by Kresley Cole
“He lived?” Gaze narrowing, Lothaire had murmured, “Not for much longer.”
Ellie had barely kept him from searching out her old beau with intent to do murder.
Getting him to forgive Thaddeus was just as much of an uphill battle. “Come on, Lothaire,” Ellie had said. “He only wants to visit us at Hag’s. He can help guard me when you’re away.”
“Forget it.”
“He’s your best friend.” Not necessarily because Lothaire cared anything about Thaddeus, but because the boy cared more about Lothaire than anyone else in the Lore did.
“How do I know you won’t mortify him with more of your kisses?”
“Because you know I’m infatuated only with you. Besides, you can trust him. Any other man would have kissed me back.” When he remained unmoved, she’d cried, “You’re jealous of an eighteen-year-old boy!”
“He’s seventeen.”
Eventually, she’d won Lothaire over. Or so she’d thought. At Hag’s, he’d backed the boy into a wall, expression brimming with malice. “Elizabeth Daciano is my woman.”
Thad had swallowed. “And she sure is a nice one, Mr. Lothaire.”
“Keep your mouth to yourself today, boy, or your spine will decorate our mantel. . . .”
But after her fights with Lothaire, whenever he found her pensive, he surprised her with new gifts. He’d brought her jewels from all over the world. Ellie’s own jewels. She supposed the others were hers, too, but these new ones were special because he’d chosen them specifically for her.
Or he would surprise her with wicked sex. Her sensual vampire had so many tricks up his sleeve, and as he’d grown more comfortable controlling his strength with her, he’d unveiled one after another.
Yet each new move made her wonder how many stunning immortal females he’d practiced it on before her. He’d once told her he’d bedded a new one each night: fey courtesans, nymph barmaids, the occasional demon shepherdess.
But never a human of course—
He suddenly took her hand. Hers fit into his as if it were a glove made for her. She peeked up at him from under her lashes and sighed.
Lothaire was like a pale-haired god beside her.
He paused then, looking as if he’d say something, but he closed his mouth, walking on.
Would kill to know what you’re thinking. . . . Ellie didn’t want to break this tenuous truce with him, didn’t want to spoil this honeymoon period. But at the earliest opportunity, she needed to know how they were going to evict the goddess.
The night that they’d exchanged their vows, Ellie had been too frazzled by all the developments to realize something critical. When she’d asked him how they would get rid of Saroya, Lothaire had answered, “The ring’s still in play, is it not?”
Classic Lothaire-speak.
She’d been just as disingenuous, promising him that she would get past all the things he’d done to her. At the time, she would’ve said anything. She’d recognized that she had him on the ropes, and damn it, she’d wanted to live.
Now, even as she held his hand and leaned into his strong arm, she wondered if she could keep her word.
She did truly want to work through her resentment—instead of just lying to him about it and snapping her mental rubber band.
But how could she get past his treatment of her when everything he was doing now only reminded her of it?
His telling her she’d never see her family again brought to mind how he’d threatened them so cruelly. Not to mention the fact that he’d stuck her on death row. She tried to reason that he’d prevented Saroya from killing by locking Ellie away. She told herself that he’d saved lives.
Ellie told herself that a lot.
And though she’d taken Hag’s contraception potion, he still pulled out during sex. Not that she wanted to get pregnant right now or anything, but he must be horrified by the idea of a part-human heir.
Every time he left his seed anywhere but in her, he reminded her of all his many insults.
Weak mortal, stupid human. No one had ever made her feel so lacking.
It wasn’t as if he’d changed his mind about what she was, accepting her; he was merely looking forward to the time when she’d be made different.
Take away the difference in their species and they were still worlds apart. He was royalty. She was . . . Ellie. Does he still consider me just a “backward and vulgar hillbilly”? He’ll probably be embarrassed of me around others.
God, that hurts.
And how could she get comfortable with him, when she sensed how dangerous—and evil—he still was?
She’d been proud of him because he hadn’t wanted to behead his friend.
Way to set the bar there, Ellie. . . .
He stopped walking, drawing her close. “If you could have any gift, what would it be?” The breeze whipped his hair across his lean cheeks. “No expense is too great.”
“Paying off my family’s mountain. Maybe having a place near them.”
“Elizabeth . . .” he said warningly. In the moonlight, his eyes gleamed like an animal’s caught in a headlight.
“Alrighty then, maybe something for Balery? You could cross her out of your book!” Again and again, the fey had helped Ellie try to understand an enigma like Lothaire. The other night, Ellie had admitted that she’d be a goner for him if he could tweak just a few things.
Balery had replied, “You have to understand that he was born and raised in a world outside of the human realm, in a different time. Eons ago, he grew up in that ill-omened castle you saw, under the reign of a vicious despot—who was also his father. Even though Lothaire is one of the most intelligent males I’ve ever encountered, he has no wisdom about women’s feelings. None. Yours will be the first relationship he’s had with a lover, the learning curve precariously steep. . . .”
Now Lothaire said, “Hag’s debt is not yet satisfied. In any case, I was talking about a gift for you.” Plainly frustrated, he muttered, “Just forget it. You’ll simply have to endure it when I bring you more jewels.”
“Exactly how rich are you, Leo?”
He’d grown to like it when she called him that, because the name was theirs alone. Just as she’d grown to love being called Lizvetta in his raspy accent.
“We are obscenely rich. Befitting a king and queen. I will always provide for you.”
And only for me. Maybe she could secretly pawn some of her jewelry in the future, mail some cash to her family.
He tugged on her hand. “The water’s warm. Join me for a swim.”
Smile, Ellie. “You’ve got that look on your face. I’m about to get laid, aren’t I?”
After making short work of their clothes, he reached for her, palms landing on her ass with a measured slap.
She surprised herself by moaning throatily.
“Indeed,” he rasped, kneading her spanked flesh as he lifted her, forcing her legs around his waist. “You are about to get laid. . . .”
Some time later, with the waves crashing around them, Ellie screamed with pleasure, crying out his name like a prayer as she clung to his wet shoulders.
Directly after, he gave a brutal yell and jerked his shaft out of her. Heaving his breaths against her ear, he pumped semen between their slippery bodies.
So careful not to get me pregnant. That connection she’d felt the first time they’d had sex was missing now.
When he finally released her, she drew away to wash off his seed, her eyes pricking with tears.
“Lizvetta?” He grazed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Such strength in him, yet he could caress her so gently. “Look at me.” When she did, his gaze seemed to burn with emotion. “Have I hurt you, love?”
How could he make her heart melt so easily? When he looked at her like this, all her defenses crumbled. “No, it’s not that.”
In a hoarse voice, he told her, “You are mine. Your life is with me. Do not fight this.”
The tenderness in his tone made her want to throw her
arms around him and admit how much she cared for him.
But she forced herself to tell the truth. “Sometimes I have doubts—”
“Doubts?” Like a shot, he coiled a length of her hair around his fist, his expression altered from longing to menace. “The time for doubts has ended. This is a done thing, Bride.”
“Lothaire . . .”
“If we were ever parted, I would bring you back to me,” he rasped. “There is nowhere on earth that I couldn’t find you.”
From any other man, these words might be a promise about their future. From Lothaire, they were nothing more than a threat.
Put it with the others.
Snap!
“Nowhere, Elizavetta,” he repeated, his eyes aflame. Such a contrast to his earlier heartfelt sentiments.
It was as if two men stood before her, one who needed to love and be loved, and one who only wanted the Bride he believed was his by fate. Neither version knew how to love.
“I do understand that, Lothaire.”
Over the last couple of weeks, her rubber band had gotten so much play she had to wonder why it hadn’t broken yet.
44
S he isn’t in love with me, Lothaire thought as he dropped Elizabeth off at Hag’s.
This perplexed him exceedingly.
He’d pleasured his Bride, spoiled her, protected her. He wanted to give her immortality and make her royalty. He was the most handsome male she’d ever seen.
Yet she continued to hold something of herself back.
It maddened him to no end! Why would she cling to her wretched family? To her old life?
He had no answers—because he’d still dreamed none of his Bride’s memories. . . .
In greeting, Hag said, “Thaddeus asked about you earlier.” The fey sported streaks of purple paste on her hands and one cheek. “He wants to go on your revenge mission, to watch out for you.”
“Do pizdy. He’d do well to forget he ever knew me.”
Hag didn’t disagree. “Have you tried explaining to the boy what you’re really like?”
“I showed him. I tapped his neck within ten seconds of meeting him, directly after he helped me out of a tight spot.”
And from those meager drops of blood, he’d stolen Thaddeus’s memories easily enough. Lothaire had already experienced a couple of them, had dreamed of running in the sun, feeling the warmth on his skin.
No wonder his Bride dreaded the loss. “Why does no one believe I’m evil anymore?” he asked her.
“Oh, I do. Honest,” Elizabeth said solemnly before turning toward the bathroom. “Gonna wash off the salt water. Don’t leave till I get back!”
As he watched her saunter away, he thought, She doesn’t believe I’m evil, not really.
Yesterday when he returned to Hag’s to pick Elizabeth up, she’d been asleep. Carefully he’d lifted her into his arms, and she’d burrowed her face against his chest so trustingly. He’d gazed down at her, troubled, thinking, She still has no idea what I’m truly capable of, no idea what I’ve done.
What I would do to possess her forever.
Now he exhaled a gust of breath, sitting at the dining table. In a low tone, he asked the fey, “Does Elizabeth speak of me?” Hag gave a wary nod. “And? What are her feelings toward me?”
“They vary according to your behavior.” She dropped leaves into a pot. “Amazing how that works out.”
His gaze narrowed. “Watch yourself, Hag.” Again his mood was foul. He’d spent the day uselessly dreaming his own memories once more.
“She hasn’t told me that she loves you, if that’s what you want to know.”
It was. He needed Elizabeth to fall in love with him—because only then would he trust her loyalty to him.
Yet a lesser male might suspect that she still hated him for all his sins against her and merely bided her time until she could be free of him.
And free of Saroya.
Hag asked, “Do you not see her thoughts in dreams?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “None.” Even though he continued to sip from her.
Whenever he slept, Elizabeth was like a quiet blank spot in his mind. And no matter how much he prompted, she’d never told him of her feelings.
Yet nightly, she said or did something to remind him of how much she longed for her family.
Though he felt like a petty, jealous lover, he knew that if she was loyal to them, then she couldn’t be fully loyal to him. The situation would be ripe for betrayal, because she would choose their interests over his if a conflict ever arose.
And let’s be realistic, when would I not be in conflict with those ill-bred humans?
Severing contact with them was the wisest course. News reports held that Elizabeth had been mortally wounded in a botched prison escape. Her family would believe her dead.
“You’re ceding your heart to her,” Hag observed.
He gazed in Elizabeth’s direction. “She is”—he paused, then admitted—“treasured. If anything should happen to me, you are to protect her. Search for a way to free her.”
The fey nodded. “Speaking of something happening to you, Dorada’s been felt in the South, near the Valkyrie coven in Louisiana.”
The sorceress had previously lived in the Amazon; now she was in Louisiana? He’d bet the hideous mummy and her Wendigo lackeys were hiding out in the swamp basin.
“I’ll go there this eve.” He would trace to a bayou bar called Erol’s, one frequented by scores of immortals. Perhaps Dorada had journeyed to that area because of the Lore energy. Or perhaps she’d sensed he had been there recently.
“Has Saroya risen?” Hag asked.
“Once. While Elizabeth slept.” The girl had never even known.
He’d wasted no time castigating Saroya, taking out his fury at himself on her. “You knew you weren’t my fucking Bride!”
“Are you so sure?”
How could he ever have been fooled? “You’re not mine. I’d seek a noon-day sun if paired with you.” Hadn’t he told Elizabeth the same thing? He flinched when he thought of how incredibly much he’d insulted her. “You knew all along that I had no fated tie to you.”
“I used your own arrogance as a weapon against you. Such a plentiful arsenal. Besides, deep down you recognized Elizabeth as yours but refused to accept it. Which is understandable in the extreme, Lothaire. Regardless, you’ll forsake her for me, because you still want your crowns.” She’d gazed down at Elizabeth’s body with contempt. “Even though you’re obviously mating with her.”
“I’ll find another way to get my kingdoms.”
“If you discover a way for a vampire to break a vow to the Lore, do let me know. . . .”
His vows bound him like shackles, forcing him onto a path from which he could not veer.
They compelled him to search tirelessly. In order to spend time with Elizabeth, he had to resist the compulsion, but could only do so for limited amounts of time.
She returned then, showered, dressed, carrying a loaded breakfast plate. “Will you play nice with all the other little vampires when you’re out searching tonight?”
He ignored Hag’s inquiring look. He knew the oracle wondered what his Endgame was now.
Lothaire only wished it were as clear as it’d been for the millennia before. “Of course.” He stood. “I leave now.”
“At least kiss me like you’ll miss me, Leo,” Elizabeth demanded in a saucy tone that made him want to do nothing more than trace her back to their bed. “Else I won’t think you’re sweet on me.”
The corners of his lips curled. He liked her accent now. Even if he hadn’t started to find her mountain drawl sexy, it was an asset for her—people heard her speak and saw her beauty and underestimated her.
Just as he had. Sucker punch. But no longer. Each day with her, he was learning what a formidable female she was.
Whenever they traveled, her keen mind soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Teaching her proved rewarding, enjoyable. And experiencing those lo
cales with her cast them in a new light, making them exciting for him once more.
She made him feel young and alive.
Elizabeth Daciano was a drug to a male like Lothaire.
So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that she was drifting away from him?
He bent down to press his lips to hers, taking her soothing scent within him. “Will you worry for me when I’m gone?”
She shook her head. “But I’ll pity anyone who crosses you.”
His chest bowed. Like a drug, Elizavetta . . .
Reluctantly he traced away. As soon as he appeared in Erol’s oyster-shell parking lot, he perceived a heavy presence. Dorada was nearby.
Rain drizzled, thunder rumbling. Music blared from inside the dilapidated shack of a bar. The scents of so many of his enemies muddled together in one place had him wishing he’d brought a mystical bomb. To eradicate them all so easily . . .
No. Focus.
He crossed to the black water’s edge, spying an old duck blind far out in the middle of a cove. Tracing to the blind, he crouched atop it, listening for Dorada.
Over the strengthening rain, he heard only expected sounds—reptiles gliding through the swamp, a stray Valkyrie shriek. He scented the wet air, perceived a faint trace of Dorada’s rotted skin, but couldn’t pinpoint its source.
In the past, he would have waited here until dawn, stalking his enemy, envisioning their upcoming battle in gory detail.
Now he was impatient, knowing his thoughts would grow more chaotic every moment he was away from Elizabeth.
Lightning forked out above, momentarily setting the bayou aglow. The reflective eyes of Lore creatures flashed all around the water. None were his prey.
Where are you, Dorada? He didn’t have time to pursue her—
His head jerked around as he caught that scent once more. He lunged into a trace, landing at the perimeter of the bayou, spinning in place. The smell seemed to come from all around him.
Then I’ll scour every inch of this godsforsaken mire. Half tracing, half sprinting, he began to cover ground, dematerializing through thickets of briars, then charging around trees.