Rebirth of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 6)

by Bella Klaus

  The bodyguards marched at my back, forming a wall of smoky magic. As we travelled through the ward of transparent booths, healers, patients, and visitors murmured their greetings to Valentine and bowed.

  Valentine strode ahead, not acknowledging the people as he usually did, and eliciting some peculiar glances. Even before we’d started courting and he was just the Vampire King, he’d always seemed more approachable. Now, he was just arrogant and aloof.

  At the end of the hallway, another trio of bodyguards stood in front of a set of double doors, which opened into a room of mirrors, some of which took up the entire wall and were large enough to accommodate an elephant.

  Valentine glanced at me over his shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. “Take my hand.”

  “How?”

  When he didn’t answer, I moved the basket to my other side, reached up, and wrapped my hand around his bicep.

  Valentine glanced down at where I’d touched him but didn’t comment, instead leading me through the mirror into a receiving room within his palace. It was about twice the size of my old apartment in Grosvenor Square, illuminated by chandeliers hanging from a vaulted ceiling decorated with gold embellishments.

  Instead of paintings on the walls, gilded mirrors lined the room, ranging from the size of a portrait to an ornate monstrosity that was four doors wide. I guessed he’d never shown me this part of the palace while we were courting because I lacked the magical power to withstand this form of transport.

  A quartet of guards at the door pointed assault rifles with magazines that glowed with eerie white magic. Firestone daggers and swords hung at their belts, making them look like they were already in the midst of battle.

  My breath caught. “Why are they pointing those at us?”

  “Given who I fought at Miss Pala’s house, I increased the security level to red.” Valentine raised his palm and released a pulse of magic, making the guards lower their weapons.

  “Does the rest of Logris know about the threat?” I asked.

  “The enforcers are already working double shifts and the Demon, Angel, and Fae Kings have brought in backup personnel from other realms.” He placed a large hand on the small of my back, ushering me across the receiving room’s wooden floor. “Logris is currently in a state of high alert, even though its citizens don’t know the nature of the threat.”

  Keeping up with his long strides, I stared up into his stern features. “Did you agree with the ruling?”

  Valentine hesitated before replying. “It’s more important that the Council is in agreement on all matters.”

  My eyes narrowed, and I clenched my teeth. The old Valentine would want everyone to be warned about the severity of the danger so they would be prepared, not just consider what was best for the Supernatural Council.

  A few steps before we reached the door, I stopped walking, making Valentine stare down at me with a confused frown. Maybe it was time to broach the subject of his missing nucleus. A cold and ruthless Valentine might be effective in a one-to-one fight with Kresnik, but leaving people unaware of the danger on their doorstep wouldn’t help them survive the upcoming war.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” I curled my fingers tighter around his bicep.

  His brow rose.

  “When the doctors scanned my energy body, they found—”

  “You have a lot of nerve, slithering back to the palace after the damage you’ve wrought,” said a cold voice.

  An avalanche of smoky magic invaded the room, making the air so thick, I could barely breathe. I turned to find a crowd of vampires in hooded cloaks filling the doorway and spilling out into the hall.

  My muscles went rigid, and adrenaline flooded my system so fast that my limbs trembled with the urge to fight. These were the same warriors who had invaded our hotel room in Koffiek and attacked Valentine.

  The ancient vampires parted, and a vampire about my age stepped in, wearing the kind of navy blue military jacket with golden collars, epaulettes, and embroidery around the seams that I’d once seen on a portrait of Napoleon.

  He stood with his hands on his hips, raising a jaw that could have been chiseled by Michelangelo himself. Everything about him was classically beautiful, from his café-au-lait skin, patrician nose, high cheekbones to the espresso-colored curls mahogany curls that shone in the light as though he’d just stepped out of the shower.

  My gaze darted to Valentine, whose nostrils flared. Did they know each other?

  “Hemera Griffin,” the newcomer snarled. “I ought to rip off your head and soak this palace with your tainted blood.”

  I drew back, placing my hand over my chest. Something in his eyes was familiar, and I wasn’t just talking about the pools of turquoise. They burned with a hatred that rivaled Kresnik and made my stomach plummet several inches below my feet.

  Who on earth was this vampire and what had I ever done to him to warrant such intense loathing?

  His lips pulled back into a snarl of long sharp fangs. Sharp fangs that glinted in the light of the chandelier and looked seconds away from tearing me apart. I inhaled a deep breath, readying my magic in case the vampire was serious about carrying out his threat.

  “Who dares to intrude in my palace smelling of stale coffee?” Valentine snarled.

  A palpitation rocked through my insides. Coffee?

  At the mere mention of the bitter beverage, everything slithered into place. This was no stranger. No. In this vampire’s twisted mind, I supposed he had a perfectly valid reason to want me dead.

  My mouth fell open, and the basket dropped from my loose fingers. “Prince Draconius?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I stood so close to Valentine that the warmth of his body radiated against my back. Valentine was too preoccupied with the intruders to concern himself with my encroaching on his personal space. A growl reverberated in his chest, signaling that he wanted this strange vampire and his entourage out of his palace.

  The newly rejuvenated Prince Draconius strutted forward, his gaze fixed on mine. “Filthy beast,” he hissed through his teeth. “Did you think I wouldn’t survive your attack?”

  Valentine stepped forward, forming a barrier between the prince and me. I wasn’t optimistic enough to interpret it as a gesture of protection; after all, I had to owe him a lot of money for all that medical treatment and the hospital room I trashed.

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Valentine snarled.

  “Nephew,” the prince said with a sneer. “It would seem that rumors of your decapitation were much exaggerated.”

  “Answer my question.” Valentine’s shoulders expanded, his arms rising to form a gap that allowed me a view of our returned and newly rejuvenated enemy.

  The prince lifted his chin. “You do not recognize me? It is I, your Uncle Draconius.”

  “Impossible,” Valentine whispered. “You look barely older than me and do not even have a trace of his scent.”

  Prince Draconius snarled, the sound like a demonic motorcycle revving its engine and making every fine hair on the back of my head stand to attention. “You try returning to your former splendor with your earthly remains scattered to all corners of a coffee house, lost to sewers and drains and soaked in stale coffee for over a day.”

  Valentine’s muscles twitched. I guess he had no idea what on earth was going on.

  Placing my palms on his broad back, I leaned forward to take a better look at Prince Draconius. Even his coloring had changed. Gone was the alabaster skin and perfectly black hair, replaced by varying shades of brown.

  This situation reminded me of Hades. One of the Demon King’s jars had been baked into a clay disc, making it impossible for all of him to resurrect. Before Hades fell to Kresnik’s attack, he had been an average-looking middle-aged man. Then I’d raised him with only four-fifths of his ashes and a large quantity of my blood, and he now looked like a man in the prime of his life.

  My gaze raked over Prince Draconius’s upgraded appearanc
e. Some women might describe him as breathtaking—even with his scowl—but his resurrection must have cost him dearly.

  What percentage of his ashes had he lost? Half of them? Three quarters? More? He had been ancient enough to take on the appearance of a Madam Tussauds waxwork that had spent too much time in direct sunlight.

  “Explain yourself,” Valentine said.

  The prince glowered up at his nephew and flashed his fangs. “Release me from your magic.”

  “Not until you tell me what gives you the right to enter my home with armed warriors and threaten my guest.”

  My jaw dropped. What happened to working off my debt? Or was this Valentine’s genteel way of describing my potential imprisonment?

  “Why don’t you ask that harlot cowering behind you, batting her eyes at me like a blushing maiden?” Prince Draconius said.

  I flinched backward, clenching my teeth. “If I’m looking at you it’s because I’m trying to calculate how much of your power you’ve lost.”

  The prince hissed through his teeth. “I’ve met thousands of females like you. Parasites only good for servicing their betters on their knees, just as I found you naked with your lips wrapped around my nephew’s cock!”

  All the blood drained from my face and into my spasming heart. Valentine’s entire back stiffened, and the muscles beneath his jacket expanded. I could have sworn I heard the pop of burst stitches.

  Heat rose to my cheeks, and the pulse between my eardrums pounded to the furious beat of my heart. How dare he use his invasion of a private moment between two people in love as a weapon against me?

  Every time I met this ancient asshole, I was in some kind of position he deliberately misinterpreted. Lounging in the private quarters of a womanizing Demon King, trembling and alone in the throes of my thrall addition with Kain, and kneeling naked and gnawing on Valentine’s erection in the shower.

  Valentine’s gaze burned the side of my face. I guess he wanted to know if this fresh claim was true, along with all the other accusations others had made about him debauching me and getting me addicted to thrall.

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. Not because I was ashamed of anything I’d done with his preternatural self, but I wasn’t interested in the horror I’d see on the face of this version of the man I loved.

  Right now, the triumph in the turquoise-eyed twat filled my attention. Prince Draconius thought he had found my weakness. Maybe I wasn’t the most confident woman in the world, but I refused to shrink at his slut-shaming.

  Everything about him radiated smugness—from the satisfied curl of his lips to the way he stared up at me with his chest thrust out, his shoulders back, and the superior tilt of his perfect chin. It stoked a furnace of fury in me that burned hotter than my phoenix flames, and made me clench my jaw so tight that my ears rang.

  How I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and see how well he could disparage me with his vocal cords on fire.

  In my coldest, calmest voice, I said, “Call me names one more time and I’ll—”

  “You’ll burn me?” He rushed toward us, making my heart jump. “You forget that I’m the Royal House of Sargon’s highest-ranking emissary and I’m still under orders to destroy your preternatural protector and put him out of his misery.”

  Valentine raised a hand, and his magic shoved Prince Draconius across the receiving room and into a crowd of his warriors. The prince bounced off their bodies and fell to his hands and knees. One of the warriors, a cloaked woman with golden hair, stepped forward and offered him a hand, but Prince Draconius slapped it away. She drew back to the crowd and bowed her head.

  “Valentine’s alive, you dick,” I snapped.

  “Trickery.” Prince Draconius stumbled to his feet, but another flick of the wrist from Valentine had him falling back to his knees. “Valentine’s death was registered in the family tree. His continued existence is an abomination that must be destroyed.”

  I clenched my fists. “Then what about you? I saw you die.”

  The prince glowered up at me, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, wench?”

  “You were stupid enough to grab a phoenix and got yourself burned to ashes. Doesn’t that count as death by immolation?”

  One of the warriors in black exchanged a glance with his companion, the blonde woman whose help Prince Draconius had rejected. I hoped they were thinking about the hypocrisy in his words.

  I stepped out from the protection of Valentine’s broad body and coated my hands in flames. “You died.”

  Prince Draconius paled, his features turning slack. Rapid shallow breaths whistled in and out of his nostrils, and sweat beaded on his forehead. The old Mera would have recognized those symptoms as an aversion to fire, perhaps post-traumatic stress at having been burned alive. This Mera didn’t give a shit.

  I stepped forward, letting the flames rise toward the ceiling and fill the receiving room with a heat intense enough to make the air ripple. “Listen carefully,” I enunciated through clenched teeth. “Valentine isn’t the only person in this room who died and got resurrected by my phoenix fire.”

  The prince spluttered. “It was your infernal fire that—”

  “Don’t interrupt,” I snapped, my gaze unwavering from the vampire’s liquid eyes. “There’s enough fire in my soul to burn every one of you cloaked wankers to ash. I’ll mix your remains with paste so you’ll never resurrect and throw the bloody lot straight to Hell.”

  Prince Draconius’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the loathing in his eyes burning brighter than my flames. “I suppose this is where you issue an ultimatum.”

  The corner of my lip curled into a mocking smile. “Go back to Transylvania, New Mesopotamia, or wherever the hell you came from and leave Valentine and me alone.”

  His nostrils flared. “My father will not allow his beloved grandson to associate with such filth—”

  “Says the man who wanted to keep me as a pet,” I snapped.

  For the next several heartbeats, nobody moved. Valentine’s presence remained at my back, offering backup and support… Or maybe that was just my imagination. He didn’t exactly rush to my defense when Prince Draconius had called me a harlot, a whore and all those other words, and he hadn’t said a word since I rushed ahead of him and took over the fight.

  My throat dried. Right now, I needed to shove aside speculations on my relationship with Valentine and comfort myself in the fact that he’d lost his soul nucleus as well as his ability to love anyone, including me.

  The prince’s lip curled into a snarl. “Don’t think this is the end. One day, I’ll have you kneeling in front of me, tied in silk ropes. Then I’ll remind you of those words!”

  “Enough,” Valentine growled from my side.

  I placed a hand on Valentine’s arm and turned to his uncle. “Actually, I’m looking forward to your next attack. You’re the type of man who inspires a phoenix shifter to murderous pyromania.”

  Prince Draconius’s features melted into a rictus of horror, and my nostrils flared with a sick triumph. I’d bet he never wanted to go through another burning.

  My gaze flicked to the cloaked warriors at his back. “Tell your colleague who decapitated Valentine while he was magically frozen that I’m going to track him down and incinerate his heart.”

  Someone in the hallway shifted.

  “What are you all waiting for?” snarled the prince. “Seize her.”

  Nobody moved. Not when one of my hands still blazed with a fire that they knew would mean their destruction. Even if they hadn’t all witnessed Irdu and Prince Draconius’s fiery fate, they would have known about the pains the demons’ warlock had taken to retrieve and sort the ashes.

  I raised my chin, pulled back my shoulders, and glared across the crowd of warriors. “If your job is to destroy people who fell off the Sargon family tree, look at Prince Draconius. You all saw him die at my flame.”

  The prince shifted on his feet, his young features melting into shock, losing a
ll signs of arrogance. Perhaps he was now understanding that his and Valentine’s situations weren’t so different.

  “What happened to you, Uncle, and why are you here?” Valentine asked.

  His familiar term of address to our enemy sent a surge of bitter betrayal up the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and forced my features into a mask of indifference. Valentine wasn’t himself. He didn’t remember me. Of course he wouldn’t side with a stranger he didn’t trust over the uncle he’d known for eleven hundred years.

  Prince Draconius launched into an account of how he’d been ordered by Valentine’s grandfather, the King of New Mesopotamia, to destroy Valentine’s preternatural body. Blood roared through my ears, muffling the vampire’s words. I ground my teeth, waiting for him to exaggerate or misrepresent what had happened, but the prince just kept to the facts.

  “Then my informant tracked your pet’s location, assuring us that she regularly met your corpse for sexual intercourse and thrall,” he said.

  “Valentine wasn’t a corpse,” I snapped. Did he need to make me sound like I was a rabid grave robber desperate enough for thrall to descend into necrophilia?

  Prince Draconius continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “We found her in the shower, fellating your undead glister pipe, distracting you for long enough to strike the first blow.”

  I clamped my lips together and seethed. Prince Draconius made me look like I was the cause of Valentine’s downfall. Maybe I was. Valentine might have heard the attackers if the water hadn’t muffled their sound and if I hadn’t insisted on milking him so thoroughly for thrall. I’d also been at the center of his recent calamities.

  “Your corpse fought valiantly and was about to defeat my warriors when we prevailed,” the prince drawled. “The battle continued upstairs into the public coffee house, where Irdu the proprietor and his demons disabled all of us with their magic.”