A Hunger Like No Other

by Kresley Cole

  He waited for them to realize this at any moment and attack.

  He was as weak as he'd ever been, and they surrounded him like a swarm. Garreth and Lucia were conspicuously absent. She'd returned with the video, but apparently had been so shaken by something that had occurred within the clan that she left directly after. Garreth had followed. Unbelievably, Lachlain was almost relieved when Wroth arrived in the room with Myst, but didn't hesitate to return the bastard's scowl.

  Just before the video played on Emma's TV, she plugged in her old "outdated" iPod so she couldn't hear, then buried her face against his chest because of the "scary parts."

  Unlike the others, Lachlain had no problem tearing himself away from the screen to think on all he'd learned, because he'd replayed this again and again. Lachlain had first viewed the video beginning with Demestriu's entrance, because Harmann had programmed it to start there. But Lachlain had actually been able to go back and see Demestriu in the hours and even days before Emma appeared. Lachlain had seen Demestriu staring out the window, dropping his forehead into his shaking hands, lashing out in madness--just as Lachlain had done.

  Lachlain shook his head. He didn't know how to feel about everything--how to reconcile his past and his losses with what might have been a brief flare of pity. And Lachlain realized now, with Emma here, that he didn't have to know. Not yet. They'd figure it out together.

  He turned from his thoughts and studied the Valkyrie's reactions as they watched. They laughed uproariously at the fact that Emma, a vampire, was spooked by the blood on the floor. During the fight, they tensed and leaned toward the TV, eyes wide when Emma shattered the window. "Ballsy," Regin muttered, and others nodded in response though none shifted their gazes from the screen. At one point, Nix yawned and said, "I've already seen this part," but no one bothered to ask how. And when Demestriu told Emma he was proud, some cried, making lightning split the sky.

  Proof that Furie was alive was met with cheers, and Lachlain didn't douse their happiness by saying that at this very moment, Furie was praying to great Freya to die.

  When it was over, Emma pulled her earbuds out and peeked up from his chest. The Valkyrie merely nodded at him and Emma the Unlikely and filed out, with Nix predicting that The Demise of Demestriu would outsell One Goblin's Night in Paris among the Lore.

  As Regin exited, she summed up what seemed to be the attitude of the rest of the coven: "If Emma wants the overgrown Lykae bad enough to go drop Demestriu, then she ought to be able to keep him."

  *

  Annika alone remained.

  "You don't have to decide right now, Emmaline. Just don't do something you're going to regret for the rest of your life."

  Emma shook her head, dismayed to see Annika hurting, but resolved in this. "I kept thinking it was about my choice, but it's not. It's yours. You can choose to accept me with him. Or I leave." Lachlain drew her hand into his as though for support.

  Annika clearly strove for a calm demeanor and her face was like marble, but lightning fired behind her, belying her efforts. She was torn about this.

  "Annika, I'll always run to his arms." There was no defense against that, no argument to refute it--and they both knew it.

  Finally, Annika, with her chin up and shoulders back, faced Lachlain. "We don't recognize matehood"--she spat the word--"or whatever you Lykae call it, as a bonding union. You will have to exchange vows. Mainly I'm concerned about the one where the Lykae vows he won't use this union to harm the covens in any way."

  Lachlain grated, "The Lykae has a name. And if you'd like Emma to share it, nothing will please me better. I'll make that vow."

  She faced Emmaline with one last pleading expression. When Emma shook her head slowly, Annika ordered, "Do not trace him here any more than is absolutely necessary."

  As she strode from the room, she mumbled, "Coven's gone to hell on my watch."

  Emma said, "Tracing! That's right. Now we can visit whenever we want. Coo-ell. Can we spend some weekends here? And Mardi Gras? And the Jazz Fest? Ooh, I want to watch you eat crawfish!"

  With a pained expression, he said, "I suppose on occasion we could run through the bayou as easily as a forest."

  Then her face fell. "But I don't know if I want you around all my gorgeous aunts."

  He chuckled at her ridiculous statement, then winced when his wounds wouldn't cooperate. "Emma, you shame them. No, doona argue. I have eyes, I can see." He stroked his thumb over her cheek. "And I know none of them can howl at the moon half as good as my wee halfling."

  "Cheeky werewolf!" she chided, leaning in to kiss his lips, but she was interrupted by a scream downstairs.

  As they frowned at each other, Annika shrieked at someone unseen, "What do you mean, we have a six-figure credit card bill?"

  36

  Emma the Unlikely

  Emma the King Killer

  Emma of the Three

  Her own page in the Book of Warriors!

  Regin, Nix, and Annika had taken her--and she'd insisted on taking Lachlain--into the war room, to the ornate, ancient pedestal with the light shining down upon it. They drew it out from under its Plexiglas case and opened it to her page.

  Her likeness was painted there and below it, written in the old language, were her aliases and One of Woden's Cherished Warriors. Warrior. War-ee-yur. This was so cool as to not be believed. With trembling fingers, Emma brushed the raised writing on the soft parchment.

  Slayer of Demestriu, king of the vampire Horde, eldest and strongest of vampires. When she chose to battle him alone.

  Emma raised her eyebrows at the implicit rebuke, and Annika lifted her chin.

  Queen to Lachlain, king of the Lykae. Beloved daughter of Helen and all Valkyrie.

  "Look at my resume!" Tears spilled over. "I look good on paper!"

  Regin groaned. "Not the crying. That's so gross."

  "And you left room for more!" She sniffled. Nix handed her tissues she'd had the foresight to bring, and Emma brushed her face with them.

  "Well, of course," Nix said. "Even if you spend a lazy eternity doing nothing more than wallowing about with your wolf, we left room for your heroic, hell-raising kids."

  Emma's face flushed, and she felt Lachlain draping a protective arm over her, squeezing her to his side. Chin up, he said, "We've decided no' to have bairns."

  Nix frowned. "Well, I'm not usually wrong about these things when I do see them, but if you both are so set on it, then never let her eat human food, especially not for back-to-back weeks on end, or she'll get knocked up faster than a rabbit after a Druid fertility ceremony!"

  Emma said softly, "But I can't . . . I'm a vampire, and we can't have children."

  Nix and Annika both frowned. "Of course you can," Nix said. "You just have to take different nourishment."

  When Lachlain still looked unconvinced, Annika said, "Think about it--what do all humans do that not all in the Lore do? They eat of the earth and they spawn. The two are not unrelated."

  Her heart thudding, Emma remembered Demestriu talking about Helen sharing meals with him just before she got pregnant. "And a Lykae with a . . . valkire?"

  "Can you have little ankle-biters?" Nix giggled. "Absolutely, and in the most literal sense. You know, you aren't the first time the different factions have had offspring together." She glanced around as if looking for someone in the manor, then waved it away. "Vampires who can walk in the sun, Lykae who can take sustenance from lightning. Valkyrie who run the forests at night with perfect joy." Nix got an awed expression on her face. "And they're strong. Just look at you."

  Emma glanced from Nix to Annika. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Annika raised her palms, shaking her head. "I never imagined you thought about this at all, much less that you were under this misimpression."

  To Lachlain, Nix said, "When Emma yearns in her heart for children, it begins. She'll have to eat regular food for at least nine months."

  Emma smacked her lips and grimaced, not relishing the thought of
masticating.

  "Doona hold your breath. I'm no' keen to share her."

  "Very well. Until then"--Nix paused to give him a lascivious grin--"honeymoon!"

  Emma and Lachlain sat stunned.

  Nix waved an impatient hand. "All this would have come out during the three hour pre-joining counseling that you two are required to do."

  *

  That weekend after Emma and Lachlain's small, straightforward ceremony, and the raucous, bizarre party afterward, the members of the coven lounged in the TV room, sprawled over furniture, eyes glued to the television.

  Lachlain and Emma sat among them, but he was restless, unable to watch the movie when Emma was making lazy circles on his palm with her fingertip.

  Lachlain had invited only Bowe and Garreth to the festivities, though everyone in the clan hankered to meet the wee queen who'd felled Demestriu. But his kind liked to drink and rib and be boisterous, and he could just see the mad Valkyrie, who didn't drink--anything--reacting poorly. The preternatural versus the natural mixed with liquor.

  But Lucia had "gone on walkabout," as the Valkyrie called it, or "fled," as Garreth more accurately termed it, and Lachlain had completely understood when Garreth had set out after her. Bowe had accepted, but after absently congratulating him that night, he'd spent an hour huddled in a corner with Nix. Afterward, he'd been cryptic and preoccupied and had flown out early.

  Casting looks that dared anyone to nay-say him, Wroth had audaciously shown up with a laughing Myst by his side. But the coven seemed to treat Wroth with the same indifference they showed Lachlain, who'd mostly been shrugged at as if he'd always been a fixture. Except for Annika--after she'd spotted Wroth, her chin hadn't been lifted quite so proudly, and Lachlain had heard her mumble, "Furie's going to kill me . . . ."

  Lachlain shifted restlessly. He thought he was finally strong enough for them to leave tomorrow. He was physically ready to resume relations with his wife, and wasn't eager to do it under this roof.

  He stood and offered his hand, and with a shy smile she slipped her hand in his. As they crossed in front of the screen, they barely dodged a volley of popcorn.

  He didn't know where he was taking her, maybe out into the night fog. He just knew he wanted her, needed her, right then. She was too precious to him, too good to be true. When he was inside her, with his arms tight around her, he felt less like she'd slip away.

  But they only made it to an empty hall before he pressed her against the wall, cupped her neck, and demanded once again, "You'll stay with me?"

  "Always." Her hips arched up to him. "You love me?"

  "Always, Emmaline," he grated against her lips. "Always. So damn much you make me mad with it."

  When she moaned softly, he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He knew he couldn't have her here, but the reasons why grew hazy with her breaths in his ear.

  "I wish we were home," she whispered. "Together in our bed."

  Home. Damn if she hadn't said home. In our bed. Had anything ever sounded so good? He pressed her harder into the wall, kissing her more deeply, with all the love he had in him, but suddenly they were falling, his balance somehow lost. He clenched her to him and twisted to take the impact on his back.

  When he opened his eyes, they were tumbling into their bed.

  Eyebrows raised, jaw slack, he released her and levered himself onto his elbows. "That was . . ." He exhaled a stunned breath. "That was a wild ride, lass. Will you no' warn me next time?"

  She nodded solemnly, sitting up to straddle him, pulling her blouse over her head to bare her exquisite breasts for him. "Lachlain," she leaned down to whisper in his ear, brushing her nipples over his chest, making him shudder and clench her hips. "I'm about to give you a very . . . wild . . . ride."

  Yet after everything that had occurred, his need for her was too strong, and he gave himself up to it, tossing her to her back and ripping her clothes from her. He made short work of his own, then covered her. When he pinned her arms over her head and thrust into her, she cried his name and writhed beneath him so sweetly. "I'll demand that ride tomorrow, love, but first you're going to see wild from a man who knows."

  From the Book of Lore

  The Lore

  ". . . and those sentient creatures that are not human shall be united in one strata, coexisting with, yet secret from, man's."

  The Valkyrie

  "When a maiden warrior screams for courage as she dies in battle, Woden and Freya heed her call. The two gods give up lightning to strike her, rescuing her to their hall, and preserving her courage forever in the form of the maiden's immortal Valkyrie daughter."

  * Valkyrie take sustenance from the electrical energy of the earth, sharing it in one collective power, and give it back with their emotions in the form of lightning.

  * Possess preternatural strength and speed.

  * Also called Swan Maidens, Shield Maidens.

  * Enemies of the Horde.

  The Vampire Horde

  "In the first chaos of the Lore, a brotherhood of vampires dominated, by relying on their cold nature, worship of logic, and absence of mercy. They sprang from the harsh steppes of Dacia and migrated to Russia, though some say a secret enclave live in Dacia still. Each vampire seeks his Bride, his eternal wife, the one who bloods him, or renders his body fully alive by giving him breath and making his heart beat."

  * Have the ability to teleport, also known as tracing.

  * Also called The Daci.

  * Enemies of most factions in the Lore.

  The Lykae Clan

  "A proud, strapping warrior of the Keltoi People (or Hidden People, later known as Celts), was taken in his prime by a maddened wolf. The warrior rose from the dead, now an immortal, with the spirit of the beast latent within him. He displayed the beast's traits: the need for touch, an intense loyalty to its kind, a craving for the delights of the flesh. Sometimes the latent beast rises . . ."

  * Also called werewolves, war-wolds.

  * Enemies of the Horde.

  The Forbearers

  ". . . his crown stolen, Kristoff, the rightful Horde king, stalked the battlefields of antiquity seeking the strongest, most valiant human warriors as they died, earning him the name The Grave-walker. He offered eternal life for eternal fealty to him and his growing army."

  * An army of vampires consisting of turned humans, who do not drink blood directly from the flesh.

  * Enemies of the Horde.

  The Furiae

  "If you do evil, beg for punishment--before they come . . ."

  * Ruthless she-warriors bent on delivering justice to evil men when they escape it elsewhere.

  * Led by Alecta the Unyielding One.

  * Also called Furies, Erinyes.

  The Wraiths

  ". . . their origin unknown, their presence chilling."

  * Spectral, howling beings. Undefeatable, and, for the most part, uncontrollable.

  * Also called The Ancient Scourge.

  The Demonarchie

  "The demons are as varied as the tribes of man . . ."

  * A collection of demon dynasties.

  * Some kingdoms ally with the Horde.

  The House of Witches

  ". . . immortal possessors of magickal talents, practitioners of good and evil."

  * Mystical mercenaries who sell their spells.

  Ghouls

  "Even immortals beware its bite . . ."

  * A human turned savage monster, with glowing green skin, yellow eyes, and contagious bites and scratches.

  * Their imperative is to increase their number by contagion.

  * They're said to travel in troops.

  The Accession "And a time shall pass that all immortal beings in the Lore, from the strongest Valkyrie, vampire, and Lykae factions, to the phantoms, shifters, fairies, sirens . . . must fight and destroy each other." Occurs every five hundred years. Or right now . . . .

  New from #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

  KRESLEY
COLE

  On Sale July 2nd--Order Your Copy Today!

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  No Rest for the Wicked

  Kresley Cole

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  Turn the page for a preview of

  No Rest for the Wicked . . . .

  No Rest for the Wicked

  And none will hear the postman's knock /

  Without a quickening of the heart. /

  For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

  --W. H. Auden

  one

  For the second time in her life, Kaderin the Coldhearted hesitated to kill.

  In the last instant of a silent, lethal swing, she stayed her sword an inch above the neck of her vampire prey--because she'd found him holding his head in his hands from grief.

  She saw his big body tense, but he didn't trace away. He raised his face to gaze up at her with dark gray eyes--the color of a storm about to be unleashed. They were clear--not red--which meant the vampire had never drunk a being to death. He pled with those eyes, and she realized he hungered for death. He wanted the deathblow she'd come to his decrepit castle to deliver.

  She'd stalked him soundlessly, primed for a battle with a vicious predator. Kaderin had been in Scotland with other Valkyrie when they'd received the call about a "vampire haunting a castle and terrorizing a hillside in Russia," and had gladly volunteered to destroy it. She was her Valkyrie coven's most prolific killer, her life given over to ridding the earth of leeches.

  So why was she hesitating? Why was she even now easing her sword back to raise it before her? He would be merely one among thousands of her kills--his fangs collected and strung together with the others she'd taken.

  The last time she'd stayed her sword had resulted in a tragedy so great, her heart had been broken forever by it.

  In a deep, gravelly voice, the vampire asked, "Why do you wait?" He seemed as startled by the sound of his own words as by her presence.

  He must not have spoken out loud for years.

  I don't know why . . . . Can't comprehend why . . .

  The wind blew, making this high room in his darkened lair groan. Unseen gaps in the walls allowed a chill breeze in. As he stood, rising to his full, towering height, her shining blade caught the wavering light from a cluster of candles and reflected over him. His grave face was lean with harsh planes, and other females would consider it handsome. His black shirt was unbuttoned, displaying much of his chest and sculpted torso, and his pants were slung low at his narrow waist. The wind stirred his thick black hair and tugged at the tail of his shirt. Very handsome. But then, sometimes the vampires I kill are.