Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  Poor Odette. Was this how she’d lived? Always fearing the next punishment? And poor Nicolai. Jane could not blame him for doing everything within his power to save himself. She would have done the same.

  In fact, she could blame only herself for this. Had she listened to Nicolai, had she freed him when he’d wanted, they would have been far, far away from this dreadful place. Well, he would have been. He would have left her behind. And he still might, she thought. During their talk, she had not garnered a promise from him. Not to keep her with him, not to protect her. And now, it was too late. There was no way she’d leave him bound after this. Not for any reason. She would free him the moment she was physically able, then take off on her own.

  Dumb on her part, maybe. Probably. Okay, definitely. Allowing herself to be separated from the one person who knew who and what she was, the one person who could get her home…so damn foolish. But that still wasn’t going to stop her.

  And, wow. Jane Parker, considered a dummy. That was a first. She laughed without humor. A novelty in the face of pain. Nice.

  “This amuses you?” the queen demanded.

  Jane refused to acknowledge her.

  There was a squeak of outrage. “Clearly you are not hitting her hard enough. You.” The queen snapped her fingers. “Take over the whip. Your arms are stronger, as I can well attest.”

  Oh, gross.

  A pause, then the whip continued to descend. Harder, so much harder. Over and over again, minutes ticking by. Still Jane did not utter a sound. She wanted to go home. Back to her boring life, where she was in control.

  The whip stopped falling. Finally, a reprieve.

  “Have you at last learned your lesson, Odette?” the queen asked, expectant. “Or shall I have him remove the skin on your legs, as well?”

  She opened her mouth to tell the bitch to go to hell—no ignoring her this time—but she stopped herself before a single word escaped. Did these people believe in hell, or even know what it was? Would she announce her humanity and lose the protection—what little there was—in being thought of as Princess Odette?

  “Silence will not—”

  A roar echoed from the walls, harsh, guttural and a promise of pain.

  Everyone in the room stilled. Jane forgot to breathe. That sound…she’d never heard its like. There was an animal on the loose, a lion probably, there just had to be. And people were clearly on the menu.

  Another roar, followed by the crash of furniture and the shattering of knickknacks. Screams of agony. Gasps, racing footsteps. Had her guards left?

  “Don’t leave me here,” she shouted.

  “What’s going on?” the queen snapped. Okay. Good. She was still here. Bitch that she was. “You, find out. You, shield me.”

  “Free me,” Jane demanded. “Now.”

  They paid her no heed.

  One of the guards headed toward the entryway, where other guards were pouring inside to escape the beast, but he didn’t make it outside the room. Not alive. There was a blur of movement, then blood was squirting, a headless body falling.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted Nicolai. He was a mess, covered in blood, limping, his arms hanging at his sides. His fangs were bared in a fearsome, crimson scowl, and she knew.

  He was the animal.

  Thank God. Some of the tension drained from her. Somehow, some way, he’d managed to escape. His plan to destroy the people who lived inside this palace was well under way.

  Before, she’d thought there would be survivors. Now, not so much.

  He barreled into another guard, his shoulder slamming into the man’s middle and knocking him backward. The guard propelled into another, the one with the whip. The two fell to the floor. Nicolai slashed into the whipper’s neck and shook, a wolf with his first meal in months. Screams…silence…death…

  Just like that, Jane was freed from whatever had bound her. She straightened. Sharp lances of pain shot from her back, spiraling though the rest of her. She hardly noticed. Her gown sagged from her shoulders, momentarily exposing her breasts. Hurriedly she righted the material, holding it up.

  Nicolai’s silver-gold eyes landed on the queen, who was no longer shielded by a man. Blood—and other things—dripped from his mouth. His expression was so dark, so murderous, even Jane backed away from him. He was a terrifying sight. A warrior lost to bloodlust, his only goal the destruction of every one and every thing around him.

  He advanced on the queen. “Die. You die.”

  “How dare you threaten me and my people this way?” the bitch snapped. “I allowed you to live after you tormented my eldest daughter, and now you think to spit on my mercy? Guards!”

  No guards came. Perhaps they were too busy being dead.

  “She…mine,” Nicolai snarled, moving in front of Jane while still advancing on the queen. There was something wrong with his feet, his ankles twisted at an odd angle, yet his steps were measured, clipped with determination.

  The queen lifted her mountain of chins. “You think to protect my daughter from me? The daughter you tried to slay?”

  “Mine!”

  “Come on, then, slave. Come get me.”

  Jane’s heart pounded with renewed force. Her legs shook. This was a showdown the queen couldn’t hope to win. Right? Please be right.

  Nicolai leaped.

  Grinning, the queen stretched out one arm and ripples of power pulsated from her. The air around her shimmered, thickened. Nicolai slammed into a wall Jane couldn’t see, ricocheting backward.

  Another roar ripped from his throat as he jumped to his feet. He pounded his injured fists into that invisible shield, his fangs flashing.

  The queen laughed, smug. “Do you see now? Even were you at your strongest, you could not touch me. I am beyond your reach.”

  Booted footsteps reverberated, and Jane watched, wide-eyed, as the second line of defense marched into the room. So. There were more guards, after all. This new contingent held swords and spears, and when they spotted the bloody Nicolai, they bolted into action.

  “No!” Jane threw herself in front of him, the action born of instinct rather than thought. As she well knew, even vampires could be killed, and she didn’t want Nicolai to—couldn’t watch him—experience that.

  Strong arms banded around her waist and jerked her into a hard body. Instinct still drove her and, for a moment, she fought, kicking and elbowing.

  “Mine. Be…still.”

  Nicolai. She relaxed, despite his raging animal nature. He was warm against her. Solid, sturdy despite his wounds. Even decadent. Her inhalations were coming so quickly, she scented the sandalwood she was already coming to love.

  Okay, then. They would die together, she thought distantly. She’d survived so much the past year. The car accident, injuries that would have killed most people. Injuries that should have killed her. Especially since she’d yearned for death, and hadn’t done anything to aid her own cause.

  She’d been so lost, wondering. Why her? What was so different, so special, about her that she could endure what others had not? Nothing, that’s what.

  And now that she wanted to live, she would finally die. Irony at its finest. She would not be allowed to know Nicolai better. She would not get to spend time with him, laugh with him or make love with him.

  She should have kissed him earlier.

  “Mine,” Nicolai repeated against her ear. “Safe.” He had stretched out an arm, mimicking the queen, and the air around them had shimmered, forming a…shield? For them?

  Her jaw dropped as the guards slammed into it and flew backward, just as Nicolai had done.

  A gasp escaped her. “How did you—?”

  “Walk,” Nicolai said in that gravelly voice. His one-word sentences were as frustrating as they were welcome. He nudged her forward.

  One step, two, she lumbered over the fallen, savaged bodies sprawled around her. Those who remained standing were pushed out of the way by the shield. Outside the dining room was a foyer. Spacious, with d
oorways in every direction. Exactly where was she supposed to go?

  Laila raced down the staircase, dark hair flying behind her, the silver timepiece banging against her chest. When she spotted Jane and Nicolai, she ground to a halt.

  Nicolai snarled at her. He released Jane as if he intended to pound up those steps and attack, but quickly changed his mind. His free arm banded around Jane once more, the other ensuring the shield never wavered. “Mine.”

  She was really starting to like that nickname.

  The younger woman was breathing heavily, her green eyes glittering with jealousy and hate. “Yours? She isn’t yours. Odette, he means to kill you. Fight him! Use your magic.”

  Jane flipped her off.

  Shock replaced the anger, but only for a moment. When the princess regained her wits, she shouted, “Someone stop them. Now!” but still the guards could not penetrate the shield. “He’s bespelled Odette.”

  “We need magic, princess,” one of them said. “Cast a spell for us. Anything!”

  “No magic,” Laila gritted without hesitation and with the briefest flare of panic. Then to Nicolai, she said, “You think I’d bind your vampire strength and abilities, and not bespell you to remain here forever? You might be able to leave the palace, but you’ll be back. That, I promise you.”

  Another growl erupted from Nicolai’s throat, so fervent even Jane’s body vibrated.

  “You can kill her if you want,” Jane said. “I’ll wait.”

  He tightened his hold. “Mine.”

  Apparently protecting her was more important than avenging himself. What had changed his mind, she didn’t know, but his decision was a gift, better than a diamond and not something she’d ever regift.

  Yes, she really should have kissed him when she’d had the chance. Once they were safe, she’d remedy her mistake.

  Laila raised her chin(s), reminding Jane of the queen. Smiling, she drew circles around the center of the timepiece with the tip of her index finger. “Go ahead. Try. Fail.”

  “Walk,” Nicolai repeated.

  “Where?” Jane asked, tightening her hold on her robe.

  He didn’t speak again, but guided her toward one of the doorways. He used his big, strong shoulders to nudge it open, careful not to jar her. Endorphins were swimming so potently through her veins, he could have poured salt into her slashed-up back and she wouldn’t have felt it. Yet.

  Silvery moonlight came into view. As did a large expanse of flatland, with robed men and women moving unhurriedly, happily, children dancing around them. Beyond that, Jane saw trees. Mile after mile of white trees, their leaves swaying, dancing together like drunken ghosts. The landscape was somehow familiar to her, as if she’d been here before. How… Why…?

  Jane could only gape, struggling to understand—until Nicolai released her, and her thoughts took a nosedive. He was leaving her already? Disappointment rocked her. She’d liked his touch, had wanted more. Perhaps forever, which made her as dumb now as she’d been earlier. Thankfully, he didn’t allow the separation for long. He moved beside her, clasped her hand as strongly as he was able, which wasn’t much considering the damage he’d sustained, and jerked her into the throng.

  “This way.”

  A child spotted her, and dropped into a bow. Murmurs arose, and everyone else quickly followed suit. Jane’s steps faltered.

  “Uh, hi,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Princess,” they muttered. Not happily, but with fear.

  “Escape…faster…” Nicolai said with a nudge.

  “My pleasure,” she muttered, leaping into a sprint.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY TRAVELED FOR HOURS—or so it seemed—though they never managed to exit the forest. Nicolai suspected they were going in circles, his doom in the center. Just when he would think they’d made progress, he would spy the glittering palace rooftop. A rooftop Delfina was famous for, the shingles comprised only of elf tears. No matter what he tried, he could not alter his path.

  Fail. The word Laila had used. Go ahead. Try. Fail. She had used her magic on him as promised, he realized. But what spell had she used? Unless he figured it out, he could not fight its power. Even as the question and answer formed in his mind, a sharp lance of pain jetted through him. He gnashed his teeth.

  At least the guards never caught his trail. Even when the magical shield around him evaporated in a puff of smoke. Magic he wasn’t sure how he’d wielded. He knew only that the queen had constructed a shield of her own, and he had instantly known how to do the same.

  Now, though, he could not reconstruct it; the ability was gone as if it had never been. And its absence infuriated him. At all costs, he must protect Jane.

  Mine. The possessive claim was now so much a part of him, he wasn’t sure how he’d survived without her. So, yes, he would protect her. Even from himself. His hunger was completely sated, he’d drained so many guards to reach her, and yet, he could still scent her. His female. So sweet. He still wanted to taste her. So damn badly.

  She was injured, though, and needed to rest. Not that she had complained. She had not spoken a word since they’d left the palace courtyard. She had remained behind him the entire time, accepting his every dictate, following his directives. Limping, he thought, and sometimes using his arm as a crutch.

  He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her, knowing he would have stopped long before now if she appeared fatigued in any way. He wanted her as far from the palace as possible. As far away from Laila and the queen—who should be dead right now, already rotting in a grave.

  That they lived…

  Worth it. Jane lived, too.

  His ankles throbbed as he led her to a cave he’d noticed each time he’d unintentionally backtracked. “Here,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. “We’ll be safe here.” He was sure of it.

  “Oh, good. You’re back to your normal self.”

  Normal self? What did that mean? “Rest.” Once they were strengthened, he could return to the palace, sneak inside, kill Laila and her mother and find the healer, as planned. Before he left, he would erect defenses so that Jane could stay here, safe.

  Once his memories had been returned, his powers restored, he would come back for her. They would travel to Elden together.

  His hands tightened into fists. Elden. What awaited him in Elden, besides his desire to kill a king he had never met? At least, not to his knowledge. All he knew was that the man had slaughtered the former sovereigns, claiming the crown by brute force.

  Nicolai had heard palace servants gossiping about the royal change. Yesterday, or a hundred years ago, he wasn’t sure. Whatever time spell the witches had cast over the palace caused minutes to eke by for everyone inside, the days blending together, a blur you could never count.

  Nicolai wondered if he’d ever met the former sovereigns. Perhaps even guarded them. While he could not picture them, he could visualize their palace without problem. A towering monstrosity built more for withstanding attack than aesthetics. A lush green forest surrounded a lake, and that lake surrounded the structure. There was no discernable entryway other than the guard walkway—a walkway he knew better than he knew the angles of his own face. He longed for that palace, that lake, that forest. Knew the land would smell of sea salt and pine. Thought he could hear the echo of his booted footsteps as he ran to…do something, hug someone, perhaps. Thought he could hear a woman’s deep-throated chuckle and a man’s gruff grunt of approval. A pang of love and homesickness, followed by a wave of hate, swept through him.

  Love? Homesickness? Hate? Why? He must learn the answers. He must kill the new king.

  A dull ache bloomed in his temples, and he ceased that line of thought. For now.

  Jane hobbled in front of him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. At the moment of contact, his fangs lengthened and his gums ached. Just a little taste…

  No! Not yet. He soaked in her presence instead, distracting his unnecessary hunger with her electrifying beauty. E
lectrifying, because she had somehow brought him back to life.

  That fall of honey-colored hair, framing a face as pure and unique as a snowflake, begged for a man’s fingers. Her ocher eyes were no longer haunted, but determined. Her cheeks were rosy—with desire, despite her weakened, abused condition—a sheen of perspiration from the sultry night air making her glow. She’d tied the fabric of her robe together and the knots on her shoulders teased him. With only a tug, they would unwind and he could—

  No, he thought again. He would not entertain such lustful thoughts until she was healed. Then… Oh, yes, then.

  Seeing her whipped for his actions had not only broken something inside him, it had awoken something inside him. Not to mention that smile of hers… She shouldn’t have smiled at him.

  “The key,” he said. “Free my neck.” He used his tongue to move that key from the side of his mouth to between his teeth.

  “My pleasure.” She unlocked the ring. The heavy binding tumbled to the ground with a thump. “We should probably get going. The sun will come out soon.” Though she’d hobbled, her voice was firm, strong. “If you guys have a sun. And if time has kicked back into gear for us. Someone mentioned Delfina is ageless.”

  “Not ageless. Those who reside in the palace age much slower. And yes, out here there is a sun, a day and a night.”

  “We have to hide you, then. We don’t want you bursting into flames.”

  His brow furrowed. “I am not a nightwalker.” How had she known about nightwalkers and the way they burst into flames?

  “Oh, well…” She paled, swallowed. “Well, in my world, vampires are considered a myth. In books and movies, you guys always burst into flames—or glitter—when you step into sunlight.”

  Glitter? “I am, perhaps, more sensitive to the sun’s rays than others in this realm, but I am nothing like the nightwalkers. At worst, I will burn and blister.”

  “Oh. Good.” Her relief was palpable.

  Such a strong reaction, when she’d had no cause to worry. And yet, that worry pleased him. He liked her concern. Liked what it meant. Already she cared.