Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  “No.” He could have it all, every last drop. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

  “Yes.” He met her halfway. Their lips pressed together, their tongues dueled. His flavor filled her, and this time it was mixed with hers. Together, every part of them together…intoxicating.

  “Mine,” she said.

  “Yours.”

  Forever, she didn’t let herself add, but, oh, did she want to. Later, they would talk. Yes, the dreaded conversation about feeling and intentions. About the future.

  The kiss continued, spinning out of control, their teeth scraping together, as he slipped and slid within her. He released one of her legs to move his hand between their bodies, and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. Just like that, she exploded again, spasming around him.

  He hissed out a breath, pushed deep once more, and came, every muscle he possessed clenching and unclenching. She’d never made love without a condom, and loved the feel of him jetting inside her.

  When he stilled, she wrapped herself around him, holding him as close as possible. He collapsed on top of her, but quickly rolled to relieve the pressure of his muscled weight. They were both sweat soaked and feverish, trembling.

  “My Jane,” he said, so much satisfaction in his voice she couldn’t fear the upcoming discussion.

  She kissed his shoulder. “My Nicolai.”

  Forever.

  She hoped.

  “Don’t leave…need to talk,” she breathed, just before drifting off to sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PANTING, SWEATING, SATED in the most perfect way, Nicolai snuggled Jane in to his side. Her blood flowed through his veins like champagne, bubbling and fizzing, claiming every thought and beating back a painful realization he wasn’t quite ready to face. He wanted to close his eyes and savor, but he had a few things to work out in his mind first.

  She’d wanted to talk. About what? If she thought to push him away after what they’d shared… Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  What they’d just done could not be called “sex.”

  Sex was an urge. Sex was something you could do with anyone. Sex could be consensual or forced, as he well knew. What they’d done was a mating. Primal, wild, necessary, and as essential as a beating heart.

  He would have died if he’d been denied access to her body. He’d simply had to be inside her. Nothing could have stopped him. Not attack, not death, hell, not even her disappearance. If she had returned to her world, he would have found a way to follow her.

  There was no resisting this woman, not for him, and he wasn’t going to try anymore. Not in any way. His betrothed might be waiting for him, but so what. Like he’d told Jane, he would have her and no other.

  She’d changed him.

  When he’d first seen her, scented her, his hunger for her had bloomed. Perhaps he’d become obsessed. Because when he’d watched her being whipped, he’d forgotten his plan to save himself and had gone after her. Then, when he’d heard her scream, had realized the ogres were hurting her, his rage had been unequaled. Seeing her beaten face and body had made a mockery of the rage, however, and he’d become fully beast, his darker nature taking over.

  All the times before, he’d only thought he had a temper.

  The fighting had ended too early. He’d wanted to torture the king, wanted to keep him at the brink of death and agony for centuries. For Jane’s sake, he’d finished the bastard off and gathered his woman close, just like this.

  She had slept then, too, but he hadn’t calmed. The need to brand her, to let the world know exactly who she belonged to, had been driving him as forcefully as the rage had. But he hadn’t wanted to hurt her when he took her—and he’d known he would take her.

  So he’d brought her here, intending to swim and pacify himself. He’d meant to feed her the fish, as well, but she’d watched him while he’d captured them, and he’d felt the rise of her desire.

  He’d forgotten his good intentions. His hope to be careful.

  Now he’d had her, had branded her, just as he’d wanted, needed, but he realized even that wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough with her. He would always want her. Always want more.

  Were his parents alive, they would understand. He knew this to be true.

  He’d loved them, and they had loved him. They would want him to be happy, and he could not be happy without Jane. His father had settled on a neighboring princess only because Nicolai had shown no preference.

  Now, he had.

  Jane could not have children, and that bothered her, but it did not bother him. He hadn’t lied to her. He liked her just as she was. When Nicolai became king in his father’s stead—the need lit, caught fire—he would be expected to have an heir. But he had three siblings well capable of seeing to that.

  So. His new plan of action: secure Jane to his side, return to Elden, kill the Blood Sorcerer who had slain his parents and claim the throne. He didn’t want to wait to discuss this. Urgency rode him. Instinct that drove him to settle things now.

  “Jane…”

  A moment passed.

  “Jane. Sweetheart.” Gently he shook her.

  “Yes,” she muttered groggily.

  “We will talk now.”

  Her slight catch of breath was encouraging. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. When you first came to me, you mentioned a book. Where is the book now?”

  “Oh. That’s what you want to talk about.” She sounded disappointed. “I left it at the palace in Delfina. I don’t think that matters, though. It was the right book, just newer. And blank.”

  He frowned. “When you read it, the story was about me?”

  “Yes. About your enslavement. There was a pink bookmark in the middle, and that’s the page that told about your imprisonment. Then, written by the same hand, was a note from you, commanding me to help you, to come to you. The rest of the pages were blank, though.”

  He’d wondered before if he’d written the thing and forgotten. For all he knew, the witches had cursed him to forget everything but what they did to him. Why had the ink disappeared when Jane had shown up in Delfina, though? Because she’d arrived before he’d actually written the book? But, if he’d commanded her to come here—commanded her specifically—he would have met her already. And she would have left him.

  He tensed. He did not like that notion and he quickly discarded it. He hadn’t said “come back to me.” He’d said “come to me.” So…magic might have shown her to him, and like the book, he’d forgotten.

  Still, the fear that he could lose her took root and refused to leave him. “Do you want to stay here with me, Jane?” He geared for battle. A battle he would fight viciously to win. She had a life he knew nothing about, and were the situation reversed, were he stuck in her world, he would have to find a way to leave to avenge his family and home. And he would have stolen away with her, he thought.

  Now she was the one to tense. “Okay, I could answer your question with a question of my own. Do you want me to stay? But I won’t. Because I shouldn’t have to qualify my opinion. I’m not a coward.” She licked her lips, as she did each time she felt desire for him, and he felt the hot slide of her tongue on his chest. “So. Here it is. Yes. I want to stay with you. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Thank the gods. He had worried for nothing. “I am glad.” Inadequate words. “I want you to stay with me, too.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

  “Jane, when have I ever just said anything?”

  “Well, men say stuff they don’t mean to get women into bed. All the time.”

  Some did, yes, but he never had. He’d always been up front, offering a single night of his attention, his body, but nothing else, and no longer. That was it, the end. Although, to get Jane into his bed again, he’d do and say just about anything.

  “I will always be honest with you. Always. As long as you desire me. Stop, and I will change my dealings with you.”

  She lau
ghed, the sexiest purr he’d ever heard. “Thank you for the warning.”

  Having her near him was arousing. Feeling her lick him, more so. But that laugh…he was hard as a rock in seconds. “I want you with me, Jane. In bed and out.”

  A tremor drove through her, vibrating into him, relief replacing her humor. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d tried to take away my magic green card. And before you ask, that means get rid of me.”

  “Get rid of you? Sweetheart, I’m doing everything in my power to keep you.”

  “Really?” Another soft entreaty.

  He would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t so happy with her. “Really.”

  “Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”

  “And now you thank me. I should be thanking you. And I do. Humbly. You have become the reason I live, Jane.”

  He thought he heard her sniffle. She buried her head in the hollow of his neck, rubbing her cheek against him. “So what’s next?”

  “I need to return to the kingdom of Elden. I think my siblings are there. Trapped, perhaps. I don’t know. All I know is that, deep down, I am so hungry to slay the new king, I tremble. Like eating, this is a need. I must do it.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll help you.”

  He did not want her involved in such a violent, dangerous plan, but he did not want her out of his sight, either. “I need to find a way to keep you bound to me and to this land first. Should I write another book for you?” His magic was stronger now.

  “If you do, we will be operating under the assumption that I’ll return, no matter what we do or try.”

  “And perhaps such an assumption is what would send you back.” Damn this! There had to be a way. “I wonder what spell I used to bring you here. If I knew, I would know if you would leave after a certain time, or after I am truly free. Or if I bound you to the land forever. I remember so many things, but not that, not yet, and I cannot risk another spell. It might interfere with the first.”

  She eased up, her hair tumbling over her bare shoulder, golden moonlight illuminating her. “When I first read the book and realized it wasn’t a joke, I wondered how you could have known me when we’d never met.”

  “And you figured out the answer.” His words were a statement, not a question. He’d known his woman was smart. She was the perfect combination of beauty and intelligence.

  “Yes. I dreamed of you before I ever read the book. Saw you chained, but never spoke to you. Now I think they were visions rather than dreams.”

  “But why have visions of me before I used my magic?”

  “Maybe part of me crossed into this world long ago. Some things are familiar to me, like the ghost trees and ogres. Maybe you saw me, too, and that’s how your magic knew to focus on me.”

  “That makes sense, but I wonder how you crossed over.”

  She gulped. “I…I…”

  He reached up to cup her cheek. “Don’t fear, Jane. We will figure this out. You won’t leave. I won’t let you.”

  “There’s something I should tell you. About me. My job. You might change your mind about me.” She traced the tip of her finger along his sternum. “I said I wasn’t a coward and that means full disclosure, even about this. The things I did, horrible things, to learn about your—”

  “I told you before, Jane, that your job—” A pang exploded through his head, silencing him, reminding him of what had happened after he’d fought the ogres here in this very spot. The same spot he’d first drunk from Jane. Pain, then opening his eyes in a new location.

  He grunted. What was…? Another pang, this one rattling his brain against his skull.

  The cage holding his memories and abilities was crumbling, bit by bit.

  “What’s wrong?” Jane eased to her elbow and smoothed his hair from his brow, her expression soft and luminous with concern. “Are you sick?”

  Her emotions were in turmoil, yet she cast aside her own concerns to nurture him. No wonder he’d fallen for her so quickly and so easily. “Drinking your blood empowers me as never before,” he confessed, “but as more of my memories and abilities escape, I experience a…wee little pinch of sensation.”

  Even as he spoke, one of those “wee little pinches” migrated from his head to his chest, and he hissed a breath. That one had been stronger than any of the others.

  “Oh, Nicolai. Now I know why you were reluctant to drink from me. I’m so sorry I made you.”

  “I’m not. And you didn’t make me, Jane. I wanted to. Badly. Besides, that isn’t why. Want you healthy.”

  A sound of frustration. “Now you’re doing what you said you wouldn’t, and weaving pretty words to make me happy.”

  Another pang, another grunt.

  “What can I do? Besides never feed you again?”

  “Stay with me. And you will feed me again.” Every day for eternity. “This will pass.”

  “I’ll stay,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. And, Nicolai, we’ve never talked about my job before.”

  “We haven’t? You researched…experimented…” What kind and on who were answered inside his mind, but he was having trouble reaching the information.

  The color drained from her face. “That’s right. And you still like me?”

  “Jane…”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll discuss it when you’re better.” A pause. Then a whispered, “Could we have talked in my visions? Could I have forgotten conversations? Could whatever magic was used on you bleed into me?” She was talking to herself, trying to reason things out.

  “Yes,” he replied, anyway. “There’s a chance.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be quiet. You rest.”

  Trusting her, he closed his eyes, breathed slowly, deeply, and simply let the memories come. The first to hit him was of a pretty maid quietly entering his bedroom. Hinges squeaked as his gaze sought her. He didn’t know her name, only that he’d smiled at her earlier that day, and she’d taken that smile for the invitation it was. He was lying on his mattress of plush goose feathers, naked, waiting. She stripped as she approached him.

  Just before she reached him, the door opened and closed again. He looked. Another maid. The three of them were going to play. Good. He hadn’t looked forward to a night with only one, a single conquest too easy. Too…boring. He needed to try something new.

  His mind shied away from that particular memory.

  Once, he might have been looking for more than one partner at a time. Once, he might have wanted to try anything and everything. And that one, he still wanted. With Jane. He wanted to do everything with her, but only with her. Everything they did was a new experience. Exciting, and most of all, soul shattering.

  That wasn’t going to change. She affected him too deeply, too intensely. And she hadn’t had much pleasure in her life, he didn’t think. Every new touch from him had left her gasping, writhing, her expression one of wonder and need.

  He wanted her to wear that expression forever. Would see to it, make it a personal mission of his.

  And what she could do with her mouth…that was magic.

  Darkness suddenly fell over his mind, reality becoming clear. He felt Jane’s soft fingers, still smoothing over his brow. Her warm, sweet breath trekked over his cheeks. She had kept her promise. She was staying put.

  He couldn’t lose her, he thought. There had to be a way to keep her. Forever.

  The book, Jane, her dreams of this world. His spell to bring her here. He focused on those things, hoping to spur the memories in that direction. Shifted glamor, the illusion of someone else’s face masking her own, he knew that much. Also an incantation in the words he’d written? Yes…yes… He’d murmured a spell as he’d written in the book. He’d wanted Jane to be standing beside him—and then she was.

  A memory played.

  Don’t do this to me. He heard her voice so clearly. I will find a way to help you.

  She had spoken to him before their first meeting. Their first remembered meeting.

  I must.
I need you. Until your body joins your mind, you are useless to me. His reply. Cold, harsh.

  But to take my memory, she’d said.

  He had taken her recollection of their conversations?

  Their voices faded, and his father’s image filled his head. An important memory, but he needed to know about Jane right now. She was the most pressing. The book. Jane. The spell—spells—he’d used.

  His father was speaking to him, but Nicolai couldn’t hear the words. The book. Jane. The spells he’d used. Come on. The book. Jane. The spells he’d used. Gradually, the image shifted. The towering form of his father shrunk. Black hair grew, curling, lightening. Harsh features became soft, delicate. Jane’s.

  This was his past with Jane, the memory resurfacing. More than a whisper of conversation this time, more than a glimpse.

  And there she was, his beautiful Jane, pacing in front of him. They were in his cell. He wore his loincloth and bruises. He lay on his pallet, watching her. From the moment she’d first appeared, untouchable, like a phantom, yet smelling of something wild and primal, he had wanted her.

  Honey-colored hair streamed down her back, bouncing with every agitated step she took. She wore a long shirt that bagged on her, and he wished he could present her with silks and velvets.

  “How are you tugging me here?” she asked. “Why can’t you tug all of me?”

  “I told you. Magic. And don’t forget, you first came to me like this.”

  “As if I could forget. I closed my eyes and just…appeared. As if I’d been teleported, even though I never completed my teleportation research, never tested humans. And the plastic I sent over and back was solid and remained solid. I am not solid!”

  “But you wake up at home, and you are always returned to your body.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t like that he couldn’t touch her or drink from her, but no matter how many times she appeared—and she had, countless—her condition remained the same. Insubstantial. So, they would talk and she would entertain him.

  She’d become something to look forward to, his only enjoyment. And he knew she enjoyed their time together, as well. Knew she liked him. She’d confided in him about her work; he’d told her about his frustration and anger that his memories had been destroyed.