The man nodded. He turned from Irina to face the other men. “If it was poison, we must find a cure. Etienne, can you scent what kind of poison it might be?”
Etienne’s brow furrowed. “I am not an expert on poisons, but I can try.” He leaned down, very gently parting Irina’s lips under the watchful eye of the vampire. He sniffed. “Apple. I smell apple, but no poison.”
“If you smell no poison, then it could be a spell.”
“Stand back, let me lay my hands on her,” Isai commanded. The other men moved back as the wizard strode up to the coffin, and placed one hand on Irina’s forehead and the other over her heart. Moments later, he hissed. “It is a death spell. Not true death, but a terrible sleep.” He turned pained eyes to Kirill. “Serafina has cursed her to die without moving on. She will not wake, but neither will she move to the next world.”
“There must be a way to break the spell.” Kirill’s voice was hoarse.
Isai frowned, shaking his head. “Do we know how the spell was delivered?”
“Most likely it was put on an apple and fed to her,” Etienne offered.
“Do we know how much she ate?” the angel asked. He frowned and leaned in, running a hand lightly over Irina’s throat. “Isai, how fast would the spell have taken effect?”
“Instantly.”
“I only had one bite,” Irina whispered. “I’d barely started to swallow.”
Suddenly Adonis’ eyes widened. He looked down at Irina’s body and grabbed one of her arms. Before anyone could react, he jerked her body upright and landed a resounding thump against her back with his other hand. A black blur barreled into him and Irina screamed as Kirill’s burning red eyes glowed above Adonis’ body. The vampire had tackled him to the floor and was baring his fangs.
“How dare you strike her,” he shouted hoarsely.
“Get off of me!” Adonis growled. “She didn’t swallow the apple! I’m trying to get it out of her!”
Kirill didn’t seem to hear him. He fisted a hand in Adonis’ hair and jerked his head back, looking for all the world like he was going to tear the other man’s throat out. Irina stared in fascination as Adonis’ eyes went white and his body seemed to ripple in waves. Wicked black claws sprouted from his hands and when he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth were vicious, sharp points. “Get off of me,” he said again, his voice gravelly and completely unlike the playful tone of before. “Or I will drag your miserable spirit to the astral plane and leave your body to rot.”
Irina’s eye was drawn by the movement of feathers. She stared, still shocked into silence as the angel gently lifted her from the coffin. With Etienne and Saamal each carefully holding one of her shoulders, the angel lowered her to the floor and wrapped his arms around her body, placing his fist over her stomach and wrapping his other hand around it. He gave a few sharp thrusts and Irina’s body jerked. They all stared as the bite of apple flew from her lips.
The world spun in a maddening blur and Irina’s world went black.
Chapter 14
Kirill couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his veins. It roared in his ears like a mighty ocean, drowning out all else. He stared down at the demon’s blank eyes, only barely registering the sharp teeth bared at him. Over and over, his mind replayed the sight of Adonis striking Irina. He saw her poor, limp body being jerked around, her eyes never opening and her skin looking paler than it ever had. Tears burned his eyes and his fangs itched to bury themselves in the demon’s neck. Someone had to pay for what had happened to Irina—and he couldn’t bite himself.
Suddenly a soft hand pressed against his cheek. Too lost to fight, Kirill let his head be turned, his world screeching to a halt when he beheld Irina looking at him with eyes bright with tears.
“Kirill,” she said softly. “Come back to me.”
She gently turned him to face her, trailing her hands around his eyes and then down to his jaw, brushing ever so gently over his upper lip. With a start, Kirill realized what a sight he must be. The slight pressure of Irina’s fingers made him all too aware of his extended fangs and he knew his eyes must be glowing like red hot coals.
He did his best to rein himself in, but his emotions were still running too wild. The near loss of the woman in his arms was too much, he needed to reassure himself, thoroughly, that she was all right. He grabbed her arms, squeezing as if to convince his body she was real. A shaky nod from her broke the tension holding him prisoner. He dragged her to his chest, burying his face in her neck and drawing her scent to him. There had never been a sweeter sound than the reassuring pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her veins.
“Let’s give them some privacy.”
Kirill didn’t lift his face from Irina’s neck when Adonis spoke. The demon’s voice was back to normal, he wasn’t a threat. Besides, Kirill had Irina in his arms and that seemed infinitely more important than anything else right now.
“You might want to take her back to your room. She seems like the type of woman that deserves a proper bed for that sort of thing.”
“Do you ever drag your mind away from carnality?” the angel demanded. “She almost died.”
“Death brings out the carnality in most people,” the Adonis argued. “Sex is a reaffirmation of life. Why, just try to go to a funeral and not get propositioned.”
“What—I—You—That—” Patricio sputtered. He growled. “Disgusting!”
Adonis snorted. “You know, for as long as it took you to get that thought out, I sort of expected more.”
Kirill ignored all of it. For the first time in his afterlife, he blocked out what was going on around him, he didn’t observe every facial expression, note every word choice. He didn’t care. All that mattered to him right now was Irina. She’d been returned to him and he was going to make absolutely certain that he never lost her again.
Only vaguely aware of Irina offering murmured reassurances to the dwarves, he scooped her into his arms, lurched to his feet, and strode toward the mirror. The gargoyle offered him a nod as he passed through the glass and exited into his bedroom.
As he approached his bed, a rush of chaotic emotions swarmed over him. He remembered standing here, in almost this very spot, the first time Irina had attacked him after he’d propositioned her. She’d been here when she’d been attacked the second time—an attack perpetrated by her own stepmother no less. An attack he may have been able to protect her from if she’d only been honest with him. Frustration, anger, and the sharp edge of desperation that only came with the threat of losing a loved one all seized him in their grip. He dropped her to her feet and grabbed her arms. Irina’s eyes opened wider, seeming shocked at his intensity.
“You left,” he choked out. His voice sounded awful, rough and hoarse with rampant emotion, but he just shook his head and plowed forward. “You didn’t tell me Serafina was your stepmother. You didn’t tell me she wanted you dead.” He jerked her toward him, staring into her eyes from mere inches away. “I almost lost you and it nearly killed me and I don’t know why.”
“You never asked me about my past,” Irina said evenly, despite the way her chest heaved with each breath. “As soon as you assessed me and found me to be advantageous politically, you stopped looking at me as a person.”
“How can you say that?” Kirill growled, struggling to think past the warmth of her body in his arms. “I brought you into my home—”
“You needed me to secure your power!” Irina shot back. “You brought me here after I was almost killed—after continuing your political battle over my gasping body!”
Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, Kirill fought to organize his thoughts. Every time he tried to think, to call upon all those calculations and assessments he was famous for, all his mind would give him was the image of Irina’s body lying under the glass lid of the coffin, her face pale and still as if in true death. He shook his head to clear it.
“You are half human,” he said finally, looking up to meet her eyes.
<
br /> Irina frowned, but nodded. “I am. So?”
Kirill tried to force himself to let go of her arms, but found he couldn’t. A tiny irrational part of his brain screamed at him not to let her go, not yet. “That is not acceptable,” he choked out, angry when his voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat. “You are too vulnerable.”
“Serafina is dead,” Irina reminded him, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in her voice. “She is no longer a threat to me.”
“But there could be others,” Kirill insisted. His hands trembled and he gritted his teeth, firming his grip to make them stop. “People will try to use you to get to me.”
“Why would they think they could get to you through me?”
Her question, so innocent and bewildered, froze his brain mid-thought. It sat in his mind, gathering intelligence, drawing on memories and emotions he hadn’t quite let himself process yet. In one shining moment, Kirill realized he’d made a decision without knowing it.
“Because you will be my wife,” he whispered.
Irina’s jaw dropped even as tears sprang to her eyes. She leaned into him, searching his face, perhaps for some sign of his motivations. He slid his hands down her arms to take her hands in his.
“Irina, you are quite a disrupting influence,” he said, clutching her hands to his chest. “I have planned and plotted for a very long time and I have always known what step I would take long before I took it.” He shook his head, hardly able to think of what he would say before the words just came out. “I’ve nearly lost you three times now—nearly lost you before I even realized how much I wanted to keep you—and that is inconceivable. I would be a fool not to see what the gods are trying to tell me.”
“The gods?” Irina repeated, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.
“Please don’t look at me like I’m going insane, I truly do not need the reminder,” Kirill mumbled. He sighed and lowered his forehead to hers. “Irina, you must marry me. You must bond with me, let me take away that part of you that can be hurt so easily. Let me protect you as much as I can, do everything I can to make sure I am never again standing without your warm presence beside me.”
“I’m only half human, Kirill,” Irina whispered. “You cannot make me a vampire.”
“No, but your human blood will allow me to bond with you. You will share my strength and anyone who tries to hurt you will learn, just before they die, that you are mine, forever.”
“Do you love me?”
It was such a simple question, Kirill couldn’t help but laugh. Could there have been a more crystalline example of their differences? Even his proposal of marriage had been tainted by his practical machinations. Irina deserved better. “What a fool I am,” he said, affectionately stroking a lock of Irina’s hair behind her ear. “Irina, I can think of no other explanation for the pain I felt when I saw you lying under that cursed glass. From the bottom of my still heart, yes, I love you. And it is for reasons precisely like excluding that fact from my marriage proposal that I so desperately need you to say yes.”
“And it’s not just because of what my stepmother’s mirror said? About my heart being the key to some great kingdom?”
Kirill froze, his brain snatching that bit of information like a greedy miser would grab for a coin. That would definitely be something he’d need to consider later, when he was in his secret room surrounded by his carefully collected information. Irina’s eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat, offering her the most contrite look he could manage. “It does…sweeten the pot,” he admitted. He grew serious. “But I did not know about that before this moment.”
“You will never stop scheming, will you?” Irina said, shaking her head.
A flutter of panic twitched in his chest, but he forced himself to meet her eyes. “No,” he answered honestly.
The smile that lit her face banished his fear and put an answering smile on his own face.
“Good,” she told him. “Because I love you too—exactly as you are.”
The world narrowed down until all he could see was her face, her lips moving. Overwhelmed by the events of the past six hours, he jerked her flush against his body. He lowered his head and crushed his mouth against hers, desperate to cement their union in some tangible manner. Irina parted her lips, her unwavering acceptance a balm to his battered heart.
He buried one hand in her hair, turning her head so he could seal his mouth more firmly against hers, sliding his tongue past her lips. She moaned and melted farther into him, her arms rising to wrap around his neck and hold him closer to her. Her reaction heated his blood and he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She was still wearing the simple sleep garments he’d provided her with the night she’d been attacked. The memory of the fury he’d felt, the utter rage that someone had dared to invade his sanctuary and harm someone close to him, fueled his movements. Laces tore under his fervor and Irina’s breath came in ragged gasps as he ripped the material from her body. His own clothing fared little better, but the sensation of their naked flesh pressed together made the fleeting frustration worth it.
“Kirill,” Irina gasped, undulating against him.
Kirill groaned as he lowered his mouth to her neck, licking and sucking at the pulse pounding just beneath the surface. Life, sweet life flowed with reassuring force under her skin. His fangs slid from their sheaths and it was all he could do not to pierce her flesh and drink from her veins, taste the blessed reminder that she was still with him. But that wasn’t what he needed now.
Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks, dragging along his chest with every breath she took. Mouth watering, Kirill slid down her body to take one of the sensitive nubs into his mouth. Too desperate to be careful, Kirill sucked the tip of her tit into his mouth, his fangs pressing against the swollen flesh. Irina cried out, thrashing on the bed, and one of his fangs nicked her skin. Blood welled up, smooth and coppery. His taste buds tingled and his desire ratcheted up another notch as the essence of her lifeforce trickled into his mouth.
His cock hardened painfully and Kirill couldn’t help a few almost savage thrusts against her body.
“Oh, Goddess… Kirill, please!”
Her cries sent acidic adrenaline spiraling through his blood and he frantically slid his hand between her legs, probing her heated depths and almost going lax with relief when he found her already wet and ready. He slid his fingers inside her, drawing a cry of passion from her throat. He prepared her as best he could with such desperation riding him, driving him to claim her. With a groan, he dragged his body up and captured her mouth in another desperate kiss. Irina parted her legs and with a body shuddering groan, Kirill slid his fingers out of her body and sank his cock into her heat.
Lights exploded in front of him and his head swam on dizzying waves of ecstasy. Warm. Alive. Safe. With every thought, he thrust into her, every cry pouring from her lips a reassurance that she was here, with him, and she was all right. Every nerve in his body sang as he kissed her, joining his body with hers over and over again until it was hard to tell where he ended and she began. Irina met him thrust for thrust, kissing him back with a passionate hunger that threatened to drive him insane.
He grabbed her hips and rolled over, grunting as he kept them locked together while maneuvering her on top of him. Her hair fell in a dark waterfall around her, her eyes bright with passion as she stared down at him, undulating her hips to plunge herself farther down on his shaft. His grip on her hips turned bruising as he struggled to hold on to his desire, to push her closer to the edge of pleasure before allowing himself to surrender. Irina threw back her head and trailed a hand down her throat.
A hunger that was almost painful seized him as he watched the skin twitch with the torrent of blood pounding through her veins. Suddenly her hands dropped to his shoulders, her eyes closing as her face contorted with passion. The sweet muscles wrapped around his cock contracted, squeezing him until his own climax broke with a body shaking intensity tha
t made him arch off the bed with a roar. Her cry mingled with his as their bodies frantically rode the waves of ecstasy. He lunged off the bed, pulling her against him and giving in to the urge to sink his fangs into her neck.
Blood rushed into his mouth, made all the more delicious by the spice of her desire. He drank and drank, filling his belly with her essence until he fairly buzzed with it. In the midst of his feast, he cut his own lip with his fang, letting his blood mix with hers. His power flowed into her, infusing her human blood with his, strengthening it. The knowledge that he was protecting her with his own blood filled him with a new warmth and he sighed against her skin. Irina held his face against her, moaning with each pull of his mouth. Finally he pulled away, falling back onto the bed and bringing her with him. He drifted off into sleep instead of death for the first time since his change, his bride-to-be held against his side.
Chapter 15
One Bite Page 15
