The Vampire Prince’s Prisoner

by T. S. Ryder

  The king snarled, lunging for Rachel, but Henry was between them faster than Rachel could see. Father and son clashed, both swinging fists and dodging blows.

  Rachel raced to Leila, grabbing her hand. The guard came at them, but they spun in a circle, drawing a line of dark fire between them and the vampires, who stumbled back from the heat. Leila's grip on her sister's hand tightened.

  "What now?"

  Rachel shook her head, at a loss.

  One of the vampires leaped through the flames. Grasping hands reached for her and she screamed. She heard Henry cry her name as Leila sent a blast of energy at the attacking vampire. His clothing was already all in flames, and as he passed through the fires again he shrieked, writhed and was consumed, crumbling into ash. Rachel turned to where Henry and the king were fighting. Henry was fending off blows weakly, black cuts ripping open his chest. A silver knife flashed in the king's hand.

  Even as she watched, the king kicked Henry's legs out from under him, wrapping his hands around his throat.

  "Sunlight!" Rachel blurted. "Is Henry still shielded?"

  Leila turned wide eyes on her. "Shielded?"

  "The sunblock spell." Rachel grabbed Leila's shoulder. "Help me with the spell."

  Her sister stumbled a little but nodded. Together they started chanting, desperate. Henry writhed under his father's grip, eyes wide as he punched the king's ribs to no effect. The energy formed around him, absorbing into his skin. Rachel clutched Leila's hand tighter and held a hand to the ceiling. She closed her eyes, thinking of the sun, remembering its warmth, the feel of the light on her skin.

  She felt that light again and when she opened her eyes, she and Leila were surrounded by it. The vampires screamed and howled, drawing away from the light. The nearest ones blistered all over their bodies, skin scorching black.

  There was a cry of pain from the king. He stumbled back from Henry. The silver knife was buried deep in his chest.

  Rachel let her magic go and the light faded from around her and Leila. Everybody was silent as the king fell to his knees. Henry rushed forward, grabbing him, pulling him close. Tears ran down his face as his father went still. The fire ring around the two witches disappeared.

  "I didn't want to kill you," Henry whispered. "I loved you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

  Rachel moved forward slowly as Henry wept. She put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, and glanced at the remaining vampires. One by one, they got to their knees and bowed to Henry.

  "What are you doing?" Leila demanded. "You're not going to try to kill us anymore?"

  Henry closed his father's eyes and stood. "My father is dead. I am the king and you are my brides. They know that without me, the kingdom will fall. And if they so much as lay a finger on my queens, they will die."

  His shoulders still slumped, and he stumbled as he embraced Rachel. She held him, trying to lend him her strength.

  "I'll send for Becky and Cheri," she said. "The vampire kingdom must welcome their princess."

  Henry nodded. "And we will bury my father with grace and dignity. But first… I need to restore my strength."

  Rachel nodded, holding his hand as she led him from the room. Leila snorted at the vampires, who were still kneeling, and followed.

  Chapter Ten

  What used to be his father's study was now his study. His father's chambers were now his chambers. The crown that had once looked so noble on his father's brow was now his burden to bear. Henry slumped in his father's–no, his–office chair, staring at the detailed map that showed every tunnel and corridor of the kingdom he now ruled.

  As a boy he used to sneak in here and sit in this chair, looking at that map, pretending he was king, deciding what supplies went where and what armies would be sent to subdue what uprising. It didn't matter that there hadn't been an uprising since this underground kingdom was founded. All he had thought about was how magnificent it would be to prove his worth in battle.

  At that time he was too young to understand that his father had to die before he could be king.

  Henry sighed, loosening the tie that he wore. He'd updated his wardrobe to what was current on the surface, but the suit just felt oppressive, especially after the grand funeral he had just held for his father. He doubted he would ever get over how he had received the kingship of the vampires.

  If he had listened to me, he would still be here.

  Or perhaps he wouldn't. Henry had a child. A daughter rather than a son, but perhaps the next monarch would be a queen rather than a king. It was a year to the day since Rachel had told him she was pregnant. Maybe his father would be dead anyway, one way or another.

  In any case, he was not going to make the same mistakes his father had. He would accept his future with the grace being a king demanded, and when his heir had an heir of his or her own, he wasn't going to demand that they kill the one they love just so he could live longer.

  The door opened. Henry turned, expecting to see one of his father's witch-brides. He had thought that they would cause more trouble than they had, but they understood just as well as the vampires that the kingdom would crumble without a king, and most had taken voluntary exile. Those few who had stayed had tried to convince Henry that he needed more brides as if Rachel wasn't enough for him.

  It wasn't one of his father's consorts who came into the room, however. It was Rachel herself, carrying their bright-eyed daughter. The baby had his blue eyes and Rachel's dark hair, and a little wrinkle between her eyes when she was about to cry that looked like Rachel when she sneezed.

  "I thought you might like to see your daughter," Rachel said, handing the baby to her father.

  Cheri waved her fists at him and smiled a toothless smile. Her fangs would be coming in soon, and they were already preparing to use a pump and bottle to allow her to continue to drink breast milk. They didn't know if witch blood would be deadly to a baby who was half-witch, but they didn't want to take the chance that Cheri would nip her mother while nursing and drink her blood.

  "It was worth it, you know." He looked up at his queen and smiled sadly. "As much as it hurts to have killed my father. You and little Cheri… our family was worth it. Protecting you… I'd do it again."

  Rachel kissed his forehead. "I just wish we could have made him see reason."

  "My father was not one to take advice or listen to anybody else. How many times did I beg him to stop the tradition of kidnapping women from the surface? No. I loved him, but he would have never listened to me about you and little Cheri."

  "At least you can get rid of that horrible tradition yourself now."

  He nodded, stroking his daughter's cheek. "How is Cheri?"

  His father hadn't harmed his oldest bride. She had been locked in her room but was given everything she needed. She was old, though, and her strength was failing her, although she had been thrilled and honored that he and Rachel had named the little princess after her.

  "She's doing well. She has a bit of a cough, but the healers think that she still has a good five years left."

  Five years sounded like no more than the blink of an eye, but Henry would take it. Deep down, he thought that Cheri might be ready to pass on. She remained cheerful and bright-minded, but she was tired, and the events of the past year had been hard on her. More than once she had mentioned that she was ready to sleep.

  "Leila started her schooling today," Rachel said, sitting on the desk. "She's looking forward to learning how to use her magic properly. And I think she might have her eye on one of the other students. I would never have thought… but I guess now that she doesn't think she has to look after her older sister, she can relax."

  At that, Rachel rolled her eyes, and Henry laughed. "She'll do just fine. What about you? Are you going to rethink going into school?"

  "No. I'm going to learn how to control my magic, and that's it. I don't need to learn all those spells and incantations. I'm getting a better handle on how to control these visions, and that's good enough."

&
nbsp; Henry nodded. Cheri gurgled and he sat her up, bouncing her in the way that always made her smile. His heart always felt lighter when he saw how bright and alive his little girl was. All his brides–they were still his brides, even though he knew he would only ever sleep beside Rachel–were doing well in their chosen tasks. Becky had returned to the surface to complete her medical training, but she was going to return once she graduated.

  He looked up at Rachel again to see a soft smile on her face. She looked so utterly relaxed and so very beautiful. He fought the urge to pinch himself at having a woman like her looking at him in that way.

  "So, I had a dream last night."

  "A dream or a vision?"

  "A vision. I can't remember everything about it, but I do know that you have a long and happy reign ahead of you. And we have a long and happy life together."

  Henry reached for her hand and kissed each of her fingertips. Cheri giggled. "How long?"

  "Long enough to be forever." Rachel bent over him, pressing her lips to his. Her lips were so sweet, her sighs like the sound of heaven. "I love you, Henry."

  "And I love you." Holding Cheri carefully, he wrapped an arm around Rachel's waist and pulled her closer. "Until I take my last breath, I will always love you."

  *****

  THE END

  Bonus Book 4: The Werewolf's Secret Baby

  Description

  A BBW in danger PLUS a sexy alpha Wolf Shifter who is her ex PLUS a rival alpha and a deadly duel!

  Desmond is the top dog in Louisiana and everyone knows it. When he gets an anonymous call about a group of blood enraged wolves attacking a local cabaret, he and his second in command go to investigate immediately.

  Unfortunately, the place he’s led to happens to be the very place he’d been trying to avoid for years.

  Now he’s being confronted with the love of his life, his ex, Marceline and becomes tangled up in her problems with the rival Louisiana alpha, Ramson.

  Will he be able to get Ramson to back off of his mate? Or will Marceline leave his life once and for all?

  Chapter One

  Marceline’s. There was something off about the cabaret and it wasn’t that it had been ravaged by blood enraged werewolves from the rival North Louisiana pack. There was a draw here, something Desmond could feel deep in both his human soul and his beast spirit. A deep burn that left his stomach in a knot and his heart racing. Unexplained arousal and testosterone surrounded him in a cloud of musk so strong, even his own nose could detect it.

  He’d tried to avoid this place ever since his mate had left him. He sure hadn’t expected the punch in the chest that seeing it, even in its ruined state, caused him. His heart ached at the sight of the ruined stage that he had helped to build...

  With a rough shake of his head, he tried desperately to shake the thoughts away and focus on the task at hand. He tried hard to push away thoughts of her.

  “Desmond,” Arin, his second, called out to him. He didn’t turn around, instead just listened as the other man picked his way past the splintered tables and upturned chairs of the strip club.

  “Speak,” he ordered, once his pack mate had reached his side. The rich, iron tang of blood assaulted his nose, serving as a tell-tale sign of the other’s injuries. Not that he was surprised. When Ramson’s rouge wolf tipped him off that some of the rival alpha’s pack were plotting this attack, he’d expected some of his own would have to fight to drive them off.

  “The place is cleared of wolves. Corwin and Larson took a few of the new bloods to track down the ones that ran off before we could finish them,” Arin reported. From the steadiness with which he spoke, his injuries couldn’t have been too bad.

  “How many?”

  “Total? Five. We killed three of them in here, the other two escaped. I just wish we’d have gotten here sooner. There were a few humans still alive when we got here, but...” he trailed off.

  Desmond didn’t need him to finish, though. He understood. They hadn’t survived the bites, either because the damage was too great, or their human souls rejected the chance to harbor their beast spirit and accept the change. Most didn’t survive a werewolf attack. Out of the ones that did, many would have to be killed by their alpha after their first moon if they couldn’t get both halves of themselves, both beast and man, to exist in harmony together.

  That’s what he suspected had happened to these wolves, though why Ramson hadn’t put them down before they attacked, he didn’t know.

  “Did you happen to find any wolf bodies that didn’t belong?” he asked. The question would have sounded offhand, had his voice not cracked with tension and fear. Arin understood the implications behind his question. The shaggy-haired man rested a hand against his alpha’s shoulder.

  “We all looked out for her. We didn’t find her. She must not have been here when they attacked.”

  Desmond hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it whooshed out of him in a great sigh of relief. The tension that had coiled his muscles and squared his shoulders released marginally.

  As if he knew the alpha wouldn’t want to talk further on the matter, Arin immediately continued on with his report.

  “We’ve also called Perrine. She’s going to bring a few supplies from her shop to get this place cleaned up.”

  “Good. I’ll wait here for her. Join Larson and Corwin. If you can, bring one of the blood enraged wolves back to me alive. It is best to make sure they just couldn’t handle the change and that there isn’t something bigger going on here,” Desmond ordered.

  Arin bowed his head respectfully, then turned to sprint out the broken back door. Before he’d made it ten steps up the alley, his skin rippled, his head elongated and fur sprouted in patches across his skin.

  Desmond turned away only when a fully shifted, smoke colored wolf let out a low, drawn out howl and turned the corner onto the main street, tongue lolling as he padded away. Only Arin could get away with running through the middle of town as a wolf without getting an earful from him.

  He turned away from the back door with a shake of his head, itching to run with his pack mates, but the strange pull to something in the cabaret kept him there.

  Chapter Two

  Within moments of Arin leaving, the sound of a pistol being cocked behind him alerted him to the presence of another living creature seconds before an achingly familiar scent hit his nose. The pull that kept him so enthralled, attached and unable to forget, swelled overpoweringly until his entire ribcage seemed to vibrate with the sensation. She was here. Marceline.

  “You take one step and I fire. These bullets are silver, you hear?” a distinct, creole accented voice of a female called out to him. His beast surged through him in response to the threat to the point it was hard to contain it.

  “Turn around, right now. Go on.”

  Desmond did as he was told though his skin had begun to ripple and his eyes shone with the silver of his wolf instead of the blue they should have been.

  “I didn’t think you’d forget me so much that you wouldn’t recognize me from behind,” he said, voice low and gravely. As he turned around, his eyes immediately sought out the curvy form of his ex, and his heart all but shattered in his chest at the pain and anger that raged rampant in her dark eyes.

  The pull he’d tried so desperately to ignore for years drew him to her and his entire frame flooded with the heat of desire. One look at her dark, satin skin and thick, exposed thighs and his beast spirit went from challenging to aroused. Sparks of longing shot straight to his groin as his mind flooded with the images of passionate nights of making love to the very woman he stared at.

  Mine.

  Only, she wasn’t his. Not anymore. She’d made that very clear when she stormed from his house, straight out of his life. A full body shudder rolled down his spine and he clenched his eyes shut with a nearly imperceptible whine.

  “I’m not taking your crap, Desmond. You’re redhanded in my territory. I knew you were petty and vengeful, but
I didn’t think even you would destroy everything I had left to care about!” she snapped, as she lowered her gun at the sight of him and the faintest traces of grief and longing colored her dark eyes. Her dark, beautiful eyes. They still captivated his very soul even after all this time.

  She felt it, too. He could see it in the way her hostile stance softened. The pull. Imprinting. He’d thought it’d only been legend and myth, but that was before they’d met. Everything between them was fiery and rough, hot and heavy, full of a passion he hadn’t been able to find with anyone else he’d tried to mate. None of them were as good as her.

  “I didn’t do this. Use your nose, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  Desmond had to force himself not to move as she moved closer to him and further into the destroyed cabaret. The way her thighs trembled with each step she took was maddening, not to mention her breasts. He wanted to bury his face in them. They were just as perfect as he remembered. She was just as perfect as he remembered.

  “You lost your right to call me that, Papa Dog.” Marceline snapped. The causticness of her previous words had faded away significantly, instead being replaced with sadness. “But, you’re right at least. They smell like Ramson and his wolves.”

  The other alpha’s name hit him like a freight train.

  “You’ve been talking to him?” he growled out, stalking forward with a furious gaze until he stood mere inches from her. The very scent that rolled from her body, spicy, dominant and all too feminine, only fueled his anger that she even knew the other alpha’s name. She was his! She belonged to him and him alone.