Lord of the Vampires rhos-1

by Gena Showalter

  So. Either his abilities—whatever they were—were responsible, or someone had used magic to draw him away from her. The first was more likely. As strong as Nicolai was becoming, she doubted anyone would be able to simply spell him someplace anymore. Because, if that were the case, Laila would have done it days ago.

  Laila. The bitch was a problem. A big one. As long as she was out there, Nicolai would be hunted, in danger. Jane could turn herself in, she supposed, and try to convince the princess to leave “the slave” alone. Would that help, though? Having tasted the man herself, she knew how impossible it would be to forget him.

  Laila probably craved him more than the air she breathed. The thought alone caused jealousy to rise up, sharp and biting. Jane ignored the unproductive response. A few problems with turning herself in. One, Laila could wield magic. Jane could not. Two, Jane’s secret could be found out. And if the queen whipped her own daughter, what would she do to an enemy impersonating one of her children? Three, what if Nicolai followed her to Delfina? He could be captured again, his memories wiped. His body used.

  His body belonged to Jane. No one else.

  She rolled to her side, clutching the pillow to her middle, suddenly reminded of the day she had received Nicolai’s book. She’d read a few passages and had thought of him for hours afterward. She had been obsessed with him, really. After reading a few more passages, she had fantasized about him, practically making love to her pillow. Then, she had gone to him.

  Maybe she could reach him again.

  She closed her eyes and imagined him inside her cabin, puttering around, fixing things, then seducing her into bed. There, he touched her, stripped her. Kissed her, tasted her. Consumed her. Goose bumps spread. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath, the slick glide of his skin.

  “Nicolai,” she breathed.

  Jane.

  His voice, so deep, so familiar. For a moment, she experienced a wave of dizziness, felt as if she were floating. Then the mattress was beneath her again, and…cold. Cold? In less than a second, the mattress had gone from warmed to chilled. Impossible. Unless— Her eyelids popped open, hope unfurling.

  Hope dying. She hadn’t whisked to Nicolai. She was inside her cabin. On her own bed.

  Jane jolted upright, trying to suck air into her lungs. A knot formed in her throat, and nothing could penetrate it. No. She couldn’t be here. No, no, no. She popped to her feet, nearly toppling as her knees shook. She rushed around, stumbling a few times, grabbing her knickknacks to see if they were real or imagined.

  Please be imagined.

  They were solid, dusty, as if they hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. They were real. She choked back a sob.

  No! Tears blurred her vision. She swiped her arms over her dresser, knocking everything to the floor. A glass vase shattered. A hairbrush clattered. How the hell had she gotten here? She’d wanted to be with Nicolai. She needed to be with him and had to get back. She would get back.

  She just had to figure out how.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JANE RAGED FOR HALF AN HOUR. Panicked for an hour after that. Then she did what she did best—reasoned. There was a logical explanation for what had happened. There always was. So, she brushed her teeth, showered and redressed in her robe. No way she’d dress in jeans and a T-shirt. She didn’t belong here anymore, and wouldn’t dress as if she did.

  She belonged there. With Nicolai.

  She stretched out on her bed, and her comforter plumped around her. Okay. She could do this. What had she been doing before she’d ended up here? Lying in bed, just like this, thinking about Nicolai. Imagining the two of them making love, actually. Good, that was good. She would just do that again.

  She cleared her mind with a little shake of her head, drew in a deep breath, released the air…slowly…and forced her muscles to relax. A picture of Nicolai rose front and center. Dark hair shagging around his head, silver eyes liquid with desire. For her. Lips parted as he breathed shallowly, his own desire raging. His fangs peeked out.

  Her stomach quivered, but other than that, nothing happened. No dizziness, no movement whatsoever. Keep going. In her mind, she saw him remove his shirt, slowly pulling the material over his head. His skin, his beautifully bronzed skin, glistened exquisitely. His nipples were small and brown, utterly lickable. That scrumptious trail of hair lead from his navel to a cock she’d once loved with her mouth.

  Warm moisture pooled between her legs. But again, no floating, no changing locations.

  Damn it. She hadn’t been this unsuccessful since the age of eight, when she’d read about making synthetic diamonds in the microwave. Diamonds she’d hoped to present to her mother on her birthday. The charcoal bricks and peanut butter necessary for the conversion had survived the lengthy cook time. The dish she’d put them in had not. Neither had the microwave.

  A chuckle escaped her as she suddenly recalled her mother’s reaction. They’d been standing in the kitchen, her darling mother looking through the thick, dark smoke to Jane, who was holding the book that explained exactly how to do it. Her disbelieving expression was comical.

  “Diamonds?” her mother asked.

  “I followed every step, didn’t miss a single one.”

  Her mother coughed as she claimed the book. Several minutes passed before she turned her attention to the blackened mess inside the microwave. “You followed every step, did you?”

  “Yes!”

  “And you used a Pyrex dish?”

  Jane blinked. “P-Pyrex?”

  Dizziness caused the image to waver, fade, and that dizziness caused a bubble of excitement to burst through her chest. This was it. She was returning….

  The moment the dizziness passed, she popped open her eyelids and sat up. For a moment, her unfamiliar surroundings simply couldn’t register. She was perched on a linoleum floor in the center of a kitchen. There was a stainless-steel stove, a sink, scuffed cabinets. The layout was familiar—she’d just seen it in her mind—but the colors were not.

  Once, the walls had been painted yellow. Now they were painted blue. Once, the refrigerator had been silver. Now it was black. Still she knew. This had been her kitchen. She’d grown up here. Her mother had stood just in front of that sink, coughing from the smoke wafting from the microwave. A high-pitched scream suddenly echoed, a jumble of words following. “Intruder! Thief! Murderer! What the hell are you doing here?” a woman gasped from behind her. “Who are you? Get out! Get out right now! Billy, call 9-1-1.”

  Jane whipped around, instinctively holding up her hands in a you-can-trust-me gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Absolute fear coated the woman’s features. She grabbed a knife from the counter, waving the sharp tip in Jane’s direction. “That’s what all the psychos say.”

  Jane backed away.

  “Billy!”

  “What?” a sleepy male voice growled from around the corner.

  Oh, crap. Reinforcements. Remembering the house’s layout, Jane bolted, heading straight for the front door. She raced into the morning sunlight, the length of her robe tangling around her feet. And sure enough, she was in her old neighborhood. Not much had changed. The houses were small, a little run-down and crowded too close together.

  Fearing the woman and her Billy would give chase—and grab a shotgun—she sprinted about half a mile along the gravel road, turned sharply and ducked behind Mrs. Rucker’s giant oak. She’d hidden here a lot as a kid.

  She was panting and sweating as she slid to her ass. And damn. Her feet throbbed. The little rocks had sliced them to ribbons.

  Well, that was fun. Not. What the hell had just happened?

  She ran the variables through her mind, weighed each of the possible outcomes, compared them and discarded all but one. His blood. She’d had Nicolai’s blood; he’d fed it to her to heal her. His abilities must have transferred to her. Like him, she could move from one place to the other, disappearing and reappearing. In essence, teleporting.

  She just had to
picture where she wanted to go, and boom. She was there in a snap. Amazement filled her. She’d studied the manipulation of macroparticles for years before she’d succeeded in teleporting plastic, basically faxing a small portion from one station to another. Now, to move a living being between planes with only a thought…it was everything she’d worked for, gift-wrapped and handed to her.

  So, when she’d imagined her old kitchen, she had traveled to her old kitchen. Before, in that town, she had imagined Nicolai in her bed, and had therefore traveled back to her bed. So simple, so easy, an answer that made sense. Finally.

  She could return to her man.

  She was grinning as she closed her eyes and pictured the quaint little bedroom she’d previously occupied. The wooden tub, the feathered bed. Yes, the bed. Where she’d sprawled, hoping Nicolai would find her.

  Dizziness rolled through her, and she couldn’t contain her gasp of excitement. Next time she opened her eyes, she would be there. Back in Delfina. And if she retained this ability, she would never have to worry about losing Nicolai to magic again. She could stay with him always. If she didn’t retain it automatically, she could drink from him every day to ensure that she did.

  “Well, well,” a female voice said. “There you are, using your magic to become invisible again. Who were you spying on this time, sister dear?”

  Dread replaced Jane’s excitement as she opened her eyes. She was in the little room, all right, but that room was now overflowing with Laila and her soldiers. Two of them held a teary-eyed woman. The very woman who had brought Jane here, who had fed her, clothed her.

  Laila stood at the edge of the bed, peering down at her. There was no sign of Nicolai.

  Slowly Jane sat up. Careful. “Yes, I was using my invisibility again.” As far as lies went, that was a good one. Irrefutable. “How did you find me?”

  “Is that any way to greet your loving sister? A sister who has searched and searched for you, desperate to save you from a madman’s clutches.”

  A thought hit her: despite traveling between worlds, the Odette mask was still in place. Sweet! But really, Jane knew if Laila had “searched and searched” for her, it had been to slay her and claim Nicolai for her own. Two could play the deceit game, however.

  “Thank you for saving me, darling. All I’ve done these past few days is miss you.”

  Emerald eyes narrowed to tiny slits.

  “Now,” Jane added before Laila could reply. “What are you doing to the woman?”

  “Oh.” Laila waved a dismissive hand. “I knew you were here, I could sense your magic, but I couldn’t find you and feared she had killed you.” Was that relish in her tone?

  “As you can see, she didn’t.” As she spoke, she said a prayer that Nicolai did not come for her, yet. She didn’t want him walking in on this. Didn’t want Laila to see him.

  “True.” Laila twisted and eyed the guards holding her. “She’s no longer of any use to us. Dispose of her.”

  “Dispose of her” had better not mean… A third guard stepped up behind the woman, who had begun to flail and panic, grabbed her by the jaw and jerked, breaking her neck in seconds. Her body sagged forward, going limp. Lifeless.

  Jane could only gape in shock, in horror. “Wh-why did you do that?”

  The guards dragged the body away, and Laila shrugged. “She irritated me.”

  “You…” Bitch. The urge to murder the princess flashed white-hot through her veins. And she’d once thought herself unready for such an act.

  That she remained in place, seemingly unaffected, saved her. There was a little voice of reason in the back of her head, reminding her that she was outnumbered and outgunned.

  Jane had never been a violent person. Perhaps Nicolai’s dark side was rubbing off on her, too, because she liked the thought of hurting Laila. Welcomed it. One day, I will destroy you.

  Laila eased onto the mattress, pressing close. Jane barely stopped herself from scooting away in disgust. “Now, sister dear, we have much to discuss.”

  NICOLAI REMAINED IN the shadows, bypassing huts and outdoor vendors pedaling their wares. Jane’s scent, so sweet…stronger now…so close…mixed with a hundred others. Some rotten, pungent. Some sweat soaked, some magic ripe.

  Laila and her army were here.

  The moment realization struck, he stopped caring about stealth. He leaped into action, feet hammering at the ground. The citizens paused when they spotted him, some doing a double take. Murmurs soon arose.

  Did they know him?

  He caught words like prince and dead, each a question. They did know him, then. Knew he was a prince of Elden. They’d thought him dead. Did they think the same about his family?

  He almost stopped to question them. Almost. Jane was in danger. That preceded everything. He quickened his pace. His intense sense of smell took him to a little hut at the edge of the town. Guards spilled from it, filing into the streets. There were even guards posted at the neighboring homes, all watching and waiting for their princess.

  Nicolai returned to the shadows. Thankfully no one in this area had noticed him. People were perched in front of their windows, nervously eyeing the guards. Potential allies?

  Some were witches, but most were humans. Humans who had crossed into this realm throughout the centuries, for whatever reason. They had congregated here, settled and sprouted roots. That had been a mistake, for this town was part of Delfina and under the rule of the Queen of Hearts. They couldn’t help him.

  He drew in a heated breath, released it. Well, he didn’t need help. He was a prince. A vampire. Powerful beyond imagining. He had led an army of his own, had conquered kingdoms and female hearts. He could absorb the abilities of others, and it was time he used that to his advantage—and not accidentally.

  Eyes narrowing, he homed in on the house. Jane was inside. He felt her energy, as sweet as her scent and…now blended with his own. He gave a primitive grunt of approval. Mine. He had done more than mark her; he had branded her. I’m coming for you, sweetheart.

  He switched his focus to Laila. She was rotten to her core, with a scent to match. Magic swirled inside her, dark and potent. Ability after ability, honed over centuries of living with such a slowly ticking clock. He rifled through them.

  She could hypnotize others; that could aid him, yes, but she could only entrance one person at a time. She could heal her own wounds. He could already do that. She could cause wounds. Another maybe. She could spark false desire. No. A muscle ticked in his jaw, though. How many times had she used that ability on him?

  Doesn’t matter. He continued his search, discarding…discarding… There! Remote viewing, like what he’d done inside the palace with Jane. Perfect, and now his earlier ability made sense. He wondered how many times Laila had used the ability on him. Watched him without his knowledge.

  No matter the answer, she would never be able to do so again.

  He grabbed on to the ability and gave a soft mental tug, drawing it closer and closer to him. A little more…just a little more… His chest puffed as his every cell suddenly absorbed the magic necessary to see places he could not physically reach. Still he kept tugging, and tugging, and tugging. Drawing the magic away from her and into him.

  Laila wouldn’t know what he was doing. His victims never did, until it was too late. Right now, she would be experiencing only mild fatigue. If he attempted to draw all of her abilities, all of her power, however, she would know and could try to stop him, erecting mental blocks.

  Suddenly his mind opened up. In a blink, he was looking at Jane, as if he were sitting beside her. Only, he saw her through Laila’s eyes. And Laila saw the mask. Saw Odette. Odette’s dark hair, Odette’s green eyes. Her too-long nose and thick jowls.

  Knowing Jane rested under that mask was enough to light his body on fire and soothe the sharpest edges of his fear for her safety. She was alive, unharmed. He would have her again.

  “What did the slave do to you? Tell me before I perish from worry.” Laila ruined the e
ffect of the demand with a yawn.

  Jane fluffed her hair, every inch the princess. “Like you said before, he desired me. I desired him, one thing led to another, and we were steaming up the forest, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you bespell him to desire you?” Each word was tauter than the last. “You must have. Otherwise, he would be with you now. Yet, I have caught no sign of him. So where is he?”

  “No, I didn’t bespell him.” Jane offered no more.

  “Then how did you elicit his desire? He hated you, tried to kill you. You did something, I know you did. Just admit it.”

  Jane smirked over at her, and it was a glorious sight. “Hold on to your panties, Laila dear, because this might shock you. I—wait for it—treated him with respect. You should try it sometime. You might be delighted with the results.”

  Hate burned through Laila so relentlessly, Nicolai felt the heat of it inside his own body. “You lie. You’ve never treated anyone with respect. I doubt you even know what the word means.”

  “Are we showing our claws now, darling? Because I promise you, mine are sharper.”

  Pride filled him. No one would doubt she was Odette now. Not even the queen herself. She wore confidence as snugly as a cloak.

  “I will ask you one more time,” Laila gritted out.

  “Or what?”

  “Where. Is. He?”

  “Dead.” A casual shrug. “He’s dead.”

  Laila’s mouth dropped open, a strangling sound emerging. “You killed him?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” Jane threw her legs over the mattress, and winced. They must be paining her, he thought, wishing he were there to ease her hurts. She straightened. “Now, let’s go home. I’m eager to sleep in my own bed.”

  Laila remained in place and crossed her arms over her middle. “Where’s his body?”

  “I fed it to the ogres, of course,” she replied blithely. “What’s with all the questions, anyway? Nicolai did not belong to you.”

  She was giving him what he’d told her he wanted, he thought. A chance to destroy Laila, undetected. Time to reach Elden, to kill the new king. And yes, the urgency was still there, simmering inside him, stronger with every minute that passed, but he still couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave her.