Blood Enemy: (Vampire Warrior Romance) (Kyn Book 3)

by Mina Carter

No fae should have that kind of knowledge or dark need. It wasn’t natural. It was a curse his people lived with, put up with. Learned to control. It wasn’t something any of them chose, but something thrust on them at birth. And be it man, woman or child, every one of them would do anything to be free of it. That someone would seek it, revel in it, just sickened Feral on levels he hadn’t realized existed.

  There was no way out of this. No way at all. He was on his own—in a place his fellow warriors would not come riding to the rescue, as they had when Vixen had been taken by the pixies. His lips quirked in amusement. The fact he didn’t look half as good in leathers as Vixen might have something to do with it.

  His amusement faded as he spoke, his voice low and full of menace. “Harm her and you’d better make sure you put me down for good. Because I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll be coming for you.”

  Her laugh, light and musical, flowed around the hall. It was a beautiful sound totally out of place with the ugly words that followed. “Did you really think I was going to let any of you live?” she smiled. “Come on, even a vampire thug like you had to have figured it out. At least I should hope you did, because honestly, sweetheart, your brains are about all you’ve got going for you.”

  She shook her head. “Look at Talven for example. He’s lucky he’s got his looks, because, well, let’s just say his IQ isn’t the highest. I pity his children…the fae, as a race, get dumber and more like the humans every generation,” she spat. “Why do you think I’ve done what I have? Someone must step up and stop this descent into…averageness! And if it takes the flesh and blood of a half-breed brat, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. The rest of you…collateral damage.” She flicked her hand dismissively.

  Behind Feral, Talven jerked slightly, the small movement registering in the kyn’s mind. So the loyal lapdog didn’t know about that little snippet, eh? That was interesting. How Feral was going to use that to his advantage, he had no idea. Not yet.

  He watched Ilia with dead eyes. He had a stare that could give a rattlesnake a headache, and he was employing it at full strength now, the promise of her death in his eyes as he made a silent vow. Somehow, this bitch was going down. Permanently.

  “Get him out of here,” she snapped, breaking eye contact first. “Take him to the pit of eternal despair.”

  Feral couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing as the guards seized his arms, clamping heavy manacles around his wrists.

  “Sheesh, the ‘pit of eternal despair’?” he mocked, as they dragged him toward the doors. “Can’t you guys come up with something a little more original? No wonder you’re dying out, a human toddler has more imagination.”

  His mocking laughter echoed around the room as the doors closed with a resounding clang, leaving the woman he loved at the mercy of a monster.

  “Tessa!”

  It took two knights all their strength to get the struggling kyn halfway down the corridor. Even then, he was only waiting for a gap in their concentration to allow him to get the drop on them.

  “You can’t do this! You can’t let her do this!”

  He dug his heels in harder, stopping his guards’ forward momentum in its tracks. Feral was a big man, even for a vampire, and he was packed with hard-earned muscle. The sort of muscle a guy built up working for a living and, in Feral’s case, fighting violently. But he wasn’t fighting physically now. No, he was astute enough to know that his advantage lay in the verbal. They couldn’t put a manacle on his tongue.

  “You do realize what she is, don’t you?” he carried on, his voice low in the corridor, punctuated by the grunt of effort from the guards and the shuffling of feet as he made them work for every inch. His gaze bored holes into the fae.

  “She’s some sort of fae version of a rogue, Talven… you know she is. Worse than a rogue. She said flesh… she’s going to kill that baby and eat him.”

  He watched his target for the tiniest flicker of emotion or reaction. He knew Talven wasn’t immune to the situation, he’d felt the guy start in surprise when Bitch Queen in there said she intended to sacrifice the baby. Desperation filled him—she could already have sacrificed him. He could already be too late. Tessa and the baby might already be dead.

  He went for broke. “You ever seen a rogue victim, Talven? Ever seen how the rogues feed?” he asked, his voice strangely hypnotic in the silence of the corridor.

  “They prefer their victims alive, you know. Apparently, the pain and terror of what’s happening to them adds flavor to the meat,” he explained nonchalantly, as though this were merely an academic discussion.

  “They have to tourniquet their victims in some way, so they don’t bleed to death during the meal and lose all that lovely flavor. I’ll bet your ladylove in there is into bondage, isn’t she, Talven? Bit of titillation before she has a snack…does that do it for you as well? The idea of that baby wrapped up in bondage gear? Gear she’s used for something so corrupt and kinky?” Feral hammered away at what instinct told him was a chink in Talven’s mental armor. “Think about it, Talven. That little baby. Abused and tortured because some stupid bitch can’t handle the way her life turned out. Can you live with that?”

  The fae sighed, his pace faltering as he lowered his head. The guards dragging Feral slowed, looking at their captain in surprise.

  “Let him go,” Talven ordered, his voice a bare whisper in the corridor. He turned with a grim look on his face to find both guards looking at him warily.

  “Oh, for god’s sake, you can’t tell me we can cover this up anymore!” he snapped, moving forward to undo the spelled manacles himself. “Go find the queen’s guard, hell the queen herself if you can, and bring them back here. NOW!”

  CHAPTER 10

  F eral eased the bruised skin over his wrists as the two guards disappeared down the corridor like ferrets down a rabbit hole. He eyed Talven, accepting his blades from the fae’s outstretched hand. “So, what made you decide to grow a pair?”

  Feral leaned against the wall for support as he slid them over his knuckles. His body might be able to heal itself faster than other species, but it came at a price. Energy. He and the other warriors burned through enough of the stuff to power a small city block and needed to feed daily. Trouble was, Feral was going on two days now without blood and it was beginning to show.

  The fae shrugged, busying himself with his own sword hilt.

  “I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore. You’re right. Someone has to stop her. We have to stop her.” He looked up, the misery in his blue eyes making Feral really feel for the poor bastard.

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  Talven nodded and then laughed bitterly. “Yes and no. I used to, but she was someone different back then,” he shrugged at the admission. “I guess I never got out of the habit.”

  Feral nodded but kept his head down as he rolled his shoulder. Anything to disguise how shitty he felt. He knew all about unrequited love from his semi-obsession with Vixen.

  “Hey, you okay? You look sort of pale there,” Talven asked suddenly.

  Feral shook his head. He didn’t like to show weakness to anyone, but the fae knight carried on. “You need blood, don’t you?”

  Cat out of the bag, Feral sighed and nodded. There was no point in denying it. Talven had released him, so in Feral’s mind that meant he could trust the guy. At least a little.

  “Been too busy running from our little pixie friends and I wasn’t going to feed from Tessa. She was already exhausted,” he said. “Let’s just say other donors have been in short supply recently.”

  “Can you metabolize fae blood?” the knight demanded as he started to strip off his neck guard.

  “I can…but I can’t feed from you, man. You’re going to need all your strength when we go back in there. We can’t wait for backup. I’ll be fine,” Feral insisted, pushing himself upright with the aid of the wall. “We need to move, and move now.”

  He turned, intent on heading back up the corridor and st
orming the hall alone if he had to, but Talven stopped him with a hard hand on his chest.

  “We need you at full strength,” the fae argued, his blue eyes direct. “Think about it. Ilia knows every trick I’ve got. She’s watched me train for years. Nothing I do is going to surprise her. But you, you’re the unknown quantity. She’s going to have no idea what moves you’re going to pull next…” he trailed off for a moment, emotions of regret, resignation and despair flitting across his face. “And if we win, I won’t be able to kill her. We need you at full strength. You have to kill her.”

  Feral looked at him with admiration. It was a hell of an admission, and it had to have cost the guy a shedload of pride to admit it. There wasn’t much he could say to that. Nodding, he placed his hand on the knight’s shoulder, squeezing slightly—a gesture of understanding and solidarity.

  “Cover your neck, man. I can’t take blood from you there.”

  Talven paused, confusion on his face.

  “Taking from the neck is…” Feral paused, looking for the right words, “…it’s too personal. Part of our courtship rituals,” he explained. “And sorry, mate, I just don’t swing that way. Give me your wrist instead.”

  “Oh, thank god! No, I don’t either.” Talven’s pale skin flushed scarlet as he extended his arm, visibly grateful he didn’t have to offer Feral his neck.

  Feral grasped the offered wrist in a “no nonsense” grip, his fangs aching to descend as he readied himself for feeding. He ignored the need for a moment. He needed to warn Talven first, and a mouthful of fang tended to make speaking a little difficult.

  “This is going to hurt,” he said, knowing there really wasn’t any other way. Well, there was, but he wasn’t going to embarrass either of them by going down that route.

  “I thought vampires could null the pain?” the fae asked, quickly adding, “not that a little pain bothers me…just curious.”

  Feral’s lips quirked, recognizing the typical male cover-up as he pushed the fabric back from Talven’s wrist, bending the hand back to reveal the tender flesh on the inside. Veins beat strongly, just visible under the skin. Feral’s mouth watered, an instinctive reaction to the source of sustenance so close.

  “We can, but back to the neck point, it’s all about sex. I’d explain further but I don’t think either of us needs those visuals,” he commented, his thumb sweeping over the skin as he picked his spot. “I’ll make this as quick as possible,” he said and struck.

  His fangs pierced the skin, sinking through the barrier with the ease of a hot knife slicing through butter. Blood—hot, sweet tasting blood—filled his mouth in a rush and he moaned. He swallowed, the powerful muscles of his throat working strongly. Relief filled him as the blood hit his system like a bullet.

  Strength surged through him, easing the weariness in his limbs and making him feel as though he’d had about a week’s sleep and several good meals all rolled into one. The power in it, the magic that all fae carried within themselves, headed straight for his head like a shot of good vodka.

  Feeling Talven’s arm start to tremble, Feral carefully withdrew his fangs, aware that the fae’s mind wasn’t clouded and he could feel all of this. He paused. A quick pass of his tongue stopped the bleeding and sealed the broken flesh.

  Talven sighed in relief, pulling his arm back against his body and rubbing the abused skin.

  “Okay,” he laughed shakily, “you were right. That really hurt!”

  “Sorry, man,” Feral apologized. “No other way. You’re not human so the weakness should pass in a moment. I didn’t take enough to compromise you.”

  As he watched, the color returned to Talven’s face and the shakes in his hand disappeared. Feral blinked in surprise. He knew fae could recover fast, but that was impressive. And handy given what they were about to face.

  “You good?” he asked, grinning at Talven’s quick shoulder roll and the look of determination that washed over his face. He might have been Ilia’s lapdog for centuries, but Feral knew a man with a purpose when he saw him.

  “I’m good,” Talven nodded, gripping his blade. “Now let’s go and stop this bitch before she triggers the end of the world.”

  Oh god, this can’t be happening. Tessa watched helplessly as Feral was dragged away, held motionless by the cruel grip around her jaw. Belatedly, she remembered she had a voice, yelling and screaming for all she was worth and trying to get someone’s attention. Her rebellion was short-lived as Ilia increased the pressure on her throat until she saw stars.

  “Shut. Up,” the corrupt princess hissed in her ear. “The place is spelled. No one can hear you. And you’re giving me a headache.”

  Tessa sank to her knees as Ilia released her, gasping for breath while she smoothed her hand over her throat, still able to feel the imprint of Ilia’s grip clamped there.

  “Get her on the table with the brat,” the princess ordered, her voice hard as she sauntered toward a cloth-covered table in the middle of the hall. She flicked the fabric off and let it flutter unheeded to the floor. Covered, the table had been innocuous enough, but now, uncovered, the emotions that rose from it were vile enough to turn Tessa’s stomach.

  Lust, terror, greed and excitement all rose from it in a cacophony of emotion that was overwhelming, even for a part-fae like Tessa. And if she felt ill, with her human half adding an insensitive shield, she had no clue how the full-blooded fae in the room dealt with it. A quick glance at the nearest one, a male sidhe wearing the armor of one of Ilia’s knights, revealed a clenched jaw and hollow eyes as he looked down at her. Tessa shivered. No help there.

  Ilia though, seemed unaffected. Or worse, she seemed to revel in the dark emotions that rose from the table. Her slender hand smoothed across the darkly stained surface in a caress. Stains Tessa didn’t need a vampire’s affinity with blood to work out what they were.

  People had died on that table. People would die on that table, her and the baby among them.

  “No! No!” she screamed as hard hands reached for her, but it was no use. Several moments later, she was bundled onto the bloodstained surface, all her struggles counting for nothing against the strength of Ilia’s hollow-eyed guards.

  “You can’t do this. He’s just a baby! What kind of sick bitch are you?” Tessa demanded, struggling as the straps were tightened over her wrists and thighs. She watched helplessly while they brought the baby boy over, laying him down next to her. His terrified whimpers eased as if he recognized her scent—calming down, she assumed, because he was near someone he trusted.

  “Shut up and behave, or it’ll go harder on you.” Ilia’s eyes flashed fire, as she unrolled a scroll.

  Tessa laughed, the sound rolling around the cavernous hall.

  “Behave or it’ll go harder on me? Oh, that’s a good one,” she laughed again, disdain in her voice. “So… you have to tell me. Just how is this going to get harder on me? You’re going to kill me! It doesn’t get much harder than that, you stupid bitch!”

  Ilia’s eyes narrowed as anger flashed in their depths. “You’ll pay for that, really pay for that. No one insults me in my own hall. I’ll make you suffer and your flesh will taste all the sweeter.”

  “I hope I give you fucking food poisoning!” Tessa spat and threw her weight against her bonds again. They were so tight she was beginning to lose the feeling in her legs. Which could be a blessing, or a curse, depending on which way she looked at it. She closed her eyes for a moment, really hoping this was just a bad dream. Any moment, she’d wake up on the couch in her sister’s apartment, the movie over and her ice cream melted into a puddle in the tub.

  Tears welled in her eyes, one sliding from beneath her lashes to blaze a hot trail down the side of her face. It was hopeless. Despair flooded her. She couldn’t even save herself, much less help anyone else. Feral was probably already dead, and she hadn’t been able to save him.

  Pain lanced through her heart, stealing her breath. The idea of the huge kyn dead shattered her in ways she hadn’t im
agined, leaving a big, ragged hole where her heart was. He was gone, she’d never see him again, and she hadn’t even had chance to tell him how she felt. Hadn’t had chance to tell him…

  That she loved him.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed as her breath whispered out over her lips on a soft sigh. There it was, the truth she’d been avoiding thinking about since she’d opened the door to find him on her doorstep. She’d always laughed at her mother’s total belief in love at first sight but hadn’t realized it when it had happened to her.

  She loved Feral.

  Warmth spread out from her heart through the center of her chest and then through her body. She loved everything about him, from his big, muscled body to the gentle way he handled the baby. A whimper escaped her, her heart breaking even as she recognized the love there. He’d have made a wonderful father.

  Now he wouldn’t have the chance. No one would have the chance to do anything. A tear rolled down her face. She wouldn’t get to be with Feral, to grow old loving him, and the baby wouldn’t get to grow up, fall in love and marry either… He’d never fulfill his destiny as the Winter King.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting in her bonds to look at the baby lying next to her. In the background, Ilia began to chant—dark, guttural words that struck fear into Tessa’s heart.

  She shut the sound out, concentrating on the little boy next to her, straining so she could touch him. Just one touch, a brush of his fingers. A small comfort to take into the darkness that was coming. Whether it was a comfort for the baby or for her, Tessa wasn’t sure.

  Just a little more. Her whole body tensed with the effort as Tessa pushed against the heavy strap around her wrist, fanning her fingers out until her fingertips brushed his leg. The swiftest touch, over almost before Tessa realized she’d managed it. She relaxed, a sense of peace stealing over her as she looked into the baby’s eyes. Eyes that suddenly seemed too old…like something ancient looked out of them.

  Unbidden, an image rose in Tessa’s mind. That of a tall man dressed in black, his pink hair cut short and spiky, the color bright in the darkness of an alley. He moved as though hunting something, an edge of danger surrounding him, and then he froze and looked around, frowning. Suddenly, he seemed to become aware of Tessa’s “presence” and turned toward her, his fists snapping up. The light glinted on the blades across his knuckles, the same sort Feral used. He smiled, easy charm in every line of his body. Then, with a wink, he was gone into the darkness in a swirl of a long leather coat.