Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  “I heard you were on your way down here,” Laila went on, “and came to get you. You don’t want to keep your queen waiting, do you?”

  “I—I—”

  “No. You don’t.”

  Damn this. Jane was letting Laila direct her, proving she had not the strength of will to lead. His one and only chance for escape was withering with every second that passed.

  “Laila, no. I—”

  “Your poor, addled mind hasn’t yet recovered from your fall, has it, darling? But you like having skin on your back, I know you do. Guards,” Laila called.

  Jane twisted her fingers together, clearly agitated. “I—I— There’s no need. I don’t want to be whipped, but I really need to—”

  Two armed guards swung around the corner and stopped behind Princess Laila. They kept their gazes straight ahead as they awaited orders.

  If they touched Jane, Nicolai would execute them. He would cut their throats, and spit on their remains. The ferocity of the thought should have surprised him. Jane was here for one purpose, and one purpose only, whether she acted like it or not, and remaining untouched by the citizens of Delfina was not it. Surprised, Nicolai wasn’t. Nothing would stop him from attacking these men in cold blood. Jane was his. His savior, his to handle. Only his. No one else was allowed.

  Until he left her.

  He bit his tongue so hard he tasted his own blood.

  “Muzzle the prisoner and cart him to my chamber,” Laila commanded, and he relaxed somewhat. The men weren’t here for Jane, then. “My sister and I will visit with the queen.”

  “No,” Nicolai growled before he could stop himself.

  “No?” Astonished, Laila leveled her attention on him. She wrapped her fat little fingers around the timepiece hanging from her neck and squeezed. “You dare issue commands, slave? To me?”

  “Odette stays.” Jane might have fooled the servants and her sister, but she would not find the Queen of Hearts so gullible. She had groomed Odette in her image, and no one knew her better. Jane and her odd speech would be found out. Killed before Nicolai could use her.

  Heart…hardening.

  Softening…

  Laila floundered. “You’ll try and kill her again. That’s why you want her here. I know it. That’s why you’re pretending to desire her.”

  He flicked his tongue over his fangs. “I need inside her. That’s why I want her here.”

  Once again, Jane blushed.

  “You…you’re lying,” Laila stammered. “You hate her. You wouldn’t want to bed her.”

  “I crave her.”

  A pause, heavy with tension. Motions clipped, Laila closed the distance between her and her sister and wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll say anything to gain a second chance to harm you. Come now. I’ll protect you.”

  “No!” Jane jumped from Laila’s embrace and glared up at the guards. “Take Nicolai to my chamber, but don’t muzzle him. And tell M-Mother that I’m in need of rest. I’ll speak to her later.”

  Laila paled as the men leaped into action. Seconds later, hinges were squeaking as the door to Nicolai’s cage swung open. There were more footsteps, then a key was inserted into the metal base that pinned him to the wall.

  His relief was palpable.

  “But…but, Odette. You are placing yourself in danger,” Laila said, desperate.

  “He. Is. Mine. Nothing more needs to be said.”

  Wrong words. The claim—he is mine—affected him, giving birth to a savage animal inside him. Hers, he was hers, and he would have her before he left her, no matter the consequences. Over and over again. In every way imaginable. He would drink her, and possess her body.

  There would be no stopping him, no reasoning with him. Not now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE GUARDS FORCED NICOLAI onto the bed, the feathered mattress dipping and puffing under his weight. They anchored the metal links curling around his neck to a steel hook in the wall, just above the headboard, then removed the chains from his ankle and wrists—only to cuff him to the bedposts.

  Odette had brought slaves here before, Jane realized. The posts were scarred, the deep grooves evidence of their resistance. A lot of resistance. How many times had Nicolai suffered this kind of indignity with the princess?

  At least he didn’t try and bite the guards, and they didn’t try to hurt him, and Jane didn’t have to side with a “slave,” fueling suspicion. Already she felt as if she had a neon sign blinking over her head: Imposter.

  Thank God Laila hadn’t realized the truth. And wasn’t the other princess a shocker? Short, squat and foaming-at-the-mouth-rabies mean. Seriously. If the Wicked Witch of the West had slept with Hannibal Lecter, and the two of them had a baby, that child’s name would be Laila.

  Pay attention to what’s happening around you, Parker!

  Right. Jane focused. She watched, flabbergasted, as one of the guards cleaned Nicolai from head to toe and the other oiled him.

  She placed the book on the nightstand, considered protesting what was being done to him, but wasn’t sure “Odette” would do such a thing. Therefore, she held her tongue. Through it all, Nicolai remained silent, his expression blank, but his gaze, oh, his gaze was glued to her. His pupils were huge, his irises still sparkling with…desire.

  For her, or for her blood? His fangs were sharp and long, revealing the depths of his hunger.

  Just then, he was the poster child for bondage, blood and a badass fetish. He was chained, yes, but he would be in control. He was strong, in body and in mind, and he exuded something, pheromones, perhaps, that drew slavelike desires from her. Every cell in her body ached, frantic to know his touch. He was the most physically perfect being she’d ever encountered.

  Seeing such a proud, strong man bound like that, lying atop a bed of pink lace and ruffles, being readied for her use, should have caused her stomach to churn with sickness. But she only wanted him more.

  Her mind had pictured him before she’d ever met him, yes, but her mind had not done him justice. He was tall, at least six foot four, with wide muscled shoulders, a stomach roped and corded, and skin as smooth as cream mixed with coffee. He had shoulder-length hair as dark as midnight, and eyes the color of moonlight glinting off snow, silvery yet threaded with gold.

  She didn’t see her death in those eyes, as the book had promised. She saw her seduction. How many times had she had to stop herself from reaching out, letting him “mark” her, whatever that meant, just to feel his skin against hers? Too many. That’s why she’d jumped away from him when he’d reached for her. She’d feared her reaction, afraid of an increase in the desire she felt. Already being near him was becoming a need as necessary as breathing.

  The same force that had brought her here had to be responsible for what she was feeling.

  Though he was cut and bruised, with dried blood caked along his arms and legs, he had not a single scar. In fact, he did not have a flaw, period. The closest thing to an imperfection he had was the thin trail of dark hair traveling from his navel to the waist of his loincloth—and that wasn’t an imperfection so much as a roadway to heaven.

  Speaking of the final destination of that naughty roadway…down in the cell, he’d been aroused by her, and he hadn’t tried to hide it. He’d boasted about it, drawing attention to his groin. With very good reason. Besides her dreams and single fantasy about him, she had been with only one man. And that man could not compare. She doubted any man could. “Big” was an understatement in Nicolai’s case.

  When he’d touched himself, running his fingers up and down his length, her body had ached. She’d forgotten her circumstances and imagined dropping to her knees. Tonguing him, drinking him in.

  Mind, stop dipping your toes in the gutter pool!

  Finally the guards finished and strode toward the door. Her shouted command, “Leave the key,” stopped both men.

  The shorter of the two faced her and bowed. “You have the key to these restraints, princess
.”

  Oh. Odette would have known that. “Well,” she said, swallowing, “the fall…from the cliffs—you heard about the cliffs, right?—must have caused me to forget. You can, uh, leave us.” She waved toward the door, as princessy as possible. God, acting like someone other than who she was—like someone she’d never met—was not fun.

  The door shut with a soft clink.

  She rounded on her “prisoner,” closing the distance between them, stopping only when the edge of the bed forced her. Again, she wanted to touch him, but she couldn’t allow herself the luxury. Those teeth… He could take her jugular as a souvenir.

  “The key is in the drawer of the nightstand,” Nicolai said, breaking the silence first. “Use it.”

  Even his voice was a delight. A sensual feast of tones and nuances. Raspy, husky, a wisp of smoke. She shivered, licked her lips. “You might have summoned me or whatever, but you are not in charge. So listen up. I’ll get the key—after you tell me more about what’s going on.”

  “You and your ‘afters.’” He glared at her, the long length of his lashes fused together and shielding the uniqueness of his dual-colored irises. “This is blackmail.” As irritated as he appeared, he also seemed…proud.

  Why proud? In and out she breathed, luxuriating in the scent of sandalwood. Far stronger now than when she’d dreamed or read the book. “Yes, it’s blackmail, and I won’t back down.”

  Cruel of her, but she suspected the moment she released him, he’d feed first, then race out the door, leaving her behind without giving her a single answer. He had the look of a cornered panther, ready to bite and bolt. Plus, he hadn’t wanted to talk to her in the dungeon and wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t pressed him. Therefore, she would continue to press him.

  “Apparently, I’m risking a whipping by being here with you,” she added. “You kind of owe me.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he gritted.

  She’d graduated high school at the age of fifteen. Acquired her master’s at eighteen. Then, while working toward her doctorate, she’d joined a highly classified branch of the government to research unexplainable abilities and phenomenon, as well as find ways to accomplish the unexplainable. The only reason she’d quit and changed the focus of her studies to health sciences was to move back home and help her mother, who had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.

  “I think I can keep up,” she said dryly. She anchored her hands on her hips, the material pulling tight over her chest.

  His gaze lowered to her breasts, and his lips stretched taut over his teeth. “Very well. We’ll talk. After you straddle me.”

  She blinked at the sensual request, even as her body responded to him, readying for penetration. “What…why?”

  “You get what you want, I get what I want.”

  “Blackmail?” she parroted, not nearly as controlled as she sounded. Blood rushed through her veins at an alarming rate.

  “Yes.”

  Tempting. So tempting. And probably meant to cow her. “Well, I’m not caving.” One of them had to keep things on a business level.

  “Are you wet?”

  Breath caught in her throat. Clearly that someone was not Nicolai. Really, what kind of question was that? “I—I don’t even know you, of course I’m not… I can’t be…what you asked.”

  “Jane. I saw the way you looked at my cock. You can be. So. Are you wet?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, blushing. She’d done that a lot today. And just as clearly, she wasn’t that someone, either.

  “I’m hard for you.”

  I know. I sooo know. “That doesn’t matter.” Oh, God, that mattered. She wanted to introduce herself to that hardness properly. Meaning, a nice, firm handshake. “I mean, uh, are you planning to hurt me like you hurt the real Odette?”

  A beat of silence. “Odette, I hated. Jane, I crave.”

  Such sweet, intoxicating words, all the more potent because she couldn’t accuse him of only lusting for what was available. Laila, too, had wanted him in a bad, bad way, but he hadn’t wanted the princess at all. So, logically, Jane had to believe he was as attracted to her as she was to him. Yeah, logically. And not just because she was trembling and desperately wanted it to be true.

  He could simply be trying to soften her up.

  Oh, great. The upsetting thought poked its way from an ugly place inside her. A place that never wanted her to be happy. A place that felt she didn’t deserve to be happy. They’d been butting heads for months; more and more, she won the battles. Today, she might not.

  “If I hurt you, you would not help me,” he said in a silky tone. “I want you to help me, and I am not a foolish man.”

  No, he was a sexy one. “You’re a violent man. I know you are.”

  “Yes.”

  His honesty deflated her upcoming argument before she could start.

  “Do you fear me, little Jane?”

  “Maybe. What if you bite me? Or do that marking thing?”

  “You’ll like it, the bite and the marking, but I won’t do either until you beg. You have my word. Now. Straddle me,” he repeated. “I’m also capable of giving pleasure. Giving and taking. That’s what we’ll do here and now. Give and take pleasure while we talk.”

  Beg… Sweet heaven, she just might. Because deep inside, at the core of her femininity, she wanted to be with him. As if she’d been born for him, and him alone. Or bespelled. But even the thought of magic couldn’t dull her desire for this man. The desire was somehow as familiar as his scent.

  “I’m not taking off my robe. Or my panties. We just met. That would be, uh, tacky.” Idiot. “I’m trusting you to keep your word. And I’m only doing this for answers,” she lied.

  “Don’t care why. Just want to feel you.”

  Slowly, unsure, she climbed on top of him, placing a knee on each side of his waist. Her robe hiked up, revealing the length of her thighs. Just as slowly, she lowered her body until her female core brushed his erection. She gasped at the contact. He moaned.

  This was better than her fantasy. He was hot, so hot. Hard, so hard.

  “Talk,” she said, flattening her palms on his chest. Before she did what she’d said she wouldn’t and stripped out of her panties.

  He arched up, pressing more firmly against her. They moaned in unison, his heart drumming as erratically as hers. She liked that.

  A moment passed. “You said you enjoy puzzles,” he mentioned huskily. His gaze settled on her neck.

  Her pulse fluttered, as though happy to have gained his notice. “Yes.”

  “We fit together very nicely, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” God. How moronic she sounded. Yes this, and yes that. It was just, he’d fried her circuits. She was on top of him, poised over his cock. And she ached. Ached like a drug addict in need of a fix. Why else would she have practically thrown herself at a vampire?

  He waited. When she said no more, he arched his hips again. “What did you want to know, Jane?”

  She rubbed against him. An accident, she told herself, and just once, but enough to leave her sweating. “I want…to know…about you. About why you summoned me to free you?” There. She’d found her voice, without panting like she was climbing a mountain. Or a well-endowed man.

  “You never said,” she continued. “Do I look like Princess Odette or something?” If so, Odette and Laila must have been an odd sight. The blond giant and the brunette toddler. Jealous? “I mean, you told me that, in everyone else’s mind, I’m their princess.” She rubbed again, harder, but slow, so slow, and impossible to label as accidental. Need drove her. “But when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw, well, myself.”

  Little beads of perspiration formed on his brow as he met her, moving with her. “You look nothing like her. Yes, keep doing that.”

  “Then how does your magic work?” The tip of his erection brushed her most sensitive spot, and she moaned. “Why does everyone assume I’m her?”

  “When I summoned you, I also shift
ed my ability to cast illusions to you, projecting Odette’s image.” His chains rattled as he attempted to lower his arms. When he realized he couldn’t, he scowled. “To everyone around you, with the exception of me, you look and sound like her. But gods, you smell divine.”

  “So do you.” He’d spoken of intrinsic power. So very, very good…uh, interesting. Getting answers had never been this wonderfully agonizing in class. “Can you remove the illusion?”

  The leather of his loincloth was soft between her legs, a startling contrast to his erection, creating a dizzying friction. Her heart hammered against her ribs with so much force, she feared the bones would crack.

  She needed to slow down, or she would explode before the conversation ended.

  “No, I cannot. Not while we’re together. My power…they did something to me. Bound my abilities in some way, as surely as they bound my body.” He licked his lips, revealing and hiding his fangs. So sharp, so deadly. “Do you like this, Jane? Do I please you?”

  So much it scared her. “Yes.”

  “Lean down. Kiss me.”

  Another urge to obey… She stilled instead. Yes. She wanted to kiss him. Yet she knew that if she leaned down, if she kissed the breath out of his lungs as she wanted him to do to her, they would have sex. They wouldn’t be able to help themselves. Look how close she was to begging for it already!

  She couldn’t have sex with him. They were strangers. Worse, he was a vampire, a drinker of blood, and she’d studied his kind for research. Oh, God. Talk about a mood killer. If he ever found out, the mood wasn’t the only thing that would be killed.

  He wouldn’t find out, she assured herself before she could panic. Wasn’t like she’d tell him, and who else knew? No one. Although he might wonder why she knew more about his physiology than she should. Like the fact that he was alive, and not dead, with the same basic organ alignment as a human.

  Besides, she would return home at some point. She hoped. More than that, they were in danger and under a time crunch. She needed answers from him, not pleasure. Not kisses.

  Reluctantly she crawled off him and stood beside the bed. Her knees almost buckled. Amazing that she was able to maintain her balance, since her muscles had the consistency of Jell-O.