Everything inside of Shivawn went still, his blood chilling to ice. Not because he hated what Alyssa was—he could not hate any part of her—but because of what he’d just realized he might have taken from her. If she truly was half-demon, and if her brothers had been killed in that manner…that meant…Shivawn thought he might vomit.
Once, long ago, he had decapitated three demon warriors and nailed them to trees. “How many were there?” he croaked out. “Brothers, I mean.”
“I do not recall their exact number. Two. Perhaps three. Evidently their horns had been cut off, along with their heads.”
The ice burst into millions of tiny slivers, cutting his every organ, felling him. Three. There’d been three. “I killed them,” he managed to work past the hard knot in his throat. “I did it. Took their heads. Removed their horns. Strung them up.”
Valerian straightened. “They were the ones…”
“Yes.” He felt like such a fool. That was why Alyssa had always reminded him of that horrid night. Those demon eyes had stared up at him as his sword struck, in reality, in his nightmares—eyes just like hers. Only, hers were kind and loving. Maybe he’d smelled her demon blood, as well. Maybe she had been there, and he’d subconsciously sensed it.
Of course she’d been there, he thought, though she wouldn’t have participated. She’d probably been hiding and scared. He had caught her watching him soon after, ducking whenever he glanced her way.
He had wronged her far more than he’d supposed. He had despised all demons for what had happened to his father, yet Alyssa had had every reason to despise him. That she didn’t was a miracle. That she had looked at him with tenderness and desire in her lovely eyes was even more so.
Until two days ago, when he’d ruined everything.
“What are you going to do?”
Shivawn thought he knew where she was now. The one place he’d never thought to go again. The one place he’d vowed never to go again. The site of his father’s death.
“I’m going to get my woman,” he said determinedly. Whether she wanted him or not.
* * *
THE GLOWING ORANGE-YELLOW BALL of fire rose in the sky, higher and higher, burning Zane’s skin but not truly harming him, as the gods had promised. He wished it would. He welcomed every sting.
Nola had rejected him.
She didn’t want him, didn’t crave his touch as he craved hers. That was not supposed to have happened. She’d been wild in his arms; she’d even cried his name. He’d been so sure of his reception, once he declared himself. The gods owed him. He hadn’t expected her to run from him, hate him, as Cassandra had.
She’d looked at him as if he were the very demon he’d just watched die. Demons—how they sickened him. They thrived on pain, screams, agony—the pain, screams and agony they inflicted on others. They loved to hurt their partner while fucking. And he’d endured it. Had hated himself, but he’d let the cruelest of them all do whatever she wanted to him. He wouldn’t think about that. Too painful. When he’d left, Cassandra done with him, he’d thought—hoped—to never have sex again.
But Nola…the beautiful Amazon had made him want to try, to have the simple pleasure he’d enjoyed a lifetime ago. Before…just before. But no. She loathed him.
Somehow she must know, deep down, what he’d been. What he still was. He closed his eyes against a too-bright ray, the burn intensifying on his face. What had he expected? Her to fall at his feet? Beg him to pleasure her?
He had forced her to want him as surely as the demon queen had forced him to her will.
With that thought, Zane leaned over and emptied the contents of his stomach. He heaved and heaved and heaved until there was nothing left. Until he was empty. Until every ounce of his energy seeped away.
If Nola was not the female for him, why did he still want her? He had no answer. Did she desire the dragon? That, he thought he knew. Of course she did. Brand was strong, untainted, and honorable.
Zane’s entire body tensed, a surge of fury giving him momentary strength. Nola had indeed seemed attracted to the dragon warrior—as she wasn’t to him. Was Zane not allowed to even experience that sweet, basic attraction?
Was he to suffer forever and still another lifetime?
Probably. He wasn’t worthy of anything else. He was nothing, no better than the stinking, bile-laden sand he now lay upon. After all, he’d willingly done those things with the queen for all those years. For his woman, yes. For her freedom. But he had still willingly bedded the bitch when he could have found another way to save his loved one.
But maybe, just maybe I could be worth something. If he won this ridiculous competition, became the last warrior standing, thereby proving he was stronger than all the others. Maybe…
Yes, maybe.
* * *
NOLA HAD HAD ENOUGH.
She wanted off this island of torture, away from the men. Just…away.
Had she been in Atlantis, she might have explored the flutters in her stomach that appeared every time Zane the vampire looked at her. But not here, not now.
She just wanted to go home.
She would have searched for Delilah because she needed her sister right now, but she didn’t bother. Most likely Delilah was with the hated vampire king, a man who would betray her, ruin her. Men always did. So did women, for that matter. People simply couldn’t be trusted. The moment you turned your back, they would hurt you. Her own mother had taken her to the Outer City and sold her to any creature who wanted an Amazon but didn’t want to be enslaved in the Amazon camp. She’d fought them—at first. But they’d held her down, allowing more and more people to witness her humiliation.
Nola’s teeth pulled back from her lips as she strode past a thick grouping of trees, daggers clutched in both of her hands. Vampires. How she was beginning to despise them. Zane had no business making her feel this way, confused and achy, unsure and hopeful. So many times throughout her life she’d hoped for something better, only, always, to be let down.
I should kill Zane and his king. Delilah had never acted so…soft before. Clearly all Delilah could think about lately was that bastard king. Every time Nola looked at her, she was looking at him. Why? Delilah was hard, reliable, caring to all of her sisters. Nola had always been a little jealous of her. Everyone loved the warrioress, thought she could do no wrong. She’d never known any hardships that Nola could tell.
As for Nola, she’d always existed on the outskirts, afraid to be a part of the tribe. Afraid they, too, would use and hurt her. That hadn’t stopped Delilah from trying to protect her, both in battle with the dragons and on this island. Despite the distance Nola kept between herself and the world, Delilah had truly thought to help her.
For that, I owe her. And there was only one thing Nola could think to give the warrioress. Freedom. As long as the vampire king lived, Delilah would be ensnared by him, a victim who accepted everything her man did to her in the name of love. “Love,” she scoffed.
“A weak and treacherous emotion,” a soft voice whispered.
Nola stiffened, spun around, searching for an intruder. There wasn’t one. “Who are you? Where are you? Show yourself, coward.”
“Kill the vampires, my beloved,” the soft yet somehow powerful voice continued. “They deserve it, as you know, and you will be handsomely rewarded. I’ll even help you in your quest. Bespell you to heal as the other creatures heal, fast and without any lingering discomfort. Surely your leg is paining you even now?”
“What kind of reward?” she asked, realizing she could only be speaking to one of the gods.
“Should you succeed, I shall grant you a boon. Anything of your choosing…”
Anything? Nola licked her lips in growing excitement. More than anything, she wanted her mother brought back to life—so that she could kill the bitch again. I’ll kill the vampire king for Delilah, as well as for the reward.
Zane she would simply destroy for fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DELILAH SPE
NT MOST OF the morning contemplating what to do about Layel. Once she’d thought—hoped, tricked herself into thinking—a single night with him would be enough.
It hadn’t been.
Now she wanted more. More of him. More of everything. He’d touched her body, but he had branded her soul. She thought she might even…love him. Love who and what he was, who and what he’d been. Who and what he would be. The darkness of him, even. And she wanted him to love her in return, to desire her as a mate. To make love to her and hold her afterward, not run away as if she were poison.
She wanted him to cherish her as he still cherished the other. I am a prize, damn it!
Delilah was jealous, she admitted that. And even though she craved Layel all to herself, she would not ask him to forget his first love. Provide Delilah with a place in his heart, yes. She suspected a small part of his heart would be better than the complete devotion of a thousand others.
Had Delilah been less of a warrior, she might have said the task of winning him was impossible. Already her teammates were turning on her, thinking of her as the helper of their enemy. And Tagart had warned her. To engage the vampire king was to nullify their alliance. More than that, Layel himself seemed determined to push her from his life.
He had cried, for gods’ sake. Cried. Thinking of those hot tears knotted her stomach painfully. How broken and raw he must have felt to do such a thing in front of her.
How broken and raw she felt, remembering. He hadn’t shed a tear when he’d been hurt. He had not even grimaced. Why, then, had he done so after making love to her?
If only she knew more about men and their ways. But she didn’t, had only her limited experience with Vorik to lean on, so she was just going to have to fight for him blind. “The most important battle of my life, and I’m practically weaponless,” she muttered to the trees.
After she bathed, hating to lose Layel’s scent on her skin but knowing it was necessary, she dressed, wrapping thin strips of leather around herself. The less material she wore, the less her opponents had to grab.
With a sigh, she made her way to the beach. Above, the orange globe shone brightly, its heat dotting sweat beads on her skin. Yet both teams sat around a crackling fire, she saw when she reached camp, eating from the body of a roasted pig. She spotted Nola, who was soaking wet and bleeding, but the wound was weaving itself together even as Delilah watched. How was that possible?
Nola spotted her, too, studied her, frowned and motioned her over with a wave of her fingers. She crossed her legs, hiding her swiftly healing wound.
Delilah blushed as she walked. Do I look different to everyone? Satisfied? She sat on the log beside the other Amazon, a spicy aroma wafting to her nose. Her mouth watered. “Your injury is—”
“Not important. We lost another member of our team this morning,” Nola said, handing her a thick green leaf topped with blackened meat.
“What?” Eyes wide, she balanced the leaf on her knees. “How? My team lost the challenge.”
“Silly fool tried to escape. Swam toward the dome.” Nola shrugged, uncaring. “He was eaten by the sharks. Probably a merciful death compared to what the gods would have meted out. But I won’t ask where you were or why you weren’t here to help me as you swore you would be.”
Delilah’s blush intensified to a sizzling burn. “Hopefully the number of teammates will not matter during the next challenge.”
Nola popped a bite of yellow fruit into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “Do you truly care if my team fails?”
“Of course.”
“For me, or your vampire?”
Her vampire. She liked the sound of that. “Why can I not be concerned for you both?”
“The vampire king despises you, you know. He’s using you to win.”
Delilah stared down at her plate, tendrils of fear whispering through her. “Why are you doing this?” She’d come here hopeful of a future with her man. Her sister had, with only a few words, sliced her up inside and exposed all the fears she’d tried not to dwell on. “I’m not allowed to find happiness? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Just because I’m an Amazon?” She pinched a bite of meat into her mouth, her fingers shaking.
“Happiness?” Nola laughed down at her, but the sound had a sharp bite to it. “With a man? An enemy? A warrior who will ultimately betray you? We have never been the best of friends, Delilah, but even I would not wish such a fate upon you.”
Delilah knew that, and the food she’d just ingested turned to a lead ball in her stomach.
“You’re willing to leave our tribe for him, aren’t you?”
If he would have her, she thought she just might. Men were not allowed to live among the tribe outside of mating season. To even ask for such a thing was to invite punishment.
Layel would be worth it, though she doubted he would want to live with her sisters. Still, she suspected he would do it if she asked—and if he loved her, of course. He would do anything to protect and soothe the woman he loved. She sensed it with everything inside her. He would not be happy until his mate was happy. He would love her so fiercely, the rest of the world would vanish.
She could do no less.
Could he love her, though? Those tears…and he’d asked only for one night. But so did you. True. Perhaps, like her, he now regretted that decision. Perhaps he was thinking of fighting for her. Slowly she grinned.
“You’re smiling at the thought of betraying your race? You truly are demented,” Nola grumbled.
Funny that the Amazon thought so, since Delilah had never felt more levelheaded. Nervous, yes. Unsure, yes. But the thought of being with Layel just felt right.
Was he worth anything? Worth everything?
The questions besieged her just as Layel stepped from the forest and toward the fire. He winced against the bright light overhead, his movements slow, his expression unreadable. He’d found a shirt, probably stolen it from one of the other creatures. The black material covered his chest—and the scratches she’d probably left there. He wore the same pants he’d donned last night, though they were now clean, as if he had meticulously washed them.
Her heart skipped a beat at the hauntingly lovely sight of him. Awareness rushed through her veins and a sense of possessiveness rose inside her. Mine. She didn’t like other women even looking at him, she realized. Last night, she’d fisted that white hair. She’d kissed those red lips. She’d caressed that hard body. Definitely mine.
See me, she silently beseeched. Come to me.
Layel didn’t look in her direction.
Just one glance, that’s all she needed. A moment between them, stolen and knowing. Private. But he gathered a leaf and meat and sat as far away from her as possible. As far from everyone as possible. Vampires could eat solid food? She hadn’t known.
Evidently Nola hadn’t, either. “Why is the vampire eating real food?” she asked, head tilting in thought as though she were outlining battle plans.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps he just wants to blend in.” She hated that she didn’t know. She wanted to learn everything about her man and his race. Look at me, Layel. Please. What was he thinking? Did he even know that she was here?
Delilah also hated that she had to war for his affections in private when everything inside her screamed to go to him, sit in his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him breathless. To put her brand on him so that everyone would know who he belonged to.
Belonged to? She frowned. The mighty warlord would never belong to anyone. That, she knew. He was too proud, too stubborn.
“I’m ashamed of you,” Nola said, dragging Delilah from her thoughts. “Deeply ashamed. You are looking at him as if you would strip away your pride, turn your back on your family and give up all that you are if he offered the slightest encouragement.”
Those words echoed in her mind, and Delilah pushed to her feet, leaf tumbling to the ground unnoticed. Anger was a hot poker inside her. Anger with Nola, anger with herself. “I’m ashamed of myself, too,” s
he said, “for allowing the opinions of others to sway me.” She’d wanted to go to him, and so she should. She should not care what anyone else—her sister, her teammates—thought. She was not ashamed of her feeling for the vampire and she would not act as if she were.
That was weakness at its finest, and weak she refused to be.
Was Layel worth anything, worth everything? Even risking her life? Yes. Oh, yes.
Determined, she kicked into motion. His gaze lifted, clashed with hers as if he’d been attuned to her from the first and had known her every move. His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits, shielding the brilliant blue of his irises.
He gave a harsh shake of his head, a single movement meant to stop her.
She continued forward. This was a war, after all. Besides, his dominance might be welcome—and enjoyed—during lovemaking, but anywhere else she would not obey.
Several gazes followed her, watching, intent.
Only when she reached her target did she stop. They were toe to toe, almost touching. Up close, she could see his hair was damp, his skin glistening like freshly polished pearl. He smelled of man and power. Dark, energetic.
“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded quietly, fiercely.
“Giving you my support.” She could feel Nola’s gaze boring into her back, hotter than anyone else’s, but she did not back down. The outcome was too important.
“I don’t need your support, woman.”
“Still, you have it.”
“Let me rephrase. I don’t want your support.”
“You’re lying.” A battle, remember? She could not give up. “Last night—”
“Was not supposed to be repeated. Was not supposed to be talked about.”
Delilah anchored her hands on her hips. “Well, I changed my mind.”
His nostrils flared. “You cannot do that.”
“I did. I have. Last night—”
“Was clearly a mistake,” he finished for her.
The claim wounded her, but she had fought hurt and bleeding before. “No. I enjoyed myself. I liked having you inside me, and I want you there again.”
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