. I could have made you sing with pleasure," he said with a wink.
Lotharus lurched forward, snatching the nine-tails from her hand. Alexia barely had time to duck out of the way before he swung the weapon high, raining a blow across the dragon's golden chest.
IN ONE FLUID MOTION, Tallon landed at the causeway of the dragon's mountain lair and shifted form, moving seamlessly from the air to the ground.
As she walked into the darkness of the cave's mouth, the ancient stones that guarded the doorway to the inner city shifted open, allowing her passage. It had opened only a foot before she saw Falcon, Declan's second, waiting anxiously on the other side of the wall. Tallon noticed he was dressed from head to booted foot in black combat attire and wondered if he'd come close to trailing them--wondered briefly if the outcome would have been different if he had.
Pushing the thought down, she stepped inside. At the sight of her, his handsome face lit up in a smile.
"Good, you're back," he said, pushing his bare shoulder off the wall. His waist-length black hair trailed behind him like a sultry veil. Tallon blinked and looked ahead as he fell into step beside her.
"The council has been awaiting you...." His words trailed off. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his brow crease when he looked over her shoulder and saw the walls closing.
"Where is Lord Declan?"
At the name, Tallon's heart tightened and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Clutching the tattered brown satchel to her chest, she moved farther into the black outer tunnel. The air cooled with each step she took, water droplets plopping against slick stones the only sound other than her and Falcon's footsteps. Tallon kept walking until large hands gently covered the caps of her shoulders, forcing her to turn. Although she reluctantly spun, she kept her chin down, her eyes closed. She couldn't bring herself to say it. Couldn't acknowledge the truth her heart already knew. To say the words Declan's gone would make it real and right now she could still pretend it had all been a bad dream.
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