Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  But they couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t remain a prisoner forever. There had to be a way to bring her here—all of her. Had to be a way she could aid his escape. A way they could be together physically.

  “Tell me the last thing you remember before coming here that first time,” he demanded.

  “Nothing. I was sleeping! I just woke up, and poof, I was in the Delfina palace and headed straight for you.”

  “Before that, then. Think. Maybe something was done or said about my world. Years could have passed since it happened, but you would remember.”

  A heavy pause. “There is something.” Though she was spectral, her footsteps seemed to pound into the floor. “Once, I interviewed a vampire at my lab. I asked him question after question, but he refused to answer. I stood to leave. Suddenly he spoke up. He told me to let him go, to let him find his female before it was too late. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the authority. The next day, I returned.”

  Urgency filled him. “And?”

  “And my boss told me the vampire had screamed all night. I entered his room—he was quiet by then, but this time he spoke up instantly. He said one day I would meet a man, fall in love with him and lose him. Just as my lack of action had caused him to lose his female. Then he broke free of his restraints. I thought he would fly at me, but he merely lifted his hand and used his claw to slash his own throat. He died right in front of me.”

  Nicolai’s stomach dropped. “He cursed you, then. A blood curse.” Unbreakable—for the most part.

  “That was two years ago, and I thought he was just spouting off. Trying to make me feel guilty for his incarceration!”

  “No. He gave his life force to the words, breathing them into existence, lending them his heartbeat. The curse waited for the perfect time to strike.”

  “So I’m destined to only ever see you while in spirit form? No matter what we do?” She laughed bitterly. “If that’s the case, no wonder you end up leaving me. I mean, we can’t even touch each other!”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, his chains rattling. He couldn’t answer her. Not without condemning them both. “What do you take pleasure in doing at home, Jane?”

  “You want to discuss that now? Seriously?”

  “Tell me.”

  She stopped, tossed up her arms. “I exercise and I read. That’s all.”

  “Then I’ll write you a book. I’ll bespell the words. You will come to me in body, as well as spirit.”

  “Only to lose you later?”

  He pursed his lips.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Which means my answer is no. I don’t want to come here, be with you, only to lose you forever.”

  “You can save me.”

  “And I want to save you, but what I won’t do is watch you die.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “I know how these things work, Nicolai. You’ve told me you care about me. And yeah, that could be your incarceration talking, but maybe not. If we take things to the next level and you lose me, you will wither.”

  He would rather wither than remain enslaved. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then I will take your memory, Jane.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You can do that? You would do that?”

  “Yes, and yes. I would do that and a whole lot more.”

  “You know the pain of having memories taken. How could you even think of doing that to me?”

  Sound reasoning, which he ignored. “I will only take the memories of me.”

  “So I’ll see you but won’t recognize you?” Suddenly she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving little wet tracks. “Will you recognize me?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

  “Don’t do this, Nicolai.”

  “I must. I need you. Until your body joins your mind, you are useless to me.” Useless, but so necessary.

  “But to take my memories…”

  “You’ve forced my hand.” Flat, no room for compromise.

  “And if we hate each other in this new beginning, as we did before?”

  At first, she had watched him with those haunted amber eyes, her scent so sweet he could practically taste it. He’d wanted her, craved her, but she had kept her distance.

  When at last she deigned to speak to him, he’d been worked into such a frenzy for her that he had lashed out and tried to bite her, only to waft right through her—as well as scare the Abyss out of her. She had vanished. Hadn’t returned for days. Frustration and anger had eaten him.

  The next time, he forced himself to speak softly to her, to maintain his own distance, gentling her, even though such things went against the very fiber of his nature. After that, she’d come back again, and again, and camaraderie soon morphed into caring.

  What he planned to do to her was a betrayal. He knew that.

  He did it, anyway. He used his magic to create the book, the pen. Used his magic to write to Jane. Used his magic to send her away, back to her world, to her body. Used his magic to wipe her memories. Used his magic to bring her back to him.

  And in the process, his own memories of her were taken. Not because of the witches, but because of him. He’d taken them on purpose. He’d known knowledge of his past with her would influence his future. Might even prevent him from using her.

  Something was shaking him, dislodging the recollection. He tried to hold on, had to know what happened next, but the shaking continued, and he growled.

  “Nicolai. Nicolai, you have to snap out of it.” Jane’s voice, closer, in the present, frantic and fearful. “Someone’s coming. Nicolai, please. Wake up.”

  Please.

  He released the past completely, allowing his mind to snap back into focus. He’d hurt her enough already. And, as she had feared, he would lose her again. The spell he’d used had not disrupted the very first spell cast on her. The one that would force her to lose her lover. Nothing could disrupt that spell, and none Nicolai had tried had brought her back to him. Until he’d worked with the first.

  He’d brought Jane here, bound her body to his, on the condition that she leave him when—if—she fell in love with him.

  So, he could keep her, as long as he prevented her from loving him.

  “Nicolai.”

  The present. Yes. He heard footsteps. A lot of them. Booted. Spears scraping against the ground. Power saturated the air. Laila, definitely. With her army? Probably.

  Different emotions warred for dominance. Fury, elation, anticipation, hatred, anxiety. Nicolai wanted to attack, to kill, but that would place Jane in jeopardy, and that he wouldn’t do. Ever.

  He jolted upright, a blur of motion. Jane had already pulled on her robe, was ready to go.

  “Come.” He grabbed her arm, and jerked her away from their camp.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NICOLAI DRAGGED JANE through the forest, branches slapping at him. She was limping again, and he wanted to carry her, but Laila’s guards must have caught his scent, because the echo of their footsteps increased, and the sense of magic intensified in the night air.

  They were closing in.

  He could have moved from one location to another with only a thought. From here, back to the withered, perverted kingdom of Elden. His heart clenched in his chest, and he gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to think of his home. Or the condition of his home. Or his parents, and the sorcerer he would soon destroy.

  What if he disappeared, but Jane did not go with him? She would be left on her own in an inhospitable environment, the enemy all around.

  Damn this. He had to try something. He’d managed to beat the flood of memories back, but they were knocking at his mind, demanding release. If they overtook him again…

  He focused on what was most important. He and Jane shared a past he’d barely touched on. One she still couldn’t recall. What he knew was that he wouldn’t repeat his previous mistakes.

  He needed that book, the one in D
elfina. Had to write something more inside of it. For when she left him. Oh, gods. Yes, that meant he would be operating under the assumption she would love and leave him, but he had to plan for the worst. Maybe, just maybe, a new spell would bring her back.

  Elden had not planned for defeat, and look what had happened.

  “Nicolai,” Jane panted. “I’m used to jogging, but this is like Extreme Jogging, Jungle Edition, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up. Can we rest?”

  He heard her. Distantly. Tried to concentrate on her, but the darkness was closing in on him, another memory fighting its way free.

  All his life, he had absorbed the powers and magic of others. What they could do, he could then do. That was how he’d formed the air shield inside the palace. The Queen of Hearts had done so; therefore, he had done so, too. And that was why Laila had forbidden anyone from practicing their craft around him.

  Some abilities lasted days, weeks. Others lasted a lifetime.

  He’d remembered most of this already, so of course his mind tried to shove it aside to make room for something else, something new.

  “Nicolai. Please.”

  He couldn’t lock on her. More details unfolded. His ability to cast illusions, as well as move from one location to another with only a thought, had come from a witch. A lover who had tried to kill him as he lay sleeping. She had wanted to become his bride, but he had wanted only the sex. She’d tried several different identities with him, amusing him.

  He’d never told her that he knew who she was, each and every time she approached, because he recognized her scent. He’d let her continue to come to him, and every time he’d made his intentions clear. Still she’d tried, hoping to change his mind. When she realized she could not, in any incarnation, she finally attacked.

  One moment Nicolai was leading Jane through the forest, the next he was inside a bedroom. His bedroom, he thought. The one in his memory, with the homicidal witch. He did not realize the switch soon enough and slammed into the wall, propelling backward. He hit the floor with a black curse.

  Jane was nowhere to be seen.

  Nicolai popped to his feet, his blood flashing hot. He would return to the forest, now, now, damn it, now, and if anyone had touched Jane…

  He remained in the bedroom.

  Fangs bared, he spun, looking for the way out. Blood stained the walls, crimson splattered in every direction. The floor possessed deep grooves, each in patterns of four, as if multiple swords had been dragged over it and had cut into the wood.

  The giant, hairy creatures, their legs—four on each side—sharp and deadly. They had been here. They had come for him.

  Nicolai had been pumping into a woman, a servant. His door had flown open, and he’d heard the screams echoing from below, in the great hall. He should have heard them sooner, but his partner had been screaming, too, distracting him.

  Nicolai had reached for his blood daggers, the ones he kept on his nightstand, intending to fight the monsters, wondering about his family, but he’d…disappeared, falling straight into a winding black hole.

  Had his siblings died alongside his parents? Or fallen into the same hole? He remembered curses around him, echoing.

  Now he stopped breathing. He hadn’t wanted to remember this, not yet, but… Was he certain his parents were dead? Was there no longer any question in his mind?

  He didn’t need to think about it. Yes. He was certain. They were dead. The knowledge practically seeped from the mold-covered walls around him. He hadn’t seen them die, but he’d felt the drain of their life forces. They were gone.

  Oh, gods. And his siblings?

  No, not dead. Now that he knew what to check for, he could feel their energy swirling inside him still; only, the energy was…different than before. Were they trapped somewhere? Unable to free themselves? Probably. Otherwise, Dayn would have destroyed the Blood Sorcerer and reclaimed the palace.

  Dayn and his ability to hunt anyone or thing. Micah, sweet baby-faced Micah, would have been running down the halls and laughing. Breena would have been trying her hand at magic, messing up her spells.

  With these thoughts, he wanted to drop to his knees, roar to the heavens, curse, rant and rail, fight everything and everyone. How to find them? How to free them?

  Now he also realized he’d heard Dayn’s voice in his dreams. Calling to him, telling him to heal himself. They shared a blood connection, something that could never be destroyed. They could speak again.

  Where are you, brother?

  A moment passed. There was no reply. Very well. He would try again later.

  A sense of urgency reignited, and Nicolai checked for his daggers. They were gone, as were his clothing and all his other weapons. The room had been totally cleaned out.

  He ground his molars and pictured the rest of the castle, which was surprisingly easy. Towering, more rooms than he could count. Winding hallways and secret passages. He whisked to every bedroom, every cell in the dungeon. He saw people he did not recognize, more bloodstains, more monsters patrolling the gates. Rage consumed him. The need to kill the new king, the sorcerer, intensified. But his family was not here, nor was the sorcerer.

  He would have to return. Soon. Always soon. Right now, he had to protect Jane. A full-time job, he was coming to realize. One he cherished and wouldn’t trade.

  After a last glance at the castle he’d once loved, he closed his eyes and pictured the forest and the last spot he’d seen Jane. He was there a second later—easier every time—but found no sign of his woman. No sign of Laila and her army, either.

  He sniffed…sniffed… There. He locked on to Jane’s sweet scent, mixed with the disgusting aroma of Laila and her men. They were following her.

  He gave chase.

  JANE HEARD THE VOICES before she spotted the town, and nearly toppled over with relief. She increased her speed, and finally, blessedly, reached civilization. The sun was steadily rising in the sky, casting a violet haze on the people just now starting their day. Warming Jane, and even burning her. Her skin itched, prickling as if little bugs were crawling through her veins.

  She did not want to contemplate the possible reasons for such an occurrence.

  People—humans?—strode along cobbled streets, some carrying wicker baskets piled high with clothing, some carrying bags of—she sniffed, moaned—bread and meat. Her stomach grumbled as her mouth watered. She was light-headed, her blood supply a little low. She needed to replenish.

  Jane paused beside a tree, watching, thinking. She had two choices. Keep moving, remaining on her own, and risk being found by Laila. Or enter the town, eat and risk being found by Laila. At least the second option provided a meal plan. So, okay. No contest.

  Except, she was still Odette. If these people recognized her, word would spread, and she would be found far more quickly. On the plus side, Laila wouldn’t hurt her and Nicolai was no longer with her. He was no longer in danger—she didn’t think—and that was a good thing.

  He’d disappeared in a heartbeat of time, shocking her. She’d waited in the area for what seemed an eternity, but he’d never reappeared and she’d had to move on. He would find her, wherever she was. She couldn’t believe otherwise.

  Laila’s army had nearly discovered her, marching right over her hiding place. But they’d lost Nicolai’s trail and backtracked in an attempt to find it again. That’s when Jane bolted, forcing her protesting body to act before it shut down completely and Laila returned.

  If—when—Jane was discovered, she wanted to be well-fed, stronger. So again, no contest. She limped forward, entering the town. The moment the people caught sight of her, they stopped what they were doing, horror consuming their features, and knelt.

  Yep. She’d been recognized. What the hell had Odette done to them?

  She closed the distance between her and one of the groups with food. “Please. I’m so hungry. May I—”

  “Take whatever you wish, princess,” the man closest to her said, thrusting the basket in her
direction.

  “I don’t have any money, but I’ll find a way to pay you back. I swear.” The scent of roasted chicken hit her, transporting her straight to heaven. She stretched out a shaky hand, reached inside the confines of the wicker and claimed a bowl of something creamy. Was she drooling? You can’t dive in like an animal. “What’s your name?”

  “Hammond, princess.” There was a trace of anger in that husky voice.

  “Thank you for the food, Hammond.”

  “Anything for you, princess.” The anger morphed into hatred.

  Jane sighed, looked around. “Please stand. All of you. There’s no reason to bow.”

  Several seconds ticked by before they obeyed, as if they feared she would attack them for rising, even though she’d told them to. Other than that, they didn’t move. Though she wanted to limp away, find a deserted, shadowed corner and shove her face right into the food, she couldn’t. They might suspect she was not who they thought she was.

  “I need a room,” she announced. “And water. And clean clothing. Please. If one of you could point me in the right direction, I would be grateful.”

  At first, no one stepped forward. Then, reluctantly, a middle-aged female curtsied and said, “If you’ll follow me, princess, I will see to your needs.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ten minutes later, an eternity, Jane was inside a bedroom, alone. She devoured the contents of the bowl—some kind of chicken salad—before bathing in the steaming tub the woman had filled with a muttered spell. Not human, after all, but a witch. The water soothed Jane’s sensitive skin, relieving the itching. Afterward, she donned a clean, blue robe the witch had laid out for her.

  All she lacked was Nicolai, and this day would be perfect.

  Where was he?

  With a weary sigh, she sprawled out on the bed. Firm, lumpy, but heaven for her still aching muscles and bones. What to do, what to do. Nicolai was, at heart, a protector. Fierce, unwavering. Which meant he hadn’t left her voluntarily.