Seduced by the Vampire King (Vampire Warrior Kings Book 2)

by Laura Kaye

  The cold water he splashed on his face made him yearn for a shower. Well, since Mikhail was taking his sweet-ass time…

  A small bathroom in the corner had a shower stall his body filled completely. But it did the job. The water ran red around his feet—leftover blood, nothing fresh. His lineage was strong, virile, granting him the ability to heal quickly.

  And the girl’s blood out in the field, when things had been do-or-die critical, didn’t hurt, either. In fact, it had been the difference between life and death.

  He whipped a towel off the rack and scrubbed it over his hair and skin, wincing as he passed over his neck. He wrapped a second towel around his hips. When he walked back into the infirmary room, he found Mikhail sitting in the chair waiting. He jutted his chin toward the bed, directing Nikolai’s gaze to a pile of clothing with a manila folder sitting on top. He picked it up. “What’s this?”

  “Information. On the girl. She had a passport and cell phone. Leo ran them.”

  Nikolai flipped the folder open.

  Katherine Ann Bordessa. From Washington, D.C. American exchange student at the Moscow University for the Humanities. Fluent in English, Russian, and French.

  He scanned farther down. “Oh, goddammit.”

  “Yeah,” Mikhail said as he rose from his seat.

  “Her parents sit on the North American Electorate Council.” His desire to speak to her went from curiosity to necessity. He needed to learn what happened between them and ensure it didn’t escalate into some sort of diplomatic incident. For now, he knew enough. He chucked the papers to the bed and grabbed some clothes.

  “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  “Stop calling me that?”

  Mikhail just stared at him, mouth shut but posture speaking volumes.

  Nikolai stepped into black pants, part of his typical street-fighting uniform, and yanked them to his waist. He reached for the little leather pouch he always carried on him. That his friend thought to bring this to him made his throat go tight. He cleared it as he tucked the memento in his front pocket.

  “Where is she?” he asked, tugging a T-shirt over his head. When Mikhail didn’t answer, he turned.

  The warrior’s expression had him bracing for bad news. The man pursed his lips, then said, “The dungeon, rear cell.”

  Chapter 6

  A series of metal clinks preceded the pounding of boots down the corridor outside Kate’s cell. Weighed down by exhaustion, hunger, an oppressive headache, and a sore butt, she stayed seated on the cot, back against the wall, knees drawn up in front of her.

  A low, terse exchange echoed off the stonework a moment before two big bodies filled the doorway in front of her.

  My vampire!

  The possessive reaction was instinctual. Even though of course he wasn’t hers. And she didn’t want him to be. Right? That was why she was in Moscow in the first place…

  She flew forward on the bed, her feet settling on the floor. She fought a groan and gripped the metal edge of the frame to keep her balance. This damn headache. But it didn’t matter, because her vampire was standing before her.

  Conscious. Healthy. More gorgeous than any man she had ever seen.

  Those eyes. Those bright sapphire eyes. That’s what she noticed first—not just their incredible color, but their haunted intensity, the way she could almost feel them raking over her in return. Brown hair with golden highlights flowed to just past his broad shoulders, though it wasn’t braided like that of the black-haired warrior who stood at his side.

  She sucked in a breath and glared at the other man. He was the one who had pretended to want to talk, but had really just distracted her so the gray-eyed vampire could jump her.

  Her vampire cut his gaze back and forth between them. He bit out a question Kate couldn’t understand because he asked it in German. She frowned. They knew she spoke Russian, so what were they saying that they didn’t want her to know?

  The exchange went on for a moment, and Kate pushed off the bed and took a step toward the door. Another. She just needed to make sure he was really okay. After everything. And the closer she walked, the farther her body wanted her to keep going.

  Both vampires turned to look at her and she froze.

  Heart kicking up in her chest, she met her vampire’s bright eyes and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Light seemed to flicker behind his gaze, which dragged down her body and focused for a long moment on her blood-covered legs. He cocked his head as if not understanding her, though she knew she’d spoken in flawless Russian.

  Finally, he met her eyes and nodded. “I am well. And I understand you had something to do with that.”

  Kate’s stomach flip-flopped at the sound of his voice, deep and much more commanding than what she’d heard in her mind. She felt it like a physical touch. She shrugged. “I tried.”

  “Katherine—” the other one interjected “we are in a bit—”

  She groaned at his use of her name. She’d never made introductions—she’d never been given the chance. “My passport. Right? You took my passport?”

  The man nodded. “It was necessary. Your belongings will be returned to you.”

  Kate crossed her arms, not sure whether to trust his words or assume they were simply a ruse, same as he had done in the alley when he’d distracted her. Which was where she’d heard his name. “And you’re Mikhail. Is that right? Since you know so much about me, it’s only fair I know a little about you in return.” Her gaze shifted from the dark vampire to the one she’d saved, who wore an expression that appeared almost amused.

  “Yes, I’m Mikhail—”

  “Nikolai,” her vampire blurted. “I’m Nikolai, Katherine.”

  A thrill shot down her spine. She loved the sound of her name on his voice, as if his tongue caressed the letters. “Yes. I go by Kate, though.”

  He shook his head. “Katherine is a beautiful name.”

  “My lord—”

  Nikolai held up a hand. The gesture was full of an authority the other vampire responded to immediately.

  My lord? What was that about?

  The brown-haired vampire scowled. “Leave us, Mikhail. And give me the keys.”

  Intrigued, she watched the warrior obey and depart with a final glance her way.

  Alone again, Kate wasn’t sure what to say. God, he was tall and broad. She remembered the muscular feel of those shoulders. She wanted to run her hands over him and prove to herself he was well. She wanted to press her face into his neck. Instead, she stood there watching, waiting, hating the iron bars that separated them.

  But maybe it was better to have the barrier. It would keep her from caving into his allure as easily as she’d done before.

  What she couldn’t tolerate anymore was the awkward silence. “I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re better.” That odd tingling returned to her palm and Kate fisted her fingers without thinking about it. The movement pulled at the wound on her arm. She winced.

  Standing firm and still on the far side of the door, he said, “Your concern…” He shook his head. “Thank you.” His gaze dropped to the movement of her hand. “I am better, but it appears you are worse for our meeting.”

  Heat bloomed on Kate’s cheeks. She wrapped her arm behind her back. “Oh, well...” A dozen responses vied for airtime, but that’s all she could manage. The deep reverence of his words and his raw masculine beauty, all rough edges and hard angles, stole her breath.

  And she was so conflicted about the feeding she could hardly think straight. How could she both cherish and regret the memory of it? She ducked her head.

  He released a breath and recaptured her attention. “I have to ask you, Katherine, how did you come to find me?” His voice was low and deep, his intense gaze studying her.

  Maybe she imagined it, but he seemed fixated on the bloodied parts of her clothing. She shifted feet, self-consciousness making her want to squirm. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It was a complete coincidence. I wa
s walking to the metro—”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  She frowned at the harder edge to his tone. Was this some kind of interrogation? The thought squeezed her heart. After everything she’d done, he didn’t trust her? And why was it she cared? “I couldn’t sleep. I thought a walk would help.”

  “The university is twenty kilometers away from the city.”

  “Which is why I was taking the metro.” She sighed. So tired. “Why all these questions?”

  “We need to understand what happened tonight.”

  His distance and dispassionate tone left her feeling empty and bereft. And so stupid. As if anything unique had happened between them. As if he would think she deserved any special consideration.

  “Well, here’s what you need to know: I found you unconscious and bleeding, tried to help you, got bit for my trouble—” she pulled her arm from behind her back and thrust it toward him “—and then got tackled, kidnapped, and dumped in a dungeon. Does that help?”

  The volume of her accusations hurt her own head. On top of the pain and the blood loss and the adrenaline let-down, it was more than she could take. She swayed, hating that she was showing weakness in front of him, but unable to hold herself together any longer.

  Nikolai was completely enthralled by the woman standing before him.

  Beautiful in her assertiveness. Bravery proven over and again. Wearing so much of his blood he went hard between his legs. She appealed to his body, intrigued his mind. His right hand tingled and twitched. He fisted against the foreign sensation.

  Katherine went unsteady on her feet even as her angry words still echoed against the stone walls. Her uncharacteristic display of weakness put him into motion.

  He unlocked and opened the door as she turned for the cot, and wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulders before her knees buckled. Nikolai sucked in a breath at the warm feel of her in his arms, at the soft brush of her hair against his hand, at the feminine scent of her skin, infused as it was with the remnants of his blood.

  Her voice, her touch, her scent—all these he remembered. Now having seen her beautiful face—the long chocolate waves and ice-blue eyes were a killer combination—his memories of the night became clearer and crisper in his mind. He was mesmerized, fascinated.

  And she was…she was shaking.

  “Sit,” he said, guiding her down and resisting the urge to press her back against the bed, to feel her under him. Instead, he crouched at her knees.

  “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

  Nikolai frowned and shouted for Leo, knowing he was manning the security booth and would hear him on the camera’s audio feed. Katherine jumped and cringed at the sound of his voice. He grimaced. “Damn, I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged and licked her lips, those pale blue eyes not quite meeting his. “Just a bump on the head. I’m fine.”

  There was something she wasn’t saying. He sucked in a breath and was about to ask, when he heard a voice from behind .

  “My lord,” Leo said.

  Katherine’s eyebrows flew up at the appellation. She narrowed her gaze as if questioning him. “She needs pain medicine. Yes?” He tilted his head and scanned her face. High cheekbones, full mouth, creamy pale skin. Too pale.

  “Yes, please.”

  “And food, I suspect.” It was more than a suspicion, he could feel the hunger rolling off of her. This connection to her needs and emotions was unexpected, and unwelcome. Still, he owed her. “When did you last eat?”

  Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, then back to him. “I’m not sure. What time is it?”

  “Pushing three in the afternoon.”

  She looked down and slid her clasped hands between her thighs. “Dinner, last night.”

  Nikolai sucked in a breath and whirled on Leo. “Has she not been offered any food?”

  Leo’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. His mouth dropped open, and his gaze cut to the floor by the door to the cell, where a bottle of water sat untouched.

  “She has had nothing at all?”

  “I’m sorry, my lord.” Leo bowed his head. “I’ll get something, uh, now. I’ll just—” He thumbed over his shoulder and left.

  Nikolai crossed the room and retrieved the bottle, then returned to his crouch before her. He removed the lid and held the water out to her. “Drink it. I know I must’ve taken more from you than I should’ve. You are probably severely dehydrated.”

  Katherine eyed the bottle, swallowing hard enough to be audible. “Why do they all listen to you?”

  “Because I’m a pain in the ass if they don’t.” Saying any more would lead to conversations there wasn’t a chance in hell he would have. With her. With anyone. “Now, drink.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him, and the commentary regarding his command was crystal clear. He almost smiled, except it was obvious she wanted the water, so why didn’t she take it?

  All at once, he knew.

  It was the same concern he would’ve had in her position. He put the bottle to his lips and took a long sip, then offered it to her again.

  Her shoulders sagged and she accepted the bottle, drinking nearly half of it at once. Twin reactions coursed through Nikolai—regret that she didn’t trust him enough to take the water before he’d proven it clean, and satisfaction at seeing one of her needs sated.

  And at having a hand in that.

  Truly, he couldn’t blame her for the mistrust. Hadn’t he approached her the same way? Wary. Questioning. Not to mention his brethren had thrown her in a dungeon.

  The satisfaction, though, that was a whole other animal. In and of itself, something to be distrusted. Because the root of it lay in his fascination with her, desire for her—a desire he needed to ignore.

  If the past six months taught him anything, it was that he could never again tolerate such loss. No way he would ever put himself in the position of feeling this kind of pain again. Evgeny’s and Kyril’s deaths had left a gaping hole in the center of his being.

  Shit. Why was he even thinking about any of this?

  Katherine rested the nearly empty bottle on her thigh and glanced up at him. A glossy sheen covered her bottom lip. Nikolai’s mouth fell open as his respiration increased.

  The plump, wet skin called to him, beckoned. To taste it…

  All at once, his mind went blank and he could focus on nothing else. Unconsciously, he leaned in, watching as her lips parted and her tongue snaked out to wet her top lip, too. Their eyes met. Hers were hooded and intense, heaven in a stare. He held her gaze as he moved closer. Her scent added to her allure, surrounding and confusing him. The smell of his own blood, on her, followed fast behind, building within his chest a deep, hot feeling of male satisfaction. Christ, he loved her wearing his blood. Were it on her skin, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from devouring it. Devouring her. Warm, quick exhalations fell against his lips.

  He shouldn’t do this, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he had to, he had to know—

  “My lord, I brought—” Footsteps ended abruptly in the doorway behind him.

  Nikolai wrenched back and rose to his feet, his heart hammering against his breastbone. Disappointment warred with relief in his mind. What the hell was he doing? He fixed a glare on Leo and nodded to the table.

  Eyes down, the young warrior crossed the room and dropped the tray to show his displeasure.

  “Something on your mind, Leo?”

  “No, my lord,” he said, gaze still averted.

  “Didn’t think so.” Skin prickly, muscles tense, fangs aching, Nikolai was pissed off now and not sure why. “Is Anton here?”

  Leo shook his head. “Stayed in the city once you were stabilized.”

  Nikolai didn’t miss the unusual gruffness to the kid’s voice. “Call him and tell him to come. She needs to be examined. Let me know the minute he arrives. Now, go.” Leo lifted his eyes enough to communicate understanding and gave a single nod.

  Feeling edgy and restless, Nikolai watched him
leave and then grasped the tray and placed it on the bed.

  Wide, leery eyes peered up at him. The sound of her heart was thunderous in his ears. “Examined?”

  Nikolai crouched again. “You’re hurt. We have a doctor on staff. I would like him to look at you. Will you allow it?”

  “Um. I’m just a little banged up.” Her gaze dropped to the tray.

  Her implicit refusal stoked the fire of his mounting anger. “Christ, Katherine, you’re a little more than banged up.” Before he’d even thought to do it, he yanked her wrist from her lap and tore the gauze free.

  She gasped and pulled back, but his grip on her elbow held her in place.

  Holy Mother of God.

  He was an animal. A fucking animal.

  Chewed. It was the only word to describe what he saw. From wrist to mid-forearm, her arm was a landscape of red and purple. One, two, three times his fangs had penetrated her flesh—and not cleanly, and at least twice had his other teeth broken her skin, too. Angry bruises in the form of fingers—his fingers—circled her arm in several places.

  “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

  Her words slapped him.

  He released her, suddenly aware of how hard he’d been gripping her elbow and hand. She cradled her arm against her stomach, remnants of gauze still clinging, and hid the worst of the injuries from his gaze. But the image was seared onto his brain.

  His throat went raw, as if he’d swallowed glass.

  His head sagging on his shoulders, he raked his hands through his hair. He couldn’t stop hurting others, could he? And to hurt her, of all people. Maybe they’d all just be better off if he—

  “Hey,” she said softly. The light touch of her hand landed on the back of his head. After a moment, she stroked him. Slow. Gentle.

  Out of nowhere, a hazy memory slammed into his brain. The soft drags of her fingers in his hair, when he’d been injured, when she’d given him permission to feed from her vein. How shaken she must’ve been, how much pain he’d clearly inflicted, and yet she’d shown him tenderness, compassion.