One Bite

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Kirill hadn’t meant to speak out loud. Still, he was among allies. Of everyone in the entire kingdom, he trusted Demyan perhaps most of all. Not for sentimental reasons, but because he was a koschei, an immortal whose soul existed outside his body. Long ago, Kirill had managed to find the place where Demyan kept his soul and he now held it in a secret location where Demyan couldn’t find it. At first the man had raged against Kirill’s demands that he serve Kirill as a manservant until the day Kirill took the throne as king, but after a few decades, the immortal had softened and now served Kirill with something bordering on true loyalty.

  “There was an attempt on her life just earlier this evening,” Kirill admitted. “At the troll king’s home. I didn’t think anything of it, I didn’t…”

  “I have lived with that threat of violence, with that incessant fear, for nearly my entire life.”

  Irina’s words came back to him on a memory and he clenched his hands into fists. This was unacceptable. He was too old, too intelligent to make such foolish mistakes. Irina was an important part of his plans now. He needed to find this threat that kept risking her life and destroy it.

  “Poison,” Isai said grimly. He stood over Irina and held his hand above her body. After murmuring a few words in a language Kirill didn’t understand, the wizard jerked his hand down. A bright flash exploded around Irina’s body and her upper half shot up off the floor before flopping back down.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Klement. He scrambled to put the balm back against Irina’s head.

  “Calm yourself, healer,” Isai said, his tone dripping with contempt. “The woman is not human. The poison wasn’t killing her, it was the spell bound to the poison that was harming her. Without the spell, the poison is just so much plant juice.” He turned to Kirill and bowed his head, the closest the wizard ever came to showing respect. “She will be fine, Your Ma—”

  Kirill was off the floor and had his hand wrapped around Isai’s throat before the magic wielder could finish speaking. “In the future,” he said quietly, “you will be more careful with my guests. If you had been wrong, about the spell, the poison, or the woman’s nature, then you could have done great harm with your arrogance.” He tightened his grip, relishing the garbled sound coming from Isai, his golden eyes growing wider. He released him suddenly and stepped back. “Thank you for your services. You may go now.”

  The wizard stood there for a moment, his eyes growing bright with rage. Kirill kept a straight face as magic crackled in the room, responding to the wizard’s fury. The fool could rant all he wanted to, they both knew he wouldn’t dare hurt Kirill. Not when Kirill was in possession of Isai’s most precious book of spells. The wizard had to continue to serve Kirill faithfully until he became king, otherwise Kirill had promised to destroy the book.

  After a few more moments of posturing, the wizard snarled and whipped around. He swept out of the room like a parting storm.

  “Whatever his temperament, he was right, Your Majesty,” the healer said quietly.

  “Arrogance costs lives, it doesn’t save them,” Kirill muttered. Still, he looked down at Irina and felt a nearly crushing wave of relief to find her chest rising and falling steadily with her breath. “Get her to bed, please, Klement.” He stood. “Demyan, come with me.”

  As soon as they were out in the hallway, Kirill rounded on Demyan. “Did you lockdown the palace?”

  “Yes, Your Highness, and I’ve checked the castle wards. No one has tried to get out.” He shifted from foot to foot.

  Kirill frowned. “But?”

  “There is someone trying to get in. Lady Serafina would like to see you.”

  Kirill froze. Serafina. Curse her timing. He didn’t have to look at the clock to know that sunrise was less than an hour away. The sorceress had planned this visit too well, as she always did. With a muttered curse, Kirill stormed down the hallway, making his way to the front door. He nodded to the guards and they opened the heavy oak, revealing Serafina in all her finest. Red silk exploded around her like the petals of an exotic flower. Silver jewelry graced her ears, neck and wrists, sparkling enough to nearly blind him. The bodice was laced so tightly Kirill imagined it was hard for her to breathe, but it did its job of thrusting out her breasts in an erotic feast for the eyes. On any other evening, Kirill would have taken the time to appreciate the sight. However, tonight he had more important things on his mind.

  “Kirill, darling,” Serafina said, holding out her hand. “How delightful to see you. I do hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time?”

  It took more effort than Kirill wanted to admit to keep the snarl from his face. “Not at all,” he said smoothly, leaning down to lay a kiss on her hand. “Though I’m afraid I was about to retire for the day.”

  “Oh, yes, how silly of me.” Serafina swept past him and into the sitting room just off the main foyer, leaving Kirill to trail after her. “I was just out and about and a little birdie told me you’d been looking for me.” She turned and seated herself on the loveseat. “Were you?”

  Kirill tore his mind away from Irina and forced himself to focus on Serafina. For the first time that he could remember, Kirill didn’t want to speak with the sorceress. Right now, Irina was more valuable to him than Serafina’s vague prophecies and cloudy information. The tidbits he used to be so desperate for seemed to pale in comparison to the real world connections his fair maiden had and right now he needed to get some sleep so he could begin looking into the attempts on her life.

  “Am I boring you, Kirill?”

  The icy tone warned Kirill that he was in danger of making an enemy. He offered Serafina a seductive smile and slid onto the loveseat beside her. “My Lady, how could I possibly be bored with you?”

  “Do not patronize me, Kirill.”

  The frost in her voice stopped him cold. Kirill’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. He raised his right hand to take hers, letting his left drop to where the blade lay strapped to his side. His mind spun quickly and he decided the best defense would be a good offense.

  “Sera, do not toy with me. Pretending that it is I who have lost interest is beneath you. You know that I have been searching for you. When will you stop running from me? When will you stop visiting right before dawn, when you know that my time with you is limited?” He leaned in baring his fangs slightly as he dragged his gaze down the graceful slope of her neck. He tried to force seduction into his voice, but it felt strange when it wasn’t Irina sitting beside him. “Must I drag you to my bed to get the answers I want from you?”

  She tried to turn away from him, but Kirill growled low in his throat and grabbed her chin. Pushing thoughts of Irina from his mind, he covered Serafina’s mouth with his own. Her soft lips did not part as willingly as they used to and Kirill didn’t know if her passion for him had waned or if it was he who had moved on.

  Furious with himself and with his circumstances, Kirill dragged a fang across her lip. Blood swelled and his senses flooded with need. He was hungry.

  A dam seemed to burst in Serafina and she folded against his body, surrendering to the kiss. Her tongue danced along his lip and he had to fight not to bite it. The desire that had always come willingly enough when he romanced her seemed beyond his reach somehow. His bloodlust was similar, but he wasn’t certain he could maintain the charade.

  He tore his mouth from the kiss, needing to stop, to think for a moment. How could he concentrate on manipulating the sorceress when Irina was lying upstairs in his bed, recovering from a second attempt on her life?

  “Kirill, bond yourself with me.”

  No other words could have shocked him more. Kirill jerked away without meaning to, staring at Serafina. His mouth opened slightly before he remembered to close it, struggling to regain his composure. The blush on Serafina’s cheeks almost made him sick as a sudden sense that he had somehow betrayed Irina took hold of him.

  “Do not look so shocked, Kirill,” Serafina purred. “You know that is where this has be
en going, where it’s always been going. You have such a beautiful, calculating mind, Kirill. You will be king someday, of that I have no doubt. And I can help you.”

  She laid her palm against his cheek. Kirill could do little more than blink. The sorceress had to have gone insane. Bond with her? She had never even trusted him with the location of her home, had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t trust him. He struggled to make his brain work. What could she possibly be thinking?

  “Kirill, have I not always been there to help you?”

  “Of course,” Kirill answered automatically. It was the truth. Serafina had always been there with helpful advice, aiding Kirill in his hoarding of power. Still, when it came to what he truly wanted to know, the World Tree prophecy, she had always offered him just enough to make him believe she knew something, but had always stopped short of telling him something he didn’t already know.

  “Sera, a bond between a vampire and his partner is forever,” Kirill said slowly, carefully. “Why would you want to be tied to me so?”

  “You do not believe I have feelings for you?” She pouted and traced a finger down his jawbone.

  “I would hope you have feelings for me,” Kirill assured her, scrambling to stay in control. He gave himself a hard mental kick. Seduction was second nature to him, one of the most infamous tools of the trade in politics. Why was he all of a sudden like an untried boy, bumbling about and sticking his foot in his mouth? Irina, what have you done to me?

  “But?” Serafina pulled back, the soft look in her eyes hardening until her irises were chips of glass.

  “Let us not have this conversation now, not when I must sleep soon,” Kirill insisted, forcing a smile on his face. He tried to offer her a convincing leer. “If we are going to discuss bonding together, then I want to be able to celebrate…properly.”

  Serafina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, my darling. I will see you when the sun sets.”

  Chapter 11

  Irina’s eyes burned as she stared into the rising sun. The breeze slid its icy fingers through her wet hair and sent a shiver down her spine. Despite the cold and the dazzling light, Irina stood stock still…waiting. As soon as the sun was fully above the horizon she could leave, without any fear that Kirill would follow her. If he would even be inclined to do so.

  “Why are you crying?”

  A gravelly voice made her turn. A stone form turned to fully face her, grey wings making a strange rocky sound as they moved. It had an almost feline head with thick paws and sharp teeth. It thick body reminded Irina of a jungle cat, only smaller. If it had fur, the illusion would be complete. Irina tried to summon a smile for the little gargoyle, but she couldn’t quite manage it. Kirill’s words kept coming back to her.

  “Sera, do not toy with me. You know that I have been searching for you. When will you stop running from me? When will you stop visiting right before dawn, when you know that my time with you is limited?…Must I drag you to my bed to get the answers I want from you?”

  He calls her Sera. Irina couldn’t get that thought out of her mind. She hadn’t meant to spy, had only wanted to let Kirill know that she was all right, and to thank him for saving her life again. The last thing she’d expected to find was the vampire prince wooing her stepmother. It shouldn’t hurt this bad, she thought sadly. She should just be grateful that the sorceress hadn’t noticed her. Who knows? Kirill might have killed her himself just to win Serafina’s aid in becoming king.

  “Irina?”

  She raised her eyebrows, the gargoyle’s use of her name drawing her back to the present. “How did you know my name?”

  The gargoyle tilted its head. “All of the creatures in the kingdom know your name. Your father made sure of it.”

  “My father?” Irina’s eyes filled with tears, this time for her father. She turned to face the gargoyle, her thoughts finally moving away from the unexpected pain of Kirill’s wandering affection. “You knew my father?”

  The gargoyle nodded. “Your father was a wise man. He was loved by many creatures in this kingdom, and that is not an easy task,” the gargoyle said solemnly. “He cared for you very much. He wanted to make certain that you would be looked out for even if he passed.”

  “He didn’t pass,” Irina hissed. “He was killed by that sorceress. That sorceress who was here not an hour ago, practically in the lap of the prince who’s been feigning kindness to me.” She crossed her arms, looking toward the sun. “And besides, my father married that horrible woman. Nothing put me in more danger than that.”

  “Your father married a woman who taught you everything that he could not. He was a good man who made friends easily, but he was hopeless at true politics and even more lost with magic.” The gargoyle shrugged. “Not unusual for a human.”

  Irina fought to keep the surprise off her face. She hadn’t thought anybody knew about her father’s lineage. His bond with her mother, a type of water nymph called the berehynia, had kept him immortally young and given him a slight magical aura just through that bond. To her knowledge, everyone had just assumed he was a weaker fey. When she looked back at the gargoyle, it was staring at her with a knowing gleam in its eyes.

  “Your father’s charm was all personality. Glamour had nothing to do with it.”

  It was a compliment and Irina took it as such. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the cold. “Quite the opposite of Kirill,” she murmured. “That vampire has no respect for friendship or love. Not surprising, considering his family, but still.” She cleared her throat, angry with herself for getting choked up. “I thought I saw something in him.”

  “Then leave.”

  Irina jerked around, her lips parting in surprise at the gargoyle’s simple, cold statement. “What?”

  “You think so little of the prince, then leave.”

  Something about the gargoyle’s words made Irina think it was angry with her, but both its face and tone remained completely calm and neutral. She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The gargoyle shrugged. “You think Prince Kirill is cold and calculating to the point of being incapable of true affection.”

  “I never said that!”

  “I’m older than this castle, you didn’t need to say it. You have that mopey look on your face that women get when they think their affections are not being returned. Based on what I’ve seen of you and Prince Kirill, I can only assume it is he who has put that look on your face.”

  Irina turned away, a lump rising in her throat. “I was hidden away for so long,” she said quietly. “And it was all right, I didn’t mind. I have friends who visited me and my daily walks with my huntsman.” She cleared her throat. “Kirill is quite intense. And maybe I do feel something for him. But his actions could not speak any clearer. Kirill cares about attaining the throne, he has no time to care for anything else.” Except my stepmother, apparently.

  “So as I said before,” the gargoyle said calmly, “why don’t you just leave?”

  Memories of Kirill and his kisses filled Irina’s head. She was a descendent of the rusalki, it was only natural that she would feel such sensations so strongly. But that wasn’t enough. She would not share the bed of someone who could not love her, or would not love her. It was time she admitted that Kirill did not have more to offer her. Shoulders slumping, Irina finally nodded. “You’re right. I should leave now, before things grow more complicated.”

  The gargoyle stared after her as she moved back into the bedroom and grabbed her cloak. With the royal family asleep in their hidden coffins, there was no one to stop Irina from leaving. Not that Kirill would want to stop her anyway. She’d served her purpose, he would probably be glad to see her leave.

  Just as she had last time, Irina sang on her way through the various hallways, charming the castle’s inhabitants. It wasn’t a strong spell, which was what made it so effective. The magic was only barely there, not enough to put anyone’s defenses up, but just enough to walk ou
t the front door unmolested. If the castle’s layout wasn’t so convoluted, it wouldn’t have taken her so bloody long to get out.

  The walk back to the dwarves’ cottage wasn’t far, but it felt like eternity. The wind nipped at her cheeks, and she huddled into her cloak. The boots she wore were the same that she had worn to the troll king’s court, better than slippers, but still not ideal for trudging through snow. Halfway to her destination, Irina paused to rest under a sprawling tree. The thick, black, twisted branches broke up the white sky as Irina leaned against the trunk and looked up. She was tired and sad, and for the first time in her life, she just wanted to sit and wallow in her misery for a moment.

  “Child, whatever has brought such sadness to your face?”

  Irina raised her gaze to see an old woman on the forest path. Her face was withered by the cold, but her soft grey eyes were kind. She was dressed in a simple, but clean red cloak over green peasant garb. A basket of apples hung from one arm.