“I love you. No matter what happens or what you have to do, I will always love you.”
“What are you waiting for?” Laila snapped. “Do it.”
Jane could hear the rush of Nicolai’s blood. While his expression was calm, stern, his heart beat erratically. He was not as unaffected as he seemed.
He didn’t look away from her when he said, “I’m going to drink from her neck, princess. I’m also going to cover her mouth to prevent her from screaming.”
“Let her scream,” Laila said, anger soothed. “I’ll like it.”
“I will not have anyone rushing into this tent and watching. Nor do I want you nearing us until she’s…dead.”
Pretend. This is pretend, she reminded herself. Otherwise, he would have simply swooped down, savagely bit and sucked the life right out of her. Yet, here he stood, arguing with his tormentor, demanding certain concessions.
“Do not tell me what to do, slave. I—”
“Will accept my terms or we are back to where we started.”
A pause. Jane drew in a deep breath and tilted her head to the side as she exhaled, giving him easier access to her vein. His eyes widened, his pupils flaring. His fangs lengthened and sharpened a little more.
“I want her on the floor,” he croaked. “Release my feet, Laila. You can stop me again if I lunge for you.”
Another pause.
“Very well,” Laila said on a sigh.
A second later, Nicolai was urging Jane the rest of the way to the ground.
He loomed over her as he had countless other times. Her hair splayed around her shoulders, and her robe sagged.
“Nicolai,” she breathed.
“Not another word, Jane.” The gold flecks in his eyes seemed to swirl. Down, down he leaned. Breath emerged from her lungs and mouth shallowly. Just as his teeth sank home, he flattened his hand over her mouth.
Her eyes flared. Her body bowed. Warm, electric pleasure entered with his teeth, shooting through every inch of her. He was sucking slowly, so slowly, taking little sips. And his hand…his hand was cut, his blood dripping into her mouth, down her throat and swirling in her belly.
He was feeding her even as he drank from her. His fingers tapped at her cheek, a bid for…something.
She had only to reason this out.
He’d told Laila he would kill her. Therefore, he was pretending to kill her. And any time Jane had spoken up to soften him, he’d told her to shut the hell up but had really wanted her to keep talking. So…he must want her acting panicked and disbelieving while acting uncaring himself.
She tested her theory, struggling against him, giving Laila a show. When Nicolai grunted his approval, she knew beyond any doubt. She pounded her fists into his shoulders, as if trying to shove him away. She bucked, as if trying to dislodge him.
When the wound in his hand closed up, he ground his palm against her teeth to reopen the flesh. Once again, his blood trickled down her throat.
Then, he groaned, sucking a little harder at her vein, drawing a little more blood.
Enough, she thought she heard him say, but that was impossible. His lips were still on her vein. Enough. You have to stop. He lifted his head, panting, licked his lips, then dove back down, biting her in a new place. This, too, pumped pleasure straight into her veins.
Careful, careful, careful. Don’t take too much. Slow down.
Jane frowned. Nicolai was speaking, but he was doing so straight into her head.
Have to time this just right. Again, his voice drifted through her head. The pressure against her vein eased.
Nicolai?
His body jerked against hers. Jane?
Yes. I can hear you, and now I’m guessing you can hear me. How is that possible?
He licked her neck, careful not to let Laila see. Some blood drinkers share a mental connection.
“Hurry,” the princess snapped.
I need you to kill the princess for me.
Though he wanted the pleasure of doing so, he couldn’t. He’d vowed not to. Which meant, someone had to do it for him. So, that was his plan. To have Jane strike the lethal blow.
Consider it done.
Thank you. A pause. I’m sorry for what I did to you. Before. And now.
I’m sorry, too. Her heart skipped a beat.
The princess has lowered her defenses, just as we hoped, and I’ve absorbed some of her power. The spell that stopped anyone from hurting her is now mine. She’ll still be strong, however, just not as strong.
Nicolai didn’t drink much more. He even dribbled several mouthfuls of blood down Jane’s neck and onto the ground. He was creating a mess, she knew. The illusion of death. She forced her struggles to slow…slow…until sagging limply, arms falling uselessly to her sides. She lay there, breathing as shallowly as possible. So much so she knew not even Nicolai could see the rise and fall of her chest.
Through tiny slits in her eyelids she watched him lift his head. Blood continued to drip from his chin, splashing on her collar and absorbing into her robe. He pressed two fingers into her nape, searching for a pulse. She knew what he felt: a wild, strong beat.
“It’s done.” Nicolai severed all contact as he stood. “I’ve done my part. Now you do yours.”
“Step away from her,” Laila said. “I will check for myself.”
He didn’t hesitate. He moved to the other side of the tent, away from Jane, away from the princess.
But…just how was she supposed to kill the woman? She had no weapons, and Laila wasn’t devoid of all her powers. She could cast a spell in the blink of an eye.
Come on, Parker. Think. Footsteps pattered. Body heat wafted. Think faster. Then the creak of bones echoed as Laila crouched. The body heat drew closer…closer…as the princess reached out.
The flicker of an idea presented itself. Dangerous, untested, but the only way. Nicolai, can she travel with only a thought, like you? Jane rushed out.
No.
Perfect. Laila’s fingers pressed into Jane’s neck. Jane opened her eyes, reached up and latched onto her wrist. A gasp of shock sounded. At the same time, Nicolai swooped in and grabbed the timepiece from around Laila’s neck.
“Mine,” he snapped. “Jane. Now.”
“What are you—?” Laila began.
Before the princess could begin casting, Jane closed her eyes and pictured her home—with Laila in it. Now that her mind was calm, her focus cold, it wasn’t difficult. She saw her kitchen, experienced a wave of dizziness. Laila struggled against her, but as the dizziness intensified, the struggles slowed. For a moment, Jane felt as if she were floating, and tightened her grip on the princess.
“What are you…what…?” Laila’s voice was weak, and Jane could hear an underlay of pain.
“Jane,” Nicolai shouted. “Jane! What are you doing?”
When the dizziness left her, when she felt something hard and chilled pressing into her back, she looked around. She and Laila were inside her kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the window, burning her so badly she actually sizzled. She rolled away with a hiss of pain, seeking the shade.
Nicolai hadn’t teleported with Jane that night in the forest, but then, he hadn’t been operating at full tilt. Most of his abilities had still been locked away. Tonight, he’d been like a powder keg—and so was Jane.
She stopped, flat on her back, Laila still in a crouch. The princess was pallid, sweating and…falling. She hit the floor, face-first.
Jane meant to leap away, grab a knife. That’s the reason she’d brought the witch here. Suddenly she could scent Laila’s blood. It wasn’t an altogether pleasant smell, and yet hunger twisted her stomach. Such raw, consuming hunger.
Before she realized she’d even moved, she was angled toward the princess, her teeth sinking into her vein. Only a trickle of blood met her tongue. Frustration clawed at her. She angled her head, bit again. Again, only a trickle. She lifted, found the princess’s pulse with her gaze, then swooped back down. This time, the blood flowed like a newly awakened river.
She should have had to chew to get what she wanted, a thought that grossed her out, but her gums were aching terribly, and her teeth—fangs?—had slid right in.
Warm, rushing life continued to fill her mouth. She moaned, dug her teeth in deeper, sucked harder, replenishing what she’d lost.
She must have hit a nerve because Laila came out of her faint with a jolt, and tried to push Jane away. She tightened her hold, gulping and gulping and gulping. Soon, Laila ceased struggling. Went as limp as a rag. Jane continued to drink, physically unable to pull herself from the drug that was this woman’s blood. Drug, yes. Because, with the blood, something else, something warmer, almost…fizzy, rushed through her.
Her cells practically exploded with energy.
Stop, you have to stop. If she took any more, she would kill the princess. She could hear the distant thump-thump of a heartbeat, and knew it was slowing, almost beyond repair. The flow of blood was trickling off, thinning.
I don’t want to stop. I brought her here to kill her. Stopping defeats the purpose.
But in the back of her mind, she knew—somehow, as if the memory were not her own—that to kill this way was to live this way. One death would not be enough. She would drain everyone she drank from. Always. No one would be safe from her. Not even Nicolai.
Nicolai.
Panting, she jerked her teeth out of Laila. She flicked her tongue and, sure enough, she had fangs.
Nicolai had made her a vampire.
With a shaky hand, she brushed the hair from her face. When she caught sight of that hand in the light, she gasped.
She…glowed. Bright, golden, white lightning exploded from her skin. And the crackling in her veins…she felt like she could do anything. Until she moved her hand into a ray of that sunlight and started sizzling. She groaned with pain, her arm falling to her side.
Note to self: avoid the sun.
Another thing of note: You’re here for a reason. Don’t forget.
As if she could.
She leaped up and, knowing exactly where her knives were, grabbed one, careful to remain in the shadows. As she peered down at the woman who had enslaved Nicolai, taken away his rights, abused him physically and sexually—for over twenty years!—she found that she couldn’t stab her. Couldn’t kill the bitch that way, either.