Daughters of Lyra: Heart of an Emperor

by Felicity Heaton

  With a growl, Regis unbuttoned his black jacket and tossed it onto the expansive bed beside his sword. Bare-chested, he walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror above the marble basin. Dark red eyes glared back at him. He knew what she had seen when she had looked at him in that room. It was the exact reason his species were so secretive. Other species didn’t understand their ways and their needs. When they discovered the truth about them, their view changed. His kind became something else entirely in their eyes.

  Monsters.

  When she had looked at him, she had seen a monster.

  He hung his head forwards, grasping the edges of the basin for support, and closed his eyes.

  He wasn’t a monster.

  Or perhaps he was.

  He had almost killed her after all. Something with feelings, with a heart that could love as well as merely hate, wouldn’t have done such a thing to someone so beautiful.

  A knock at the door made him tense. His fingers tightened against the basin edges, threatening to smash the stone. He pushed away from it and went back into his room, throwing the rest of his clothes into the waiting trunks.

  Another knock.

  “I wish for no company, Van. Leave,” Regis said, hoping the younger Varkan would do as he had asked. He had known Van since they were younglings together on Varka Prime and under normal circumstances would welcome his company, but not today. These weren’t normal circumstances. He would leave a note for Van, the Count of Aeris, and then make his way to the ship. His friend would understand.

  They knocked again.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t.

  Regis’s temper frayed when another knock sounded and he stormed to the door.

  “Van!—” He yanked the door open and stared at the blank space were Van’s face should have been. His gaze dropped almost a foot to a crimson-cheeked Sophia.

  She smiled nervously and glanced along the hall in both directions.

  “Will you let me in?” she said, the anxiety showing her voice and her beautiful dark eyes.

  Regis stepped back to allow her to pass. She took a step and then stopped, her eyes widening slightly when they fell on his bare chest. Her cheeks darkened and she hurried past him and into the room. Closing the door, he watched her standing in the middle of his room, looking over his luggage. She turned to face him, her mouth open and shock in her eyes.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He nodded. “I must.”

  “Why?” she said and looked away, back at the trunks.

  “I cannot remain here.” He went to his trunks and closed the lids. “Not now.”

  “Not now?” She took a step towards him, her dark eyes wide and entrancing. Each shy glance she had ever given him flashed across his memory, making his blood burn.

  His gaze shifted to her neck and his hunger rose. The world became brighter as his eyes altered and he waited to see how she would react to the sight of them so vivid with bloodlust.

  She touched her throat, delicate fingers caressing skin that he longed to devour and taste.

  “You want my blood... and you’re leaving because of that?”

  There was an incredulous note to her voice that amused him on some sick level. She didn’t know what she was dealing with. Whatever she had learnt about his species and their bloodlust couldn’t prepare her for the reality. The darkness and violence, the need, were things that were impossible to put into words that any but a Varkan could understand.

  “I must.” He turned away from her and pressed the dark pad on the front of the cases, locking them and registering his imprint with them so none but him could open them.

  She huffed and grappled with the lid of one of the trunks, trying to prise it open, clearly wanting to unpack his things as though that alone would make him stay. Her efforts were futile but it didn’t stop her. There was a sense of sheer desperation about her actions and her feelings. He could sense them as clearly as he knew she could sense his when he was close to losing control. One of her parents had more than one species blood in their veins. Perhaps her mother. It seemed likely that a daughter would receive her mother’s gifts.

  “Why?” Sophia said, surrendering her attempt to open his luggage. Her jaw was set tight, her lips beautifully compressed into a thin line that said she wasn’t going to give up so easily. What was she fighting for so vehemently? Was this the true face of love?

  Did she love him?

  A voice at the back of his mind laughed and mocked him for thinking such ridiculous things. A princess wouldn’t lower herself to marry someone she knew wasn’t of royal blood. Their trip here would prove him right in that. No matter what she said, it was wealth, power and connections that she wanted from marriage.

  Not love.

  “Why?” she said and moved closer to him, seemingly unaffected by his half-dressed state now. He was under no illusion about her innocence. She had never been alone with a man like this before. Anger coloured her cheeks as much as the sight of his bare chest had. “Because you want to bite me?”

  If only it were so simple.

  “You do not understand,” Regis said and walked over to the bed to retrieve his jacket.

  Before he could put it on, she had crossed the room and had come to stand only a few feet away. The sound of her heart pounding filled his senses and he could feel the warmth radiating from her. She pushed a strand of her long black hair from her face and glared at him.

  “Father says that Varkans control their bloodlust.” She grabbed his sword off the bed and unsheathed it a little.

  “What are you doing?” He grabbed her wrist but not before she had managed to run her finger along the blade.

  His eyes widened.

  He stared at the drop of blood as it blossomed on her finger. She held it up, her palm facing the ceiling so the drop remained perfectly balanced. His lips parted and his teeth sharpened. His heart thumped hard against his chest, faster than he had ever felt it beat before.

  His breathing turned heavy as he stared transfixed at the tiny bead of blood. Fire consumed him and a desire for violence was born in its midst. He trembled as he held her wrist, his fingers tightly closed around it, aware that he was probably hurting her but unable to care at that moment. He was lost. His mind raced forwards to imagine every possible outcome of this moment. A wave of bloodlust stronger than he had ever experienced hit him and he could see himself killing all in the palace just to get to her, to have her all to himself.

  He could see himself killing his friends.

  Her family.

  Everyone.

  It was torture to see all that in one single drop of blood and know that if he tasted her, drank from her, the feelings he had now would increase in strength one hundred fold.

  He would lose his mind.

  “You can love, Regis... you’re just too afraid of how those feelings control you,” she said and his gaze snapped to hers. “Well they control everyone. We’re slaves to them too.”

  His breaths shortened as the hunger rose.

  “Is it just blood making you lose control?” she whispered, sinful and tempting as the blood itself. “Or is it my blood? Is it me?”

  He frowned at her. Was it her or her blood? He had been battling for control over himself from their first meeting in the square. He hadn’t smelt her blood back then. He had only smelt her perfume of Lyran lilies.

  “I’m not afraid, Regis,” she said and removed his hand from her wrist. Entranced, he stood there, watching with a sense of inevitability as she raised her hand and the precious drop of blood towards him, knowing he wasn’t strong enough to stop her. “Not of love or these feelings. Not of you or your hunger.”

  She wiped her finger across his lower lip, smearing it with the rich taste of her blood.

  “Tell me that you didn’t want me before you had a taste.” Her voice was a sultry whisper that made him realise that she didn’t know how dangerous what she had done was. He couldn’t control himself any longer. “Tell me tha
t you didn’t feel something that night we spoke in the garden.”

  He shuddered and licked his lip. Bringing his hand up, he touched his mouth and then brought it away. His fingers shook, paler now than they had been. He couldn’t control himself and he wished for her sake that he could.

  He frowned and tears filled his eyes, hot and rebuking.

  Was this love?

  This desire to protect her, even from himself, even when he knew that he wasn’t strong enough?

  “Tell me that you didn’t want to kiss me and I will believe that you cannot love. I will leave.”

  He stared at her.

  “I wanted you the moment I saw you.” He grabbed her around the waist and crushed her lips with a kiss so consuming it felt impossible to sate. His tongue thrust into her mouth and hers came to meet it, tangling and gliding against his in a way that stirred the fire in his blood. He growled, picked her up, and continued to kiss her as he lay her down on the bed, only half-aware of what he was doing.

  She moaned on contact with the soft bed and he ground his teeth, closing his mouth and struggling for control. Her hand came up to caress his cheek, bringing the scent of her blood with it. It was too much, too intense. It shattered what little control he had retained and sent him over the edge.

  He poured all his hunger and need into his kiss, claiming her mouth for his own just as he longed to claim her blood and her body. The feel of her delicate warm fingers stroking his cheek drove him on, luring him into enacting all the sinful thoughts running through his mind. He closed his eyes and fervently kissed her, his body hardening as her tongue caught his teeth and a flood of sweetness filled his senses. Her hands lowered to his arms as he devoured her mouth, seeking out every molecule of blood, desperate to taste each one. Her fingers flexed around his muscles and then held them tight as her body went rigid and a moan escaped her. He groaned at the feel of her body brushing his, stirring his desire until a red haze fogged his mind.

  He needed her.

  She didn’t protest or put up a fight as he dragged the skirt of her dress up to reveal her legs. He broke off the kiss and stared down at their long shapely forms, the sound of her heartbeat and her rapid breathing filling his ears. With a growl, he grabbed her and pushed her up the bed, so he was level with her hips. He pushed her dark blue skirt away and ran his hands over her thighs. She shook beneath him, trembling in a way that his body matched as he stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at her bare legs.

  He wanted her.

  She would be his.

  Every Varkan would know it.

  With a snarl, he sunk his fangs deep into her thigh and sucked hard, pulling a mouthful of her blood and then swallowing down the sweet nectar. She shrieked and her hands grasped his shoulders, shaking with the pleasure he could sense in her. He drank deeper, lost in the haze and his need. One thought pounded his skull as he clung to her legs and held onto her.

  She was his.

  A loud banging disturbed his solitude, his moment, and he raised his head. Seven signatures on the other side of the door. All meat. All dead. He roared at them, a warning for them to leave before they met their deaths. They banged again and ordered him to open the door.

  Sophia muttered something, her eyes closed and face flushed with desire. The scent of it filled the room, suffused his senses along with that of her blood. He growled at the thought of their moment being disturbed, at the thought of those men daring to intrude and interrupt her pleasure.

  Kneeling on the bed, he narrowed his eyes on the door.

  He roared.

  “In the name of Iskara and the King of Lyra, open up!” several men demanded at once.

  Addled by the blood, Regis grinned. He would open up. He grabbed his sword and unsheathed it. He would open up and then he would open them up.

  He ignored Sophia’s feeble protest as he left the bed and stalked towards the door, intent on protecting what was his.

  ****

  Chapter 5

  The weird dizziness and warmth evaporated in a heartbeat when Sophia realised that Regis had opened the door. Tall burly armoured guards poured in and she screamed as she raced to cover her legs and sit up. Regis roared and she reached out to him. Kneeling on his bed, she could only watch as he fought the guards, his eyes blazing red and his mouth bloodied. Her blood. She flinched when he blocked one of the guards’ blades with his bare arm and it sliced into it. She had done this to him. She had made him lose control.

  She reached out again, desperate to speak but unable to find her voice. He ran one guard through, gutting the man, and roared as he attacked the next. What had she done? She hadn’t meant for it to turn into this, for it to go this far.

  Her heart ached when the guards finally disarmed Regis and piled onto him, pinning him down. She couldn’t watch as they carried him away, didn’t want to hear his shouts of protest. Even though he was speaking the old Varkan language and she couldn’t understand the words, she knew that he was angry. She could feel his outrage and his hunger.

  Sophia didn’t understand why he felt those feelings though. Was it because of her? Was he angry at the disturbance? She had been, at least at first. She sat in silence in the empty room and lifted her skirt. Her fingers traced the neat set of red marks on her flesh. They didn’t hurt. The whole area felt numb. In fact, she felt numb. Her initial anger at the guards’ arrival and Regis stopping biting her had faded to guilt and misery.

  She had driven Regis into biting her and now the guards had probably taken him to the palace cells. Her father would probably have him killed.

  It was all her fault. She touched the mark on her thigh again. It had felt so good though. She had tried to keep quiet but it had been impossible. The wave of pleasure and sense of connection to Regis had been overwhelming, sending her out of her mind.

  The door opened and she covered her leg, smoothing her dress down over it. She frowned when she saw it was her mother and turned away to stare at the window. Night was falling. How long had she been sitting here thinking about what she had done?

  Her mother sat beside her and placed her hand over hers. It was comforting, warm, and made tears fill her eyes as she felt she no longer had to be strong. Her mother would understand. Her mother would never be angry with her, not about anything, and certainly not about something concerning love.

  Sophia sighed. She had been such a fool and where had it got her? She had convinced Regis to lose control and she still hadn’t been able to discern whether he felt love. His feelings had been so strong and, while there had been a connection to him, and she had felt tenderness and devotion within his emotions, she hadn’t felt anything that she could distinguish as love. Now, Regis would pay the price for her mistake. He would be punished, not her. It should be her.

  “What will happen to him?” she whispered, staring at her mother’s hand where it covered her own. She could feel her mother’s sympathy and understanding.

  “They are holding him in the cells for now,” her mother said and Sophia forced a smile when her mother brushed her hair behind her ear. She didn’t want to think about her appearance. It was probably obvious what had been happening in this room before the guards had burst in.

  No, they hadn’t burst in.

  Regis had gone to fight them.

  She had felt his need to protect her.

  “Will they kill him?” Her voice trembled and she looked up into her mother’s dark eyes. Sometimes, it was as though she was seeing herself in the future. They were so alike. Perhaps that was why her father doted on her so much and tolerated her sometimes wild ways. “I have to speak to father and tell him not to kill him.”