by T. S. Ryder
The stands were soon crowded by Vampires and from the snatches of conversation she heard, Found realized they were betting on the outcome.
"Can't you resolve this another way?" Found twisted her hands, glancing up at the Empress, whose expression was cold.
"Alexandru defeated the Shifter Matriarch, but not in the agreed upon way. He was meant to face ten heroes. He only faced one. Some take it that he backed down from the challenge. This is to prove he will do what is necessary. If he cannot protect you from the likes of Vlad, then he cannot be my heir."
Found stared in horror at the woman. How could anybody be so cold? Was she always like this, or had her unnaturally long life turned her heart to stone?
A cheer from the crowd drew Found's attention back to the arena. Alexandru and Vlad, both wearing only pants, had strutted to the center. Vlad, though tall with well-defined muscles, was tiny compared to Alexandru.
Found knew that the smaller Vampire had no chance to win. Alexandru's gaze sought her out and as promised, she closed her eyes.
The fight took longer than she expected. There were cheers and gasps from the crowd. Grunts of pain echoed in her ears and though she longed to open her eyes and see what was happening for herself, she clenched her hands and kept them closed. An earth-shaking cheer suddenly went up.
"You can look now," the Empress patted her hand.
Found's eyes snapped open. Alexandru stood alone, holding the limp, lifeless body of his brother.
"My sons, here is your future Emperor. Alexandru, my heir," the Empress called out.
The Vampires cheered. But even as the crowd chanted his name, Found could only feel sorrow at the slump of Alexandru's shoulders and the gentle way he laid Vlad's body on the ground.
Chapter Ten
Six months after the fight that had promoted him to the Empress's heir, Alexandru sat on the edge of his bed, watching his wife nurse their newborn child. It wasn't yet dawn, but the baby's crying had woken them both. He could not believe that he was so lucky to be blessed with this family.
"The stars were watching out for me," he said, smiling at Found.
She gave him a distracted smile. "What do you mean, love?"
"When I chose you to be my wife, the stars were watching over me. There is no way I could be so lucky to find you if they were not."
Her eyes sparkled. He loved looking at her like this. He would never get enough.
"They were watching over me, too," she said. "All I wanted was to escape that place, but instead, I found myself. I have a husband who loves me and now a child. I never knew before how hollow I felt."
The baby finished nursing and Found lifted her to her shoulder to burp her. Alexandru felt his smile widen and he was certain he was a goofy sight. His little daughter was beautiful. She was human like her mother and perfect in every way. He would teach her to hunt, fish and fight. He would buy her the best silks and laces for her dresses and if anybody broke her heart, he would destroy them.
"We need to decide on a name," Found sighed.
They had not been able to agree on a name. Or rather, Found had not liked any of Alexandru's suggestions, but had been unable to tell him what sort of name she was looking for. It must be difficult, to have no name but one that was given to you not out of love but a necessity.
He reached for her hand. "Darling, she's perfect just the way she is. We'll find a name, I promise." He leaned forward, kissing her, gently at first, then more passionately.
Found's eyes became sultry. "The doctor said I have to either drink three quarts of your blood or wait three months before we can make love again."
Her words made him tighten and he groaned. "Don't speak like that. It makes me want you."
"I know it does. I figure if I must be tortured with desire, so must you."
"How can you even be thinking that way after giving birth just three days ago?" Alexandru shook his head, laughing. "Even without the pain—"
"It doesn't hurt much anymore. I've already drunk… what, one and a half quarts? I think I'm probably healed up already."
The baby let out a burp that seemed too loud for such a small body and they laughed. Found nestled their daughter in her arms, stroking the small red cheeks and fuzzy black hair. It was a surprise, but the baby looked more like her Aunt Wava than either Alexandru or Found. Wava had been thrilled and had made enough clothes that it would be next to impossible for the little baby to wear them all.
"I heard you speaking with the Empress," Found said, a smile crossing her face as she gazed at her husband. "She seems to be very pleased with your work with the Shifters."
Alexandru felt himself swell with pride, remembering his most recent conversation with the Empress. "She is. Negotiations with my brothers are going well and there haven't been any major skirmishes since the Bear Matriarch submitted to me. Even the others–Wolves, Lions, Tigers–they all respect my authority."
"The Emperor of Vampires and the King of Shifters. Is it everything you hoped?"
"More. I have you."
He bent and kissed his wife's mouth, teasing her lips open. With a moan, she pressed herself closer, careful not to jostle the baby. Alexandru chuckled as he withdrew.
The baby's face wrinkled and Alexandru scented a smell, not unlike sour cheese. He held out his arms for the baby. "Little miss needs a diaper change."
***
"You made a stinky, yes you did."
Found had to fight back laughter at her huge, imposing vampire husband talking baby talk to their daughter as he changed her diaper. It made her love him all the more. Every time she thought her heart would burst if she was any happier, he did something that made it swell even further and somehow make more room.
Alexandru's giant fingers deftly fastened the tiny snaps on the baby's sleepers.
Found climbed out of bed. Her body felt a little tender if she walked or sat for too long, but other than that, she was healing faster than she expected. Being a Vampire's bride definitely had its perks. Alexandru drinking from her was off the table for as long as sex was. Having a transfusion of his blood just after giving birth and then drinking a little at every meal afterwards was really helping her get back to her normal self.
She stepped onto their balcony. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east, heralding a new day.
Alexandru came over to her and shifted the baby to one arm so he could bring Found against his chest, kissing her soundly. Found wrapped her arms around him.
"I think I have it," she said suddenly. Her eyes lit up.
"Have what?"
"Her name."
Alexandru nodded, grinning eagerly.
"Dawn."
"Dawn," Alexandru repeated. His smile widened. "You're right. That's perfect. Hello, Dawn."
Found slipped a finger into her daughter's hand, smiled at her husband and watched the rising sun announce the first day of the rest of her life.
*****
THE END
The Vampire Prince's Prisoner
Description
A curvy nomad in search of an escape PLUS a sexy vampire warrior who is heir to the throne PLUS his cold wife who has evil plans!
Avery Lathe is a nomad. Her entire life she’s travelled between the Severed Kingdoms and the land of Varlyn, ruled by the Vampire King Granzen Thorne. Avery has never thought of herself as special or important, but somehow, this poor curvy nomad has captured the eye of the Crown Prince.
Crown Prince Alistair Thorne is a vampire warrior, heir to the Crown of Varlyn. Married to a cold and distant princess, he cannot help but be drawn to the beautiful human Avery. After destroying her caravan and killing her abusive father, Alistair welcomes Avery into his bed, promising to protect her from the powers in the palace.
A prophecy exists that tells the tale of the half-human half-vampire prince that will unite the Severed Kingdoms and bring peace to the realm. Could Avery be the human woman to bring the prophecy to life? What will happen when the Vampire Princess senses a thr
eat to her position? Caught between political intrigue and the machinations of her devious brother, Avery must not only survive, but also protect her unborn child: the bastard son of her Vampire Prince.
Her Vampire Prince
On the seventh full moon of a red year
The only daughter of a seventh son of the lands of Mygie
will lie with a Vampire Prince
In nine months’ time,
she will bear him a son born on a moonless night
Half-human half-vampire, he will be beautiful and terrible to behold
He will conquer the world and reunite the Severed Kingdoms
He shall be the greatest King that Varlyn has ever seen
The world will shudder from his power
- Celisa the Prophet of Four Boulders
Chapter One
He could smell them. Prince Alastair Thorne lifted his nose in the air and took a deep breath. Humans, he could smell their sweat, the smoke from their camp, the fat of a roasting rabbit dripping into the fire. His mouth watered. He tongued the sharp fangs in his mouth knowing that soon he would be able to fill his thirst.
He listened to their sounds. Men and women went about their business unaware of the monsters lurking in the shadows. He ignored the low mutterings of men and focused on a woman singing a slow mournful song. The grumbling men were of no concern to him. He wasn’t interested in their kind. It was the women he wanted.
He could hear their light, high-pitched voices creating a tantalizing music that danced towards him. Closing his eyes for a moment, he just listened. He heard laughter from a group, a tittering that sounded like bells and a deep longing surged to the surface. They were so close.
He gripped his sword, his fingers digging into the supple leather of the handle. The blood lust was coming on. His heart began to pound, adrenaline pumped through his veins.
His pupils dilated and the darkness around him lit up. He could see everything clearly. Every blade of grass stood out in bright detail. The wind picked up making the boughs of the trees shudder. It was as if nature herself knew what was coming.
“On marks,” Alistair ordered. Behind him, fifty men unsheathed their swords and bared their fangs.
“Now!”he said. He took off at a run, racing towards the bright fires of nomad’s camp. He ran across the flat grassland as his men fanning out behind him. The dogs in the human camp began to bark furiously, tugging and straining at their leashes. The sound only made Alistair’s feet go faster. He opened his mouth and let out a screaming war cry echoed by the men around him.
They crashed on the camp the way a wave crashes on the shore. Swords clashed as women screamed. Men leapt up from their chairs and reached for their swords, but they were too slow and their blades dull.
The nomads were not fighters. As the vampires descended on their camp, the men panicked and fled. They abandoned their dull weapons on the ground to speed up their cowardly retreat. The abandoned women began running in all directions clutching at each other and screaming for help. It was chaos and madness. To his left there was a bright burst of flame as one of the elaborately decorated caravans of the nomads caught fire.
He was halfway through the camp before he came upon the first man willing to put up a fight. A fat nomad raced towards Alistair, holding his no doubt stolen sword like a cudgel. Bringing up his own sharp, well-hewn blade, Alastair took a moment to sneer at the nomad before cutting him down with one slice of his blade.
In disgust, Alastair watched as several men threw their women in front of them, attempting to use them as shields. Alastair ignored the women, leaving them weeping on the ground, crying for the men who had left them behind. Racing past them he charged down their weak men. With a fury, his sword raked across their backs and legs sending them screaming to the ground.
Heaving for breath, Alastair looked around the chaotic camp searching for another threat, another enemy. All he could see were women huddled together holding onto each other. Caravans burned, his men emptied the elaborate carts searching for anyone attempting to hide from their fury. He needed a warrior, someone willing to put up a real blade. Was there no one left? Had they really defeated the nomads that easily?
Alastair wasn’t ready to be done yet. Bloodlust pumped through his veins. He wanted a real fight, a real challenge. These weakling nomads had disappointed him. He felt unfulfilled. He spun in a circle his eyes scanning the camp for movement. There must be someone who would give him a proper fight.
He heard a scream from a caravan behind him and he turned around in time to see a woman tumble to the ground. There was a man behind her, holding her by her hair, wrenching and pulling her forward. She screamed and fought against him, her hands trying to pull him off her hair. But he was bigger and anytime the girl managed to get her feet underneath her he would kick them and she would fall again.
Alistair snarled and the man whirled around, bringing the girl with him. Her face was screwed up in pain and wet with tears. The crying had smeared her make-up, leaving tracks of dark tear lines down her pale skin. It did nothing to hide her beauty.
“Take her, not me,” the man screamed throwing the woman on the ground in front of him. She tumbled, falling directly below Alistair. On her hands and knees, she looked up at him beseechingly. Even there, in the hectic chaos of battle, she did not quiver with fear or beg for mercy. He expected to see anger and hatred in her face. Instead, she looked up at Alistair like he was her savior. He stared into her deep grey eyes and the longing in his stomach surged.
By the Gods she was beautiful. Alastair let his sword drop as he took all of her in. She had a full head of thick, dark hair, clear alabaster skin and grey eyes that shone in the moonlight. Through her poor nomad's dress, he could see she had an hourglass figure with full breasts and hips.
A fire surged within him. He wanted to take her right then and there. He wanted to push her down into the grass, enter her and bite her, draining the beauty and have her all at the same time. But there was something he needed to do first. He tightened his grip on his sword and moved around the kneeling woman, leaving her be.
Alastair snarled at the sniveling man. The nomad turned and ran, but he was far too slow. Alastair was on him in a moment. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and plunged his sword into his chest. The nomad cried out and went weak. Alistair pulled his sword free and the man fell to a heap at his feet.
“Weak men are not permitted in Varlyn,” he said as he spat on the body. He turned around and saw the beautiful woman was still kneeling. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open as her eyes darted between Alastair and the dead man.
Looking down at the corpse he could see the similarities. The nose and the hair color were the same. This must have been her father.
“What is your name, nomad?” the Prince asked her, blood dripping down his sword. Her father’s blood.
She paused for a moment, staring at him in confusion. “Avery Lathe, My Lord,” she finally said.
“Stand,” he ordered.
She rose to her feet and he was able to take her all in. Her thin nomad rags flapped in the wind as her long hair danced on her shoulders. She was like something out a dream, a perfect gift from the Gods left just for him. Caravans burned around him as his men called to each other, but all Alistair could focus on was her.
He took a step towards Avery, expecting her to run away, but she didn’t move. She remained frozen in the spot staring up at him. He took another step. He moved slowly—as if she were a frightened animal that might run at any sudden movement. The moon lit up her soft features and he could not stop staring at the perfect curve of her cheek. He wanted to touch her, to run his hands all over her soft flesh. He needed to feel her in his arms.
“Shall I take her to join the rest of the women, My Lord?” one of his men asked. It was like being awakened from a dream. He had been so focused on the creature in front of him that he had missed the end of the battle.
“No,” he said to his soldier. “She is mine, le
t no one touch her. Take her to my tent.”
She looked up at him startled. Her eyes went wide and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the soldier took her by the upper arm and pulled her away before she could speak.
Chapter Two
“No,” Avery heard the vampire warrior say. “She is mine. Let no one touch her.”
“Yes, My Lord,” the soldier said as he pulled her away from the blood-stained corpse of her father. She wanted to say something to the vampire warrior but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She felt numb and empty. Only a few moments prior she had been scrounging together a dinner for her ungrateful father. Now he was gone and she was a captive of this vampire, out of the frying pan and into the fire.
She glanced back to make sure her father was really dead. His corpse offered no resistance as the vampire soldiers grabbed his wrists and ankles and hefted him toward a pile of bodies. He was truly dead. He was gone for good. She had watched the life drain out of him. He would never hit her again.
Feeling numb and confused, she offered no resistance as the soldier led her through the burning remains of her camp. She could hear other women wailing and weeping for their lost husbands and sons. They were loud, tortured sobs carried to her by the wind. Avery imagined the tortured lamentations could be heard for miles.
Avery was grateful she was not with the other women. She didn’t want to have to pretend to mourn for her father. She felt no sadness at his passing, only relief. If he was gone, that meant he would never raise his hand to her again. She would never have to cook or clean for him again.
I’m glad he’s dead, the thought made her stop in her tracks. The guard prodded her in the back. She stumbled for a moment and then resumed walking. She should have felt afraid. All around her, vampires were ripping apart their caravans. Women were screaming and crying, but she only felt a detached numbness. She had no say in what would happen to her now. She could only march forward and do as she was told.
