Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  Jane shrugged, as if unconcerned, but deep inside she trembled. “Near-death experiences have a way of leaving their mark. Good night, sister dear.” Finally she claimed Nicolai’s hand and ushered him out of the tent, hurrying to hers.

  Rhoslyn had taken her at her word, and had not remained to see to her needs. Jane and Nicolai were alone.

  She whirled to face him. He’d dropped the mask, and she could see his dark, shaggy hair, his bright silver eyes. His towering height, wide shoulders and rock-solid strength. Her desire intensified, burning through her.

  “We have much to discuss,” he said. He cupped her cheeks, his grip strong and sure. “But first, I need you. I missed you more than I can say.” And then he wasn’t saying anything at all. He was kissing her hungrily, and she was kissing him back.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  NICOLAI WRAPPED JANE in his arms, taking her passion and returning it with equal measure. He’d nearly dropped to his knees the moment he’d spotted her, perched beside his enemy, in danger but alive. Relief, yes, he’d experienced that emotion. Fury, that, too. Laila had been within his reach, his to kill.

  Fear had accompanied the fury, however. He’d felt the magical spell protecting the bitch from physical injury, and returning whatever violence was dished to the one doing the attacking.

  If he’d gone for her throat…if Jane had…

  They would have died.

  Didn’t happen. Jane’s safe now.

  Laila must know Nicolai was coming for her, or she would not have cast the spell. A spell most witches avoided. No one could hurt her, it was true, but no one could help her, either. If she injured herself accidentally, the spell would turn on her, seeing her as the threat. She would not only suffer with her injury, she would suffer a hundredfold with the magic.

  “Nicolai,” Jane rasped.

  He’d feared she would not recognize him, that he would have to steal Laila’s ability to hypnotize to force her to leave with him. Something he hadn’t known he could succeed in doing, not with Laila’s spell waiting to strike. He should have had more faith in his woman. Jane was as aware of him as he was of her. The face he wore didn’t matter.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” The sweetness of her scent infused with his cells. Her decadent taste filled his mouth. His blood heated, and every muscle in his body hardened, anticipating her touch.

  “What did you…do with the…real slave?” Her tongue licked at his each time she paused to breathe.

  “Set him free.” In more ways than one. Laila had scrambled the poor man’s brain, until he hadn’t known up from down, left from right, making herself the only tangible thing in his world, forcing him to cling to her.

  Nicolai could have simply chained the poor man for the night and hidden him, but he’d thought, That could have been me. He’d used his own abilities to break through and remind the man of who he was and who he loved, removing Laila from the equation.

  “Nice.” Jane’s hold tightened on him, nearly breaking his ribs. Worth it, he thought. “Shouldn’t we…escape, while we…have the chance?”

  “No. When the princess sleeps, I can invade her dreams, force her to hurt herself.” Another ability he possessed. “Then we’ll leave. Return to Elden.” Each sentence was punctuated with a deep, wet kiss that rocked him to his soul.

  “So we need to do something to pass the time, huh?” Jane returned her full attention to his tongue, sucking and rolling it with her own. Her hands slid through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp and leaving their mark.

  He loved that she accepted his need for vengeance so easily. He loved that she clung to him, as desperate for closer contact as he was. But nothing would ever be close enough, not for either of them. He loved that she was smarter than he, and sometimes got lost in her own thoughts.

  He just loved…her. Yes, he realized. He did. He loved her. He’d fallen in love with her soon after she first appeared in his world. They’d been strangers, but they’d soon bonded. From the bond, caring had sprung. From the caring, love. But the desire…oh, the desire had always been there.

  A glimmer of resentment in his chest. Not directed at her, but to the vampire who had cursed her. Nicolai could never tell her how he felt. She might return the sentiment and vanish.

  “I missed you. So much,” he said, willing to confess that much but no more. “The separation was like being stabbed.” Over and over again, the wound and pain never ending.

  “I missed you, too.” She kissed and nipped a path along his jaw, his neck, licking and laving. “Where’d you go?”

  “Elden.”

  “Home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too.”

  “What?” He disengaged from the erotic contact, and peered down at her. “Home home?”

  She refused to stop. With a little leap, she was back in his arms and sucking on his pulse. “Yes, home home. My world.”

  Nicolai cupped her chin, forcing her to still, to look at him. Her eyes were glazed with passion, her lids at half-mast. His heart constricted at such a lovely sight. A shake of his head was required to put him back on track. “Let me be clear on this. You left my world and returned to yours.”

  “Yes.”

  He’d almost lost her again. And he’d had no idea! “How did you get back?” he croaked.

  A secret smile played at the edges of her lips. One that burned through him, deepening his arousal. “Apparently, when you gave me your blood, you gave me your ability to teleport, too.”

  Dark Abyss. He had never considered that possibility. Maybe because he’d only ever shared his blood with his father, and his father had already possessed some of Nicolai’s abilities.

  “And you came back to me.” He’d never been one to see fate’s hand in his life, but now…if Jane hadn’t been injured by the ogres, he wouldn’t have given her his blood. If he hadn’t given her his blood, he wouldn’t have found a way to tie her to his side for the rest of their lives.

  “I’ll always come back to you.”

  A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. The curse had somehow lost its power over her. Otherwise, she would have remained in her world.

  He traced his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I’ve told you this before, but I want you to listen closely. I don’t care if I have a thousand betrothed females waiting on me. You are all that matters.” He would have only one woman. This woman. Forever.

  He swooped back down, plunging his tongue past her teeth and into the sweet recesses of her mouth. She welcomed him with a moan.

  He’d been cold and detached with females most of his life. Oh, he’d treated his mother and sister as the treasures they were, but everyone else he had never even given a second thought. He’d been a prince, and they his due. Or so he’d convinced himself.

  Fate, he mused again. Had he not been a slave, desperate to escape, he might have treated Jane the same way. And that would have been a shame, to never have known her and the nuances of her personality. Unselfish, brave, stronger than anyone he knew, capable and honorable.

  Honorable. Yes. He would never have to wonder where he stood with her. She would always tell him, whether he was a prince or a pauper. She would never be intimidated by him, would always challenge him.

  “I want you naked.” He tugged at the shoulder straps of her robe, shoving the material to the floor. In seconds, emerald material pooled at her feet. He lifted her out of it, and settled her more firmly against his body. Skin-to-skin. Finally.

  Every time she exhaled, their chests rubbed together, and he thrilled at the contact. She was hot and silky against him. Her nipples were beaded, rasping against the fine mat of hair he possessed. His shaft pressed to both their bellies, moisture seeping from the tip. He arched his hips, creating a delicious glide.

  She arched to meet him, the friction sparking exquisitely. “I can’t ever get enough of you.”

  “Good.” He traced his hands down the ridges of her spine, loving the goose bumps that jumped up to meet him. He cupped
her ass. “No panties?”

  “None were given to me.”

  “I’m glad.” If he had his way, she’d never wear them again.

  “I—I want you. Now.”

  “You’ve got me. Nothing will separate us, Jane. Do you understand?”

  Her breath hitched. She toyed with the ends of his hair. “I think so, yes.”

  “Know so. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I want to wed you. To be with you always. I choose you, Jane. Over my crown, my people and my vengeance.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, creating amber pools. Nicolai tensed, waiting, unsure in a way he’d never been before.

  “Just as I choose you,” she said brokenly.

  Thank the gods. He would have dropped to his knees and begged if necessary. “I want to be your family.”

  “You are.”

  A soft touch along his check. Jane’s expression was so tender, tears filled his eyes.

  “Jane. I love you.” No reason to deny it now. “I want to show you. Let me show you.”

  Her mouth fell open on a gasp. “You…you love me? I mean, I know you mentioned marriage, but this is the first you’ve said of love and I…I…”

  “I love you. With all my heart.”

  “Oh, Nicolai.” She threw herself at him, laughing and crying at the same time. “I love you, too. So much.”

  Hearing her declaration was like stepping into a warm ray of the sun after an eternity spent in the cold darkness of winter. Something he hadn’t known he needed, but now that he had it, he knew he couldn’t live without it.

  He drew her down to the floor. Her nipples were flushed and rosy, and he couldn’t resist. He circled one with his tongue, flicked it until she moaned, then moved to the other. His fangs extended and ached. Now wasn’t the time to indulge in the delight that was her blood, however. He’d fed before coming to her, hoping to dull his hunger for her.

  No other blood had ever affected him the way Jane’s did. So powerful, so consuming. And while he wanted his memory back in full now, he would rather not disappear without warning again and have to track his woman’s location, leaving her in danger.

  Danger she could handle, as she’d proven over and over again.

  He eased up to study her. That honey-colored hair was spread around her shoulders, her eyes glazed and ravenous. She chewed on her bottom lip as she glided her hands along the roped planes of his stomach. She was a wanton sight, a goddess come from the heavens.

  He rose to his knees and guided her legs apart. So wet, so pink. He wanted to dive in, both with his mouth and with his cock. Sweat was already sheening his brow, his cells like little knives in his veins, demanding he take her, claim her. His woman. Now, always.

  Not yet, not yet.

  He had to prepare her. The first time they had sex, he’d hurt her. Not that she’d protested. She’d been too tight, and he’d been too eager. Not this time. This time she would enjoy every second.

  He traced a finger up her hot center and she jerked as if struck by lightning.

  “Yes!” She fisted her hands on the rug beneath her, and lifted her hips.

  With the movement, his finger slid inside her of its own accord. Those inner walls closed around him, squeezing. He could have spilled then and there. Breathe, damn it. He worked that finger in and out, in and out, until she was writhing, mindless, gasping his name. Then he worked in a second finger. In and out, in and out.

  Soon she was moaning every few seconds, rolling her hips in circles, seeking his thumb on her center. He gave it to her. For a moment. She cried out in relief—and then groaned in distress when he took the pressure away.

  A third finger joined the other two, in and out, in and out. Stretching her, spreading that sweet, sweet dew. When her muscles tensed, ready to lock down in climax, he severed all contact.

  “Please!” she shouted.

  Such a succulent entreaty. He used the hand wet with her juices on his cock, slicking himself up. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, loving the pressure as much as Jane had. Needing it. He stroked up…down….

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Her legs wound around his back, her ankles locking just above his ass; she tugged him down. Without anything to balance him, he fell on top of her. She gasped when his weight hit. “Please, Nicolai. Do it.”

  “Yes,” he rasped. He couldn’t wait a second more, either.

  He guided his tip to her entrance and thrust, deep and sure. They cried out in unison. Then she was coming, clenching around him, driving his need higher…higher. More, he had to have more. Wanted to bite her, wouldn’t let himself bite her.

  Instead, he sank his fangs into his own wrist. Blood laced his tongue. Blood still flavored with Jane. He wanted to suck, but he forced himself to release his vein and hold the wound over Jane’s mouth.

  “Drink,” he commanded. They would do this every day. Would never risk her losing the ability to move between worlds.

  Obeying, she closed her eyes. She looked as if she were…savoring? Oh, gods above, she was. The very idea sent his need soaring. His testicles drew up tight. Any moment now, he would explode. He wanted her with him, though, all the way.

  “Harder, Jane,” he said, even as he increased the speed of his thrusts. He hit her so damned deep, making her gasp, but she never stopped drinking, and soon her hips were once again rising up to meet him. She was gulping greedily, moaning with every swallow.

  My woman. Mine.

  Maybe he’d shouted the words. “Yes,” Jane responded, inner walls closing tighter and tighter around him as her second orgasm rocked her. “Yours.”

  This time, there was no holding back. She milked him, and he gave her every drop, shooting it inside her.

  They clung together for several minutes, hours, years, shivering and shuddering until finally sagging to the floor. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, couldn’t quite form a rational thought, but even then he knew he didn’t want to hurt her and rolled to his side.

  “I thought I was turning into a vampire, then convinced myself I wasn’t,” she said sleepily. “But I must be. Your blood…it tastes so damn good. I’ve been craving it, like a drug. And now that I’ve had more of it—” she shivered “—I feel so good.”

  He frowned. He hadn’t known such a thing was possible. Unlike the nightwalkers, he was a living being, born rather than created. Making others simply wasn’t—hadn’t been—possible.

  Besides, even if he’d wanted to share his blood with others, which he hadn’t, his human lovers had not wanted to drink from him. In fact, they had found the very idea disgusting. Same with the witches, and same with the shifters, though their objections had stemmed more from contamination of the species.

  “You crave all blood or just mine?” he asked.

  “Just yours. Though the thought of drinking from others isn’t as abhorrent as it should be.”

  “Any other symptoms?” He liked the thought of sharing this with her, but the complications scared him to his soul.

  “My skin is a little more sensitive than normal. More sensitive than yours, I think. But, if I’m becoming a vampire, a heightened sensitivity would make sense because I haven’t yet had time to adjust.”

  How many other humans would tell him that becoming a vampire “makes sense”? He almost smiled. Almost.

  He would have to teach her how to feed, just in case they were parted for any amount of time. He tensed at the thought of her mouth on someone else. It’s the only way. Cutting through a vein was not a skill you developed naturally, but one you had to learn.

  “How do you feel about changing?” he asked.

  “A little afraid. A little excited.”

  “Tell me if you experience any other signs.”

  “I will.”

  He kissed her temple. “Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  “And we’ll kill Laila?”

  See? Jane knew him better than anyone else he’d ever known. “Yes. We’ll kill Laila.” He wondered if
he could draw Jane into the dream, guarding her, preventing Laila from lashing at her while she was defenseless.

  “Good.” Her warm sigh caressed his skin as she snuggled more firmly against him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She fell asleep, and he began to plan their future together, ignoring a sudden and intense sense of foreboding.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THEY DRESSED QUICKLY, quietly, and Jane packed a little bag of necessities. Such as the book—Nicolai had been overjoyed to see it—a few robes, snacks and a canteen of water. Laila had not brought any weapons for Odette to use, a fact that disappointed Jane but didn’t surprise her.

  “How are you going to invade her dreams?” she asked Nicolai.

  “I’ll tell you all about it.” He moved in front of her and gripped her shoulders. Once again he wore the slave’s mask. “When I’m done.”

  She knew what that meant—he would be in danger—and her answer was hell, no. “I’m going with you.”

  He sighed as if he’d expected such a response and had already resigned himself to it. “I do want to take you into the dream with me, and I will try to do so. Having never done something like that before, I don’t know if it will work. Meanwhile, I want you to stay here.”

  “Why?”

  He flicked his tongue over an incisor. “If I can’t force her to harm herself, I’ll have to absorb her powers. All of her powers and all the spells she has cast upon herself.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

  A stiff nod. “Most likely I will have to go that route. I tried to invade her dreams while you were sleeping and encountered an unexpected resistance. If the resistance is still there, while I’m in close proximity to her, I’ll have to do something to lower her guard to steal her magic. Something…nonviolent.”

  She began to understand, and wanted to throw up. Or maybe throw a punch. “Like…kissing her?” Or more?

  Another nod, this one barely discernable.

  “You can’t just stab her?” she asked hopefully.