Ah, there it is. “You want me to tell the people they no longer owe their king his due? To keep all their money to themselves?”
Irina shook her head. “No. A good king provides a service to his people, protection, law, and order. For those services you should be paid. However, the lords and ladies of the territories push the tithe up every year. I’ve seen for my—”
Kirill leaned forward, his interest piqued at the way Irina’s cheeks had flushed as if she’d stopped herself on the cusp of a revelation.
“Do go on,” he said smoothly. “You have seen for yourself, what?” He smiled. “Are you a lady of my court, Irina? Should I call you Lady Irina?”
The woman glared at him with a look so black, Kirill thought the moon itself would drown in darkness. “If you want my help, you will cap the tithes. Let the people keep enough money to prosper.”
“Well, I suppose it does behoove me to have a prosperous people,” Kirill murmured. He stood and stepped closer to Irina, reaching out to trail a hand through one lock of ebony hair. Irina’s heart sped up, pumping blood ever faster through her veins. The sound echoed in Kirill’s ears, weaving through his senses and coaxing his fangs to slide from their sheaths. His hunger reared its head, demanding to be satisfied.
Ever so slowly, Kirill raised a hand to Irina’s chin, tilting her head so that he could better stare down into her eyes. A little press of power, a minor flexing of his vampiric muscles, and she would soften toward him. He would hypnotize her, just enough so he could feed and she wouldn’t remember. The connection would make it easier for him to affect her later if necessary.
Irina tilted her face up at the last second and pressed her lips to his. Kirill froze, momentarily shocked into inaction by her initiative. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips caressed his own, an achingly seductive sensation that drew an appreciative sound from his throat. She tasted like the winter air, fresh and crisp, with just a hint of bite. He parted his lips for her, encouraging her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue slid past his lips and he pressed forward, eager for the inevitable moment when she learned the risk of kissing a vampire with his fangs extended…
A sharp pain pricked the inside of his thigh. Kirill froze. Irina pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still close enough to brush Kirill’s with every syllable.
“Biting me would be a mistake,” she said softly. “I’ve come here with nothing but the best of intentions. It would be awfully ungentlemanly of you to take advantage of me.”
Kirill almost laughed. He raised a hand to run over Irina’s hip, up her back, until he cupped her neck. “I could kill you with very little effort,” he whispered, lightly pressing his fingers against her neck. Despite the threat of his words, Kirill couldn’t resist leaning forward slightly, letting his lips brush hers in a chaste kiss even as they stood in their stalemate. He couldn’t deny that part of him was excited in a way he rarely was. Irina was bold, almost to the point of foolishness, but her spirit added a spice to their encounter that Kirill appreciated on an instinctual level. Now that he’d tasted her, he found he wanted a little more. How sweet would her blood be? How delightfully wild…
“I have a dagger ready to sever your manhood,” Irina replied softly. Her voice only wavered slightly and Kirill’s respect for her ratcheted up a notch. She pulled her face back, seeming to gather herself. He didn’t miss the slightly glazed look in her eyes. The sight only sharpened his hunger.
“I am a vampire, little Irina,” he reminded her, his voice rough with hunger and arousal. “As…strategically placed as it is, your dagger won’t kill me.”
“Oh, but won’t you wish it had?”
Kirill’s eyes widened. He stared at Irina as if really seeing her for the first time. “You, my lady, are…” He didn’t even know how to finish the sentence. She was beautiful, driven, bold… Dropping his gaze, he searched her dress.
“The dagger, where did you have it hidden?”
“Strapped to my thigh.”
“You didn’t life your skirt,” Kirill murmured. “I’m certain I would have noticed.”
“There’s a slit at my side, hidden by the folds. I can draw the dagger and still remain quite ladylike.”
A laugh burst from Kirill, a full body sound that warmed him from the inside. A plan formed in his mind, a stroke of sheer genius. Perhaps Irina was the key after all.
He stepped back, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. Irina watched him, a slight frown tugging down the corners of her mouth.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I have a proposition for you,” Kirill answered instead. “Due to a rather unfortunate event a few moons ago, my relations with the trolls and goblins are rather…strained. You will come with me to visit their courts. If you can win them back to my side, I will cut the tithe owed to the territories by ten percent.”
“Fifty.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fifteen.”
“Fifty.”
“Twenty and if you argue further I’ll make it a fifty percent increase.”
Irina pressed her lips into a thin red line. Kirill fought the urge to lean forward and draw his tongue over that delightful expression of exasperation. If anything, her constant disagreement convinced him that at all costs he must taste the blood that fueled such a passion.
“Done.”
She started to turn away.
“Wait.”
He paused, waiting for her to return her full attention to him. The suspicion in her gaze would have made him smile if his hunger wasn’t wearing his patience so thin. He took a moment to collect himself, drawing upon his willpower. A vampire without control over his bloodlust was an animal, not a man, and certainly not a king.
“I may be willing to make it a twenty-five percent reduction,” he said casually.
Her eyes narrowed and he fought off a smile.
“Why do I get the feeling I won’t like where this is going?”
Hunger tightened his stomach and he took an almost involuntary step forward. Her hand tightened on the dagger still in her grasp. He halted.
“Oh, but I think you will like it,” he said smoothly. “I have had quite a long time to perfect my technique.”
The beginning of realization dawned on her face and her jaw dropped slightly. “You aren’t thinking of biting me, are you?”
“Eventually, yes,” Kirill agreed. He fixed her with the full intensity of his gaze, stopping just short of pushing his powers on her. Irina had so much spirit, so much fire. How much sweeter would his victory be if she succumbed to him willingly? He stepped forward again, keeping his movements calm and slow, maintaining her dagger in his peripheral vision. “But first, I would like to kiss you again. You have a most exquisite taste, you know.” He stared at her mouth. “Such tender red lips to speak such blasphemous words. And surely we could find a better use for that wicked tongue of yours?”
Murder glowed in her eyes like an ethereal light, but the unmistakable scent of arousal filled the air. Her heart pounded and just the hint of a blush colored her delicate cheeks. Oh, she wanted him. But she was going to fight it. How delightful.
“You—you—you,” she sputtered.
“Irina, you stormed up to my castle and demanded entry. I don’t know how you charmed the guards, but you made your way into my chambers easily enough. You stood here, in my personal space, and challenged me, got my blood…rather hot.” He let his voice grow deeper with each word, measuring her increased heart rate, the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He took another step forward, slowly. “I have been very agreeable, Irina, and I look forward to our…arrangement.” Dragging his gaze up and down her body, he took extra time admiring the soft swell of her hips and breasts before fixing on her face again. Her lips had parted slightly and her chest rose and fell more rapidly than before. “Irina,” he whispered, taking another step. “I am so very hungry…”
The first brush of her hips against his palms sent a thrill down Kirill’s spine. His control slipped
and he dug his fingers into her curves, jerking her lower body against the aching hardness of his own. A gasp fell from Irina’s lips and her dagger hit the floor. Her gaze locked on his and her lips moved, but no sound came out.
“So soft,” Kirill murmured, sliding his hands up her hips to trail across her ribs. He pulled her tighter against him and bit by bit she folded into his embrace, tilting her head up. For a second, he hesitated, wondering if he’d hypnotized her by mistake. But the way her heart continued to race assured him that she was still very much in the moment, every sense sharp. Slowly, he leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on her shoulder, just above the line of her gown.
The scent of her skin invaded his senses and he dragged his cheek over her flesh before trailing a heated path of open-mouthed kisses up her neck. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, a wild and intoxicating sensation that called to the depths of his being. She tasted new and familiar all at once and he desperately searched his memory, his brain, for some reason he found her so…tempting.
Her skin under his tongue set fire to every nerve ending in his body. Licking a short, blazing trail over the curve of her neck nearly undid him. Every muscle ached to throw her to the ground and bury himself inside her in every way possible. He dragged a fang over her neck…
A crash shattered the silence as one of the giant panes of glass from one of his windows exploded in a shower of glittering dust. Kirill jerked his head up, curling his body around Irina, instinctively shielding her from the danger. His gaze darted around the window, searching for the person or thing that had dared try to break into his chambers. There was nothing, and no new scent reached his nostrils. He strode to the window, cautiously looking all around before leaning out to look up and down. Nothing but a line of stone gargoyles met his eyes. He gritted his teeth and whirled around.
“Someone is going to—”
Pain erupted along his cheek and he swore as he jerked backward. Fury sizzled along his nerves as he found Irina standing before him, her trusty dagger clasped in her hand. His blood trickled down the blade. He raised his gaze to Irina and the bellow of rage died on his tongue. She stood before him, her cheeks flushed with arousal, her eyes almost glowing with her own ire. For a moment he would have sworn the goddess of battle herself had landed in his chambers.
“Remember this the next time you think about drawing someone’s blood without their permission,” Irina hissed.
And with that she whirled around and swept out of the room.
Kirill put a hand to his face, drawing his fingers through the blood. Slowly, the ends of his mouth curled up into a smile.
Chapter 5
“A week is not long enough for a vampire to calm down. Irina, I’m begging you, don’t go.”
Irina stared at her reflection, frowning as she smoothed her hands down the velvet bodice of her dress. The blood red color may have been a poor choice—all things considered.
“Irina? Are you listening to me?” Ivan demanded.
“Read me the invitation again,” Irina said, offering a small prayer of thanks to the Goddess when her voice came out calm.
“‘Irina, King Risi has invited us to attend his people’s Uppsala celebration on the eve of the full moon. Be ready at sunset. Prince Kirill of Dacia.’”
“There, you see? No mention of killing me or offering me any bodily harm. I challenge you to find one word in that invitation that even hints at our little incident of last week.”
“You slashed him across the face with a dagger,” Pasha observed, his little face creased with worry. “No one does that to a vampire. Or a prince. Especially not a vampire prince.”
“Well, when a vampire prince tries to take liberties, it’s important to set boundaries.” Even as the brave words left her lips, Irina’s heart pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer against her chest. All week, she’d waited, certain Kirill was going to show up and make her pay for her audacity. The fact that he hadn’t gave her some hope that he had more use for her alive.
“Irina, please,” Ludmil spoke up, wringing his red hat in his hands. “We care about you. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I am so very hungry…”
Prince Kirill’s voice whispered through Irina’s mind and she couldn’t suppress a shiver. The sound of his voice caused things low in her body to tighten even as they chilled the blood in her veins. He had intended to drink her blood, to cloud her mind with the express purpose of sinking his fangs into her flesh. The thought angered her, frightened her. But his voice…his voice slid over her senses, teasing her with her own aroused reaction. His voice had filled her head with erotic images she had no business entertaining.
“Vampire tricks.”
“What?” Ivan asked.
Irina shook her head and offered Ivan a half-hearted smile. “Nothing. Just…reminding myself what reality looks like.”
“And what does reality look like, pray tell?”
Irina shrieked, her hand flying to her chest. Around her, the dwarves scurried out of the way, darting to the furniture, or fleeing the room entirely. Prince Kirill stood in the middle of the modest room, his reddish gaze boring a hole through her body as he dragged it from her head to her toes and back.
“Your Highness, you startled me,” Irina said, cursing the breathy tone of her voice.
“Oh?”
Kirill stepped forward. His black velvet tunic didn’t make a sound as he moved, the soft leather boots on his feet not daring to creak. It was no wonder none of them had heard him come in. Irina tried to keep her gaze on him as he approached, trying to fill her eyes with all the confidence she didn’t quite feel and hoping against hope that the keenness of vampiric senses were highly exaggerated.
A brief flicker of annoyance stole over her as the prince stood there, slowly dragging his gaze up and down her body like she was a piece of artwork hung on the wall for his viewing pleasure. Her annoyance helped distract her from her nerves and she gathered the courage to tap her foot and cross her arms.
“I hope my attire meets your requirements?” she asked pointedly.
Blue eyes met hers and the ice in his visage made her chest tighten.
“A week ago, you dragged your dagger across my face,” Kirill said softly, continuing to bore holes through her with his gaze. “I spent the next evening deciding the exact manner of your impending death. These things should never be rushed, you understand. Death, especially the death of someone who has so gravely wronged you, must be carefully considered so that it sends the appropriate message. It’s a lesson my brute of a father never learned and it is one of the many reasons I will be a better ruler.” He tilted his head. “Do you want to know what manner of death I decided on for you?”
Every word he said twisted Irina’s guts, filled her head with ghastly images. For a moment she felt as if she were back in the forest, watching the huntsman holding that gruesome box and imagining what Serafina had ordered him to do. She never wanted to feel that way again. If Kirill was going to kill her then so be it. But she would not spend her last moments of life cowering in fear.
“I imagine,” she said finally, proud that her voice only wavered slightly, “that you would slash my face in the same manner and then drain my body of every drop of blood.”
Kirill’s eyebrows met his hairline. His surprise took some of the edge off Irina’s fear and she drew in a deep, steadying breath. At least he wasn’t staring at her with those dead eyes anymore.
“A good guess, but no. Pray tell, how did you arrive at your…guess?”
Irina plunged on, refusing to give her fear time to silence her. “I…cut your face when you tried to feed on me without my permission. Cutting my face in the same manner and taking what you tried to take in the first place just seems…poetic?” She choked slightly on the last word, the conversation having become almost too surreal to think about.
“Indeed,” Kirill mused.
For several long seconds he just stared at her, letting her stew in the
silence, wondering what he was thinking. Part of her waited for a blow, for some offer of violence. Her nerves wound tighter and tighter until she almost attacked him herself, just to provoke some sort of action.
“I spoke to some of the trolls in my kingdom,” Kirill said finally. “You will no doubt be pleased to hear that they speak very highly of you.” He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, as highly as trolls speak of anyone who is not a troll. Let us just say that I was right to invite you to be my companion for this evening’s festivities.”
Irina bit the inside of her cheek to keep in the sigh of relief that tried to escape. She winced when a sharp pain alerted her that she’d bitten too hard and pierced the sensitive skin.
One Bite Page 5
