The Vampire's Bride a-4

by Gena Showalter

  "Do not touch her. Do not even approach her, no matter what she does or says."

  The command surprised them both, but he did not rescind it. She belonged to him, her last breath his to deliver.

  Eyes narrowed, Zane moved out of the way. He stared Delilah down as she stalked past him, still no hint of the air shield in evidence.

  She tossed the man a withering glance before once again focusing all her fury on Layel. "A bodyguard," she said, brows arched. "Afraid of a little girl, vampire? I don't know why, but I expected better of you."

  That she was now inches from him, practically in his face, her sea-kissed scent tormenting his nose, electrified him. He'd just decided to kill her. Could he, though? he wondered now as his gaze locked with hers. All that violet…a man could get lost. His hands still rested at his sides, the muscles lax. Do it. Strike! Not even a twitch.

  "I don't care what you expected. Your opinion has no value to me." Cruel, yes, but necessary. If he couldn't hurt her physically—what's stopping you? Simply act, move—he would have to hurt her emotionally. Anything to preserve the distance between them.

  Her mouth fell open, pain shimmering in her eyes. Pain she quickly masked.

  Has to be this way, he reminded himself, since he clearly wasn't man enough to slay her. "Don't come near me again, woman. Don't look at me, don't even breathe in my direction."

  As he spoke, she ran her tongue over her teeth. "As if I'm the only one doing the looking. But I'll tell you what, vampire. I'll stop looking at you, if you'll stop looking at me."

  His jaw hardened—and he refused to admit what else hardened at the sight of that pink tongue. "Done." He forced himself into motion, attempting to sidestep her.

  She stiffened and jumped back in front of him. "Stay where you are. There are a few more things we need to work out."

  True to his word, he kept his eyes averted from her. "No. Now, out of my way, Amazon." A mistake, letting her get close to him. Besides being too hot, his skin was suddenly too tight for his bones and his stomach was knotted.

  "You're being very rude," she said. "I've killed men for less."

  "Do you want a prize?" he asked drily. Still, he managed to face the beach. Her sea-salt scent continued to tease him, strong, lovely. Hauntingly familiar.

  "I'll settle for your testicles in my trophy tent."

  That did not amuse him. "Perhaps later. At the moment, I need them." He headed for Brand, who sat near the water's edge, knees drawn to his chest. His back was to Layel, his braided blond hair as soaked as Delilah's. Obviously the air shields were down, not just for Delilah but for everyone, creatures now touching one another.

  As if sensing him, Brand hopped to his feet and spun. His lips curved into a grin, animosity flaring as if there had been no break between battles. "I expected you sooner."

  "I live to disappoint you. Ready to die?"

  "Come and get me, bloodsucker."

  "My plea—" Layel hit the damned invisible wall again, knocking the breath right out of his lungs.

  Brand's grin became smug. "What's the matter? Change your mind? Frightened?"

  Calm. Do not show emotion.

  "You're the coward, dragon," Delilah said, suddenly at Layel's side. Brand's smugness became fury.

  "Can you move past this point?" Layel asked without facing her, trying to quash the pleasure that came with her defense of him.

  She bristled at his harsh tone. "Can you?"

  "Woman."

  "That is not my name." She kept her gaze on Layel; he felt the heat of it. A quick glance at her proved he was right, and that her hands remained fisted, as if she expected Brand to attack her at any moment.

  "Can you move past this godsdamn point, woman?"

  Silence.

  He waited. Even Brand waited. Still she did not speak. Had he hurt her again? Did tears swim in her lovely lavender irises? Why did the prospect not please him as much as it should?

  "My name is Delilah."

  "I know."

  Her shoulder brushed his arm and he hissed. "Say my name," she said, suddenly breathless, "and I'll consider finding out."

  Something about her tone…pure challenge layered the wispy undercurrents, as if she wanted him to deny her. He was not sure what to make of that. "Why do you wish me to do this?"

  "I want to hear my name on your tongue."

  "Again, why?"

  "Because." Stubborn as he'd come to realize she was, she said no more.

  "Tell me why," he demanded.

  "Just say it!"

  "No," he said, while inside his mind he whispered Delilah, drawing out each syllable. The name was a prayer and a curse, both wonderful and evil. Unable to help himself, he looked down and studied her. So lovely, and yet so dangerous in a way she could not possibly comprehend.

  A pause. A deep breath, as though she prayed for patience. "Have it your way, vampire. But if you won't say my name, at least tell me yours."

  No reason to deny her. She would find out one way or another. "I am Layel."

  Her eyes widened. "The vampire king?"

  He nodded curtly. Was that admiration now sparkling in her eyes? Surely not. "Try and step past me. Please," he added reluctantly. It was easier to beg than to give her what she wanted.

  Silent, trembling, she moved closer to Brand. Unhindered, unfettered. Irritation raced through Layel that she could do so and he could not. She did not remain there, however. She returned to Layel's side.

  "Want me to kill the dragon for you while I'm here?" she asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

  Brand snorted, not the least bit fearful. Foolish.

  Layel gave a clipped shake of his head. "Why?" he demanded of the sky. But if the gods heard him, they gave no indication. As usual.

  "Maybe I'll do it for my own pleasure, then," she said to Brand, ignoring Layel as her eyes narrowed. "I haven't forgotten what was done to my sister."

  The dragon scrubbed two fingers along his jaw. "What little was done, she brought upon herself. And anyway, I have a feeling we aren't meant to harm each other. Why else would our weapons have been taken?"

  "I don't need any weapons to take you down." Layel stepped in front of Delilah. Not to protect her, he told himself, but to claim Brand's attention. "Why don't you try and breach the shield, dragon?"

  "No, I don't think I will," Brand said. "I'm done with this conversation. Done with you, too, now that my anger has cooled. I'll leave you at the…tender mercies of the Amazon." Then he did the unthinkable. He walked away. Walked the hell away.

  Layel's fangs cut into his lower lip, drawing blood. He tried to follow. Couldn't.

  Delilah pivoted, in front of him again, blocking his view of the retreating dragon. "As I was saying, we have some things to discuss, you and I."

  He popped his jaw before forcing his expression to relax. She was still geared for a fight, still seemed to crave one. "Poor baby," he said, unwilling to give her what she wanted. "Did I hurt your feelings when I abandoned you a moment ago?"

  Her cheekbones pinkened, highlighting the freckles atop her dainty nose. Would she have a dimple when she smiled? If she ever smiled, that is. So far, the Amazon had only glared at him.

  Susan had had two dimples, and she'd rarely been without a smile. One that had always entranced him. So why did Delilah's glare affect him just as powerfully?

  Layel almost beat himself in the temples to dislodge that torturous thought. He would not compare another woman to Susan. There was no comparison. She had no equal, then or now.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" Delilah asked, now curious rather than upset. "In fact, why are you looking at me at all? You said you would not."

  Because I am a terrible husband. "How was I looking at you?" He stared past her, past the water to the crystal dome that was so close, yet so far away. Like I want to draw you close and push you away at the same time? Like I want to both taste you and kill you? Like you're dangerous in a way you have no right to be?
>
  "Like I'm a disgusting demon," she said.

  She wasn't a demon; she was far worse. Admitting it would have given her power over him, though. "Why did you approach me, Amazon? What do you want from me? And understand that I will not fight with you, no matter what you say. Not now. You will stop trying to provoke me."

  "I wasn't trying to provoke you," she said, indignant.

  "You succeeded nonetheless. I asked you a question. You will answer it."

  At first, she gave no reaction to his words. Then her lips pursed. Those lush, beautiful lips. What would they feel like against his skin? What would—

  With a hiss, she kicked out her leg, knocking his ankles together as he'd done to hers in the forest. At the same time, she pushed his shoulders, propelling him backward and giving him no way to balance or catch himself. When he landed, he landed hard, breathing a thing of the past.

  You knew better than to allow yourself to be distracted in the presence of an Amazon warrioress, he berated himself, trying to suck in a mouthful of air. Around any enemy, really, but especially one so volatile.

  Delilah hopped on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the sand with her knees. There was now another layer to her already complex scent, he realized. Arousal. The discovery shocked him. Hot, erotic arousal, and his mouth dried, his tongue desperate to lave between her legs, where she would be wet. If he moved, raised his head even a little, he would be able to quench his sudden, desperate thirst.

  No. No!

  "This is better," she said, practically humming with satisfaction. And disappointment? Did she want to be weaker than him? Surely not. To her, such a thing could bring only humiliation. "The king of the vampires, mine to command. Now you are going to answer my questions. Tell me why you didn't try to swim home like the rest of us. You know something. You must."

  Fighting his need for her—just a touch, a taste—he snapped, "I will never be yours to command. Never be yours, period."

  "We shall see." Baby-fine strands of her hair brushed his cheeks. A purr rumbled in the back of his throat, and he growled to mask it. "I have heard of your conquests, vampire king."

  "Have you?" Slowly he raised his hands to her waist, pretending he wanted to hold her, be closer to her. Hating that it was not as much a pretense as it should have been.

  She didn't protest. "Yes. They're impressive. You killed the demon queen, sucking her dry. You have slaughtered more dragons than anyone else ever to live. Combined. You torture ruthlessly just to hear your opponent scream."

  "And yet you seem remarkably unfazed by such fearless feats."

  "Have you, perchance, heard of my conquests?" She sounded hopeful.

  "No." He hadn't, but wished otherwise.

  "Liar," she said, unable to hide her dejection.

  "About many things, yes, but not this." When she opened her mouth, perhaps to list her own feats, he added, "I do not wish to hear about them, either." Proof that he did, in fact, lie whenever he wanted.

  Fire blazed in her eyes as she licked her lips, baring that pink tongue again. "All I want to know is wwhhyy—"

  With a flick of his wrists, he tossed her overhead. She landed on her back and rolled, but he expected the motion and rolled backward himself, pinning her to the sand with his body's weight. Behind them, a gasp sounded. Followed by a laugh, a cheer. No footsteps swished in the sand, however. Perhaps, like him, the others could not breach the shield. Or perhaps they were simply enjoying the show.

  Delilah lay there a moment, stunned.

  "You were saying?" he asked, one brow arched smugly.

  "Release me, Layel. Now."

  Her breasts pushed into his chest, her nipples hard and wanting. He was tempted, so tempted, to palm them. Was shaking with the need, he realized. "What are you doing to me? How are you making me feel this way?"

  She blinked up at him, truly confused. "What way?"

  He would not admit his desires aloud. They were wrong, unacceptable. Oh, he knew that men and women constantly fell in and out of lust. Knew that many who lost their lover grieved for a time and then found someone else.

  He could not, would not do so.

  Susan had been killed in the most painful, brutal way imaginable. She had been humiliated, used, spat upon and finally burned. She had felt her baby die inside her, the kicking gradually slowing until it ceased altogether. She had begged and she had pleaded for Layel's help, but he had not reached her soon enough. He had not saved her.

  He did not deserve another chance at love.

  He did not deserve another woman.

  More than that, Susan did not deserve to have her memory overshadowed by another woman.

  "What way?" Delilah insisted, reaching up.

  What she meant to do, he might never know. He jolted to his feet with a roar. "Do not touch me. Ever. Just stay away from me, Amazon. Do you understand?"

  He didn't wait for her reply, but stalked away from her. Stalked away before he looked at her, saw hurt in her eyes and apologized. Before he begged her to ignore his words and touch him anyway. Before he threw himself at her, sobbing for a chance at something he was not worthy of.

  Sand was flung against his calves and he knew she'd stood. "I only approached you to ask if you knew why we were brought here," she called. There was no emotion in her tone. Merely a detachment he suddenly loathed nearly as much as he loathed the dragons.

  Silent, he continued to stride away from her with a fierce determination he usually reserved for the battlefield. One amorous glance from a woman and a part of you longs to forget Susan. You promised her an eternity, yet you only gave her a few hundred years. Pathetic.

  Cringing, he covered his ears with his hands. Dark, treacherous emotions were welling inside him, close to bubbling over. If they succeeded, Layel knew he would be lost to them forever. There would be no returning, no reclaiming his sanity. Vengeance would be forgotten, his own pain all he would be able to see.

  "Do you know? Does anyone know?" Delilah shouted.

  "I do," a booming voice answered, relish in every syllable. "I know."

  CHAPTER 4

  DELILAH FROZE. That voice…that power…In all her years, she'd never heard such a sound or felt such a presence. And yet, the shock of both failed to compare to the shock of having been face-to-face—body to body—with Layel, king of the vampires.

  She had heard stories of the man's prowess, of course, of his dark nature, his unquenchable thirst for blood and power. Delicious qualities, indeed, and she couldn't help but desire all of his strength, all of his fervor, at her fingertips again. He was a warrior to the core and would not care what her sisters thought of him. He would fight for what he wanted, damn the consequences.

  He was the kind of man she'd secretly wanted for years, the need solidifying every time she saw a couple, no matter their race, cooing over each other. The kind of man she'd once thought she'd had, only to lose because he hadn't desired more than a night. But unlike the other, Vorik, who, at the height of passion, had claimed he would crave her forever, Layel said he wanted nothing to do with her. Should she believe him? His heated glances suggested otherwise.

  She almost wished she'd spent more time with the male species. But with the exception of her ill-fated assignation, her tribe only consorted with them twice a year—mating season—when men were stolen from their homes, reduced to slaves, their bodies used repeatedly. When the Amazons finished with them, they were sent on their way. Because Vorik had not been one of those slaves, Delilah had foolishly hoped that, after all his tender promises and heated caresses, her man would fight to stay with her. Or, at the very least, fight to take her with him.

  Not even a backward glance, she mused darkly.

  So many times since then she'd wondered why none of the men—not just hers—had ever asked for more. After all, not one slave had even put up a fight when he'd first realized his destination and purpose. In fact, they'd seemed overjoyed. Willing and eager. And even though they were slaves, they were treated well, sex a
vailable anytime they wanted it.

  But apparently, though Amazons were fun for a time, they just weren't worthy of forever. Not that any other Amazon but her wanted forever. What's wrong with me? Though her virginity was long gone, thanks to Vorik, she couldn't even use the slaves casually, as the sexual vessels they were meant to be.

  Since taking her lover, Delilah had never experienced the urge to give herself to another, only to toss him aside later—or be tossed aside herself, his old life more important than the new one he could build with her. But Layel…she desired him, she realized. Desired his tongue in her mouth, hot and insistent. Desired their sweat-soaked skin slipping and sliding together. Desired his body arching and straining over hers.

  Foolish girl. She could desire such things, but she could never allow them. Already she wanted Layel too fiercely. How much more would she want him if she learned the reality of his touch? The true bliss? She would give herself to him, wholly and fully, yet he would walk away afterward. Once again, she would be forgotten. This time, though, she suspected she would not get over the loss. She'd been given a glimpse of the man behind the legend and she'd liked what she'd seen.

  Someone stepped on her foot, drawing her from her troubling musings back to the equally troubling present. What in Hades was going on? Everyone was inching toward the beach.

  "Reveal yourself," the dragon with the braids was saying to the invisible being, his arms splayed wide as he turned in a circle in front of her. "If you have the courage."

  Someone gasped. Someone pointed.

  Wonderful. Another surprise. Delilah followed the direction of that finger, and her eyes widened. There, above the water, the air had begun to crystallize and thicken. A force of good? Or evil? She settled one foot behind her, ready to leap and attack at a moment's notice. The other creatures did the same, she noticed, each of them preparing for battle.

  Unfortunately, the only weapons to be had were their own bodies.

  Even Layel had stopped to face the swirling being. His expression was intent, though untamed, feral and savage, and somehow banked with undeniable sensuality.