His arms banded around her, holding her close. She’d never thought to be paired with an angel, but she couldn’t regret it now. Not when Lysander was the angel in question.
“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” she asked him when they came up for air.
He nipped at her chin. “I’ve been ready for you my entire life. I just didn’t know it until now.”
“Good.” With a whoop, she jumped up and wound her legs around his waist. A wave of gasps circled the room. They were still here? “Ditch your friends, I’ll blow off my sister’s reception and we’ll go oil-wrestle.”
“Funny,” he said, wings enveloping her as he flew her up, up and into his cloud. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
THE AMAZON’S CURSE
CHAPTER ONE
NOLA STOOD IN THE CENTER of the battle tent, watching as her sisters-by-race lined up. Each shifted eagerly from one foot to the other, clutching their weapon of choice. She spotted several axes, a few spears, but mostly swords. Anticipation thickened the air.
Mating season had officially begun.
Soon the females would break into groups, fighting each other for the right to whichever stolen slave they desired. Those slaves, eight in number, were currently chained to the far wall at the end of the spacious enclosure. Three dragon shifters, two centaurs, two male sirens and a vampire. All eight were muscled, beautiful…and all but one was grinning. The vampire.
Her vampire. Zane.
The men would be bedded this night and for several weeks to come. Then they would be freed, never to return. That was the way of the Amazons. Capture, breed and abandon. Of course the males were happy about this. All but Zane. His fury was palpable.
Despite that fury, her gaze drank him in. Zane had dark hair, equally dark eyes and a body made for war. And sex. He had muscle stacked upon muscle and scars that laced his corded chest.
He also had the fiercest temper she’d ever encountered. He didn’t like to be touched and had actually injured many Amazons—not an easy feat—in his quest for freedom. Finally, in an effort to tame him, they had stopped feeding him the blood he needed for strength. Now he was physically weakened, only able to lean against the wall and wait for his mistress to be declared.
However, nothing could weaken his hatred—or the promised retribution that radiated from him.
Nola had met him what seemed an eternity but had actually only been four months ago. He’d desired her, for whatever reason, and had tried to win her affections—and she’d tried to kill him.
With the memory, guilt filled her. But in her defense, she hadn’t known him then. Had only been concerned with her own survival. The gods had swept them to a remote island, along with several other creatures, and pitted them against each other, forcing them to fight. Worse, forcing them to watch helplessly as their friends were executed.
More than that, she’d spent her entire life hating men and the pain they brought with them. As a young child, she’d been sold by her own mother to male after male; she’d been used, hurt, taunted…ruined. Zane’s desire had frightened her, and she had lashed out.
And now, she was paying for that.
No one could see her. No one could hear her. Though she was encircled by the bright, golden light seeping through the tent’s apex, no one knew she was there, that she’d been among them, month after month. The gods had cursed her with invisibility when she’d been eliminated from their impossible contest—and then chained her to this camp as surely as Zane was now chained.
The gods had seen to Zane’s captivity, as well, gifting the vampire to the Amazons to use as they saw fit. And use him they would—and had already. Because mating season had not begun until today, they had forced him to work their land, hauling boulder after boulder for the building of more tents. He’d had to find sticks and sharpen them into weapons. They’d even forced him to feed many of the women by hand. Of course, he’d tried to escape, time after time, so they’d resorted to starving him. That starvation had caused him to weaken unbearably, rendering him useless. Lately all he’d been able to do was lie in place and curse.
She hated seeing him like this. Maybe because she no longer viewed him as an enemy. How could she? He suffered as she suffered. But now, they would never have a chance to explore their…feelings for each other. Yes, feelings, she thought. On her part anyway. Finally, she felt. A need to protect. A need to defend.
Yet she could do neither. And after the way she had treated him, rejecting his advances, he might not want her to try.
What did he see in me, anyway? She’d never understood. That dislike of another’s touch…he’d possessed it even on the island. Even with his own king, Layel. Except with her.
Her, he had welcomed. Again, why? What made her so different?
And why had she not reveled in him while she’d had the chance?
Foolish girl. That’s what her mother had called her every time she’d complained about her abuse. Nola had never agreed. Until now.
“It is time,” a commanding female voice suddenly boomed. “Stand before the slave you wish to claim.”
A royal decree the warrioresses rushed to obey, breaking apart, rushing forward.
Kreja, the Amazon queen, stood at the edge of her royal dais, her gaze scanning, expectant. She was a lovely woman, with pale hair and light eyes, both of which gave her the appearance of fragility. But she possessed an iron core, a vicious nature. Which was why Nola had always served her well. She cherished order and had truly enjoyed being led by a woman who thought battles were to be won at any cost.
Now? Not so much.
Finally, the women were crowded around the males that tempted them.
Nineteen of the thirty-two females chose Zane.
Shocking. She had thought their aversion to biting and blood would deter them. She should have known better. Strength was prized among the Amazons, and Zane had nearly won his freedom. Twice. They wanted that strength for their offspring, which was the entire point of mating season.
Her hands curled into fists. Fists that would remain useless, for they could make contact with no one but herself.
“Excellent,” Kreja said with a grin. She nodded to the ones standing in front of Zane. “You have chosen well. Though the vampire is a parasite, his daughters will be stalwart.”
His daughters.
They should have been mine. Amazons only gave birth to girls. Nola didn’t know why or how, only that it was so. And she wanted to kill anyone who would accept this man’s seed.
“And if our goddess is shining upon us,” Kreja continued, “we will be able to train those daughters to consume something besides blood. If not…” She shrugged, but Nola knew what she implied.
The daughters would be killed.
Zane snarled.
That delighted the women around him, edging them to a new level of eagerness.
Nola fought a wave of anger, of helplessness. He knows what Kreja plans, and does not like it. He wants to protect his children, even though none have yet been conceived. No, she should not have feared Zane. She should have enjoyed him, maybe run away with him.
Like him, she did not like being touched. Except by him. His was the first touch in the entire span of her life that had not filled her with disgust. There had been something almost…reverent in his every gentle caress. If she’d welcomed him, he might have helped purge the demons of her past. He might have saved her from herself.
Now, she would never know.
Just as she’d wondered what made her so different to him, she wondered what made him so different to her. That they were so alike? That they sensed, on a bone-deep level, the other’s hurt? Because yes, every time she neared him, her heart squeezed and shuddered. Pain always rested in his eyes.
“Fight for me if you wish,” he said through sharp, gritted teeth, drawing her thoughts back to the tent, “but know that I will slay the winner with my bare hands.”
He was not a man given to boasting, Nola knew. He promise
d—and he followed through.
“So vengeful,” someone twittered happily.
“So mine,” another snapped.
“It is I who will win his seed,” still another growled. “I who will give birth to his offspring.”
“No one will bear my child,” he roared. “I will die first.”
He could not die!
He is not meant to be a slave, Nola longed to shout. He was too proud, too defiant. Traits she also possessed. Which was why she had finally risen up and slain her own mother. Which in turn was why she sometimes cried herself to sleep, wishing she could claw the bloody images from her mind.
Scowling, Nola strode forward and reached out, hoping that, for once, her fingers would do more than ghost through as she tried to shove the Amazons aside. As always, her hand slipped through their bodies as if she were nothing more substantial than mist.
A cry of frustration escaped her.
Still, no one paid her any heed.
“Those of you who desire the vampire will now enter the arena.” Kreja’s hard voice silenced their arguments. Together they did as commanded, bypassing Nola, even stepping through her. “He shall be the first prize.”
“Damn you!” she shouted. “Hear me!”
Of course, they did not.
Shoulders slumping, she closed the distance between herself and Zane and sank beside him. Like the others, he did not act as if he noticed. But she could almost—almost—feel his warmth, and goose bumps broke out over her skin.
“Lily,” Kreja called with a wave of her hand.
Lily, the child-princess who would one day rule this clan, stood from her throne atop the dais and walked to her mother’s side, her little body draped in velvet robes rather than the leather straps and skirts worn by the warrioresses.
She had changed much in the past few months. No longer was this queen-in-training giddy and innocent. Once having run from camp to prove herself worthy of her people—thereby inadvertently beginning a war between the Amazons and the dragons, a war she’d once thought had caused the deaths of Nola and another Amazon, Delilah—she was now solemn. She’d even relinquished her right to claim Brand the dragon shifter, another of the gods’ exiles, as her personal servant, and had offered him up to her people. He now sat among the other slaves.
“You will not fight to the death,” Lily proclaimed in her soft voice. “But you will continue to engage each other until only one of you is left standing. It is she who will earn the right to bed the vampire.”
And when that winner tired of him, she could pass him on to her friends if she so chose. Increasing Zane’s humiliation.
Mating season had never bothered Nola before, but it bothered her now.
Leave. After Nola’s own experience with the gods’ cruel contest, she had no desire to watch another. For Zane, however, she would watch. And she would wish.
Every female in the ring assumed the battle stance.
There was only a slight pause before Kreja said, “You may begin.”
Immediately the women leapt into action. Metal clanged against metal, grunts abounded, and sand was flung in every direction. Seconds bled into minutes. Minutes to what seemed hours. An eternity. Bodies began collapsing, cries of pain echoing, one pink-haired female savagely working her way through the masses.
Soon, she was the only one standing.
Over. Done.
Nola wanted to vomit.
“And so we have a winner,” Kreja decreed proudly. She motioned to Zane with a wave of her hand. “Claim your prize, beloved. Know that we are pleased with the strength and tenacity you have demonstrated this day.”
As the female approached, Zane trembled. In rage. Perhaps in fear.
I’m so sorry, vampire. “I won’t let her have you,” Nola vowed, though she knew there was nothing she could do to stop what was to come.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FEMALE WAS GOING to kill him, Zane thought dazedly, dispassionately.
She’d won him, however long ago she’d fought for him—one day? Two? Weak as he was, he’d lost track of time. All he knew was that she’d tried multiple times to bed him. But she needed a hard cock for that, and he hadn’t given it to her.
Denying her had delighted him. Still did.
Now two of those wretched Amazons stood around him, staring down at his naked body. If he hadn’t been half-starved and teetering on the brink of total collapse, those stares would have sent him into a killing rage. He hated being looked at as much as he hated being touched.
He’d spent too many centuries as the demon queen’s whore, hers to use, hers to hurt. And hurt him she had.
Many times, she’d forced him to drop to his knees and “worship” her with his mouth. Many times, she had forced him to clean each and every one of the horns covering her body. Again, with his mouth. Many times, she had forced him to do the same to others while she watched.
But the worst… He shuddered, hating to remember. But just then, his memories were all he had. They filled him up, consumed him, eating him bite by rancid bite. She’d blindfolded him and bound him to her bed. He had not known who kissed and touched him. Male, female. Demon, another slave. He hadn’t known. He hated, hated that there were people in Atlantis who knew of his humiliation and subjugation. He hated that those people had seen him naked, tasted him, brought him to climax in terrible ways, yet he did not know who they were.
Bile rose from his stomach into his throat. Demon whore. That’s what he was, all he would ever be. Demon whore, demon whore. He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to cover his ears, but could not. His arms were tied, true, but even if he had been free, he was too weak to move.
Demon whore.
How could he have allowed such things? And he had. Allowed them. He could have walked away at any time. Yet he hadn’t.
All for the love of a woman. A slave, as he was supposed to be now. Marina, that detestable queen, had promised to set his beloved free if Zane pleased her until she grew tired of him. But she’d never grown tired of him, and Cassandra, his chosen mate, had begun to hate him as a result. For all he knew, she could have been forced to watch him with the queen.
Demon whore.
Yet still he’d stayed, determined to finally win his prize. His Cassandra. If he couldn’t have her as a mate, he’d at least wanted her to be happy. And as he well knew, no one could be happy without freedom.
But then, his actions hadn’t mattered. Layel, the vampire king, had done the impossible—what Zane had craved but had not yet had the strength to do—and drained the demon queen, finally freeing both Zane and Cassandra. He’d thought to earn back her love. However necessary. After all, everything he had done had been for her. Every hated touch, every blinded session. Only, she’d fled him. For another man.
Demon whore.
Perhaps that had been for the best.
Zane was not the man he’d once been. He eschewed females and wanted no part of them. Wanted no part of sex. He shuddered at even the thought of it, and sickness once again churned in his stomach. Had he eaten that day, he would have vomited.
One bright light. Remember your one bright light.
Nola.
Finally, his stomach calmed.
Nola had walked into his life, chasing away the darkness. Beautiful, passionate, fierce Nola. A woman who hadn’t wanted him, who had rebuffed him. A woman he’d craved with every ounce of his being despite what had been done to him. A woman the gods had taken from him. Why did he want her so damned passionately? He hadn’t known then, and he didn’t know now. Yet still he craved her. As if she were necessary to him. To his survival. As if, the first moment their eyes had met, hers as haunted as he knew his were, she had become a part of him.
Would he ever see her again?
He did not know if she’d survived their island game or if the gods had set her free, but sometimes he would swear that he smelled her sweet scent, felt the gentle glide of her hands on him. A touch he still did not mind.
A tou
ch he needed. She…soothed him.
And, actually, the first time he’d seen her, he’d thought her a gift from the gods. For why else would he have been able to endure—no, enjoy—her touch and no other? Now, he thought that perhaps she’d been another curse. He craved her still, yet like Cassandra he could never have her.
What did I do to deserve this?
Demon whore.
“I’m strong,” his owner said now, drawing his attention, “so of course he desires me. I mean, look at what I did to my competitors! Eighteen against one, yet I owned that arena. But he’s too weak to be claimed. That’s the problem here. Surely.”
“You’re right. Clearly he needs blood,” another said.
“Yes, but if he’s given blood, he’ll be able to raise his head and bite me.”
Both of the females shuddered.
Did these Amazons—who abhorred the biting of flesh and the drinking of blood and who thought to rape him to steal a child from him—not realize the child of a vampire would not be trainable, as the Amazon queen had said? A vampire needed blood. Blood was nourishment. Life. That was not something that could be “trained” away.
And so, any child of his would be killed. That’s what the foolish queen had implied.
His baby. Killed. Even through the haze of weakness, rage sparked inside his chest. He would kill them first, he thought, once again struggling against his bonds.
They expected him to leave his child behind, to be raised by them. Abused by them. Something he would never do. What was his, was his. He did not share. He did not abandon.
“Weak, but still fighting,” the pink-haired Amazon said with awe.
“Yet still no hardened shaft,” the other tsked.
Calm. Or they will stop feeding you altogether. Though every bone in his body screamed for him to do otherwise, he relaxed against his pallet.
“You’re going to have to feed him.”
“I know. But even now, I think he would bite me if I got too close. What is to happen when he’s stronger?”
Lord of the Vampires and The Darkest Angel and The Amazon's Curse and The Darkest Prison Page 34