Seducing the Dark Prince

by Jane Kindred

  “I’m fine,” Lucien insisted. “It’s just a little vertigo and blurred vision.” He stood again but couldn’t seem to find the room’s level.

  Theia grabbed his arm once more. “I’ll give you a ride home. I’d like to discuss this intellectual property issue a bit more, if you don’t mind.”

  With both Rhea and the Viking now standing in the doorway, Lucy was reluctant to make a scene. Lips pressed together, she discreetly dropped the syringe back into her attaché case as she picked it up. “Suit yourself. But I warn you, he’s a pain in the ass when he’s convalescing.”

  “Thanks for all your help,” Lucien said to her sweetly. “I think we can take it from here.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Get that bone checked tomorrow. And don’t come crying to me if you slip into a coma.”

  “If I slip into a coma,” said Lucien, “I promise you will be the last person to whom I come crying.”

  Lucy gave him a saccharine smile and headed for the door.

  Theia’s sister frowned at the two of them. “You sure about this, Thei?”

  “No. But I’m doing it anyway.” Theia picked up the crossbow and gave Lucien a stern look. “I’m going to hold on to this for you. If you can convince me you’re not a danger to my family, maybe I’ll give it back.”

  Leo stepped in the way as Theia led Lucien toward the door. “Don’t come at me or mine again. Next time you won’t be walking away, with or without assistance.”

  Lucien was too tired to argue with any of them. All he wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep. He let Theia walk him to her car without comment or protest, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes once he was inside.

  “I’m going to talk to Rhe for a minute,” Theia said. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  “That’s not actually a thing,” he murmured. “It’s a myth that you shouldn’t fall asleep after a concussion.”

  “I meant because we’re going to have words. A lot of them.” She slammed the car door, and Lucien wanted to grab his head to stop it from ringing, but his arms were too tired.

  * * *

  Theia glanced back at the car as she gathered the scattered arrows. Lucien might be dangerous, but his sister was definitely more so. She hadn’t exactly been subtle in her threats. Smok Biotech might not literally have a way to wipe Theia’s memory, but she wasn’t about to give Lucy the chance.

  The rhythmic snap of a pair of flip-flops announced Rhea’s approach on the stone path. “You’re not really going to give those weapons back to him?”

  Theia straightened and put the last one in its quiver. “Not if he doesn’t give me some satisfactory answers. But I’m sure he’s got plenty more where these came from.”

  “He just tried to kill Leo.”

  “I know. I’m going to try to talk some sense into him about this obsession he has with Leo being a revenant.”

  “You realize there’s a good chance that he’s actually unhinged.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want me to read that tattoo of his? I caught a peek from the doorway. Maybe we can verify his motives, see if any of this stuff about hunting down ‘unnatural creatures’ is true. And maybe find out a little more about him, if you know what I mean.” Rhea raised an eyebrow suggestively.

  Theia was 99 percent certain that whatever Rhea might read in Lucien’s ink was the last thing she wanted her to see.

  “Maybe some other time. I’m not sure how his mental state right now would affect it. And I’d prefer if we had his consent.” Which Theia was going to make damn sure they never got.

  Rhea studied her for a moment, her expression suspicious. “You call me when you get home. I want to know you’re all right before I go to bed.”

  Theia booped Rhea’s nose, guaranteed to distract her with aggravation. “You got it, Moonpie.”

  Rhea rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Gross. Weirdo. And stop calling me Moonpie.”

  Theia headed for her car. “But you look like a Moonpie.”

  “What does that even mean? I look like you.”

  “Go play with your Viking.”

  Theia tossed the quiver onto the back seat and climbed in. Lucien’s eyes were closed, his head lolling against the headrest. Theia reached over to draw the shoulder belt across him and fasten it before starting the car. With a wave at Rhea, she headed out, only to realize once she’d exited the gates that she had no idea where Lucien lived.

  “Lucien?” She nudged him gently. Nothing. God, he wasn’t slipping into a coma already, was he?

  His phone was propped in the cup holder under the dash. Maybe his address was in it. Theia pulled over and entered the password on the cracked screen and found the address in his contacts, committing it to memory. Before she set the phone down, a message notification appeared from Lucy. Theia couldn’t resist taking a peek.

  This one’s for the little pixie girl.

  Pixie girl? Theia glared at the screen and continued to read.

  No doubt he’s sitting next to you in the car snoring right now.

  He was, a little bit, now that she listened for it.

  Make sure you wake him up every two hours to check his responses. I don’t like the blurred vision. If you can’t wake him, call me. I’ll send one of our doctors. Lovely to meet you. Finish our talk later.

  Every two hours? She tried to respond, but the keyboard wasn’t letting her press most of the keys. Theia sighed. She was going to have to take him to Phoebe’s place. She’d left the house without feeding Puddleglum.

  * * *

  Someone was shaking him.

  “We’re here. Come on.”

  After a more vigorous shake, Lucien opened his eyes and focused on Theia’s face. Still a little blurry. But eminently kissable. Shit. He was really out of it.

  “Hey.” She peered at him. “You awake? It’s Theia Dawn. We’re here. Time to get out.”

  Lucien looked around at the shrubbery laced with fairy lights in front of the cozy ranch-style bungalow. The night was silent except for the pleasant rhythm of chirping crickets, and the air was heavy with the perfume of jasmine blossoms. He was completely lost.

  “Where’s here?”

  “My sister Phoebe’s place. I’m cat sitting. And now apparently I’m babysitting. You,” she clarified when he squinted at her in confusion. “Lucy told me to wake you up every two hours and check on you, so you’re staying with me tonight.”

  “I thought Lucy left before we did. How long was I asleep?”

  “About an hour. I let you sleep a little longer while I was feeding the cat. And she did leave before us.”

  “The cat?”

  “Lucy.” Theia narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you sure I shouldn’t take you to a hospital?”

  Lucien rubbed his eyes. “No, I’m fine. I’m awake now.” He tried to get out of the car, impeded by the seat belt, and finally managed to fumble in the dark and find the release. As he got to his feet, he groaned and clutched the door.

  “Lucien?”

  He stared at the ground for a moment, suddenly flushed, his forehead breaking out in a sweat. “I’m possibly going to throw up in your sister’s front yard.”

  “Oh God. Please don’t.”

  “I’d prefer not to.” He stood still for several seconds, willing it down, and finally straightened. “Lead the way.”

  “To the bathroom?” she suggested as she took his arm.

  “Sounds wise.”

  The ground tilted and swayed beneath him, echoing the motion of his stomach, as if he were navigating the deck of a ship on a choppy sea. He managed to make it to the little powder-blue room and close the door before pitching toward the floor once more. Lucien sank to his knees and grabbed the edge of the toilet, literally hugging the bowl as he dredged up what he was certain was every last thing he’d ever eaten.

/>   By the time he was able to get to his feet and clean himself up, his head felt like someone had shaken his brain and bashed it against the inside of his skull—which he supposed was pretty accurate—but at least the dizziness and nausea had subsided.

  Theia sat waiting for him in the living room when he made his way gingerly down the hallway. “So where do you want to start?”

  “Start?”

  “Explaining yourself.”

  Lucien stepped down into the living room with a sigh and grabbed for the couch. “I already told you that Leo Ström is a revenant, and—”

  “Except he’s not. He was immortal. He was never a revenant. In Leo’s tradition, I believe, revenants are known as draugr. Rhea dealt with one once when she was fighting to save his life. It was what you said—an abomination. A shuffling, inhuman monster that tried to suck out her soul before Leo’s warden spirit destroyed it. Leo isn’t a monster. He’s a good man.”

  Lucien studied her for a moment. He’d put down a draugr or two. They were just about the most unpleasant creatures he’d ever encountered. But that didn’t mean that every revenant raised from the corpse of a Norseman had to be a draugr. Valkyries had great power over the dead.

  “Your sister said he was mortal.”

  Theia nodded. “He is. It was part of the Valkyrie’s bargain with the Norns when she released him.”

  “But he leads a hunting party of wraiths.”

  “Yeah, you’ll have to ask Rhea how that one works, because I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it. But it doesn’t make him a revenant. I’m sure Leo would be happy to explain it to you himself after you’ve apologized for trying to kill him.”

  Lucien leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, looking down at the wood floor as he contemplated the facts. He couldn’t let guilt or desire sway him. Cold, hard, rational facts were the enemy of the esoteric. The stupid. Of supernatural shit. And feelings.

  He lifted his head sharply and regretted it. “Where’s my gear? My crossbow?”

  “I’ve put it away for safekeeping.”

  The tip of the arrow that had hit Leo Ström should have exploded on impact with flesh, leaving behind its poison. A revenant would have gone down within seconds, the unnatural blood in its veins turning to acid and eating it from the inside until there was nothing left of it. But Leo hadn’t. The serum hadn’t affected him at all. The arrow had only wounded him. Those were the cold, hard facts.

  “I may have made an error.”

  Theia laughed, and he smiled without meaning to.

  She shook her head, the red tips of her hair swinging. “Jesus, you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.” She leaned back against the cushion of the round rattan chair, looking like Venus in her scallop shell. Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Theia’s velvety gray eyes fixed on his, her gaze piercing. “So about that nondisclosure agreement.”

  Lucien rubbed his eyes. “Lucy didn’t have any business bringing that up. She tends to get a bit aggressive when it comes to the company.”

  “Is that really what I signed? An agreement to have my memory wiped? Can she do that?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “No. And yes. The NDA does include a clause about not removing any intellectual property, but, legally, I think we’d be hard-pressed to make the case that you were agreeing not to leave with your memories intact if you chose to reject the offer. As for Lucy, well... I wouldn’t turn my back on her if I were you.”

  “So there is a drug that can erase my memories of what I saw.”

  “And any memory that we’ve had this conversation about it, yes. But it’s not my intention to implement that protocol.”

  Theia lifted an eyebrow. “You say the darnedest things.”

  “None of that’s relevant, though, if you choose to accept the offer.”

  “Oh, I see. So if I agree to keep my mouth shut and help you with your little genome-mapping database, you won’t physically assault me and tamper with my mind.”

  Lucien closed his eyes against the increasing intensity of his headache. “Can we... Do you mind if we continue this in the morning?” He could feel her gaze intent on him, studying him, perhaps to see if he was bullshitting her.

  “Of course.” Theia slipped from the shell-like chair and held out her hand to help him up as he opened his eyes. “Or in two hours. Whichever comes first.”

  “You’re really going to wake me up every two hours?”

  “Still have the blurred vision and vertigo?”

  “No.” Lucien reached for her hand and missed. “Yes.”

  “Then, yes, I am.” Her hand closed around his. “I’ve made up the guest bed for you. Actually, I was sleeping in the guest bed, so I didn’t really do anything but straighten it—Are you allergic to cats?”

  He tried to follow her train of thought as he rose and went with her. “Allergic? No.”

  “Good, because Puddleglum pretty much thinks that room is his, and there’s no way to get all the fur off the bedspread.”

  “I don’t want to displace... Puddleglum? Or you, for that matter. I could sleep on the couch.”

  “That would be stupid. It’s a two-bedroom house.” She opened the guest room door. A well-fed tiger-stripe Siamese regarded him from the center of the largest pillow with unblinking aquamarine eyes.

  “That’s his pillow,” she said unnecessarily. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “Theia?”

  She paused as she turned to go. “Hmm?”

  “I’m not sure why you’re being so nice to me after I...well, anyway. You don’t have to be, and I appreciate that you are.”

  * * *

  Theia wondered the same thing as she set the alarm in Phoebe’s room. She could have ignored Lucy’s instructions and driven him home. Yet here she was, preparing to interrupt her sleep every two hours to make sure Lucien’s own arrogance didn’t kill him.

  But despite his misguided attack on Leo, she couldn’t help being secretly pleased to learn there was more to Lucien than just a privileged rich boy for whom everything was a game—including seduction. If what he’d said was true, he’d taken a principled stand against his own family legacy. If Smok Consulting was in the business of covering up paranormal crimes for the wealthy, Lucien’s clandestine efforts minimized the harm they caused in doing it. And Theia wanted to find out more about both.

  Chapter 9

  The alarm went off what seemed like minutes later. Theia rose bleary-eyed and shuffled down the hall to the guest room, where Puddleglum opened one suspicious eye from his perch on the pillow.

  Lucien was hard to rouse, but he jolted awake when she put her hands on both shoulders to shake him. His hands closed around her upper arms, and he flipped her across his body onto her back on the bed and leaped over her on all fours, eyes looking slightly wild. Puddleglum disappeared under the bed.

  It took Theia a moment to catch her breath and speak. “Lucien, it’s me.”

  He blinked down at her, his feral stance slowly relaxing. “Sorry. I was deep in a dream. I was fighting off—”

  “A thousand-year-old Viking who was kicking your ass?”

  Lucien grinned sheepishly. “Something like that.” He sat back on his heels, and she was intensely aware of his thighs—muscular and firm—on either side of hers. He might not be able to compete with Leo in size, but he was obviously extremely athletic. “So this is my two-hour wake-up, I take it.”

  “And I take it you’re not in a coma.”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “And you know your own name.”

  “Of course. Anakin Skywalker.”

  “Interesting choice. Who’s the president of the United States?”

  Lucien scowled for a moment, pondering the answer. “Alec Baldwin?”

  “Close enough. You’re cleared for another
two-hour nap.” Theia waited for him to move, raising an eyebrow when he continued to stare down at her. “Are you going to get off me?”

  Lucien seemed to color as he rolled onto his hip, but it was hard to be sure in the monochrome tones of the dark bedroom. Maybe it was just her imagination.

  Theia turned to face him, head propped on her hand. “How long have you been...”

  “Hunting unnatural creatures?” He considered for a moment. “It started by accident, I guess. High school. Junior year, on a job cleaning up a vamp den.”

  “As in vampires?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re real?”

  “Everything’s real.”

  A little shiver ran up her spine, and he must have noticed it.

  “There’s nothing sexy about them, I can assure you. Every one I’ve ever met was as dumb as a post. They exist on instinct, feeding their hunger. If they’re part of an organized brood, they’re fairly harmless, only clever enough to follow orders. The master negotiates with sources and puts them to work delivering shipments, doing busywork, so they don’t wander off and try to hunt on their own.”

  “Sources?”

  “Blood sources. There are black-market blood banks...and voluntary donors.”

  Theia shuddered, this time with revulsion. She could just imagine how the “voluntary” donor system worked. Probably a lot like Carter Hamilton’s afterlife sex ring, where the shades of dead sex workers were coerced into servicing clients who paid to have sex with someone being controlled by a “step-in.”

  “The business runs pretty smoothly,” Lucien confirmed. “The syndicates keep everything relatively clean. But every so often, a bloodsucker goes rogue. Sometimes a handful of them will splinter off the brood and try to go it alone. That’s when it gets messy. Which is when they call in Smok Consulting.”

  “Your father’s company.”

  Lucien nodded. “Edgar didn’t trust me to handle the consulting work. Probably rightly so.”

  “Edgar?”

  “My father.” He shrugged. “It turned out a rogue brood had been keeping a...” Lucien swallowed, his expression no longer neutral. “An illegal blood farm. Kids they’d taken off the street—junkies, runaways. There’s a strict set of rules for voluntary donors—consent forms, maximum donations, minimum nondonation periods to make sure the donors remain healthy, a mental-health screening process—these kids bypassed all that. Probably traded sex—or even a willing donation if they were savvy enough about who they were dealing with—for a place to sleep for a night. And then found themselves being harvested...indefinitely.”