The voices around them seemed to fade away, until all that was left was the music and each other. The unfamiliar stringed instruments and hand-drums blended together to create an upbeat, syncopated rhythm—quick but sensual.
Rose held Kara’s gaze as they danced, watching that dark flash of lust in Kara’s light blue eyes. The warmth of Kara’s body against her own, the sensation of Kara’s hands on her back, the sensual movement of their bodies—it was all too much and too little, all at once, igniting a deep, burning desire inside of her.
Rose slid her fingers through a few strands of Kara’s hair, as they danced, feeling the silkiness of each strand. “How did you get so good at this?” she asked.
“Dancing?” Kara said, raising an eyebrow. She smiled slowly. “I’ve been seducing women for fourteen hundred years, and many women…like to dance.”
Rose laughed, “I bet those…many women…were better at it than I am.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kara said. She swept her gaze down Rose’s body, her eyes darkening, as she watched Rose’s hips. “You seem to be getting better.”
Rose blushed. “It’s probably just the wine,” she said with a shy smile.
“Either way,” Kara said, leaning in to whisper in Rose’s ear, “it’s hot.”
Rose smiled, a small shudder traveling down her spine. “I doubt that.”
“Don’t,” Kara mumbled, leaning heavily against her, all of the sudden.
Rose couldn’t help but notice that Kara’s words suddenly sounded much slower, almost slurred, but before she could ask if Kara was okay, Kara stumbled.
Rose grasped her shoulders to steady her. “Kara?” she said worriedly.
Kara leaned her head against Rose’s shoulder and giggled in Rose’s ear.
Rose couldn’t think of a single other time she’d ever heard Kara giggle.
“That wine may have been stronger than I thought,” Kara said drowsily.
Rose stepped back, lifting her eyebrows. “Are you okay? Can you walk?”
“Of course I can walk. I’m not a…” Kara trailed off, her eyes widening, as she swayed on her feet. “Holy hell.” She fell so suddenly that a human wouldn’t have had time to catch her, but Rose swept her arm around her waist, just in time.
Rose raised an eyebrow. “You should sit down,” she said, as she wrapped Kara’s arm around her shoulders and helped her to one of the tables. She tried to gently ease Kara into the chair, but when Kara’s boot hit the side of it, she fell.
Before Rose could even check on her, Kara wrapped her fingers around Rose’s wrist and tugged Rose into her lap. Rose fell clumsily into her lap, her legs straddling Kara’s thighs. Their faces were nearly touching, their lips close enough to kiss. “You’re spinning like hell, but you’re still sexy,” Kara said with a smirk.
Rose glanced around the room, relieved to find that no one seemed to be watching them. As a matter of fact, the other wedding guests seemed as happily drunk as Kara. Her bright blue gaze shifted back toward Kara. “Are you all right?”
Kara tilted her face closer, her lips brushing against Rose’s, and then, she whispered something in the stillness between them. She whispered it so softly, so gently, that Rose felt it more than she heard it. Whatever she’d said—it couldn’t have been more than a few words, but Rose couldn’t understand a word of it. The words seemed to lift and drop—like waves of the ocean, or a piece of music.
“What did that mean?” Rose said breathlessly. “What did you just say?”
Kara’s glistening, ice-blue gaze traced each curve of Rose’s face—slowly, reverently, as if she were staring at the face of a god. “It’s just a line from a poem.”
One corner of Rose’s lips twitched up in amusement. “Another poem?”
“We had a lot of them,” Kara murmured drowsily, “when I was human.”
Rose watched her, stunned by the intensity of Kara’s light blue eyes. She leaned closer, as if drawn by a magnetic force. “Will you translate for me? Please?”
A shaky breath escaped Kara’s lips, as she continued to gaze at Rose with a kind of adoration that pinned Rose in place and stole her breath. “Why did the gods make me wait so long,” Kara said, “for the other piece of my broken soul?”
Rose’s lips parted in surprise. “Kara…” she breathed, her heart leaping.
But Kara interrupted her. “You were right. I am afraid of commitment.”
Rose shook her head. “Kara,” she sighed, “I never said you were…”
“Warriors. Warriors,” Kara slurred, repeating herself over and over, as if she’d already forgotten what she was saying, “don’t leave themselves vulnerable.”
“Kara,” Rose tried again, her chest tight. “I understand that. I never…”
But Kara still wasn’t listening. “Part of me wants to run away from you,” she whispered, almost as if she were talking to herself. She leaned back, her gaze meeting Rose’s. “The other part of me knows I couldn’t run from you, if I tried.”
Rose felt her stomach plunge with dread, a pulse of fear traveling through her veins, quickening her heartbeat. She’d expected this. She’d known, of course, that Kara feared commitment. She’d even planned her response already. She had planned to reassure Kara—to tell her she understood, to assure her that she didn’t want anything that Kara didn’t want to give. She’d intended to say that after what happened between Kara and Alana, it made perfect sense that Kara was afraid of what they felt for each other. She’d intended to say that they were immortals, and there was no need to rush. She’d meant to tell Kara that she was happy just being with her, that they didn’t need a timeline or a commitment to be happy together.
She’d planned out her response. She’d rehearsed it in her head. But…she hadn’t planned the sinking feeling in her stomach. She hadn’t planned to feel fear.
Rose tried to swallow. She tried to force her throat to open, so she could speak. But it was too tight. It was all too tight—her throat, her chest, her stomach.
How could she comfort Kara, when her own body was behaving as if it needed to be comforted? She’d expected this. So, why did it bother her so much?
Why did she even care? Why did she always have to care?
“I…” Rose stammered, when her vocal cords started to cooperate. She stood, suddenly, and stepped back. “I should go ask someone about that wine.”
A glimmer of sadness shone in Kara’s light blue eyes. “I’ve scared you.”
Rose shook her head quickly. “No. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m right here,” Kara reminded her. “You can see I’m fine.” She tilted her head to the side, her dark hair falling over one shoulder. “Why are you afraid?”
“I’m not,” Rose lied. She took another step back. “I’ll come right back.”
Kara watched as Rose disappeared into the crowd, searching for the man who had given them the wine. She turned toward her table and lay her face against the cold surface, groaning miserably, as her head spun faster and faster, “Fuck.”
—
Rose found the white-haired vampire by a table in the back, refilling the wine glasses of several intoxicated vampires. She tapped him on the shoulder and stepped back as he spun toward her, his pale blue gaze sweeping over her body.
He glanced over her shoulder, obviously looking for Kara. “Problem?”
“I was just wondering,” Rose said hesitantly, “what was in that wine?”
His gaze darted toward the bottle of red liquid in his hand. “What do you mean?” he said with a puzzled frown. “There’s nothing in it. It’s just blood-wine.”
“Blood-wine,” Rose repeated. “So, it’s wine, spiked with blood, right?”
He laughed, as if she’d said something stupid. He shook his head. “More like wine made from blood,” he corrected, “which is why we call it blood-wine.”
“Okay,” Rose said, glancing at the wine bottle. “What’s the difference?”
“Our bodies
pull nourishment from blood,” the vampire explained. “It’s the only thing our body doesn’t burn off instantly. So, a glass of wine with a few drops of blood might give you a slight buzz, but it’ll wear off, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “We have a rich culture, involving lots of parties, and we’ve been vampires for ten thousand years. Surely, you realize we’d have found a better way than that to get intoxicated.” He held up the bottle. “This lasts much longer.”
Rose stared warily at the blood-red liquid. “How much longer, exactly?”
“Your lover’s going to be drunk for a while,” he laughed. “Have fun.”
Rose grasped his arm, stopping him before he could leave. “Wait,” she said, watching as he turned toward her with an irritated scowl. “Is it dangerous?”
The vampire glanced out into the crowd—in the direction of their table. His pale blue eyes shifted back toward Rose, and then, he smiled slowly. “Only if she falls unconscious, and someone uses that opportunity to stab her in the back.”
Rose stepped back, releasing his arm. “What?” she breathed. Before she could run, he smashed the bottle on the closest table, splashing wine all over the guests, and swung the broken bottle at Rose’s head. She caught his arm with one hand and kneed him in the stomach, but he just laughed and wrenched his arm out of her grasp. She stumbled, her face paling, as she realized how strong he was.
She’d…obviously never fought a ten-thousand-year-old vampire before.
The vampire swung at her again. Rose knew he’d expect her to catch his arm again. She figured he’d also be prepared for her to step back or to step to the side. So, instead, she fell to the floor and twisted her legs around his, causing him to fall forward. She rolled out of the way, pulling her silver dagger from its sheath.
When he tried to grab her again, she shoved her dagger into his head and kicked him off of her. She watched him for a moment, waiting for him to move, but he seemed to have fallen unconscious. She inched toward him and pulled her dagger from his head—since it was becoming clear that she was going to need it.
She turned, her eyes widening, as she took in the utter chaos around her.
Clearly, Wine-Guy hadn’t come alone.
Vampires in armor spread out across the room, fighting wedding guests, while other wedding guests—victims of the attack, Rose assumed—lay face-first on their tables, blood drenching their chests. Rose tried to find Kara in the chaos.
She suddenly felt a sharp blade press against her throat and heard Wine-Guy’s voice in her ear, “Head wounds heal, just like any other, baby vampire.”
Rose started to inform him that she knew that, actually, but she suddenly felt a sharp, searing pain in her back, a pain that she knew wasn’t her own. “Kara.”
“Move,” he said in her ear, “and this blade will slice through your throat.”
The realization that Kara was in danger sent a rush of adrenaline through Rose’s body, and she immediately felt her power begin to rise within her, swirling inside her, like a whirlwind, rippling beneath her skin, turning her eyes blood-red.
“Then, I won’t move,” Rose said. His shrill screams filled her ears, as she used her telekinetic abilities to kill him. She didn’t need to look at him or face him to use her power. Not anymore. She tore his heart out with nothing but her mind.
When the scent of his blood filled the air, and his blade fell to the floor, Rose didn’t even turn to look at him. She jumped up and raced through the room, weaving through fighting vampires to get back to where she’d left Kara. As soon as Kara came into view, the vampire who had attacked Kara ran, moving so fast that she seemed to disappear—just a blur of white and blue. Rose fell to her knees in front of Kara, grasping Kara’s face in her hands. “Are you all right?” she cried.
“I passed out for a minute,” Kara slurred. “I think I missed something.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, a little bit,” she agreed. She glanced down at Kara’s stomach. The scent of Kara’s blood permeated her senses, and yet, the black, leather armor seemed intact. Then, Rose remembered where she’d sensed the pain. She reached around Kara, her fingers sliding over a roughly torn, blood-soaked patch of leather. “Ouch. I guess the armor wasn’t very effective, after all.”
“A ten-thousand-year-old vampire stabbed me with a sword,” Kara said, wincing, as Rose’s fingertips brushed the wound. “Believe me. It was effective.”
The scent of Kara’s blood made it hard for Rose to focus. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much,” Kara said with a lazy smile. “I’m still pretty drunk, though.”
Rose lifted her eyebrows at that. “Did you see the vampire that did it?”
“Nah. I smelled her, though,” Kara said. “She reeked of dried blood.”
Rose frowned at that. “That’s odd.”
“Mm-hmm,” Kara murmured, leaning forward, as if she were about to fall. And she probably would have, if Rose hadn’t have grasped her arms to steady her. “It felt like a sword. It went straight through my back and stomach. It could have been a long dagger, but I know what a sword feels like. That was a sword.”
Rose glanced around. “Yeah, that actually…doesn’t narrow it down.”
Kara looked up, blinking at the vampires in the room, all fighting with a variety of weapons—swords, daggers, even a few spears. “What the hell is this?”
“An attack, apparently,” Rose said, straightening, “and I need to stop it.”
“You can’t, Rose,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t fight.”
“I know. I don’t want you to fight,” Rose said distractedly. “I just need to figure out which vampires are the attackers and which ones are being attacked.”
“It was a sneak attack,” Kara told her. “You don’t dress in armor, if you want the element of surprise on your side. The ones in armor aren’t the attackers.”
“Good point,” Rose said, nodding. “So, it must be the wedding guests.”
“The ones left alive, anyway,” Kara muttered. She reached out and took Rose’s hand, her fingers trembling weakly. “You need back-up, Rose. Get Erik.”
“There’s no time,” Rose said. She removed her hand from Kara’s back. She frowned worriedly, as it came away covered in blood. “Will you be all right?”
“Yeah,” Kara said drowsily. She watched, as Rose stood. “And Rose?”
Rose glanced back at her. “Yeah?”
“Kick their asses,” Kara said.
Rose smiled. “That’s the plan,” she muttered. Then, she turned, closing her eyes. She focused on her anger and concern for Kara, and then, she felt power rising within her, radiating outward. She opened her eyes, which now glowed dark red, and projected that power. An unseen force shot through the room, knocking everyone off of their feet. It wasn’t easy to keep the right people on the floor, but somehow, she did it. Ligeia and the other Skotalian warriors climbed to their feet.
The attackers, however, remained on the floor, unable to move a muscle.
Rose increased the force, just enough to keep them there—and possibly hurt them a little, if the whimpers of pain were any indication. Rose watched, as Ligeia and the other warriors glanced around the room, stunned that the attackers weren’t moving. She wanted to tell Ligeia to restrain the attackers already, but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even think. Not with the pain pulsing inside her head.
“Rose,” Kara breathed, leaning forward so suddenly that she almost fell. “You’re bleeding.” She watched as Rose lifted her hand and wiped away the blood that trickled from her nose. Kara glared at the warriors and snapped, “What are you waiting for? Restrain the attackers already! She can’t use her power all night!”
“I’m fine, Kara,” Rose assured her, but even as she did, she felt weakness cascading over her in waves. It’d taken more power than she’d expected—to hold ten-thousand-year-old vampires still. She wiped more blood from her nose as she waited for Princess Myrinne’s warriors to restrain the attackers.
As soon as they were all restrained, Rose sank to her knees, suddenly exhausted from the overuse.
Despite her own injury, Kara knelt beside Rose. “Are you all right, love?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rose sighed. “I think I just overestimated my power.”
“You didn’t overestimate it. You overused it,” Kara told her. “There’s a difference.” She reached out to take Rose’s hand, but before she could, she felt a blade press against her throat, as a woman—with ruby-red fingernails—attacked her from behind. The scent of dried blood filled her senses, jogging her memory.
Rose looked up at the woman, the red fire in her eyes burning brighter.
The woman used her sword to tilt Kara’s head back, so that Kara would meet her gaze. “I hear you’re the Wolf,” she sang, her voice thickly accented, even more so than the other vampires in the kingdom, “trying to protect her Dragon.”
“She’s the one, Rose,” Kara said, staring into the woman’s wide, brown eyes, seeing the wild insanity that danced within them, “the one who stabbed me.”
“Ooh, what a howl!” the woman laughed, her gaze shifting toward Rose.
Despite the overuse, despite the blood dripping from her nose, Rose still managed to stand, her power rippling over her skin, unsettling the air around her.
The woman yelped suddenly and dropped the sword. She glanced down at her hand, her eyes widening, as she noticed the gruesome blisters and burns on the palm of her hand. Kara, no longer held by the woman, moved to Rose’s side.
Then, the woman tilted her head back and began to giggle. She held up her burned hand. “It’s healing!” she sang gleefully. She tilted her head to the side, her brown, spiral curls falling around her shoulders. “Show me your next trick!”
The Reign of Darkness Page 27