The Vampire King's Mate

by C. A. Worley

  Eden’s fingers dug into the fabric of the chair. Her skin tingled and her posture stiffened.

  “What are you saying, Luka?”

  “I am saying, dear Sister-to-be, it seems the bastard is not dead, after all.”

  Luka held his glass up in Eden’s direction. Her pupils dilated, nearly hiding the greens of her irises. Her barely visible shock was a fraction of what Viktor’s had been—and he was the most self-contained being Luka had ever known.

  “Cheers,” he toasted and knocked the drink back summarily.

  Eden gave Luka enough time for the whiskey to settle his nerves. His world had shifted drastically this day, much as hers had. She needed more information to fully comprehend Luka’s distress, aside from his hesitancy to ascend to the throne.

  When his jaw finally slackened, Eden spoke. “I suggest, Luka, you start from the beginning.”

  Chapter 27

  Western Forest of Prajna

  Viktor and Yuri landed silently outside the thicket surrounding the hovel. He’d left Luka in charge and decided to leave Bran behind as extra protection for Eden. The wolf knew both Bianca and Dmitri’s scents, and he could alert the castle guards if there was trouble from the enemy.

  Kellan was sitting, peeling an apple with his claws. The Wolf King’s head tilted when he heard the newcomers.

  “Where are the others?” Viktor asked, striding towards the wolf.

  “Once their wolves picked up the scent, they got antsy. I let them go out to scout. Though, I’m guessing the vampire is long gone by now.”

  Viktor’s eyes glowed bright at the mention of the vampire. A tiny part of him still clung to the idea Yuri could have been mistaken.

  “Viktor, you should go inside. See for yourself,” Yuri spoke softly.

  Viktor’s head swung to the shelter. It was small. Primitive. It reminded him of the huts he and Luka used to build when they were children—the ones Dmitri had taught them to make.

  Small logs and branches were held together by the strong, tall grasses that grew on the edges of the forest. Dried mud had been haphazardly packed into the crevices to keep out the elements.

  The thatched roof was sagging, it’s weight too much for the branches. It wasn’t a shelter meant to be used for long. It was a child’s hideout.

  He had been too distracted when they found it to make the connection.

  Kellan’s large hand fell upon Viktor’s shoulder.

  “Perhaps one of us should come with you,” the wolf suggested. He knew well the turbulent feelings incited by the deception of someone once trusted.

  “No. I’ll go alone.”

  “Very well.” Kellan released Viktor’s shoulder and the vampire ported into the center of the thicket.

  Viktor would have landed inside, but he was being overly cautious. Dmitri was a master planner. He would know Viktor would eventually come for him if he ever found out.

  Viktor pushed open the small door. It was nothing more than kindling and twigs woven together. It fell to the ground having been pushed one too many times.

  Viktor stepped forward carefully, alert to everything around him. The roof was a foot shorter than his nearly seven-foot height. The doorway was even smaller. He had to duck to get inside and remain hunched to walk around.

  The single-room shelter was no more than eight feet across. The contents sparse. A pallet was on the opposite side from Viktor, made up of several blankets.

  The dirt floor was littered with dried leaves and herbs. In the center of the room was a small firepit with an iron pot sitting atop the raised stones. Medicinal bottles and flasks were scattered around the edges.

  Agatha had been a healer. She may have been making medicines—or poisons. Viktor picked up one of the small decanters and scented it.

  The distinct scent of hellebore emanated from within. Hellebore was a plant poison especially dangerous for elementals to ingest, the same one used to poison Eden’s sister.

  Viktor’s claws flexed as his hand tightened around the container. He smashed the bottle on the ground and continued his inspection.

  A large leather bag sat to the right of the door. He squatted down and pulled the flap open. More bottles were inside, along with some pouches of what looked like dried roots and other plants he did not recognize.

  The odors of Agatha’s concoctions were overpowering. He’d expected to be overcome by the vampire’s scent. Thus far, he hadn’t picked up on it.

  He closed the flap and turned back to room. There was nothing else inside.

  Frustrated, Viktor walked the perimeter of the small space, inhaling deeply. A foot from the pallet, his steps faltered.

  Viktor crouched closer to the makeshift bed, the familiar aroma of dark spices and soot from a pipe flooded his olfactory system. He lifted one of the blankets to his nose.

  Dmitri. He’d been here not long ago. A wrenching pain, the one Viktor had been holding back with all his might, abruptly tore through him, soiling every memory he had of his former friend.

  His mental shields came slamming down, crushing the heartsick sorrow over Dmitri’s treachery, over Viktor’s trusted ally, who had really been his enemy.

  Hindsight made things very clear. Dmitri was likely already a part of the Sephtis Kenelm when he’d asked Viktor to take Bianca into his protection and ultimately make her his wife. He was setting the stage so Viktor’s sieva would never sit on the throne.

  He could still picture Dmitri’s pinched face, his eyes darting about without looking directly at his King. Viktor had mistaken his comrade’s worry and urgent manner for concern over Bianca’s welfare.

  Soon after the regretful agreement was made, Dmitri faked his own death. They’d never found his body and so he’d been presumed dead. The acceptance of Dmitri’s murder had only been reinforced after Nikolai taunted Viktor that Dmitri was lost to him.

  Looking back, Viktor wondered if his father knew what Dmitri was up to. It would be just like the scoundrel to know and do nothing about it.

  Viktor shook himself out of his baneful recollections. There was nothing to be done for the past. His only choice was to move forward.

  He lifted each of the blankets, ensuring it was only Dmitri’s and Agatha’s stink he smelled. Bianca’s scent had been found near the place where Isla had been attacked by the demon. If he had evidence she’d been here, he’d sign her death warrant.

  When he got to the last blanket, and no one else’s essence was evident, aside from Yuri and the wolves, he threw it aside in frustration. A slight thud sounded near his foot.

  Viktor crouched low to look at what had fallen.

  It was a flask. Damaged and centuries old. The once-shiny surface had dulled with the passage of time. Several deep scratches blemished the dark silver.

  The Cojocaru family crest remained intact, its red and gold shield standing out against the darkened metal. Viktor knew this flask. He had, in fact, drank from it many a time, including the night he’d pledged an unwise oath to his friend with two faces.

  Cojocaru was Dmitri’s surname. His grandfather had fashioned the flask long ago and left it to his only grandson.

  Viktor picked it up, denying himself the satisfaction of crushing the offending artifact. Dmitri had kept it with him at all times. He would not have left it behind, not unless he’d escaped in a hurry.

  The question was, to where would the traitor flee?

  * * *

  Castra Nocte

  Eden sat quietly, patiently listening to Luka’s tale. As he spoke, her heart ached for both Luka and Viktor. She knew there were very few people either of them had ever trusted. This would be a hard blow to them both.

  Evidently, inside the shelter where they’d tracked Agatha, Yuri and Kellan had found Dmitri’s scent on an item belonging to the vampire.

  Technically, they’d never found his body back when Dmitri was allegedly aiding Viktor’s coup. There was no way his scent held strong for a century. The shelter had only been thrown together in recent wee
ks. The only way his scent could have lingered inside was if he’d actually been there.

  The marriage contract now made more sense to Eden. Sephtis Kenelm feared a single faction gaining too much power. The agreement would have ensured a queen of vampire origin would reign.

  Complicating matters further, Luka informed Eden one of the wolves, Bran, had recognized Bianca’s scent as one they’d found when hunting the demon, Bogdan. At some point, she’d been in the same location as he and the she-wolf who had poisoned Nora.

  When he finished speaking, he offered Eden a small nip of whiskey. She took the tumbler from him and sipped it slowly. It tasted terrible, but the warm burn sliding down her throat was a welcome distraction.

  “She’s not a member,” Eden affirmed, setting her unfinished drink down.

  Luka immediately picked it up and dumped it into his own glass. She made a note to address his drinking another time, when he wasn’t so agitated.

  “Her attire is revealing enough to where everyone can clearly see her chest,” she added. “There’s no marking over her heart.”

  “Yes, but her father is probably the fourth member. He could have involved her.”

  “After all the strings he’d manipulated, it would have been risky to reveal himself, even to her.”

  “Probably.”

  “Still, it seems awfully coincidental.”

  “Undeniably.”

  “She’ll need to be questioned.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Can you speak in longer than one-word sentences?” she complained.

  “Yes,” Luka smirked.

  Eden stared at the last of her drink flowing into Luka’s mouth. She puckered her lips as she waited for the alcohol’s razing path to reach his stomach.

  “Do you even want to be king?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you really going to accept the throne?”

  “I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  “But you can.”

  “Eden, I would prefer to take a position I never wanted instead of watching you and Viktor crumble under the weight of his stupidity. He won’t show it, but he’s a desperate male. You’ve brought him back to life and he’ll not give that up. Not even for the throne of Prajna.”

  A small tear in her soul stitched itself back together. It didn’t repair all the damage, but it was a start.

  Luka set his glass down. “He’s under a tremendous amount of stress, Eden. He’s broken up over the pain he’s caused you. His past is coming back to haunt him in the absolute worst of ways. He’ll not rest until he’s figured out how to undo everything Dmitri has done, that includes making you safe, happy, and whole.”

  “It also means finding Dmitri.”

  “Too right.”

  “We could help.”

  Luka’s eyes widened. “Really? You think I’m going to take you out into the forest to hunt a dead man?”

  “No. I was thinking more along the lines of his daughter. Has anyone asked her where her father is?”

  “No. Viktor didn’t want to show his hand. Though, he did give her the parting gift of knowing he was abdicating. It went over splendidly.”

  The skin on Luka’s palm itched as his sarcastic quip leapt off his tongue before he could stop it. He would never voice it, but he felt a little sorry for Bianca. He knew what it was like to be treated as a pariah among the Prajna.

  Regrettably, if he was crowned King soon, he’d need to maintain a level of distain towards the female in case he had to remove her head.

  Eden didn’t like the cruelty of Luka’s comment. She didn’t chastise him, though. On some level, she knew his jaded remarks were how he coped.

  “I can see the spokes in your mind spinning, Eden. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we help Viktor on two fronts without putting me in any danger.”

  “Torture Bianca?” he threw out nonchalantly, trying to get back to the comfort of his dark humor.

  “What? No,” she sputtered.

  “Fine. I’m listening.”

  “First, we simply ask Bianca about her father and see what she has to say. Bran is still here. He can come, too, and scent any deceit in her response.”

  “Then we torture Bianca?”

  “That is a firm no, Luka.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing.”

  “Can you please be serious? If only for a few minutes?”

  “Very well. Your second proposition?”

  “Since you do not want to be King, and the only reason Viktor is even considering stepping down is for me, we need to help him keep his position.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “Easy. We find Bianca’s sieva.”

  Eden’s eyes dropped to Luka’s left hand as it twitched. He probably wasn’t aware he’d been scratching it off and on since he entered the chamber.

  The skin on Luka’s palm warmed and he closed his fingers into a tight fist, shielding it from Eden’s attention. His cicatrice no longer looked like the lightning bolt it had been.

  He vividly remembered its original shape. The memory of the day his father had mutilated the skin was one he tried to keep buried; but it kept emerging more and more often lately.

  He’d rationalized it was because he’d placed too much hope in his brother’s soul-bonding, that it would be the beginning of the end of the curse. Unfortunately, Eden had been bonded to Viktor for weeks and Luka hadn’t heard of any sievas finding one another. It was news that would have been reported immediately.

  However, if Bianca found her sieva, and their cicatrices awoke, she would want her mate. The powerful pull of the magic of mates would be too great for her to resist. She wouldn’t want Viktor.

  The problem was, her sieva could be anyone, even someone who had yet to be born. Historically, most female mates were born after their males, but the opposite had been known to happen from time to time.

  “It might not be possible,” he told her.

  “But it’s not impossible.”

  Luka ran his tongue over his teeth as he eyed his brother’s mate. Viktor had said she was smart. Luka knew she could be ruthless. The combined attributes would make a queen capable of handling the Kingdom of Prajna.

  “Alright,” he agreed and she jumped up, nodding enthusiastically.

  “First things first, Eden. Bran and I will both escort you to Bianca and we will both stay with you the entire time. You are never alone or out of our sight, understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Second, I have no idea how long it will take to find her mate. No sievas have been found since you and Viktor, and before that it had been a century. Do not be too disappointed if we cannot find her match before the deadline.”

  “I understand, Luka. I am not naïve. I’ve thought it over, attempting to put together everything, including how I even ended up here. My sister, before she left for the North, gave me a portent. She’d said to search my truth in the East. It cannot be mere coincidence that, when I told my father we needed to go East and we ended up at the temple, Viktor just so happened to arrive while I was there. Our cicatrices are a perfect match. That is not coincidence. That is Fate.”

  “Fate, huh? So you plan to stay?”

  “I—”

  “Marry him?”

  Eden flung her hands up in exasperation. “Stop.”

  “I’m merely making an inquiry.”

  “He hasn’t asked and I am in no way over what he did. It’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is I am hopeful because Fate has brought me here for a reason.”

  “And what reason is that?”

  She crinkled her button nose. Luka would tell her how young it made her look, but she’d probably set him on fire.

  “I don’t know, but I hope it’s to help stop whatever curse has settled upon the kingdom.”

  “And then we can torture Bianca?”

  Eden barked a startled laugh. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.

&nb
sp; “You’re impossible.”

  “I’m also agreeing with you. Take it while you can.”

  Luka held out his arm. “Let’s go visit the dungeons. I’ve been negligent in my tour duties.”

  Chapter 28

  Luka led Eden and Bran down through the lower levels of Castra Nocte. As they approached the door into the dungeons, he turned and placed both hands on Eden’s shoulders.

  Mismatched eyes met his without the slightest hint of emotion. No trepidation. No irritation. Nothing. She could be so similar to Viktor in her reticence it was frightening.

  Luka wasn’t sure what she would feel, confronting Viktor’s former dalliance, one he was contracted to wed. If he was in her position, he’d have come armed to the teeth. Then again, he’d seen firsthand she was her own lethal weapon.

  “Do not get too close to her, Eden.”

  “I know.”

  “Bran?” he said.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Stay alert.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Luka nodded curtly and motioned for the guard to allow them inside. The heavy door squeaked, the uncomfortable sound echoing as it swung open.

  Bran angled his head. “Are we under water, by chance?”

  “No, we’re not that far down,” Luka answered. “Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I could hear water.”

  “The ocean is close. There are caves and tunnels near where the tides bring in seawater, but we’re not under it.”

  “That’s probably what I’m hearing.”

  Luka strained to listen, too. He was on edge bringing Eden down here and would not discount any potential peril.

  To his left, near where Eden was standing, he thought he heard a faint swooshing. It did sound like water moving behind the rock. Water was powerful and could easily carve out paths in the stone.

  He would need to bring it up with Viktor later. The integrity of Castra Nocte’s foundation may require an inspection. At the moment, the sound wasn’t a threat and that was what mattered.

  Luka continued leading them deeper into the dungeons. Eden’s head swiveled, mentally recording what she saw.

  The passage was lined with cells carved into the rock. Each cell looked more like a cave with steel bars covering the mouth. They walked the length of the corridor to the last cell on the left.