Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  “Jane?”

  She couldn’t look at him. She would cave. He was just so damn beautiful, those eyes so hungry. For her. Plain Jane, as the kids at school had once called her. Already she was tempted to fling herself back on top of him, rubbing her way to ecstasy. The scent of him clung to her. Sandalwood. Delicious. Every time she inhaled, she smelled him, weakening her resolve.

  “Can someone else remove the illusion?” she asked, keeping her profile to him. “While we’re together?”

  “Why did you leave me?”

  “I wasn’t concentrating. I was only…”

  “Thinking of me. And sex.”

  Her cheeks heated as she nodded.

  He uttered a low growl. “If you will not take pleasure from me, at least sit beside me. I would rather have part of you than none of you.”

  Said the spider to the fly. A born seducer, this one. Nicolai knew just how to lure, how to tempt. Against her better judgment, she sat. Her fingers brushed his ribs, and the heat of him had her shivering all over again.

  “The answer to your question is yes,” he said, gruffer still. “If someone’s power is greater than mine, my illusion can be broken. But do not go around asking for such a thing. You do not want the witches here knowing what was done to you.”

  She waited, tense and silent, for him to go on. He didn’t. Finally she gasped out, “You can’t leave it at that. What happens if they discover the truth?”

  Another round of silence.

  Her heartbeat increased in speed. “What if your magic fails while I’m here?” Again, she waited. He didn’t rush to assure her all would be well. Still no need to panic. Not yet.

  “Feed me,” he said, his fangs extending over his bottom lip, “and I’ll strengthen. No one will be stronger than me.” There, at the end, his words were slurred.

  One half of her trembled in pleasure, the other half shuddered in fear. The vampires in the lab had fed from bags of plasma. She’d never been bitten. Had never wanted to be bitten. Until now. If anyone could make her enjoy something like that, it was this man.

  “I’ll think about it. Now let’s backtrack a little. If you can make anyone look like the princess, why did you summon me specifically?” Why place her in such danger? Not that he’d truly wanted her, and her alone. She recalled his disdain when he’d learned she was merely a human, recalled his surprise. “I asked before, but you never answered.”

  He leaned toward her, forcing her fingers to press into his skin. A silent command—and an unrelinquishing demand—for contact. “I did not summon you specifically.”

  She’d realized that as she’d spoken, but hearing him confirm it depressed her. She had to remain on equal footing with him, and even though he was chained, he kept leaping to the next level without her.

  “Who did you mean to summon, then?” she asked, tracing an X next to his navel. She blinked. His navel? Damn it! Her willpower sucked. She’d told herself not to touch him so, of course, the first thing she did was claim his belly button as her personal property.

  “Jane?”

  His deep voice startled her, and she jerked her spine ramrod straight. An instant later, her gaze met Nicolai’s. A mistake. Liquid silver eyes, smoldering with passion. Languid expression masking a sea of desires. “Yes?” Danger, Jane Parker, danger.

  “I lost you, even though I’m having this conversation only because you wished it. We could be doing—”

  “Sorry,” she said before he could finish. No reason to discover if what he thought they could be doing meshed with her own desires, and every reason not to. She stuffed her hands under her butt, her weight pinning them in place. Hopefully. “I’ll pay attention from now on.”

  He flicked his tongue over one of his fangs, and she couldn’t help but imagine that tongue flicking between her legs. “I summoned whoever would save me.”

  Oh, dear God. Her bones melted. Climbing on top of him a second time might actually be a good idea, she mused. She’d be able to hear him better. Yeah, yeah, because she was having trouble hearing him and… Damn it, she thought again. You knew better than to look at him!

  She cleared her throat. “So I release you, and then what happens?” Good. Back on track.

  “I am…not sure.”

  The truth or a lie? That hesitation… “Will I go home?”

  “I told you. I do not know. Do you have a man waiting for you?” he asked, the words grated, as if pushed through a grinder.

  “No. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have straddled you. Fidelity is important.” She had nothing and no one except the routine she’d developed. Wake up at six-thirty in the morning and jog five miles. Take a shower, dress, fix breakfast. Read for a few hours, usually something on macroparticles, sometimes a romance, fix lunch. Read for a few hours more, shop online for anything she needed, walk the treadmill to release the knots in her muscles. Bathe, fix dinner. Watch TV, sleep. Exciting.

  She didn’t need to work because one, she’d made so much money through her research, she could never spend it all; and two, she’d made so much money in the car accident settlement, she could never spend it all. Only problem was, she wanted something money couldn’t buy. Her family. A second chance.

  “But I’m not in danger there,” she added softly. “So tell me. What will you do when you’re free?”

  Absolute determination cloaked her features. “Kill my tormentors.” Flat, cold. A vow. “After that, I will journey to Elden.”

  The “kill my tormentors” part shouldn’t have cranked her engine, but it did. A lot. All that ferocity… He would protect what was his, and fight for what he wanted. Always. Anyone who tormented him or those he loved would suffer. And with him, a woman would never have to worry about anything. Well, except her panties. Those might be ripped a few times.

  “If I summon the healer and she does her thing, and then I let you go, but I don’t instantly go home, will you take me with you?”

  She was not staying here; she knew that much. Nicolai might plan to kill everyone, but he was only one man. Or vampire, whatever. There would be survivors. Survivors looking to punish the person who had unleashed the big bad vamp.

  And the longer she resided in this palace, the more danger she would be in, he’d said. Yet, she couldn’t strike out on her own. She knew nothing about this land. This magical land, where spells could be cast, memories erased and powerful vampires enslaved.

  He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he relaxed, his body sagging against the mattress. His expression softened, heated. “What would you do to stay with me?” he asked, his voice once more like smoke, curling around her, trying to lure her back in.

  Her hand itched to reach out, the urge to touch him springing to new life. She wanted to learn the texture of his skin—she hadn’t paid enough attention before. She wanted to rediscover the warmth of his body. Was already reaching toward him…

  She jumped back to her feet and backed away from him. Sitting next to him had been a mistake. She couldn’t concentrate, and she couldn’t keep her dumb hands to herself.

  “Jane,” he said, exasperated.

  “What?”

  His eyes narrowed, the gold flecks brightening, bursting through the silver. “Forget it. Have I answered your questions?”

  “Yes. Wait, no, I—”

  “Too late. You said yes. There’s no changing your mind. Now summon the healer.” He lifted the arm closest to her as best he could, the cuff rubbing against the iron poster. “And remove the chains.”

  Damn him. He’d never promised to take her with him. “All right. Chains first. Healer second. But you’ll owe me. Big time. And don’t feed from me. I didn’t beg you.”

  “Noted.”

  “I’m trusting you. If you go back on your word, I never will again. Once out of my trust circle, always out of my trust circle.” She turned and bent over the nightstand, pulling out the top drawer. Sure enough, a long, thin key rested atop a bed of crimson velvet. “Lookie there. So simple.”

  “Ode
tte!” Hinges squeaked a second before her bedroom door slammed against the wall.

  Gasping, Jane spun. A short, obese woman with ruddy cheeks huffed and puffed in the now open entryway. She wore a navy-blue-and-gold robe, the material far too tight for her rotund frame. She had jet-black hair peppered with silver, the strands slicked back and greased.

  The city without time had managed to take its toll.

  “You dare defy me, girl?”

  The queen, she thought with dread and just a little panic. Her “mother.” The gal with the whip. Don’t forget you’re supposed to be Odette.

  Fear pumped through Jane’s veins at an alarming rate, joining the dread and panic. Danger, danger, danger, her mind shouted, and it was not the succulent kind Nicolai offered. If this world was anything like her own had once been, this woman, this queen, had absolute power over every one and thing in her kingdom. Including Jane.

  “I—I’m sorry.” Jane’s gaze fell to Nicolai. His expression was now blank, his features smoothed out. Yet, he couldn’t hide the coiled tension in his biceps and stomach. He practically vibrated. As stealthily as possible, she tossed the key at him. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you, M-Mother. Queen.”

  “And yet you did. You, my successor, the one my people look to as an example, have made me appear the fool.” At least she hadn’t noticed the key. “Rather than seek out your doting mother, you sought out a slave.” As the queen spoke, two guards filed in beside her.

  Jane didn’t recognize them; they were taller and meaner-looking than the others.

  “Now, you’ll be punished.”

  The men continued to advance.

  “But…I… You can’t do this! Stop. Don’t you dare touch me. Let go!”

  A snarl left Nicolai. One that promised pain. Lots and lots of pain. No one but Jane seemed to notice. The guards snagged her by the arms and began dragging her out of the bedroom.

  “Mine,” Nicolai snapped. “No touching.”

  Again, he was ignored.

  “Stop! Let go!” She struggled, kicking and screaming, but they never loosened their hold.

  Behind her, she heard Nicolai jerking against his chains. “Mine!”

  “I can do anything I wish,” the queen said, so superior Jane wanted to slap her. “Perhaps your little bump on the head made you forget. But no worries, my pet. I will remind you—and ensure you never forget again.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE NEVER CRIED, NEVER even gasped as the whip flayed her delicate skin.

  Nicolai was chained to Odette’s bed. He hadn’t marked Jane as he’d wanted, but he was somehow attuned to her in a way he doubted he had ever been attuned to another. He should not have been able to focus on her, especially since he’d been fighting sizzling desire for her—her body, her blood—and all other thoughts had become fogged and insignificant in comparison.

  Now, he felt fury. So much fury, and every bit of it was leveled on the guards.

  They had dragged Jane along the opulent corridor filled with portraits of the queen and her daughters, down the winding stairs with dark velvet carpeting, and to the extravagant banqueting hall. Though she was no longer in the bedroom, Nicolai saw her still. As if their minds were somehow connected. She struggled the entire way. Only when they bent her over the dining table, her face pressed into the polished wood, only when they stripped away the back of her gown, had she settled.

  Panting, she twisted her head to gaze over at the queen. The Queen of Hearts, a woman known to dine on the still beating organ during the spells and incantations used in her never-ending quest for youth.

  “Don’t do this,” Jane pleaded. “I meant no offense.”

  The queen raised one of her many chins, the ones beneath it jiggling. “And yet it was offense that you gave.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You will be more so.”

  “Please,” Jane said, her skin both pallid with fear and bright with exertion. “Give me another chance.”

  Perhaps the queen replied. Nicolai would never know. He was too focused on Jane’s back. Already she bore scars. More than he could possibly count. They twined from her spine to her rib cage, red and angry, badges of pain. They stretched past the robe’s gaping material, perhaps even riding the length of her legs.

  What the hell had been done to her?

  His guilt sprang back to instant, shattering life, and he was unable to destroy it this time. He had placed her in this situation. This delicate, haunted woman with the tantalizing scent, who had offered him the only glimpse of sunlight in a darkened void. She had come to save him, had trusted him enough to straddle him while talking to him. To rub against him, ratcheting his desire to unequaled heights, even without climax. And her resistance…gods, he’d wanted to quash it. Still did. Wanted her to know his bite, his kiss.

  His possession.

  Perhaps she was merely a challenge he had to triumph above. He didn’t care. Quite simply, she was his. That was not in question. Mine, his cells continued to scream. All mine.

  He could not allow her to be whipped.

  Nicolai looked at the key resting at his side. Jane had tossed it at him, and it had landed on the mattress. A brave gesture on her part, but useless. He could not bend enough to reach it with his mouth. He could not angle his hands to grab it. He could not do anything with it. Yet the fact that she’d tried, that she’d thought of him in the face of her own peril…affected him. He would escape. However necessary. He would save her.

  Never before had he been left on his own outside of his cell, with no guards within sight or hearing distance. He jerked at his cuffs. The metal links scraped his already cut skin, digging deeper, deeper. He’d pulled at them while straining toward Jane, but at the time he hadn’t cared, hadn’t felt any sting but that of passion. Now, he felt the pain. That didn’t stop him, however.

  Just as before, the latches held, both to him and to the bed. He gritted his teeth. His hate for Laila, her mother and even Delfina grew exponentially. Destroy…

  He closed his eyes, concentrating on the power still swirling inside him. There it was, dark, so dark, churning, an untapped storm just waiting, desperate to be unleashed; and all he had to do was break through the glass cage that had been erected within him.

  A glass cage with thin, riverlike cracks running through the center.

  Exploit. He banged against the mental glass, over and over again. Nothing. He clawed at it. Still nothing. Damn it!

  “Now,” he heard the queen say, pulling Nicolai back to the present. To Jane and their connection. Somehow, enough of his magic had escaped to allow him to continue watching her despite the distance between them.

  Leather whistled through air. The first blow landed. Jane squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. She grimaced, but not a sound did she make.

  They had done it. They had whipped her.

  Just like that, something inside of Nicolai broke. Not the glass cage, but something far more dangerous, roaring like a wild animal pushed beyond its limits.

  From the first moment Nicolai had spotted Jane, his body had reacted to her. He had experienced lust, guilt and possessiveness in varying degrees. Now, the possessiveness simply took over.

  Mine, he thought again.

  This time, the word sprung from deep inside him, as unstoppable as an avalanche. He did not understand the fierceness accompanying the thought, and refused to ponder it now. Later. He would ponder later. Right now, more than before, he knew only that she was his—his savior, his woman—and nothing else mattered.

  The guards had touched her, hurt her. They would die. Painfully. By the time he finished with them they would probably thank him for killing them.

  All he had to do was free himself. And he would. Nothing would stop him. Not now, not anymore.

  “Soon” had at last arrived.

  Being a magical vampire, as Jane had called him, was not going to aid him; he admitted that now. Still his determination intensified, blending with the hat
e, the burn of that possessiveness. He would reach her by grit alone; he would save her. No matter what he had to do. His gaze strayed to the wrist cuffs and narrowed. Without his thumbs, his hands would slide right through.

  He didn’t have to think about it. Goodbye, thumbs.

  Biting his tongue against the pain he knew was to come, he slammed his hands, thumbs out, into the headboard. Crunch. The bones broke with that very first punch. He sucked in a breath, but, like Jane, he did not utter a sound. Punch, punch, punch. Each new blow caused even more damage, ripping tendon, tearing muscle, flattening bone.

  By the time he finished, he was sweating, bleeding, his hands limp. But his top half was free. With a growl, he jolted upright. Heard the whistle of leather through air, a soft inhalation of breath. Another lash against Jane’s delicate skin.

  Skin he wanted to caress.

  His hands were too mutilated to grab the key. In fact, his efforts sent the little piece of metal sliding to the floor with a clink. He would need it later, to remove the neck cuff, and so he would pick it up with his mouth—after he’d freed himself.

  Through narrowed eyes, he peered down at his feet. At a different angle, those feet would glide straight through the metal rings. And all he had to do to achieve that different angle was break every bone that ran from his ankle to his toes.

  Nicolai started kicking the footboard.

  JANE CLOSED HER EYES to hide the tears trying so determinedly to form and spill. It wasn’t like she’d never experienced pain before. For God’s sake, her spine had been broken, her legs unusable for months. Then there’d been the surgeries. Surgery after surgery to pin her bones in their proper places. Then, of course, the rehabilitation.

  So, this whipping? Not even a blip on her agony radar. And yet, the humiliation of being bent over a table, her clothing ripped away, her scars revealed to those who sought to harm her, her body bound with ties she couldn’t see—magic?—nearly undid her. And for what? For failing to speak with a fat, ugly woman when summoned?