Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7)

by Bella Klaus

  Valentine ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right.”

  I reared back. “What?”

  “While you were gone, I buried myself in work. When I wasn’t fixing the mess the Mage King made of Lamia or helping the authorities apprehend Kresnik’s followers, I was reliving my death.”

  All the frustration building in my belly deflated, and my shoulders sagged. I walked to the other side of the room and lowered myself beside Valentine onto the sofa. Placing a palm on his chest, I asked in my softest voice, “You saw this as an opportunity to spend some time alone with me?”

  “It was selfish.”

  I shook my head. “We waited three years to be together, and when we were just understanding each other, Kresnik struck and tore us apart.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know how long it will take before he breaks out of those wards, but I wanted at least a few days alone in your company.”

  I pressed a kiss on his lips. “Understandable.”

  Valentine pulled me onto his lap, nestling me against his broad chest. “Something in your voice says there’s something you don’t want to stay.”

  My muscles melted at the touch of his strong body, and every sense became engulfed by the overwhelming presence of safety and love. If I remained cradled in his arms like this, we would kiss, and then the kiss would lead to caresses, then all my resolve to deal with Prince Draconius would melt away.

  Gathering what was left of my willpower, I pushed myself up and met Valentine’s hooded eyes. “If you have your memories, you’ll understand why.”

  “Uncle Draconius’s ambush?” he snarled.

  “Now that he’s lost favor in New Mesopotamia, I think he’s more determined than ever to take your throne.”

  “You could be right,” Valentine muttered.

  “So, I’m taking Kain somewhere safe?”

  “I’ve locked Uncle Draconius from the wards.”

  My brows rose. “Who’s in charge of Lamia while you’re in jail?”

  Valentine scowled. “The Council will take temporary control of my kingdom.”

  “Hades might not like your uncle, but I’ll bet he’ll form a temporary alliance with Prince Draconius to bring you down.”

  “I’ve been a fool.” Valentine squeezed his eyes shut.

  I patted his shoulder. “The Council would have slung you in jail, anyway. I just wanted you to kick up more of a fuss, make threats, let them know not to try that kind of crap with you again.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should stop putting so much faith in those people.”

  “Those of them who aren’t bureaucrats are corrupt.” I slid off his lap. “How do we contact the guards?”

  Valentine reached across the sofa and picked up the receiver of an old-fashioned telephone. “Put me through to King Beowulf.” He paused for several moments before saying, “I need a favor.”

  The person on the other end of the line said a few words before Valentine hung up.

  “Beowulf is the Shifter King?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Why doesn’t everyone call each other by their given names?”

  “Some of the older members of the Council are superstitious about giving out their true designations.” Valentine rose off the sofa and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “With enough magic, a determined individual can weaken a person just by knowing their name.”

  I bit down on my lip. “Why don’t we do that to Kresnik?”

  “A spell like that might reduce their power by a fraction. Not enough to weaken them completely.”

  My brows drew together, and I broke away from Valentine’s hold and paced the room.

  “Mera?”

  “I can’t think straight when I’m looking at you.”

  Valentine chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

  “That you’re the most attractive man I know? That everything about you makes my insides melt?” I asked.

  He appeared in front of me, sliding his hands down my back, and growled, “When you put it like that—”

  “We have three weapons against him,” I said.

  Valentine frowned. “What?”

  “One.” I raised a finger. “You said with enough magic, we could perform a spell to reduce his power. What’s the population of Logris? Everyone added together could weaken Kresnik enough for us to do some serious damage.”

  “The Council hasn’t released the information of Kresnik’s return,” he said.

  I reared back. “Why?”

  “To prevent widespread panic.” He shook his head. “The older monarchs suspect that some members of our society might ally themselves with Kresnik out of fear.”

  “But what about the footage of Kresnik and me—”

  “They put out the story that an ifrit took control of you for a nefarious ritual and was apprehended before he could do any harm.”

  My shoulders stiffened, and every muscle in my back turned rigid. “And people believe that?”

  “Only a small group of the enforcers know the truth of what’s really happening, and they’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  I stepped back and rubbed my temples. “At some point, people have to know.”

  He massaged my tight shoulders, melting away the tension. “It’s the downside to being one of seven monarchs.”

  The urge to tell him that there were only six rose to the tip of my tongue, but I clamped my lips shut. This was a prison, and anyone might be listening to our conversation or even watching us speak.

  Exhaling my frustration in an outward breath, I said, “We still have the snake bile.”

  “Which we’ll turn into a poison that will coat our weapons.”

  “After we’ve carried out Aunt Arianna’s plan.”

  A knock sounded on the door, making my stomach flip. We both turned in the direction of the exit, only for the knock to become louder.

  “Valentine, are you decent?”

  He tucked me under his arm. “Beowulf, come in.”

  The door swung open, and the Shifter King stepped inside. The man looked even more imposing without his white robes, and wore the kind of leather jacket I would expect to see on the roughest fighter of a motorcycle gang, faded jeans, and heavy boots.

  He strode across the room and clasped Valentine by the hand, giving him a hearty shake. “Congratulations on finding your mate.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Valentine replied.

  The Shifter King stepped back, taking in the luxurious surroundings. “Is the prison to your liking?”

  “It’s a step down from what I’m accustomed to in the palace, but it will suffice,” Valentine said with a sniff.

  Beowulf threw his head back and laughed. “Vampires and your luxuries.”

  Valentine chuckled along with his friend, seeming to find him genuinely amusing. I glanced from one monarch to another, marveling at their differences. While the Shifter King looked like a rough and ready cage fighter with muscles that bulged to the point of bursting, Valentine was the epitome of old-world sophistication. They seemed like opposites, but perhaps that was the appeal.

  “My uncle is making a move on my throne,” Valentine said.

  “He propositioned me while you were undercover at Kresnik’s lair.” Beowulf narrowed his eyes. “Did you really infiltrate that bastard’s organization?”

  The Shifter King had to be talking about the time Hades and I had escaped from the Flame, when Prince Draconius had gone around to the Council of Ministers, trying to gather allies.

  “It’s a long, tedious story that I would share with you over several drinks.”

  “And there’ll be no getting drunk until you’re satisfied Kresnik is dead and gone?”

  “Exactly.”

  I straightened and pulled my shoulders back, now alert in the presence of another monarch who didn’t believe that Kresnik was secure behind the ninety-nine wards.

  “What’s the plan?” Beowulf asked.

>   Valentine tilted his head down toward me. “You’re acquainted with Mera?”

  The Shifter King’s amber eyes fixed on mine, and he stared down at me with a frown. “Of course.”

  Silence stretched out for a few heartbeats, with both kings staring down at me until realization hit me upside the head. They were waiting for me to speak.

  Heat bloomed across my cheeks. “I need some help to kidnap someone before Prince Draconius starts moving against Valentine’s throne again.”

  “Who?” asked the Shifter King.

  “My ward,” said Valentine. “As a pureblooded vampire, he automatically qualifies to become a king. Uncle Draconius will push the boy to the throne and use his youth and inexperience as an excuse to become the regent of Lamia.”

  Beowulf’s nostrils flared. “In other words, he’s a scheming dick.”

  “Crude but blisteringly accurate,” said Valentine.

  The Shifter King nodded. “Anything else?”

  “I need to hire the best Masters of Wards in Logris,” I said.

  “Try Hasp and Locke,” Valentine said. “If they’re not available, Master Rincebreed may help.”

  The Shifter King strode to the door. “Abduct the boy from the palace and bring the locksmiths to the prison. Consider it done.”

  I rushed after him. “Take me with you.”

  Beowulf’s brows rose, and his gaze flicked to Valentine, who stood in the middle of the room, not following.

  “It makes no sense for us both to be confined in this prison with Uncle Draconius plotting against me,” Valentine said with a sigh.

  The Shifter King grunted and opened the door.

  I rushed back into Valentine’s arms and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “As soon as I’ve hidden Kain and employed the Ward Masters, I’ll be back.”

  Valentine reached into his pocket and pulled out a black card. “Use this to buy anything you need.”

  The corners of my lips curled into a smile. “Anything?”

  “There’s no limit.” He leaned down, his lips descending on mine with a kiss that made my heart stutter and sent a rush of heat flooding down to my core. “Hurry back.”

  My throat dried. With that sort of motivation, I planned on returning to see what else he could do with that talented mouth. On legs that trembled with anticipation of jail sex, I hurried to the door and waved Valentine goodbye.

  A quartet of enforcers stood in the hallway and bowed to the Shifter King as he strode past.

  “King Valentine is placing a lot of trust in you,” he muttered.

  “I’m his mate. Anything I do will be for our benefit.”

  He snorted. “I’m sure you’ll try your best.”

  “Do you think I’m weak?”

  “I’ve seen bigger and better hamster shifters,” he said with a laugh.

  I rolled my eyes. How old was this guy? Shifters aged just as slowly as witches and wizards, but something about Beowulf reminded me of the kinds of guys obsessed with sports and physical prowess at the academy. Supernatural children tended to form factions, depending on their type of power. Vampires, whose strength didn’t set in until their fangs had dropped, spent time with the witches and wizards from the wealthier families or demon hybrids from powerful pedigrees or the occasional faerie who lowered themselves to leave Elphame.

  Shifters were big, bold, brawny and boastful. They dominated sports, physical classes, and the hallways with their boisterousness and athleticism. One would think that they would be bullies, but they merely considered anyone weaker than them beneath their notice. The worst I might have gotten from a shifter was a hard shove and to be told to get out of the way, but they weren’t vicious like the vampires and their sycophants.

  Beowulf looked like a man in his late twenties, and something about the way he swaggered suggested he wasn’t much older.

  We reached the end of the hallway, where a heavy metal door glowed with magic that said No Entry. After he pressed a palm on its surface, its mechanism clicked, and it swung open to reveal a parking lot large enough to house a dozen vehicles.

  My gaze caught a pale figure sitting in the front seat of a limousine. She leaned forward, raised a hand, and waved. I nodded at Karen, or was it Kharon, hoping she was waiting for Hades and not me.

  The Shifter King flicked his head to the side. “After you.”

  “Thanks.” I stepped into the parking lot, marveling at the array of vehicles. A Bentley stood parked beside Hades’ limousine, along with the old-fashioned Mercedes Benz from the Hangover movie. In the front seat of each vehicle sat a driver, clad in a uniform that represented their monarch.

  “Which one is yours?” I asked as I passed a white-haired man wearing celestial blue.

  “Right at the end.” Beowulf pointed at an oversized chrome motorcycle. “Have you ridden on the back of one of those before?”

  I shook my head, following him on numb legs as he strode over to the monstrosity, extracted a helmet from a compartment within its back seat, and tossed it like a football.

  “Is this safe?” I asked.

  He straddled his bike and swept his gaze down the length of my cloak. “If that’s a reaper uniform, then you have more protection than you need for a bike ride across town.”

  “Right.”

  He started the engine, revving it up to a volume that rolled a rapid beat across my eardrums. My heart thundered with a mix of terror and exhilaration, and my breaths turned shallow. Riding on the back of a motorbike couldn’t be any worse than being flown across London and into a rift.

  I scampered toward Beowulf, placed a hand on his broad shoulder, and settled behind him. My hands rested on his waist.

  “Hold tighter unless you plan on flying off,” he growled.

  Before I could adjust my grip to something secure without being grabby, the vehicle lurched toward a solid wall, making my heart explode with fireworks of panic. I opened my mouth to let out a scream. We were going to die.

  Beowulf drove into the wall, which dissolved into a set of illusion-based wards that prickled across my skin like needles.

  I slumped against his back, panting hard. “You could have at least warned me that we weren’t driving into a wall.”

  “Where would be the fun in that?” he said with a harsh chuckle.

  Wall lights whizzed by on both sides of an underground passageway large enough to fit two trucks, but no traffic passed on the other side. The road ahead was empty, making me think this was a road reserved for the monarchs of the Supernatural Council.

  “How long have you known Valentine?” I asked.

  “You mean how long have I been a King?” he shouted over the roar of the cycle.

  I squirmed on the back seat, heat rising to my face. So much for being subtle. “That too.”

  “Five years,” he replied. “My father was the alpha of our pack, but he had to go.”

  “He retired.”

  Beowulf threw his head back and roared with laughter. “That’s a way of putting it.”

  My throat spasmed. I didn’t need extra sensory perception or the ability to read minds to know that something nefarious had happened to the previous Shifter King.

  Many shifters gathered in packs or prides or other groupings that centered around a dominant male who always had to watch his back for challenges. Because I didn’t have any shifter friends, I was unfamiliar with the nuances of their society, but I’d seen enough fights in the academy and studied enough history to understand that these skirmishes were a reflection of life in Lunaris, the part of Logris where they lived.

  “King Valentine was the only monarch who took the time to show me how the Council worked,” Beowulf said over the roar of the engine. “He’s a good man.”

  “The best,” I replied.

  “I hope you understand that you’re a lucky female,” he muttered. “A man like him needs a harem of vampires, yet he spent years pining for you like a lovebird.”

  “Really?” I squeaked.

  A
tunnel of light shone up ahead, and Beowulf accelerated. I clenched my teeth, clutched his broad torso with all my strength, and readied myself to burst into flame at the first sign of a crash. He raced up a ramp with a speed that made my stomach lurch.

  Eventually, the anxiety coursing through my system settled to a background level of dread, and I cracked open an eye to find the twin ponds of Logris on our far left, behind which stood the sprawling structure of the Supernatural Council. From this angle, it reminded me of La Défense, a modern region within Paris, characterized by its great arch and modern high-rises that reflected the afternoon sun.

  We sped past traffic on both sides, heading away from the center of Logris toward the residential areas ruled by the monarchs. I swallowed hard, watching the landscape whizz past. Valentine had mentioned that there hadn’t been anyone else in the three years we’d been apart, and I had believed him, but hearing it from someone else made my heart melt.

  Beowulf continued down Pen Ponds Road, which cut through the supernatural city, separating Lamia from Natura, the domain of the Mages. While Lamia consisted of low-rise buildings arranged around garden squares much like Grosvenor Park, Natura was all narrow streets and high-rises.

  We took a left turn into Caedes Road, a boulevard of all-year cherry blossoms that had been enchanted the color of blood. The houses behind the trees were small mansions occupied by prominent vampire clans, such as the Noble House of Vandamir and some offshoots of other Royal Houses including Sargon.

  “They live like fucking princes, don’t they?” Beowulf muttered.

  “That’s because vampires have such a low birth rate—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he snapped. “None of these bloodsuckers pay taxes. They’re lavished with easy jobs, hoard their inheritances, and get to keep everything they earn. It’s no wonder they live better than the rest of us, eh?”

  I stiffened at his words. While they were true, and reflected some of Aunt Arianna’s rants about vampires, I wasn’t about to badmouth Valentine’s subjects. “They’re lucky to have such a stable leadership.”

  “Too right,” he said with a bitter laugh. “And what did they do the moment they got levied with a one percent tax?”

  My brows rose. “One?”

  He turned his head. “Did you think it was higher?”