The Vampires' Blood Mate: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance

by Lili Zander

  “There’s more. The woman in question is Marya Revit, and the man she drank from is Harek Levitan.”

  No. I stare at Zeke. “The Dagger of the Shayde?” I ask, my voice strangled. “He was going to bond with the finest assassin in the Empire?”

  We’re Special Ops. The General sends us into situations that need to be handled quickly and discretely. But we’re still part of the Imperial Army. Our actions are governed by the laws of the Empire.

  Marya Revit is in a league of her own. She’s an assassin. She stays in the shadows, and she kills on Harek Levitan’s command.

  Zeke nods soberly. “Have you noticed Saber never sleeps with human women?”

  “He doesn’t?” I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Saber’s pretty discreet. He never talks about any of his lovers, human or otherwise.

  “Not that I know of.” Zeke pauses so I can assess the significance of that. “Yet he slept with Raven. He likes her, Nero. And Levitan wants her. Given his history, do you blame him for being a little irrational?”

  Not at all.

  I take first watch. Zeke goes to sleep, and I stay where I am, my eyes on the monitor tracking Raven’s progress.

  We should tell her the truth.

  But the Colonel saved my life in Merin. I don’t like his decision, and I don’t agree with it, but I owe him my loyalty.

  30

  Raven

  Boarus 4

  Noon, EleventhDay of FourthMonth

  After a few hours of napping, I wake up, strangely bereft without the vampires on either side of me.

  Just a few short days ago, I didn’t trust a word that came out of their mouths. Now, when I think of Zeke, Nero, and Saber, my heart fills with warmth. They could have forbidden me to go on this expedition, but they hadn’t. They’d trusted me.

  We haven’t talked about the future. It’s not the right time. It’s too soon, for one, and besides, almost everyone on Boarus 4 wants me dead. Right now, staying alive is my priority.

  I only got a few hours of sleep, but I’m refreshed and ready to jump into action.

  It’s noon. Zeke has told me to wait until five to approach the re-education camps. I have a few hours to kill, and I’m not going to waste them.

  Pulling out my map, I zoom in on the locations of the remaining four flags. One of the locations is three hours due south of the re-education camps.

  If the wind cooperates, that’s less than thirty minutes away on my ice boat.

  The drones will be overhead today, taking vids of the remaining contestants. I debate the wisdom of letting them catch sight of my unorthodox transportation, and then I shrug. The Overlord was pretty specific in his instructions; skimmers weren’t allowed. He didn’t mention anything else. He might not agree with me, but I am playing by the rules.

  Unlike yesterday, I’m completely alert. As much as I want to daydream about the vampires and relive the moment they slid into me, hot and hard and heavy, I put that on hold. Olaf Vander and his goons had taken me by surprise. Not going to let that happen again.

  I break down my tent and rearrange it into a sail, which takes an annoyingly long time. As I painstakingly lash the fabric onto the frame, I’m cursing myself. Bailey’s tent was on the ice last night. I should have taken it, and I should have taken her supplies as well. Always scavenge everything. One of the basic survival strategies in Glacis. Four years away, and I’m making beginner mistakes.

  The wind picks up as I’m getting the boat assembled. The moment I hoist the sail in the air, I start to glide forward.

  Second flag, here I come.

  The deep ice looks forbidding and uninviting, and don’t get me wrong. It isn’t a pleasant place. However, the hot springs are the one exception.

  Geologists speculate that the warm spots are a comparatively recent phenomenon, a side-effect of tunneling deep into the planet’s crust for deposits of boarium. I don’t know if they’re right; they weren’t big on keeping us properly educated in the camps.

  What I do know is the location of every single hot spring in a five-mile radius around Glacis.

  Four years ago, the Corin hot springs used to be very popular with the residents. I make my way to it as soon as the drones whir away from me.

  Today’s the second day of the tournament, and I have two flags. Despite everything—Olaf Vander’s ambush, finding out about the blood disease, sex with the vampires—I’m on pace with the other contestants. Thank you, ice boat.

  The six other contestants still left in the field are either going to be continuing their trek to the second flag or making their way to the third. I don’t think I’ll run into them, but still, the path I set across the ice is designed to avoid them.

  There’s nobody at the hot springs when I get there. As tempting as it is to take off my clothes and get into the water, I remember my promise to Saber to keep the gun on me at all times. Sighing in regret—the steam’s coming off the water in inviting spirals—I sit by the bank and wait.

  Not too long after I get there, a lone figure makes his way toward me, his head bent, lost in thought. A boy. He can’t be older than fifteen or sixteen. When he nears, I raise my voice in greeting. “Hello, friend.”

  He jumps, startled, and then his eyes narrow. “Where did you get that jumpsuit from? It looks warm.”

  He thinks I’m one of the inmates.

  How well I remember this. Being cold and hungry all the time, looking for any edge that would help me survive. “I’m not from the camps,” I reply. “I live in Sector 23.”

  He comes closer, and then he inhales sharply. “You’re that girl. The contestant, the one from the mines.”

  “That’s me. Raven Unnuk.”

  “Ebel Jelami,” he replies automatically. “What are you doing here? Are you lost? The flags are south.” He points helpfully. “That way. Hurry.”

  “I know where they are. I’ll get them later.” I open my pack and pull out my food rations. So far, all I’ve eaten are two travel bars. There are still six bars left and six rectangular packages that, according to the labels, contain some kind of dried meat and vegetable stew.

  Ebel’s gaze locks onto it. “I need some help,” I say evenly. “There’s a boy in the camps called Mical Placzek.”

  He nods, never taking his eyes off my food. “I know him. He’s working in the greenhouses today.”

  “I need to talk to him.” I divide the rations into two piles and push one toward him. “Half now. Half when you return with Mical.”

  His mouth falls open. “For me?”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. He’s thin, underfed. My small portion of food must seem like a feast to him. “Yes. For you.”

  He snatches the food and stuffs it inside his faded, camp-issued coat. “Remember,” I say. “The other half when you bring the kid back.”

  He doesn’t answer; he’s already hurrying away.

  While I wait, I pull out my comm and see if there’s any news of Bailey.

  There is. The holos are showing a clip of her in a hospital bed. “If it hadn’t been for Raven Unnuk, I’d have died,” she tells the interviewer, a red-faced man in a yellow and gray jumpsuit.

  The two of them launch into a discussion of what it’s like out on the ice. Cold, of course, but also disorienting. The desert is endless, and there are no landmarks to navigate by, save for the abandoned mines. “This year, the Night of the Shayde is not a test of speed,” the interviewer informs the viewers. “It’s a test of endurance.”

  They cut to a conversation with the Overlord. “Three contestants have already withdrawn. What do you make of Tomas Cabal’s chances now?”

  Ragnar’s in the background. Even at a distance, I can see his eyes, sharp and alert. He’s listening, and the Overlord knows it.

  Zimmer laughs nervously. “I just want the best person to win.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  Is he freaking out that Olaf Vander hasn’t returned? Is he sending someone else to kill me? He’s looki
ng pretty tense. Vander was his second-in-command, intensely loyal to Zimmer. How many more vampires can he trust to send after me, especially with Ragnar breathing down his neck?

  My instincts tell me there’ll be no more assassination attempts.

  I grin viciously. I hope the drones got good shots of my ice boat. I hope the Overlord sees them. I want him to know he’s beaten.

  It takes an hour for Ebel to return with Mical. I’m near-frozen by the time they scramble to the hot springs. “Here he is,” he announces triumphantly. “Mical Placzek.”

  I survey the younger blond boy. He looks like Joanna. Same blond hair, same clear-blue eyes, but that’s where the resemblance ends. He’s so thin. His cheeks are pinched, his eyes shadowed. Drained. Hopeless.

  Joanna was right. He’s not doing well. I’m glad I came.

  “Thank you.” I hold out my rations to Ebel. “Here’s the rest of your food.”

  “That’s okay,” he mumbles, not meeting my eyes. “You keep it. You’re going to need it for the tournament.”

  Great Spirit, I’m going to start bawling like a baby in front of these two boys. This is the best meal they’ll see in years, and they’re passing it up because I might need it. “I know how to fish,” I tell them, blinking the tears back furiously. “And I’m not going to take another five days to find the flags. I have an ice boat. I’ll be back home tomorrow.”

  A wide grin breaks out on Ebel’s face. “You have an ice boat?” he chortles. “The guards allowed us to watch the kickoff on the holos. The Overlord said no skimmers and no choppers.”

  “But he didn’t say anything about ice boats.”

  “One of the contestants has skis,” Ebel warns. “I heard the guards talk about it.”

  Really? I’m willing to bet that that’s Tomas. I should have guessed that the Overlord had more than one trick up his sleeve.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  The tournament is a momentary distraction. Once it’s over, what do these boys have to look forward to? Nothing. I desperately want to tell Ebel about Lula Kenner’s plan, but I must not. It’s too dangerous. I can’t tell him to hold on. Can’t tell him he’s going to be free soon. As much as I wish I could give him hope, I can’t trust him to keep this a secret. “I need to speak with Mical alone now.”

  “Okay.” Everyone in camp has an instinct for trouble, and Ebel Jelami is no exception. He tucks the rest of the food in his jacket. “Good luck out there.”

  Once he’s out of earshot, I turn to Mical. “I have a message from your sister.”

  He looks up, suddenly alert. “Joanna?”

  “Yes. She’s planning to break you out of here.”

  His eyes fill with panic. “She’ll get killed.”

  “Lula Kenner is helping, I think.”

  He bows his head, and his shoulders start to shake. He cries for a long time. Everything he’s kept bottled inside—the fear, the cold, the misery—it all comes pouring out.

  I was him once. So many nights, I prayed for a quick, painless death. So many nights, I contemplated walking out on the ice and letting Glacis take me.

  I don’t know how I survived. Luck, mainly.

  But Mical has something I didn’t. A family that loves him. A sister who will risk anything to win his freedom. And now, Mical has something more. He has hope.

  He cries for ten minutes, maybe twenty. Finally, he pulls himself together. “Thank you for telling me.”

  There’s new strength in his voice. He’s still pretty weak though. I fish out a vial of vampire blood from my pack. Saber’s blood, to be precise. He’d insisted I take some with me, just in case I needed the extra burst of strength. “Drink.”

  He obeys. Color returns to his cheeks as the blood does its magic. When he looks well enough to go back to the camp, I get to my feet. “I should go.”

  I want to tell him that Olaf Vander, the vampire responsible for his sentence, is dead, but I hold my tongue. I trust Joanna, and Mical seems like a decent sort.

  But until I’m off Boarus 4, I’m not going to volunteer any information. Too many people are hunting me, and I have a strong desire to stay alive.

  31

  Raven

  Boarus 4

  Sundown, EleventhDay of FourthMonth

  The wind isn’t particularly cooperative, and it takes me hours to get back to the shelter. Three choppers pass overhead as I trudge back.

  Three choppers. Does that mean that three more contestants are out of the race? There were ten of us at the start. Now, if my math is right, six people have dropped out. There’s only four of us left.

  The sun has set by the time I reach the shelter. Saber, Nero, and Zeke are all awake when I walk in. “You’re back,” Saber says, relief filling his face.

  I toss my flag on the bed and slump next to it. “The wind died,” I say grumpily. “I had to walk the last two hours. Ice boats are only useful when the wind is blowing somewhat in the direction you want to go. Everything hurts.”

  Nero chuckles at my plaintive tone. “We told you not to go. You wouldn’t listen.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you one of those ‘I-told-you-so’ people?”

  It’s so weird that we’re bantering like this. Three days ago, Nero had been a vampire, and I’d been human. Now, we’re just people. It’s nice.

  He grins. “Only when I’m right.”

  He looks like hell. They all do. “You didn’t slumber, did you?” I accuse them. “Did you follow me?”

  “No, we tracked you from here. Don’t worry, we took turns slumbering. We’re fine.”

  Zeke hands me a hot drink while Saber stokes the fire. I debate being annoyed about their protectiveness while warmth slowly returns to my fingers and toes, but then I think about Olaf and his enforcers attacking me.

  The truth is, I like being important to them.

  I sip at the sweet chocolate. It’s not until I’m almost done drinking it that I notice the room looks more spacious. One of the beds has been packed up. My shoulders slump. “Who has to head back?”

  “Me.” Saber’s voice is resigned. “I got lucky yesterday—Ragnar was touring the mines with Zimmer, and my absence from the settlement wasn’t noticed.” He holds up his comm. “I just received a message from the prince. He wants me to join him for the midnight meal.”

  That’s in five hours. We’re in the deep ice; it’ll take Saber at least two hours to get back to the outer sectors. “You’re leaving right away?”

  He sits down next to me, and I lean my head against his shoulder. I’m unexpectedly disappointed that he has to go. It’s strange, but I like having the vampires around. I like the idea of someone worrying about me.

  He runs his fingers over my forearm. “Not for another couple of hours. And I can think of something to do to keep us occupied…”

  My tiredness vanishes. “Now?”

  He looms over me, his gaze holding mine. “We’re soldiers, Raven. The future’s always uncertain. What better time than the present?”

  He thinks I’m hesitant? Great Spirit, no. I don’t need to be convinced to embrace Saber’s suggestion. Live in the moment. Lose myself in their bodies.

  Sex sounds pretty damn good to me.

  I set aside my drink and start undoing my braids. “In case it’s not perfectly obvious, I’m game.”

  Saber’s eyes twinkle. “I’m glad to hear that.” He puts his hands on mine. “Let me do that.”

  Undoing my braids for a man is an act of intimacy. But allowing him to unbraid the strands? This is the most deeply personal thing anyone has ever done to me.

  Zeke moves behind me, kissing the back of my neck. Saber frees my hair, running his hands through the red-brown strands. “Take off your clothes,” he says, his fingers stroking my lower lip before he sucks it into his mouth.

  My body clenches with need at his order. I obey wordlessly. His eyes roam over my curves, his expression hot and appreciative. The very air seems charged, and a dizzying current races through
me.

  Yesterday, Nero had been the first to touch me. Today, his gaze seems to drink me in. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, yäirta,” he murmurs. “So lovely.”

  I’m not. After hours in the open, my skin feels gritty and papery. I’m grubby. And even in the best of times, I was never beautiful. Ingrid was beautiful, tall and slender, her blonde hair shining like the early morning’s rays. Joanna was beautiful, petite and curvy, her heart filled with a kindness that shone like a beacon to everyone who met her.

  Me? I killed yesterday. Olaf Vander died because he drank my blood. Even more damning, I aimed a gun at the enforcer attacking Nero, and I pulled the trigger.

  I don’t feel beautiful, inside or out.

  Then Zeke’s palms skim my curves, and there’s no hiding the heat in his expression. No hiding the bulge in his pants.

  Speaking of pants… “I’m not wearing any clothes,” I say pointedly to the vampires. “Now, it’s your turn.”

  “Bossy.” With a smile playing about his lips, Nero gets naked. Zeke sheds his clothes as well, and behind me, Saber’s erection presses against my ass.

  Yesterday, our lovemaking had been slow and languid. Tonight, there’s a heightened sense of urgency. As much as I’d like to savor the moment, we can’t linger. There’s a clock hanging over our heads.

  Saber’s teeth nip my earlobe; his fingers play with my nipples. Nero’s fingers tenderly trace the line of my cheekbone and jaw. I stand on tiptoe and brush a kiss across his lips. “We don’t have a lot of time,” I whisper. “I’m ready for you now. All of you.”

  I want to feel it again. That moment of total connection between the four of us. That sense of togetherness that nothing can shatter.

  Nero’s eyes smolder with fire. “That’s exactly the kind of thing a man likes to hear,” he growls. He lies on the bed and pulls me down on top of him. His cock finds my sex, and he thrusts into me. His voice roughens with need. “Yes, so wet. So ready.”