Ostatnia część w
4-tomowej serii Nocny Książę (z ang. Night Prince), w której poznajemy
dalsze losy Leily i Vlada, została wydana pod koniec lutego.
Akcja powieści toczy się
dość szybko. Odkąd Leila została połączona
potężnym zaklęciem z nekromantą Mirceą, każda fizyczna krzywda wyrządzona siostrzeńcowi Vlada równoznaczna jest z krzywdą wyrządzoną jej samej. Prawdziwe
problemy zaczynają się, kiedy Mircea zostaje porwany przez potężnych magów/nekromantów, a porywacze żądają od Vlada, czegoś, czego
nigdy by nie zrobił w normalnych okolicznościach - zabicia długoletniego przyjaciela. Nocny książę szuka pomocy u Menchersa (czyli swojego "honorowego dziadka"), który z kolei radzi Vladowi, aby ten skorzystał z pomocy Iana jako, że ten jako jedyny zna odpowiednie osoby - zarówno nekromantów, jak i magów mogących znaleźć sposób na złamanie zaklęcia łączącego żonę "Draculi" z jegoż siostrzeńcem. Od tej pory czytelnik wkracza w świat istot potężniejszych niż same wampiry - świat zakazanej magii.
Najbardziej ciekawą postacią powieści jest rozrywkowy Ian i to nie tylko dlatego, że potrafi zirytować wszystkich wokół swoim zachowaniem. Ostrzegam, że o ile zachowanie Iana jest zabawne, to dla czytelnika denerwujący może się okazać brak inteligencji u Leilii, która dopiero po dłuższym czasie uświadamia sobie sposób, w jaki działa "magiczna komunikacja" pomiędzy nią a Mirceą.
Najbardziej ciekawą postacią powieści jest rozrywkowy Ian i to nie tylko dlatego, że potrafi zirytować wszystkich wokół swoim zachowaniem. Ostrzegam, że o ile zachowanie Iana jest zabawne, to dla czytelnika denerwujący może się okazać brak inteligencji u Leilii, która dopiero po dłuższym czasie uświadamia sobie sposób, w jaki działa "magiczna komunikacja" pomiędzy nią a Mirceą.
Pierwsze rozdziały powieści możesz przeczytać poniżej
Chapter
1
Flying
at high speeds through a forest is less dangerous than it looks. At least,
that’s what I told myself the few times I opened my eyes. Mostly, I kept them
shut. Not just because it was easier to maintain my psychic link with the man
we were hunting, but I also didn’t need to know how close we came to the
countless trees Vlad maneuvered us around as we flew through the thickly wooded
countryside.
You’ll
survive if he hits one, I reminded myself. We were both vampires, so we
could heal almost any injury in seconds, but I hoped I wasn’t about to find out
how much it would hurt if we splatted into a tree at over a hundred miles an
hour. I already knew more about pain than most people ever would, and I didn’t
want to add to that repertoire.
“Is
Branson still in the manor?” Vlad said, raising his voice so the wind couldn’t
snatch away his words.
I
ran my fingers over the belt buckle I’d been holding on to this entire time. It
had once belonged to Branson, and Branson was in league with Vlad’s
nephew/stepson/new worst enemy, Mircea. We’d been looking for Mircea for
months, yet had come up empty. Branson was our best lead on him, and soon we’d
find out exactly what Branson knew about Mircea.
I
concentrated on the essence trail that Branson had imprinted upon the belt
buckle until it sharpened my inner focus. Once I had followed it back to its
source, my surroundings changed, taking on the look of an odd double exposure.
Part of me saw the forest we flew through while the rest of me saw a long,
ornate room with high ceilings and tall, fancy paintings lining both sides of
the walls.
“Yes.
He’s pacing now, and he keeps checking his cell phone.”
I
felt Vlad’s chuckle as it vibrated against my forehead, and it held the
distinct undercurrent of a predator’s growl. “He won’t be waiting long for my
reply.”
With
that, we broke through the tree line. I dropped my link so I could see the
imposing structure I’d only glimpsed before through my psychic connection. The
18.0pt house was made entirely of gray stone, with the main building over two
stories high and ancient lookout towers over the formal entryway. The tall
trees hid the city beyond, and the vast grounds kept the other views of
civilization away, making it look as if we’d been dropped back in time several
hundred years.
Since
Vlad had been born in the fourteen hundreds, he ought to feel right at home in
this medieval setting. Since I was only twenty-six, I didn’t.
Vlad
slowed down, dropping us onto the manicured part of the lawn that surrounded
the fortress. “Stay here,” he said, striding toward the entrance.
I
caught up to him instead. “What part of ‘we do this together’ did you translate
as ‘leave Leila behind’?” I hissed, keeping my voice down since we weren’t the
only ones with supernatural hearing.
His
aura broke through his inner shields. Even though he’d released only a sliver
of his power, it still felt as if I’d just gotten subconsciously scalded. If I
were anyone else, I’d be terrified at pissing off the legendary Vlad Tepesh,
meaning “Impaler,” aka Dracula, aka don’t-ever-call-him-Dracula-if-you-want-to-live,
but I was Mrs. Vlad Dracul, thank you very much. Uncrowned prince of darkness
or no, Vlad wasn’t pulling this crap with me.
“We
can fight about it until Branson hears us, or we can get him together quietly,”
I went on, narrowing my eyes. “Your choice.”
The
high-arched portico covering the fortress’s main entrance suddenly exploded,
jetting out fire and pieces of stone. I ducked from instinct, but Vlad walked
right toward the burning chaos, the fire parting to let him pass.
“Does
that answer your question?” he asked.
Before
I could respond, a wall of fire sprang up, spreading until it encompassed the
entire castle. Guess he’d changed his mind about being stealthy. Worse, now I
couldn’t follow him. Unlike Vlad, I wasn’t fireproof.
“That’s
cheating!” I shouted. No need to talk softly now.
I
thought I heard him laugh, but between the roar of the fire and the cracking of
stone from the crumpling entryway, I couldn’t be sure. Damn Vlad and his
archaic ideas about women in combat. He’d rather I be under heavy guard back at
his castle in Romania. I probably would be, if an enemy hadn’t blown up his
castle and kidnapped me from its rubble months ago. Otherwise, Vlad would never
have agreed to go back on his no-wife-allowed-on-killing-missions rule.
Or,
I thought, eyeing the wall of fire that only he could pass through, it seemed
he’d only partially gone back on it. My teeth ground. I could stand here and
seethe, or I could make myself useful. Besides, revenge was a dish best served
cold, and I would get him back. I just had to wait until everything
around me wasn’t on fire.
I
rubbed the belt buckle again, seeking the essence imprint. Once I had it, my
surroundings changed into the richly furnished room that our quarry was still
standing in. Branson wasn’t looking at his phone anymore. He was staring out
the window in horror at flames that leapt all the way up to the roof. Branson
knew only one vampire in the world could control fire this way, and it was the
same vampire that he’d been caught betraying.
Then
Branson ran, which I expected, but he didn’t head for the door. Instead, he
pressed a panel near one of the room’s many paintings. A hidden door swung
open, and he darted inside a steel-lined room and closed the door before I
could mentally switch channels.
Branson
has a panic room! I sent to Vlad once I was tuned in to him.
Vlad
paused on his way up a long, curved staircase, giving an amused glance toward
the second floor.
“Then
he’s in for another surprise.”
His
words reached me through our link instead of the normal way, so the continual
portico collapse must be drowning out everything else. Once I had hated my
psychic abilities so much that I’d attempted suicide, but now they came in
handy. I still loathed reliving people’s worst sins the first time I touched
them, but nothing important came without a cost.
A
red Porsche bursting through the wall of fire surprised me into dropping my
link to Vlad. The car’s speed caused it to fishtail as soon as it hit grassy
terrain. Glowing green eyes revealed that the driver was a vampire, but it
couldn’t be Branson. He’d locked himself in a panic room.
This
had to be one of Branson’s friends. Maybe he was in league with Mircea, too.
Even if he wasn’t, only someone who’d also betrayed Vlad would be in such a
hurry to get out of here. With Vlad busy trying to bust in the panic room, I
was the only person standing in the way of this treacherous driver and his
freedom. I chased after the car. If it reached the driveway, I’d be screwed.
Unlike Vlad, I couldn’t fly, and the Porsche could go much faster than me once
it was on flat, paved ground.
The
car shot forward with a burst of speed. Damn, the driver must’ve spotted me.
Now he was only a dozen feet away from the driveway. I put everything I had
into a desperate lunge. If I reached the car’s bumper, I could flip it—
I
ducked when multiple cracks smashed through the back windshield. Two bullets
whizzed over my head, and the third one struck me in the shoulder instead of
the heart. From the burn, the bullets were silver. Of course. Any other
ammunition was useless against vampires.
Pain
caused my powers to flare. A long, sizzling whip shot from my right hand and I
cracked it toward the car. The electricity it contained caused it to tear
through the Porsche’s frame as if it were butter. More gunshots had me spinning
to avoid another volley of bullets, and I used my velocity to full advantage.
When I swung back around, my electrical whip had lengthened, and I lashed the
car with all the force I had in me.
It
split in two, the front section still going several feet before the car’s
weight caused it to cave in. A fire broke out, and I couldn’t tell if it was
those flames that made the driver scream, or if I’d sliced through more than
the car’s frame. I stayed low as I circled around to the driver’s door, my whip
crackling as I readied it to strike again.
“Drop
the gun and get out, or—”
I
didn’t get a chance to complete my threat. Flames shot over the car, too thick
and numerous to be from the electrical fire. Then Vlad slammed down next to me,
the ground shuddering from the force of his impact. He shoved me behind him and
rounded on the burning car.
“You
shot at my wife?” The flames intensified. High-pitched, panicked
screams made me wince from more than their assault on my enhanced hearing.
I
grabbed his arm. “Stop, we might need him alive.”
Vlad
glanced at me and saw the blood from the bullet wound in my shoulder. At once,
his arm became so hot that my hand started to catch fire. I let him go, and he
turned back to the car with a smile that made further argument useless.
I
knew that smile. It meant someone was about to die.
I
took a few steps backward as the screams from inside the car became even more
frenzied. When Vlad’s shields dropped and I felt the full force of his rage, it
didn’t surprise me to see the Porsche begin to glow as red as the car’s paint
job.
Then
the car melted into itself as Vlad’s incredible power turned metal into molten
liquid. The screams stopped. So did the sounds of breaking glass and twisting
steel. Soon, all I heard was a hiss as the ground caught fire.
I
reached out to Vlad again, this time not dropping my hand even though his flesh
still scorched me through the thin material of his shirt. “You might want to
consider working on your anger management issues,” I said in a light tone.
A
bark of laughter escaped him. “So say my many enemies.”
When
he turned around and pulled me to him, his body was no longer scorching, and
the emotions intertwining with mine now felt only marginally insane with rage;
a vast improvement. He kissed me, and I didn’t care that the stubble shadowing
his chiseled jaw rasped my face. All I focused on was his kiss and the wave of
love pouring through our connection, even more powerful than the rage that had
caused him to melt a car as easily as a normal person could strike a match.
When
Vlad stopped kissing me, another emotion poured through the bond that had
formed the moment Vlad had raised me as a vampire. Regret.
“I
shouldn’t have done that.” He gave a frustrated glance at the smoldering heap
of melted metal. “I know better than to kill an enemy before I interrogate him,
but I saw the bullet hole in your shirt and . . .”
“Blew
your fuse,” I finished, giving him a lopsided smile. “Happens to the best of
men, I’m told.”
Another
harsh laugh. “Perhaps, but never to me.” Until you, was left unsaid, but I
didn’t need to feel his emotions to know he was thinking it.
“Cheer
up,” I said, striving to lighten his mood. “Once you bust through that panic
room door, you can interrogate Branson for days, and no one will ever know
you spilled your lighter fluid too soon with this guy.”
This
time, his laughter held hints of real amusement. “I look forward to such a
redemption.”
“Well,
let me make sure Branson didn’t try to run for it while you were out here,” I
said, grabbing the belt buckle again. In moments, I saw the inside of a small
panic room. It had a single chair, a twin set of control panels, and several
screens that showed live video feed from both the interior and the exterior of
the manor.
Branson
was staring at the screen that showed Vlad and me next to the smoking,
misshapen remains of the Porsche. Then he looked at the steel walls of his
panic room, and an expression of horror crossed his features.
“He’s
watching us, and I think he just realized you can melt your way into his
hideout,” I narrated.
Vlad’s
hands erupted into flames and he gave Branson a cheery wave while mouthing the
words, Here I come.
Vampires
were naturally pale, but Branson blanched a shade I’d only seen on
someone deaddead. Vlad began striding toward the manor, and I watched as
Branson reached into a drawer. He came up with a gun, and with shaking hands,
he checked the clip to make sure that it was loaded. It was, and from the look
of them, they were silver bullets.
“He’s
got a gun filled with silver,” I told Vlad, who was now at the front of the
manor.
He
snorted. “Branson just saw me melt a car. Doesn’t he realize I can melt a gun, too?”
“I’m
sure you can,” Branson said, and though Vlad couldn’t hear him, I could through
my psychic link. Then, very calmly, Branson put the gun to his chest and pulled
the trigger.
“Oh
shit!” I shouted, seeing Branson continue to shoot himself although his
movements were becoming stiff and uncoordinated. “Hurry, Vlad, he’s killing
himself!”
Vlad
flew the rest of the way, blasting through walls to get to the second floor.
Then, with an expulsion of power that knocked me to my knees even a hundred
yards away, he tore a molten hole into the panic room. He was kneeling by
Branson’s prone form less than thirty seconds after my warning.
It
was still too late. My link to Branson weakened as he began to wither, his body
reverting to its original age as all vampires did when true death overtook
them. When the link dropped completely and I felt nothing but emptiness on the
other side of Branson’s essence trail, I spat out a curse.
Branson
had been our best chance to find Mircea. With him dead, we were now back to square
one, which was having no idea where Mircea was.
Vlad
had had powerful enemies before, but Mircea was unique. He was a powerful
sorcerer, though necromancer was a more accurate term since Mircea
could bespell the undead as well as humans. That and a spell linking us
together meant that Mircea could find me any time he wanted to. I gave one more
look at the smoking car and the still-burning mansion. Yeah, I had no doubt
that I’d be hearing from Mircea soon. Very soon.
Chapter
2
Vlad
and I didn’t speak much on the flight back to Romania. He also had his emotions
locked up, but I figured that was more to shut out the pilots than me. They
were also vampires he’d sired and thus could feel him the same way I did. I’d
spent several hours of the flight looking through the memories locked inside
Branson’s bones—another handy perk of my psychic abilities—but I hadn’t found
anything useful.
Memories
in bones were more erratic and imprecise, like trying to understand a movie if
you watched it backward at a high speed. All I’d been able to glean from his
bones was that Branson had been in league with Mircea for at least a few
months, which we already knew from Vlad’s diligent spies. Yet those spies
hadn’t been able to discover where Mircea was, and if Branson knew, he’d taken
that secret with him to the grave.
I’d
spent the rest of the flight trying to diminish the grimness of our coming back
empty-handed, but Vlad had brushed off my attempts at optimism. When we arrived
at the magnificent castle that was an exact replica of the one that had been
destroyed several months ago, he announced that he had business to attend to
and he’d see me later.
I
knew him well enough not to argue. He needed some time to blow off steam, and I
needed time to shower and feed, preferably in that order. I nodded to the few
vampires I saw as I walked up the four flights of stairs that led to our
bedroom. Even though they weren’t on display like the various works of art in
this house, Vlad had a lot of his people on guard here, and the ones I walked
by bowed to me as I passed.
I’d
never get used to that, but I’d tried asking them to stop, and it was the only
request of mine they didn’t obey. Many of them still considered Vlad their
prince in addition to the master of their line. So, as his wife, I got bowed to
the way they bowed to him, no matter my preference on the subject.
I
entered the midnight-green room that Vlad and I shared. I went right into the
bathroom, ignoring the marble tub in favor of the 18.0pt glass shower. I spent
the next several minutes enjoying the hot water and the clean, herbal smells of
the specially formulated shampoo, conditioner, and body wash I used.
I
was out of the shower and dressed in one of my favorite caftans when a
metaphysical knife suddenly slashed me across the shoulder. Magic
sucks! I thought, scowling at the crimson stain that instantly appeared on
my dress. Figures I’d be wearing white when my batshit nephew-in-law decided to
carve into me.
Hello,
Leila, said an all-too-familiar voice, his words slithering across my mind as
if they were a snake.
Hello,
Mircea, I thought in reply, allowing my hatred of him to invade my mental
voice. What an unpleasant surprise.
I
heard his laughter as if he were on the other end of a cell phone. In a way, he
was, except this was a magical connection and I hadn’t figured out how to hang
up on him yet.
You
didn’t miss me? he mocked. How strange. Most women do.
Yes,
Mircea was beautiful in a stop-and-stare way, complete with copper-colored eyes
that had obviously run in the family. Mircea was Vlad’s nephew by
blood and his stepson by marriage, thanks to Vlad’s second wife
getting it on with Vlad’s brother, Radu. But Mircea was also as vicious as he
was pretty. I had this tie to him after the most powerful of his magical
attempts to murder me had backfired, linking us together in a way that no one
seemed to know how to break.
I
heard about Branson, Mircea went on. Poor Leila, are you still trying to
find me? Don’t you know that you won’t succeed?
One
day we will, I sent back, fighting a swell of frustration and bitterness.
Vlad
and I were forced to search for Mircea the normal way because he’d somehow
managed to block me. I could link to anyone else if I had their essence
imprint, but though Vlad had brought me artifact after artifact of Mircea’s, I
was unable to link to him. He was either magically or psychically preventing
me. If it was the former, I was screwed, so I chose to believe it was the
latter. That way, I still had a chance that my powers would grow, and I’d beat
him at his own psychic game.
So
naïve, Mircea said, ending his words with a tsking sound. I wonder how my
father stands you.
Stepfather,
I corrected immediately. Or call him Uncle Drac if you must, but Vlad
is not your father.
Another
mystical slash across my shoulders had me biting back a cry of pain. Wow, he’s
sensitive about that, I realized, filing the information away for later. Good
thing Mircea couldn’t hear my thoughts unless I deliberately directed them to
him. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn’t hear his thoughts, either, or I might
have learned where he was.
Within
moments, the pain faded and my skin knit itself back into smooth, unblemished
flesh. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t call out for help. Mircea could
hurt me, yes, but there were limits on what he’d do. It wasn’t because he had a
conscience; every injury he inflicted on me had to be carved into his own flesh
first.
That
was the beauty—and the curse—of the spell that bound us together. It had forced
Mircea to stop the suicide-inducing aspect of it so I no longer had the urge to
chop off my own head. The flip side was, even if Vlad and I did find Mircea, we
couldn’t kill him. Not without killing me, too.
Seriously,
what do you get out of our little talks? I went on, thanking God that Vlad
lost his ability to read my mind as soon as I became a vampire. Otherwise, he’d
overhear everything I was thinking, and know that Mircea was mentally messaging
me as well as cutting into me.
Perhaps
I do it to find out why you mean so much to Vlad, he snapped. Thus
far, it’s a mystery. You’re not as beautiful as his former lovers and you’re a
damn sight less intelligent.
Must
be my electric personality, then, I deadpanned, but inwardly, I was
intrigued. Why did he keep logging on to my mind to talk to me? It
couldn’t be just to trade insults. Sure, Mircea had only been in his late teens
when he was turned into a vampire, but that was over five hundred years ago.
More than that, Mircea was usually smug when he used our link for his mental
and physical assaults. Now, he sounded upset. Maybe enough to lose his cool and
reveal something critical for me to use against him?
I
pressed my advantage. This is the sixth time you’ve contacted me in the
past four months. I used to think it was because you were testing our
connection to make sure that the spell still bound us flesh to flesh and blood
to blood, but you don’t need to talk me up to cut into me. Why do you keep
doing it? Are you bored? Or are you just really, really lonely?
I’ll
show you why, he said with a snarl.
I
didn’t like the sound of that. Before I could reply, he
said, What? in a surprised way, then abruptly dropped our link.
“Damn
you,” I muttered. Not that he could hear me anymore. I didn’t know how I could
always tell when he was really gone, but it was as if a door closed in my mind.
Didn’t
matter, I decided. Mircea was probably bluffing on whatever he was about to
“show” me. In any event, now I had to change clothes and destroy this bloody
dress. If Vlad caught sight of it, it would enrage him, and he was wound up
enough already.
If
I were the vindictive type like Mircea, I could get his attention back by
cutting into him the same way he’d carved into me. But, even though my dress
was already trashed, I didn’t do it. For one, I might be getting more
vindictive by the day, but I wasn’t masochistic. Yet.
I
went into my bedroom closet. A few minutes later, I was deciding between a pale
blue dress and a lavender one when a new pain erupted in my chest. Unlike
before, this pain was so ferocious, I dropped to the floor. Once there, I found
myself gasping for air I no longer needed. I recognized this kind of pain, and
fear made me attempt to crawl to the door, but my limbs stopped working. All I
could do was twitch in agony.
This
wasn’t Mircea hurting me for his usual cruel kicks. It was something far worse.
Hollywood
had it wrong when it came to vampires. You didn’t shove a wooden stake through
their heart to kill one. That would only give those of my kind a nasty splinter
and an even worse temper. Instead, you cut their head off, burned them into
ashes, or destroyed their heart with silver. From what I was feeling, Mircea
had just stabbed himself—and thus me—in the heart with a silver knife. The only
reason we weren’t already dead was because Mircea hadn’t twisted the blade.
Yet.
Chapter
3
I
tried to call out to Vlad. He couldn’t do anything to stop this, but some
desperate part of me needed to see him one last time. Yet all I could manage
was a gasping whisper. Vlad might have supernatural hearing, but he was three
floors below me and there was endless banging, clanging, and other noise from
the construction on the mansion’s south wing.
All
I had was my mind, and though it felt almost as frozen as my limbs, I summoned
the last of my strength to establish a link to him, then let out a mental
shout.
Vlad!
A
wave of energy filled the room, followed by a slew of emotions slamming into
mine. That was more effective than a reply to let me know that he’d heard me.
Moments later, I saw a tall, dark form moving with blurring speed toward me.
“Leila.”
He lifted me up, leaning in so close than his hair formed a blackish-brown veil
around us. “What—?”
He
stopped when my arms fell away, revealing the bloody hole directly into my
heart. A shockwave of emotion exploded from him, and the rebounding effects hit
me with such force that I almost passed out.
“No,”
he said, anguish choking the word. “No!”
His
scream echoed through every part of me. Vlad clutched me while grief, panic,
and despair howled through our bond. In the midst of the awful, clawing pain in
my chest, I felt burning spots on my face that I didn’t understand until he
drew away enough for me to see him.
Pink
lines streaked his face. They had to be tears, but I hadn’t known that Vlad was
capable of crying. I also had never seen the tiny orange droplets that now
beaded on his skin before burning my clothes and anything else they touched.
He’s
sweating fire, I realized, amazement threading through me even as death dragged
me down farther into its grasp. I love you, I tried to say, but all
that came out was a gasp.
So
I stared at him, trying to concentrate on his face instead of the awful
coldness overwhelming me. I loved the dark stubble on his jaw, the winged black
brows framing his coppery-green eyes, and his masculine yet sensual mouth. I
loved his long dark hair and the scars covering his hands, and most of all, I
loved his fierce, beautiful soul. I wished I could tell him all of that, but
speech was beyond me.
I
love you, I thought again, trying to force the words into his mind. From
the fresh wave of emotions that rolled over mine, he’d heard me. I love
you, I repeated as my vision went black and everything else slipped
away. Forever . . .
All
of a sudden, that excruciating coldness vanished. My limbs began to flop as if
belatedly following the frantic instructions I’d given them before. Vlad jerked
back, his grief turning to incredulous relief as we both watched new, healing
skin cover over the deep, blade-shaped hole in my chest.
Mircea
must have pulled the knife out instead of twisting it. The knowledge that
I wasn’t about to die filled me with such joy that I let out a choked
laugh. Vlad shouted something in Romanian, then he kissed me, bruising my lips
while more feelings tore through our connection.
“I
love you, too.” His voice vibrated as he broke away to press searing kisses all
over my face. “Forever.” He kissed me again before stopping far too soon.
“Get
out,” he said in a very calm tone.
The
sound of rapidly retreating footsteps made me aware that we hadn’t been alone
in the room. Right, Vlad’s people would’ve felt his emotions the same way I
had, and just moments ago, he’d been a maelstrom of grief and panic. Not
surprisingly, that must’ve sent several of them running to see what was wrong.
Vlad’s
relief continued to strafe my subconscious, yet now it was mixed with
ever-growing fury. I felt him struggle to get control of it until he drew his
inner shields up and blocked everything off. He let out a slow breath, and the
droplets of flaming sweat that had burned little holes all over my dress
disappeared from his skin. Yet his hands remained scorching hot as he reached
out to touch my face.
“That
was close,” I said in a shaky voice.
“Too
close.”
Even
with the iron control he was exercising, he couldn’t keep the fury from his
voice. I’d be furious at Mircea later, too, but at the moment, I was too
grateful to be alive to be mad at the viciousness of his last attack.
Vlad’s
shields were up, yet I didn’t need our tie to know that he was still
ping-ponging between relief and killing rage. Waves of energy kept spilling
from him, and his scent changed from smoky cinnamon to something that smelled
more like a forest fire. I was concerned that he was on the verge of
spontaneously combusting. While that was normally a figure of speech, he was a
centuries-old pyrokinetic vampire with staggering abilities and an equally
impressive temper, so for Vlad, that was a real possibility.
“You
need to power down,” I said. “You leveled this house once, and
you just finished putting in the new fourth floor.”
His
quick smile smoothed some of the harshness from his face, but I knew better
than to believe the crisis was over.
“Vlad,”
I began again.
“I’m
fine, but you’re too weak to keep talking,” he said.
I
would’ve argued, but I felt almost as tired as I’d been when I was a brand-new
vampire and the sunrise rendered me unconscious. That’s why I didn’t protest
when he carried me to the bed, barking out an order in Romanian at the same time.
Somewhere
down the hall, I heard footsteps scurry to obey. Vlad had ordered his people
out of our room, but they obviously hadn’t gone far. By the time he’d set me
down on the bed and smoothed my hair away from my face, the captain of Vlad’s
guard, Samir, had already returned with three bags full of blood.
I
flashed a limp smile of thanks at Samir. He and I had gotten to be friends over
the past several months. When I bit into the first bag, that red liquid hit my
veins like a jolt of pure caffeine, reviving my strength and making me feel
merely half dead instead of circling the grave like I had before. The second
bag was even better, chasing the lingering haziness from my mind. After the
third, I felt almost normal again.
Vlad
stared at me, green flaring around the rich copper shade of his irises.
“Better?”
I
nodded, leaning back against the pillows. Vlad turned to Samir. “Check all the
perimeter sensors, then double the guards. This might have been used as a
tactical distraction.”
Samir
bowed smartly and left, taking the rest of Vlad’s people with them. I heard
Samir order three to stay on this floor, however, and I looked at Vlad with
fresh alarm.
“You
think someone’s about to attack?”
Vlad’s
mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “Probably not. If that was the goal, they
would’ve struck when I was consumed with worry over you. Still, no need to
neglect due diligence.”
Then
he touched the bloodstained smear over my chest. An electric current slid into
him with the contact, and I marveled at how weak it felt. Being that close to
death must have drained me more than the lightning rods I normally used to
offload my excess kinetic energy. Vlad’s gaze moved to the other bloody stains
on my dress. His expression darkened, and when his eyes met mine, new fury
burned in their depths.
I
tried to head off the inevitable fight. “Vlad, I was just about to tell you
about that—”
“How
long was Mircea cutting into you before you called out to me?” he interrupted.
I
was so busted, not only for hiding those initial slashes today, but also the
other times. The glint in Vlad’s eyes warned me that he’d figured that out,
too.
“About
six times that you don’t know about, but Mircea never did anything this serious
before, I swear.”
“Six
times,” he repeated. His hand grew hotter, until I was surprised that my dress
didn’t catch fire beneath it. “And you decided to hide this from me why?”
“I
can’t stop Mircea from using our link this way,” I replied, frustration leaking
into my tone. “Nor can I stop him from mentally taunting me when he does it,
which is something else I hadn’t told you about. But I can stop him
from hurting you.” My voice caught. “I told you before, I am sick of being the
weapon your enemies use to bludgeon you. Every time I didn’t tell you about
Mircea’s attacks, I was thwarting him from hurting you. I might not be able to
stop him yet, but I can damn sure not play into his hands.”
Vlad
closed his eyes. For nearly six hundred years, he’d built up his power,
abilities, and brutal reputation to ensure that neither he nor his people would
be at an enemy’s mercy again, and he’d been successful . . .
until me.
Admitting
that he loved me had done everything Vlad had warned me about. In his enemies’
eyes, I was now the ultimate tool to use against him, and Mircea had hardly
been the first to exploit that. As a result, I’d been through hell and back
over the past year, yet every wound that others had inflicted on me had hurt
Vlad worse because he blamed himself.
When
he opened his eyes again, their color had changed from coppery green to bright,
vampiric emerald. “I understand why you did it,” he said through gritted teeth.
“But promise me that you will never hide such a thing from me again.”
If
Mircea hadn’t nearly killed me several minutes ago, I might have refused. But
the stakes had just been substantially raised. “I promise,” I said, holding his
gaze. “Vlad, I—”
Razorlike
pain hit me in multiple places, stopping me from saying anything more. I
clutched my abdomen, which did nothing to protect me from blades that were
magical instead of tangible.
Vlad
let out a vicious curse as fresh blood leaked out between my hands. His shields
dropped and his emotions once more smashed through mine. Amidst the blasts of
rage, I caught barely controlled panic as he watched Mircea magically cut into
me. Would he stab us both in the heart again, finishing the job this time? Had
my reprieve been a cruel trick?
If
so, there was nothing I could do, so I tried to calm both Vlad and myself in
case the worst wasn’t about to happen.
“It’s
not that bad,” I said in a tight voice. Thank God our sire tie went only one
way and Vlad couldn’t feel that I was lying. “He’s not going near my heart,” I
added.
The
new cuts were all well below my chest, and I fought not to wince at each fresh
slice. These weren’t the long, deep slices Mircea normally went for. They were
short, shallow, and connected. What was Mircea doing? Trying the famed
death-of-a-thousand-cuts torture on me?
“I
am going to break my brain thinking up ways to make him suffer,” Vlad swore,
his fists clenching. Then his gaze narrowed and he leaned closer, ripping my
now-sodden dress off me.
“Stay
still,” Vlad ordered, surprising me by grabbing the vase of flowers from the
nightstand and dumping the water it contained all over me. Then, he stretched a
dry sheet over me.
When
I saw the new bloodstains mar it, I thought, First my dress, now the
sheets. Mircea has been hell on the white fabrics today. Then a loud voice
in my mind broke through the pain. It was Mircea, and he sounded panicked.
Respond
back through your flesh or they’ll kill me!
Chapter
4
“What?”
I said out loud. “Who are ‘they’?”
Vlad
looked around. “Who are you talking to?”
“Mircea,”
I said through gritted teeth, trying to focus, but I only heard silence in my
mind now. What do you mean? I mentally shouted back, yet still heard
nothing in response.
Vlad
gripped my shoulders. “Mircea? What did he say?”
I
shook my head, wincing at the continued slashes that I now realized were the
words Who is there? carved over and over. “He said, ‘Reply back
through your flesh or they’ll kill me.’ I don’t know who he means and I can’t
ask. He’s gone now.”
“They?”
Vlad repeated, his mouth tightening into a steely line. “If this isn’t Mircea’s
doing, who is it?”
With
a glance at me that managed to be both ruthless and apologetic, he drew a
scorching finger across my thigh. It left a thin trail of burned flesh that
read as clear as ink. Even as I gritted my teeth against the pain, I noted with
ironic appreciation that Vlad’s handwriting was flawless.
I
need Mircea alive. Name your price—Vlad Dracul
The
other mystical cuts on my stomach ceased at once. Vlad dumped the rest of the
water from flower vase over me, washing away the old blood so that any new
reply would be easily seen. We both waited in tense silence. If I’d still been
human, I would have been holding my breath.
Minutes
ticked by, and nothing happened. I never thought I’d be disappointed
over not being sliced up, but I was almost twitching from agitation
as my skin remained unbroken.
“Try
sending them something else,” I urged. I might not enjoy this, but I needed to
know what was going on.
Vlad
flashed me another cruelly tender glance, then started burning out his new
message. It was much longer this time, so he needed my entire abdomen to write
it out.
Bring
me Mircea and be richly rewarded. Kill him, and I will destroy you and everyone
you care about.
“Way
to butter up whoever this is,” I muttered.
This
time, there wasn’t a hint of softness in his gaze as he looked at me. “It’s the
truth.”
I
didn’t need to feel his emotions to know he’d meant every word. Vlad’s brutal
side was my least favorite part of him, yet it was part of him nonetheless.
When he’d been a human prince of Romania, he hadn’t held off a far 18.0ptr
invading empire with flowery rhetoric. He’d done it with sheer ferocity, and
his centuries as a vampire after that had only hardened him more.
“What
if this is Mircea and he’s toying with us?”
Vlad
touched the spot over my heart. “One faulty flick of that blade, and both you
and Mircea would have perished. I didn’t think it through earlier, but it makes
sense that it wasn’t Mircea. He hates me, but he wouldn’t risk his own life so
recklessly. That means someone else did it, and Mircea must have told that
person about his connection to you—and thus me—in order to save himself.”
Made
sense, especially considering the odd What? I’d caught from Mircea
right before that happened. He had sounded as if someone had surprised him, and
not in a good way. Still . . .
“Mircea
is a vampire-turned-necromancer who can disappear into thin air,” I pointed
out. “How could someone even manage to hold him down long enough to stab him
with silver, if Mircea can dematerialize at will?”
“Only
one way,” Vlad said, and his caressing tone reminded me of the sound knives
made when they pierced flesh. “Mircea is being held by people even more
powerful than he.”
Magic
sucks! I thought again, with far more vehemence this time. It wasn’t
enough that we’d finally defeated the vampire who’d allied with Mircea in a
centuries-long attempt to kill Vlad. Now, we had to worry about a group of
mysterious sorcerers, too. And how would we find them when we didn’t even know
who “they” were?
I
closed my eyes. I hadn’t been afraid of my tie to Mircea before because he
couldn’t kill me without taking himself out. Now, my life was in the hands of
people I knew nothing about, except that they were powerful sorcerers and they
appeared to want the person I was magically tethered to dead.
“We
need to break the spell that’s tying me to Mircea,” I said, opening my eyes.
“One way or another.”
“Oh,
we will. Never doubt that.”
Vlad’s
gaze was so bright, it resembled burning emeralds as he stroked my face. Then
his hand descended, flattening when it reached the spot where that invisible,
magic-fueled knife had stabbed me.
“Mere
moments from losing you.”
His
emotions remained locked down, but the muscle flexing in his jaw along with his
elevated temperature was enough to let me know that inside, he was still
incendiary. I reached out and twined my fingers through his, until our clasped
hands rested over my heart.
“You
didn’t lose me.”
And
I hadn’t lost him. Less than an hour ago, I thought I had. I stared at Vlad,
remembering how I’d tried to memorize his face because I thought I wouldn’t see
it again. Now, I wanted something more tangible than a long stare to remind me
that we both still had each other.
I
pulled his head down and kissed him. It only took the brush of my lips on his
for him to respond. He muttered something wordless, then pulled me out of the
soaked, bloodstained bed to lay me in front of the fireplace. The fire rose
higher as he stared at me, until those orange and blue flames looked as if they
were trying to claw their way past the grate to reach us.
“No
one is taking you away from me,” Vlad growled, his shirt tearing away after a
single swipe. His pants met the same fate, then his molten body covered mine
and he kissed me.
I
couldn’t stop the currents that pulsed into him when I clutched his back, and
from the low, darkly erotic sounds he made, he didn’t want me to. His hands
moved over me with the ruthless knowledge of a lover who wouldn’t settle for
anything less than my total, uninhibited surrender. Then his fingers taunted me
with strokes that matched the sensual flicks of his tongue. After that, I was
more than ready to give him everything he wanted . . . and to
take everything I needed.
I
reached down, grasping his cock while I arched beneath him. His groan vibrated
against my lips as he rubbed that thick, hard length against me, sending a
starburst of sensation into my loins. Instead of thrusting forward the way I
desperately wanted him to, he grabbed both my hands and pinned them above my
head.
“Not
yet,” he said in a throaty voice.
My
sound of protest turned into an extended moan as he slid down, burying his
mouth between my legs. His tongue was a sinuous, fiery brand that had me half
crazed from pleasure, and my right hand shot ever-increasing bolts of
electricity into him as my passion reached the breaking point.
“Please,”
I found myself gasping.
His
low laugh teased my aching flesh. “You know that word doesn’t work on me.”
I
was too frenzied with desire to let him draw this out. I flipped over, crying
out when my abrupt move slammed his mouth against me and he grabbed my hips to
hold himself there. Then, even as I was shuddering from the beginnings of
orgasm, I forced his head up and slid down at the same time, until our hips
were lined up and I could stare into his now-emerald-colored eyes.
“Since
you hate the word please,” I said, voice ragged from passion. “What about now?”
His
mouth claimed mine at the same time that he thrust deeply inside me.
Chapter
5
Several
hours later, we landed at a private airport in London, England. When Vlad’s
new, sleek Learjet rolled to a complete stop, I let out the breath I’d
inadvertently sucked in.
He
glanced at me, his lips curling. “With everything else going on, you’re nervous
about flying?”
“It’s
not the flying part I mind,” I responded tartly. “It’s the crashing part I have
issues with.”
This
plane was new because Mircea had magically compelled Vlad’s pilots to crash the
old one. We’d only survived because Vlad had torn open the side door and flown
us away moments before impact. Vampires could survive a lot, but no one could
live through a plane hitting the ground at maximum velocity.
“We
tested everyone to make sure they’re not bound by one of Mircea’s spells,” Vlad
reminded me. “Plus, he would never attempt to crash our plane while you’re
still linked to him.”
“Hopefully,
that won’t be for much longer,” I muttered.
There
had been no new “messages” during the time it had taken us to fly to London
from Romania. Not knowing what Mircea’s captors intended was sawing at my
nerves. On the plus side, I wasn’t dead, so the mysterious sorcerers had to be
taking Vlad’s threat against them seriously. On the negative side, we hadn’t
been contacted to say that Mircea was being delivered with a big red bow, so
whoever “they” were, they didn’t seem in a hurry to give Mircea up, either.
“Where
are we meeting Mencheres?” I
asked when Vlad opened the interior door that converted into stairs.
“Here,”
an accented voice replied from beyond that doorway. Before I had time to
recover from my surprise, a Middle Eastern man with waist-length black hair
vaulted up the staircase.
Vlad
embraced Mencheres, a show of affection he reserved for only a few people in
the world. But Vlad had often referred to Mencheres as his “honorary sire,” so
I wasn’t surprised when he also accepted a kiss on each cheek from Mencheres.
Then
Mencheres turned his charcoal-colored gaze my way, and I wondered why he’d
bothered to tamp down his aura to undetectable levels. Mencheres looked like an
attractive man in his early twenties, but looking into his eyes was like
staring through a time portal into the ancient past. He was so old; one of the
famed pyramids in the Giza plateau had been his.
“Leila,”
he said, extending his hand. I shook it because I was wearing my
current-repelling gloves and thus couldn’t shock him from the simple contact.
“Thanks
for coming,” I said, not adding, but I don’t know why you’re
here. Mencheres hadn’t been able to break Mircea’s spell before, although
he’d given it his best shot. Unless Mencheres had had a breakthrough since
then, I didn’t know why Vlad wanted to meet with him.
“I
was in New York, so it was a short flight,” Mencheres said, dismissing how he’d
dropped everything to meet us here.
“Where’s
Kira?” I asked when Vlad hit the button that caused the staircase to fold back
into a door.
“Still
there,” he replied, waving a casual hand. “I saw no need to interrupt her time
with her sister.”
At
the word sister, a pang shot through me. I’d promised my own sister,
Gretchen, that once Vlad’s enemy Szilagyi was dead, she and my dad could return
to a normal life. Then I’d had to go back on that promise as soon as Vlad had
killed Szilagyi. Gretchen had not been pleased about having to stay in hiding
indefinitely, and neither had my father.
I
was distracted from thoughts of my family when Vlad ordered his pilots to take
off. “Where are we going?” I asked, grabbing a chair as the engines roared back
to life.
“Nowhere,”
Vlad replied. “Just far enough off the ground that no one can overhear us.”
Mencheres
settled into one of the plush seats. I sat down, too. This plane could hustle
when Vlad wanted it to, and his pilots could obviously guess that Vlad was in a
hurry.
“Want
a drink?” I asked Mencheres, gesturing to the mini bar protected by a clear
glass panel. Just because vampires needed blood to survive didn’t mean we
skipped other libations.
He
inclined his head. “Whisky, if you have it.”
Vlad
gave him a sardonic smile. “From that provincial choice, I can tell you’ve been
spending time with Bones.”
A
smile ghosted across Mencheres’s lips. “If you two weren’t so similar, you’d
likely be friends.”
I
stifled a snort as I handed Mencheres a glass of whisky. I didn’t know why Vlad
disliked Mencheres’s co-ruler so much, but I didn’t see him getting over it
anytime soon.
“Enough
about that,” Vlad said, dismissing Bones with a swipe of his hand. “Magic is
one of the few things forbidden under vampire law, but like Mircea, there are those
who still practice it in secret. I need a guide into that world, at once.”
Mencheres
leaned forward, his expression turning very serious. “You are too well-known to
slip in and out unnoticed, and vampires who practice magic will kill to keep
their identities from reaching the Law Guardians.”
I
agreed, and felt guilty over telling Vlad we had to break Mircea’s spell at all
costs. “There has to be another way—”
“There
isn’t,” he interrupted. Despite his hard tone, the hand he laid on my arm was
gentle. “If the sorcerers holding Mircea had any intention of returning him,
they would have accepted my offer. Their silence means that they’re either
still intending to kill him, or they’re thinking of the best way to use him
against me.”
I
wasn’t a fan of either option, but I didn’t want Vlad to throw himself into
even more dangerous circumstances. His abilities would protect him from almost
anyone in the vampire world, but in a secret underworld where magic reigned?
Not even his feared pyrokinesis was a match for that.
“We’ll
see the voodoo queen again,” I said. “Maybe there’s something she didn’t think
of before.”
“Her
previous leads came to naught, and if she’d thought of anything new, she would
have told me.” His tone became flat. “Marie Laveau would love to have me owe
her such a stunning debt. She amasses favors the way the greedy amass
fortunes.”
“Who
are these sorcerers, and how do they have Mircea?” Mencheres asked quietly.
Vlad
let out a frustrated sound. “If I knew either, I would be on my way to kill
them instead of sitting here with you.”
I
filled in the blanks that Vlad’s frustration had left out. “Whoever they are,
they were going to kill Mircea until he proved his connection to me. Vlad
offered them a bounty if they returned Mircea to him alive. That was several
hours ago, and we haven’t heard anything since.”
Mencheres
closed his eyes. After an extended silence, he opened them and looked at Vlad.
“I left that world more than three millennia ago when magic became outlawed,
but I know one person with recent ties to it, and I trust him to act as your
guide. First, however, I need your promise that you will not kill him.”
I
felt Vlad’s surprise as his shields dropped and he considered this. “I can’t
promise that of anyone who betrays me or Leila,” he finally said. “Aside from
that, you have my word.”
“No
matter how badly you will want to,” Mencheres stressed. “Despite his many
flaws, he is dear to me, and it would pain me to lose him.”
My
curiosity was piqued. If this person wasn’t a threat to us, why was Mencheres
so sure that Vlad would want to kill him?
“Aside
from my conditions, yes,” Vlad said, the annoyance in his tone emphasizing that
he didn’t appreciate repeating himself. “Now, who is he?”
Mencheres
gave Vlad a look of grim amusement. “Oh, you know him. And you dislike him even
more than Bones.”
Chapter
6
We
landed in Cheshire, England, which thankfully was only a short flight from
London. A chauffeur was already waiting for us, and the unfamiliar driver
whisked us away to a manor that looked right out of the show Downton
Abbey. The driver dropped us off and then sped away, leaving us in front
of the manor’s 18.0pt double doors.
They
opened before Mencheres could knock, revealing a startlingly handsome vampire
with vivid turquoise eyes and shoulder-length, auburn hair. I had time to
notice particulars about his face and hair because after one glance, I kept my
gaze firmly directed upward. Vlad muttered a curse even as the naked vampire
let out an aggravated huff.
“You
said it was urgent, Mencheres, so do come in.”
“Ian,”
Mencheres said in a chiding tone. “You should have at least gotten dressed.”
Ian
glanced down, as if just now realizing that the only thing he wore was a very
intimately placed silver piercing.
“Do
you see a seven-foot-tall woman on my face?” he asked in a conversational tone.
“No, because I stopped what I was doing and emptied out my house as you
requested, so the least you could do is not scold me for failing to put on a
tux.”
I
was so startled by the graphic description, I didn’t know how to
react. Nice to meet you didn’t seem applicable. Sorry to
interrupt your cunnilingus! was probably more appropriate, yet I wasn’t
about to say that, either.
“Ah,
but who’s this?” Ian went on, angling his head around Vlad to get a better look
at me. “Mmmm, isn’t she stunning? If she’s my consolation prize, then I
accept—”
“She’s
my wife,” Vlad growled before I could correct the misassumption. “And if your
cock twitches one more time while you look at her, I’ll burn it off.”
“Vlad,
you swore,” Mencheres said low.
“Castration
won’t kill him,” Vlad responded at once. “His life was all I promised, and his
extremities can grow back.”
Instead
of being concerned, Ian laughed. “Here I thought today was going to be boring.
Now, I simply must know what’s brought the infamous Impaler to my
door, especially if it’s so important, my sire made you swear an oath not to
kill me.”
His
sire. I cast a surprised look at Mencheres. Ian didn’t seem like the type that
the reserved vampire would choose for a member of his line. And what had Ian
been thinking, putting silver there? He might not even notice if Vlad
burned his cock off. It had to be burning like hell right now.
“Are
you quite sure you don’t know anyone else?” Vlad said to Mencheres, not moving
to enter the house.
“Few
vampires are foolish enough to risk the Law Guardians’ wrath by practicing
magic, and fewer still are alive after such reckless disobedience,” Mencheres
replied. Ian shrugged, not disputing either charge. “Out of those, Ian is the
only one I trust . . . after I secure his word, that
is.”
“Mencheres,
you wound me,” Ian said, sounding hurt.
“Do
not trifle with me.” Mencheres’s new tone startled me. I had never heard him
raise his voice before. “Just as I know Vlad, I know you. You would misdirect
Vlad for your own amusement, let alone if someone offered you financial
incentive. That is why you will promise to show Vlad and his wife the same
loyalty you would show to me, and you will swear it on the love you have for
me.”
Ian’s
mouth curled in what could only be called a pout. “That’s not fair.”
“Swear
it,” Mencheres insisted. “And before you argue any further, when was the last
time I asked you for a favor? Would you truly deny me now?”
“No,”
Ian said, sounding as if the word soured in his throat. “You are one of only
four people that I would never deny. Very well, I swear on my love for you that
I will show Tepesh and his wife the same loyalty I’d show you during the
duration of whatever task you’re about to talk me into.”
A
vow with conditions, but then Vlad had had conditions, too. Besides, if we were
successful, we wouldn’t need Ian’s loyalty after we broke the spell that bound
me to Mircea.
Mencheres
turned to Vlad. “See?” he said in his usual calm manner. “Now that that’s been
settled, we can proceed.”
Vlad
eyed Mencheres in a way that made me wonder if he was about to take my arm,
turn around, and leave. Yet finally he shrugged, as if to say, So be it.
“My
vow is void if you betray me or Leila,” Vlad said to Ian, flashing him his most
charming smile. “And in that case, death will be a kindness compared to what
I’ll do to you.”
Ian
rolled his eyes. “Save your threats. Thanks to the promise Mencheres forced
from me, you don’t need them. Now, what sort of magical trouble are you
intending to get into? It must be more than casting a simple spell or Mencheres
would’ve done it himself. Before magic became outlawed, he was one of the best
practitioners around.”
“It
does involve a spell, but we don’t want to cast one,” Vlad said. “We need to
break one. To do that, we’ll need access to master sorcerers of even greater
skill than Mencheres.”
Ian
cast an annoyed look at his sire. “If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve
picked a nicer way to do it.”
“This
is important, Ian,” Mencheres said quietly.
“Why?”
Ian asked, turning to Vlad now. “Getting tired of offing your enemies the fiery
way?”
I
answered before Vlad could. “I’m spellbound to a necromancer who’s being held
hostage by people who want him dead. If he dies, our link means that I die,
too, so finding someone more powerful to break that link is our only option.”
Ian
looked at me. Not the perverted way he had the first time, but coldly, as if he
could care less whether I dropped dead at his feet right that second. Then he
looked at Mencheres. In quick succession, affection, resignation, and
irritation skipped over his features. I didn’t know what to make of that
mishmash, or of Ian’s admitted tendency to backstab for profit or amusement,
but Mencheres must trust that he’d hold to his word or we wouldn’t be here.
Because of that, we had no choice except to trust Ian, too. For now.
Finally,
Ian’s expression settled into cheerful cockiness. When he flashed a smile that
turned up the volume on his already dazzling looks, I actually felt an
instinctive feminine flutter that I instantly squashed.
“Who
wants to live forever anyway?” Ian said. “Right, then, we’ll start with a magic
speakeasy in the heart of London. And I do hope that you’re as tough as Tepesh
is, my lovely raven-haired poppet, because this will get dicey.”
***
FRAGMENT
No
one would believe we were the same people in The Pirates House parking lot in
Savannah, Georgia with Ian the next night. For starters, Vlad now looked like a
short-haired redhead with a square face, a crooked nose, and light blue eyes.
His lean, muscular frame had also expanded to a stocky build, and he’d lost
over an inch in height. I, too, had a new face complete with shoulder-length
blond hair, brown eyes, pouty lips, and a body with even more curves than
Marilyn Monroe.
Ian
had brushed off my admiration over his appearance-altering spell, saying that
“glamour” was only mid-level magic and the effects would wear off by dawn.
Since glamour wasn’t rare magic, he had reminded us that we needed something
else to disguise ourselves. Something no one would question.
“Unless
you want the sorcerers you seek to know that you’re swimming in their waters,
we need to hide your identities, agreed?” Ian had asked the night before.
“Of
course,” Vlad had said impatiently. “But I’m known to many people, as Klaus
proved, and since vampires can spot theater makeup or a mask, I assume real
sorcerers can spot those, too.”
“Oh,
easily,” Ian had agreed.
Vlad’s
gaze had narrowed. “I am not staying behind, if that’s what you’re
hinting at.”
“Wouldn’t
dream of it,” Ian had replied with a smirk.
That
smirk had raised my suspicions. “You know a way around this, don’t you?” I
asked.
“First,
let’s establish that you’d do anything to find a sorcerer strong enough to
break the spell on your wife, yes?” Ian said, not answering my question.
“Yes,”
Vlad replied without hesitation.
“Depends,”
I amended. When Ian’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, I knew that my
suspicions were well founded.
So
here I was, about to play my role as part of a happy, horny threesome. As Ian
reminded us, no one would believe that the homicidally-possessive
Vlad the Impaler would be into such a thing. Hell, Vlad had blown a guy’s head
off for merely grabbing my ass, and I’m sure word of that had made the undead
rounds because he’d done it in front of hundreds of people.
I
tried not to focus on what came next, so I allowed myself to enjoy the unusual
perks of my new body. So this was what it felt like to have boobs and
a bubble butt! Never before had I felt things bounce while I walked. I even put
an extra sway in my step just to feel it all bounce a little more.
Vlad
caught what I was doing, and a sideways grin curled his new, wider mouth. “Do I
need to memorize this spell so we can use it for our private enjoyment later?”
Before
I could answer, Ian spoke. “If you think this is impressive, I know a fellow
whose wife can shapeshift into an actual dragon. Blimey, I ache with envy at
the thought of shagging one of those.”
My
jaw dropped. “You’d seriously bang a dragon?”
“Oh,
for days,” Ian said at once. “Can you imagine the internet videos? I’d be
a bloody legend.”
There
was something very wrong with him, but tonight, we’d find out if Ian’s ties to
the magical world were everything he’d promised.
“Remember
your roles,” Ian said as we approached the parking lot to The Pirate’s
House. He pushed himself between the two of us, linking an arm around each of
our waists. “And whatever you do, don’t kill anyone, Tepesh,” he
added.
Vlad’s
response was a low growl of, “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”
Yeah,
but now our real disguise was about to begin. I took a deep breath to center
myself. Show time. I’d been a carnival performer for years, so I was no
stranger to acting. This might be a different sort of role, but whatever, I
could handle it.
When
Ian’s arm slipped lower around Vlad’s waist, however, Vlad’s anger pierced his
shields enough to singe my emotions. Saying that Vlad was prickly about being
touched was like saying that God was mildly annoyed by the Devil. I stopped
even though we’d only made it a couple feet away from the car.
“Are
you sure about this?” I said, holding Vlad’s gaze.
It
felt like molten steel coated my emotions with the resolve behind his reply.
“Yes.”
Ian
glanced at Vlad, assessing the situation. Then, moving so fast that he startled
me, he grabbed Vlad and kissed him.
Vlad’s
rage flash-fried my emotions with the intensity of a dozen wildfires. But he
didn’t shove Ian away or burn him with the flames I could practically see
beneath his skin. Instead, he bent Ian backward with the force of his answering
kiss. When Vlad released him, Ian gave him a crooked grin.
“Guess
I was wrong to fret about your past experiences being stronger than your
willpower.”
I
was so aghast at Ian’s casual reference to Vad’s childhood imprisonment and
rape that I slapped him as hard as I could. If I hadn’t been wearing thick
rubber gloves, my whip might have spontaneously shot out and taken his head
off, too. Ian rocked back a few feet, and a group of people entering the
parking lot let out shocked sounds as they gaped at us.
Ian
straightened and gave me a single glare before he turned to the crowd and waved
at them. “She loves to play rough,” he told them. “That’s why it takes two of
us to handle her, the fierce little vixen.”
One
of girls let out an admiring giggle while the rest of the group averted their
gaze as they walked by. Ian gave them another saluting wave, then he turned
back to me.
“Seems
Tepesh isn’t the only one with a temper,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Do I
have to make you promise not to kill anyone too, poppet?”
I
stiffened even as part of me acknowledged that I’d gone too far. Vlad was more
than able to defend himself, if he’d felt the need. At least our cover was
still intact, even if it now looked like I was a sadist as well as a sex
groupie.
“Sorry,”
I muttered.
“Don’t
be,” Vlad said. His fingers traced up my arm and he dropped his shields long
enough for me to feel satisfaction rising him, mixed with the remains of his
anger. He liked that I’d overreacted on his behalf, even if there had been no
need. Then, he fixed Ian with a laserlike glare.
“Don’t
ever bring that up again,” he said, his pleasant tone belying the scent of
smoke starting to emanate from him.
The
smile wiped from Ian’s face, replaced an expression I hadn’t seen before. On
anyone else, I’d call it… sincerity. “I wasn’t making light. Men handle such
things differently. Some heal and go on to live completely normal lives. Some
abhor contact with others afterward, and some”-a shrug-“seek out all the
contact they can get to prove that it’s their choice now. I simply needed to
know if your history combined with your well-documented dislike of personal
contact would be a stumbling block to our goals tonight.”
Ian
continued to hold Vlad’s gaze, and the tension in the air changed. Anger gave
way to an unspoken acknowledgement that made me glance away, suddenly feeling
like I’d walked in on a very personal conversation. I wanted to tell Ian that I
was sorry for what had happened to him, which was how I interpreted the subtext
of his statements. But if I was right, Ian wouldn’t want my pity. No, if he was
anything like Vlad, he’d scorn pity because he’d turned the pain from his
former rape into steel that now made him unbreakable.
Then,
abrupt as a thunderclap, Ian’s expression transformed into his usual mocking
smirk.
“But,
since we’ve established that you’re a very convincing actor – blimey,
I’ll fantasize all night about that blazingly hot tongue! – let’s go find some
sorcerers, shall we?”
“At
The Pirate’s House restaurant,” I added, fighting a stab of ridiculous jealousy
that made me want to inform Ian that Vlad’s tongue and every other scorching
part of him was mine.
“Not
The Pirate’s House, poppet,” Ian said, his grin turning knowing, as if he’d
guessed at my surge of possessiveness. “Next to it.”
I
followed his gaze, but saw nothing except an expanse of grass between the
parking lot and the road. Or did he mean one of those smaller buildings to the
right of the grassy expanse?
“Which
one is it?” I said.
Ian
pulled something grainy out of his pocket, then blew the glittering dust it
contained right into my face. The sparkling cloud went right into my nose and
mouth, burning as it made its way inside me.
Vlad
grabbed Ian, snapping “What was that?” at the same time that I sputtered out,
“What the hell?”
“That’s
me pretending to be a gentleman,” Ian said, winking at me. “Ladies first, isn’t
that the way it’s done?”
“First
for what?” I began, then stopped. “Oh,” I breathed.
***