Consort

by Kim Knox

  “I’m male, Tate.” He stopped beside the ornate throne dominating the center of the platform. Light flickered over its carved gold and blood-red cushions. “Queens do not listen to us.”

  “True.”

  He glared at me. “You’re not helping.”

  I shrugged. “Was I supposed to?”

  “You’re immune to silver, aren’t you?” His finger traced hot above the cold curve of the torc he’d put around my neck. “Anyone else wearing this much can barely speak.”

  I bit back a smile. “I think hot thoughts.”

  The flare of his beast in his eyes, like a drop of molten gold, had those thoughts searing through my brain. My beast growled, the flicker of sound igniting a hot rush through my flesh. I stepped closer, almost brushing against the smooth fabric of his jacket.

  “How hot?” His raw whisper had my breath short.

  My body swayed into his, Jager’s hand skirting over the bared skin on my hip. “Should I show you?”

  A polite cough broke the moment. Unwilling, I took a step back, cold air washing away the warmth of Jager’s body.

  Neron gave me a smooth smile. He straightened the hem of his jacket and there was that glitter in his pale eyes. The “I know something you don’t know” look. Only I did. Neron lifted an eyebrow and the corners of his smile twitched. He fixed his attention on Jager. “The Queen is almost ready. She wants to know that everything is prepared. Is it?”

  Jager gave a short nod. He glanced to the women standing in a line below us, their silver-pinned hair gleaming. “I gave the command for the escravo torcs to unlock last night. Sunlight hitting them will release them from their service. Zara,” his eyes slid to the end of the dais, where his sister stood with Soren, that vampire’s face still locked into an expression of disgust, “has made her choice. Such as it is.” He paused and that muscle jumped in his jaw again. “And of course, I followed my duty and made Tate my escravo.”

  Neron let out a slow breath and he winced. “I know you don’t believe it, but I tried to convince her not to do this, Jager.”

  “She wants direct female succession. Her daughter, not a stranger fate chooses.” Jager adjusted the knot of his tie and straightened. “And who are we to argue with that?”

  A hush fell over the gathered crowd and, with open braziers lighting her way, the Queen led the procession to the dais down the carpeted center aisle. Her stiff, satin gown gleamed, gold thread and encrusted jewels glittered in the flickering light, contrasting with her pale, almost fragile face.

  In a rippled wave, the crowds stood. The gnarled old woman, her back hunched and a jeweled cane stabbing into the blood-red silken carpet, dragged her slippered feet toward the curved dais. I focused on the old vampire and my beast shifted restlessly. The ancient crone had ordered my slavery…

  “Tate.” Jager’s hand gripped mine, his thumb running soothing patterns against my skin. “Stay calm.”

  Something easy for him to say. He didn’t have his brother somewhere in the crowd of hundreds. Not that I’d looked for Kester again. I would have to hold his gaze and bear the heavy weight of his disappointment and loss. I straightened my spine and silver tinkled. I had to deal with one thing at a time. Right then, I had to make ready for the Queen and kneeling before the woman who had destroyed me.

  Neron moved to my side and Jager’s hand tightened around mine. “What have you done, Jager?” Neron’s voice was no more than a rough whisper. He stared down at me and fire flickered in his pale eyes. “Her beast is raging.”

  “I did all that I was asked,” Jager muttered. “Can I help it if Tate’s immune to silver?”

  “Immune?” Neron’s finger traced along my bare shoulder, the warmth of his touch burning away the chill where the metal touched my flesh. For a brief moment, his beast blazed in his eyes, a riot of hot, white flame. I bit back the need to growl. Damn, he was pretty…and he had been the other man from that first November Eve celebration. The memory of that night burned under my skin. “Really?” he asked.

  “Neron…” The raw threat in Jager’s voice curled tension tight in my stomach and my beast stretched, wanting these men to fight over me. “She’s my escravo.”

  Neron hadn’t looked away from me and I found myself riveted to the fire in his eyes, even as Jager, a man I more than cared for, held tight to my hand. I couldn’t help it. What was wrong with me? “Is she now?”

  I willed my gaze down, fixing on the carpet-covered boards. Soil and grass littered the blood-red carpet, one of my muddied prints staining the tightly woven silk. I winced. But it kept me distracted from thoughts on the Queen’s seventh tanao. Neron played his own games and I had to concentrate. The Queen had reached the edge of the dais. Her mate and her first tanao offered their arms as she stopped at the steps. She shuffled up each long stair, her focus only on the next tread.

  Zara gave her mother a low bow, half dragging Soren into following her action. “Majesty.”

  The Queen looked up and a smile cut across her wizened lips. A gnarled hand reached out to pat her daughter’s head. Dark eyes crawled over Zara’s new mate. “Don’t spare the rod with this one, Zara,” she muttered, her voice sharp, brittle. “You’ve captured a handful.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  The Queen shuffled forward, her gown rustling and scratching over the thin carpet lining the way to the throne. Jager’s hand slipped from mine and slid up to my shoulder. He leaned in close, his breath stirring my skin. “Kneel, please, Tate.”

  My stomach knotted but I obeyed, dropping down onto my knees. The carpet cushioned me and I bent my head, exposing my neck. I breathed in and out, slow, steady. I was escravo. Was this how they felt in the beginning before the unnatural calm took them? Knotted up with tension at the need to obey, to be seen to obey. But if Neron had sensed the primitive vampire raging within me, then the Queen would and my death would undoubtedly follow. I focused again on the silk weave of the carpet and on my footprint ruining its perfection.

  “Jager.” The Queen’s brittle voice cracked on his name. “You will support your sister.”

  “Majesty.”

  The word was short and as obedient as my bowed head. I expected nothing less.

  My gaze slid sideways, careful to keep my neck exposed. The Queen expected nothing less from him either, his mother not sparing me a glance as she shuffled past us to the ornate throne. With a guttural sigh, she sank into the thick cushions, her cane stabbing into the dais. In years past, a heavy canopy had shielded her, but now her mate and her first tanao drew it back and the throne stood exposed.

  “I waited too long,” Queen Ionna murmured. Her fingers flexed around the pommel of the cane. “But a daughter came so late to me…”

  Her mate, Anlan, lightly touched her hand. “Majesty?”

  “You only gave me two children, Anlan. Think on that in the year you have until the sun claims you too. Tradition rewards us all.” Her smile was thin and a waspish edge lined her voice. She lifted her chin. “Neron!” The crotchety tone rose. “How long?”

  Neron paused and I counted the passing seconds in my slowed heartbeats. “Your timing, as always, is perfect, Majesty. Less than two minutes.”

  The Queen’s gnarled fingers tightened around the pommel. Her time had almost come to its end…and then her fingers loosened and the old woman pushed herself to her feet. My gut tightened. She’d remembered who and what she was, I felt it. My throat tightened, unexpectedly. The Queen had condemned me, ordered my slavery, but she was also my ruler, had been for too many centuries.

  Honoring our ruling Queen had been bred into us for too long. And now one of the longest lived of our race was about to face the sun.

  The crowd had dropped to silence and the nervousness gripping me held them too. Already the gray light of dawn crept over the sky, the stars fading to nothing. My gaze flicked to the rows of people and the long, carpeted avenue left empty. The sun would pull itself over the flat horizon, a long shaft of light would flash over the ba
re grass and woven silk and take the Queen.

  She waved a finger at Zara, who strode across the dais, Soren in tow. Her father stepped forward and pulled Soren back to stand beside him. Zara took her place at her mother’s right hand.

  “My time is at an end.” The Queen’s voice pulsed with strength, but the cost on her was great as her hand clenched her cane and her chest heaved. She lifted the thin coronet from her hair and held it on a trembling palm. A heartbeat later, she gave it to her daughter, who pushed the circlet of gold over her dark hair. “Honor your new ruling Queen as you have given your supreme devotion to me.”

  The crowd shifted, murmurs carrying on the still, cold air. I held my breath and my attention fixed on the horizon. Jager had promised me everything, but I was escravo and wore the silver torc of my enslavement. The sun would change me—my gut cramped—change him. How long would his promises last after the sun rose?

  My heart thudded and I watched the first gleam of the winter sun pull free.

  I crushed my eyes shut. Light, light seemed to be everywhere, hot against my skin, somehow burning beneath the silver coating my body. I gritted my teeth against the swell of pain, wrapped myself in protection around my beast as she wanted to howl out her agony. We had become escravo.

  I willed my eyes open. I might be a slave, but I would not be weak.

  The Queen had vanished. Only the stain of dust lay heavy on the silk carpet. She was gone and Zara stood as the new Queen.

  It was over.

  And then my silver torc, tarnished black, slid from my neck and hit the floor with a dull thud.

  Chapter Seven

  “What the—” Jager yanked me to my feet. The rest of my costume fell from me in a rush of ash and charred metal. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my sudden nakedness. He lifted my chin, made me look at him. Panic edged his gaze and that had my stomach cramping. “Tate?”

  “Jager?”

  The low threat in his father’s voice chilled me and I wrapped Jager’s coat tight around my body. What the hell was going on? Why had the silver just…burned away…from my flesh?

  His father continued in a rushed, tight whisper. Dark eyes flicked over me. “You disobeyed the Queen’s order. She’s not escravo.”

  Jager shook his head. “I did everything asked of me—”

  The beast flared in his father’s eyes. “You idiot. She’s still a queen.”

  Jager took a step back, his hand closing around my arm and pulling me with him. “Impossible. I did everything…”

  His voice faded and everything around me, Zara’s opening speech, the growing murmurs of the crowd, all fell to silence. Anlan and Jager argued, his father’s face shining with the fury of his beast. Zara stood straight, her shoulders back, presumably oblivious to the heated fight raging behind her. All had turned into an unnatural and eerie haze. Only the solid thump of my heart echoed over-loud in my ears. Anlan said I was still a queen, which meant Jager was my mate. I was a queen, with all the honor that came with it, a province, tanao, children… My heart contracted and I ran a trembling hand over my face, fingers chilled against suddenly hot cheeks. I would have children—

  “A duel!”

  The voice snapped through me. Kester. My brother’s demand rose loud above the unsettled mutterings of the watching crowd.

  “Tate burned silver. She’s proven herself a queen. Zara must duel for the right to rule us.”

  Zara snorted. “That is ridiculous. She’s my brother’s escravo…”

  She turned her head and then her whole body to face me. Her eyes fixed on mine. I held her gaze and my beast stretched and rose through me. The softest growl escaped my lips. Zara gave a responding snarl and we both recognized the challenge. I pulled myself free of Jager’s grip and padded toward my rival.

  “Tate!” Jager shouted after me but I ignored him.

  My beast had me and nothing mattered but staking my claim on the throne. Zara’s dark eyes narrowed. Her hands balled into fists. “What did you do to my brother?” Her voice had a hard edge of anger…and maybe doubt?

  That thought had a smile tugging at my mouth. Zara, who’d had everything handed to her, doubted that she had power over me. “Shouldn’t that be what didn’t he do to me?”

  “Funny,” she muttered. “You won’t survive this, Tate.”

  The smile on my mouth grew and my beast enjoyed the edge of unease that crept into her face. “I survived becoming an escravo. Who knows what I’m capable of?”

  Heavy hands landed on my shoulders. Jager’s fingers curled into the thick fabric of the jacket. “We need to make this official, Tate. There are rituals, rules—”

  “My beast won’t wait.” Zara’s voice reverberated with the power of the primitive vampire at her core. “Give her your shirt. Then we duel.” Fire sparked in her dark eyes. “I’ll bury you together. A fitting reward for your betrayal.”

  “Melodrama?” A smile lurked in his voice and my own mouth twitched. “Fate is favoring Tate. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “We’ll see.” Zara straightened her shoulders. “Do you agree to the waiving of all ritual and we take the fight over there?” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to the dark line of the wood. “Only the victor walks away.”

  My beast pushed heavy against my chest. Yes, she wanted to finish it. “Let fate decide.”

  Jager’s fingers dug into my shoulders. “Then turn around.” His voice whispered soft against my ear and warmth rushed under my skin. And there was my incentive to fight—my need for Jager. His hands slid from my shoulders and I turned around. Already he’d undone his tie and two buttons, exposing the firm, smooth skin I’d sunk my teeth into only hours before. His gaze gripped me, heat lurking in the darkness. Another button slipped free.

  “Want me to take you right here?” My low whisper had the heat flaring.

  “Tempting.” He lifted an eyebrow and his eyes sparked. “Think we can get away with it?” I bit back laughter and pressed a cold palm to his abdomen. He hissed. “Though I think freezing fingers should be banned.”

  Neron stood behind me, gripped the collar of the jacket I wore and pulled it back from my back. His fingertips brushed warm down my spine, raising goose bumps and sinking a droplet of pure heat low into my pelvis. From Jager’s expression, he was very aware of what his mother’s seventh tanao was doing.

  Jager shrugged out of his shirt and pulled me toward him, away from Neron’s clever fingers. Dropping the shirt over my back, he waited for me to push my arms through the warm sleeves before he made quick work of the buttons. Neron handed him his jacket, which he took with a hard glare. He paused and then Jager slid his hand over mine and lifted both to my mouth. “Feed from me,” he said.

  “Jager…” Zara’s low growl cut over me. “I didn’t agree to this.”

  He pressed his wrist to my mouth and the solid thud of his pulse beat against my lips. My hand tightened around his and my own pulse jumped. Fangs broke free, lengthened and pressed against the warmth of his skin. “I belong to her.”

  Heat burst through me at this words and I bit deep. Jager stiffened and a soft moan escaped him. I lapped at his skin, at the hot run of blood. His fire burned on my tongue and bloomed heat in my chest. I drew in a deep, steadying breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his blood and skin. Damn, the man meant more to me than I ever thought he could.

  Jager’s other hand gripped my hip, holding me to him and the too-tempting press of his erection. “Stop, Tate.” He rested his forehead against mine, his skin hot. His soft whisper brushed my skin. “Or your new subjects might get more than a flash of your backside.”

  I laved the wounds, closing the punctures in his wrist. The afterglow of his taste had me sighing and I licked my lips. “Is that a promise?”

  His mouth covered mine in a fierce kiss that robbed me of all thought. I clung to the material of his jacket, not caring who saw us, actually wanting people to witness how much Jager was mine. Fire, blood and his own heady
taste swept through me. My beast growled, low, needy, and I felt Jager’s smile.

  He pulled back, his hand stroking over the wild tangle of my hair. “Come back to me.”

  His words pierced my heart. I wanted to promise and the words burned on the tip of my tongue. But we both knew it would be a promise that I couldn’t keep. Fate had favored me, but it was a fickle friend. “If that’s what’s decided.”

  “Trust in yourself,” he murmured before stepping back.

  My fingers curled into balls and I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my hands. It was too late to say those extra words, tell him of the sudden, unexpected way that I loved him. I took a steadying breath and the scent and taste of Jager calmed me. I lifted my chin, looking for my rival…and found her draining her mate.

  I winced. She’d pushed Soren into a half crouch and still lapped at one of the major veins in his neck. His face twisted, his eyes crushed against her invasion. Zara’s hand held tight to the man’s shoulder and head, taking without shared consent and pleasure.

  Soren came from a powerful queen whose line had once ruled all of us centuries before. Zara had obviously wanted a share in that ancient power but such an unwilling mate was a bad choice.

  His face dropped slack and Zara let him slump to the floor. “See he’s fed,” she said to Neron, waving a dismissive hand to her mate. Zara wiped a hand across her blood-wet lips and met my glare. Her beast flared in her dark gaze. “You’re stupid not to drain your mate.” She flicked Jager a contemptuous glance. “And you’re…lowering yourself.” She shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “Ready, Tate?”

  I flashed her a feral smile and leapt from the dais. Hitting the soft, cold grass in a half-couch, I sprang forward and bolted for the tree line. Zara’s snarling curse whipped around me on the biting winds, followed by a ragged burst of cheering from the assembled crowd.

  Jager’s fire pumped strength into my flowing strides. Fate had put me in position to become ruling Queen—as insane as that seemed—and I didn’t intend to ignore that opportunity. We would hunt and we would fight in the forest. The first to submit to the power of the other forfeited the right to rule and became the slave of the other queen, to do with as she wished. I didn’t dwell on what that would mean for me—and for Jager.