EVERYTHING HAPPENED SO swiftly, Camilla didn’t sense she was in danger until it was too late.
One moment she’d been on the brink of being swept up in a sea of
erotic, unending lust, begging silently to forever be linked to her dark prince.
The next she was tumbling through realms. Her body felt like it was being torn apart, needles pricking and biting like teeth along every inch of her flesh. Her abductor remained a mere shadow until the portal—or whatever magic transported them—violently spit them out.
A large, cold hand shoved her to her knees. She spun around, furious.
Whatever grit she’d clutched onto died.
Every instinct in her screamed that she should run. It wasn’t the man’s appearance as much as it was whatever she sensed comprised the fibers of him.
Tension thickened the air as they considered each other.
Outwardly, he looked like any other member of court. His clothing was simple but fine. A shirt any lord would wear tucked beneath a dark swallowtail coat. Tawny breeches fit snugly on long, toned legs. Supple leather riding boots rose to his calves.
He was powerfully built, a male made to fight.
His short chestnut hair was tousled like he either couldn’t be bothered to tame it or preferred to look wild and inspire wicked thoughts. His
penetrating eyes were framed with a fringe of thick, dark lashes.
It was those arresting eyes—crimson bordering on black—that gave away what he was.
Vampire.
She swallowed thickly.
“It would be unwise to give me trouble.” His voice was gravelly, rough. A trickle of fear paralyzed Camilla.
He crouched, leveling her with a hard look that promised violence if she didn’t play nicely. Even from this new position, nearly kneeling before her, he exuded power.
“Understand?”
Camilla nodded, her mouth suddenly as dry as the beach they’d landed
on.
He looked her over once more, then stood. “Get up, little lamb. Fix your gown.”
Camilla clutched her bodice and adjusted herself; she’d forgotten that
the Prince of Envy had wrested it down in a fit of passion. It felt like hours had passed since she had been in his arms, not minutes. If she could run far enough away…
She glanced around at their surroundings, stomach sinking as her worst fears came to life.
There wasn’t anywhere to run.
Not that she would outrun a vampire. They were no longer in the woods or even close to the frozen tundra that signified the demon prince’s domain. They were on a seemingly deserted beach with black glittering sand and matching water, tendrils of fog drifting along the shore.
A pair of crimson moons hung in the sky, two watchful eyes from hell. The air was warm, uncomfortably so.
A fact that wasn’t surprising, as vampires didn’t produce body heat.
Lord save her, Camilla was in the vampire realm and the Prince of Envy was nowhere to be seen.
As if reading her mind, the vampire said, “Your lover won’t be joining us. His kind is currently unwelcome on Malice Isle.”
Malice Isle. The island nation home to vampires was aptly named.
The very atmosphere felt threatening, foreboding, like it wanted to sink its teeth into travelers and taste their deepest fears.
To their left a tropical forest—or what had once been a tropical forest but was now thick with rot and death—stretched as far as she could see.
In the distance beyond that a Gothic tower rose high into the clouds, like a demon rising up from the Underworld, surveying its fiery domain.
A bruising shade on the horizon indicated that sunrise was not far off; if she could make it for another few moments, she stood half a chance.
“Move, little lamb.”
“Where?” Camilla asked, stalling.
She didn’t comment on the name he’d given her. The warning was clear: In his mind Camilla was on her way to slaughter. He saw no need to name his meal.
He jerked his chin to the left.
A cave mouth yawned wide, a bastion of safety for the twilight creature and certain death for Camilla. If the vampire trapped her inside, she would stand little chance of escape.
“I don’t care for the dark,” Camilla said. “Mr.…”
“Blade.” He smiled, fangs gleaming. “Now move before I make you.”
Blade didn’t give her a chance to act on her own, he hauled her to her feet and roughly pushed her toward the cave. He didn’t hide his supernatural strength, didn’t pull back like Envy must have been doing each time he touched her.
Blade dragged her across the sand, the grains seeping into her slippers, chafing her skin as she kicked her feet, scrambling for purchase. They were just outside the cave and no amount of struggling would break the vampire’s iron grip.
Blade brought his mouth to her neck, and she stilled. “Don’t forget to bow.”
He shoved her across the cave opening.
Instead of finding herself inside the cave as she’d expected, she staggered into a beautifully appointed chamber. She blinked at the gleaming black floors, her reflection wide-eyed and wild where it stared back at her.
The cave was a portal to the castle.
Camilla immediately schooled her features.
Looking like prey in a place where she was prey wouldn’t serve her.
Her attention drifted along the polished floor to the walls, black brocade shot through with crimson threads.
Her heart pounded. Her attention slid farther, to the center of the room.
A dais, a throne, and… there sat the vampire prince himself, hair pale wheat, eyes ice blue, an inhuman expression on his ageless face. He was taking her in, his gaze traveling from the top of her head, pausing on her neck, then continuing down to her feet until he dragged it back up and fastened it to her face.
He did not seem impressed. It was either very fortunate or extremely unfortunate.
Recalling what Blade had said, Camilla went to her knees, dipping her chin to her chest. Far better to play the game and live than choose defiance and end up dead.
Or worse.
She kept her attention fixed on the floor in front of her, even as a pair of buffed boots silently stepped into her line of sight, the toes gleaming silver.
He moved like a shadow.
Two icy fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to gaze back. Into the eyes of a monster.
A beautiful monster.
Camilla’s mouth went dry, her command over her body drifting away. She’d heard rumors that royal vampires were the most lethal, the most powerful, especially when they touched you. Those stories were horribly true.
The prince hadn’t even spoken yet, hadn’t done more than gently press two finger pads to her skin, and Camilla’s body was ready to give him anything he desired.
An overwhelming need to please him, to arch her neck or offer her wrist, allowing him the honor of penetrating her skin with his fangs, overtook her. What made it more terrifying was that she remained aware of the danger, the terror of what he was doing, but she was powerless to resist. Her
body wanted his venom.
His gaze turned molten as it traveled along her skin.
A few moments earlier, even more flesh had been exposed from when she and Envy had been mad with desire. Camilla silently thanked Blade for telling her to cover up; that tiny mercy was a lifeline.
The prince held up her arm, his thumb stroking the pulse point at her wrist.
Terror gripped her mind, but her body buzzed. She wanted to cry, but only managed a small whimper that sounded suspiciously close to need.
“Your Highness.”
The cool voice cut through the heat.
“This is the one who said your name. I found her with Envy.” The prince dropped her arm, his nostrils flaring, scenting her.
She stumbled back, no longer caring if she offended him. Camilla wanted to be as far away from his deadly touch as possible, though her body still angled toward him, yearning. His hold over her hadn’t dissipated fully yet.
He looked her over with new interest. “Envy’s paramour.”
The vampire prince’s voice was silky, designed to seduce. She wondered how many mortals had lost their lives to that sinful sound.
“Or a diversion, Zarus.” “One way to find out.”
“I would strongly counsel sending her back,” Blade said. “Wrath is primed to attack. We don’t need to lose a potential ally in Envy, too.”
The prince’s smile was razor-sharp.
“Bathe her. I want the demon stench removed before dinner.”
 |
Camilla didn’t return to her full senses until Blade dragged her out of the throne room and slammed the door shut.
He whirled on her.
“Do you wish to start a war, little lamb?”
“It doesn’t seem to matter what I want,” she said, rubbing her arms.
“Allow me to impart some advice.” Blade advanced on her, rage burning in his crimson gaze. “Do not offer yourself up to the prince. Pitting two courts against each other won’t end well for anyone.”
“As if I had any choice. You do realize his touch removes all bodily control?”
His gaze darkened with suspicion.
“Not possible. That only happens when he gifts a mortal with his tongue. Terror should be clawing at your heart. Not desire.”
Blade’s attention swept the corridor, and she could see he was thinking quickly. He yanked her forward again, his voice low.
“Does Envy know what you are?”
No, but he’s been trying hard to figure it out, she thought. “I’m an artist.”
Blade slammed her up against the wall.
“No amount of magic hides the truth in blood.”
Blade looked like he was considering biting her. She held his stare, silently daring him to.
She swore he’d regret it.
“Act afraid next time you’re near Zarus, or he will become curious. I saw your reaction. Be thankful he wasn’t paying attention. I promise intrigue is the last emotion you’d like to invoke in him. Do you wish to leave here?”
Camilla nodded.
“Then fight your true nature. Or find yourself his new princess.” He finally loosened his hold, and she peeled herself away from the wall.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I am helping my court. We are standing on a knife’s edge at present, thanks to a foolish play our prince recently made, and I will protect these vampires at all costs. If that means feeding you to the wolves, I won’t hesitate to do that instead.”
He leaned past her and opened a door she hadn’t realized they’d been pressed up next to.
“Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone until I come for you again.”
He didn’t say the precaution was to keep the prince away, but Camilla knew that was what he’d meant. The warning was there, flashing in his eyes. The only reason she hadn’t already been bitten was because Blade had intervened. Twice.
Camilla didn’t want to owe him any more favors. She sensed they didn’t come for free.
She ducked under his arm and did as he’d suggested, wondering, as the bolt slid home, how she’d control her senses the next time Zarus touched her. It seemed there were indeed some truths she couldn’t run from, no
matter how hard she tried.
Blood will out, as they say.
A castle filled with vampires was perhaps the most dangerous place for someone with secrets like hers.
|
Blade returned directly after her bath, looking freshly bathed as well.
Camilla couldn’t help but feel disappointment when she heard his voice on the other side of the door. She’d never been the type to turn to religion, but she’d prayed Envy would be standing there, looking suspiciously close to an angel. Something she knew he’d hate.
While she’d been alone, she’d had time to go over the events leading up to her kidnapping.
The Fear Collector had given her that name, Prometheus. It was the vampire prince’s true name apparently, which made sense. Otherwise Zarus would be inundated by too many creatures speaking his name on a daily basis. The Fear Collector had either known—or bet—Camilla would say it out loud.
She was certain of it. Which meant this had to be part of the game. All she had to do was survive until Envy puzzled out the clue, if he hadn’t already done so.
Unless this was part of the game she needed to solve… her mind raced with new possibilities. If she’d been tricked into coming to the vampire court, the game master had a reason for it. There had to be something here he wanted her to find. But what?
Blade gave her an icy once-over when she kept the door half closed.
Instead of ushering her into the corridor, he pushed his way into her chamber.
“Give me your wrist.”
She clutched it to her chest. The gowns she’d found waiting for her after the bath left much of her skin bare. The sleeveless dark plum one she wore now was the most decent, and its neckline plunged to her navel. The right side of the skirt had a slit to her thigh, and the silk clung to her every curve,
as if she’d dipped herself in paint.
Two little straps held the top in place, but barely. One quick move in any direction and she’d be on full display. She shuddered to imagine being so bare in front of the vampire prince.
“No.”
“Do you prefer to offer me your throat?”
His mouth curved into a taunting imitation of a smile as his gaze dropped to the dress’s slit. There wasn’t anything heated or sensual in his look, only mockery. Blade enjoyed reminding her that she was only a warm meal.
“There is always your femoral artery if you’re feeling a bit more daring.”
She leveled him with a hard look. “Have you been drinking?”
“An idea came to me.”
He casually dropped onto a high-backed chair, his gaze running over her again, this time contemplatively.
“Vampires are highly territorial by nature. Even the prince wouldn’t touch what belonged to another, at least not without making a grand show of fighting for the prize. Should you be bitten by someone else, he’d have to submit an official challenge.”
“Let me guess,” she deadpanned, “you wish to own me.” “No, darling, I wish to get rid of you. As easily as possible.”
He leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the hunger taking over his expression, he would have looked deceptively relaxed.
“One bite. One mark. Zarus won’t move on you again.”
In life things were rarely as simple as Blade was making this out to be.
In fact, whenever someone promised an easy solution to a difficult problem, it was wise to run as far and fast in the opposite direction as possible.
Camilla knew one thing with certainty: if Blade wanted her blood, that was precisely what she wouldn’t trade. He clearly had his suspicions, and she would not confirm them.
At least not willingly.
Some secrets were worth holding on to for as long as possible, no matter
the cost.
“There must be another solution,” she said.
“Your demon prince won’t come, lamb. It’s you and me or you and Zarus. Unlike the prince, I won’t turn you. And I won’t try to fuck you.”
“You could simply help me escape.” Blade’s chuckle was deep and dark. “Where would the fun be in that?”
Camilla didn’t comment. She hadn’t expected him to help her, so his rejection was unsurprising.
He rose from the chair, a dark omen in the flesh, and motioned for her to follow.
“It seems you’ve made your choice, then. Move. We’re going to be late for dinner.”
Camilla glanced down at her silken gown again, at all the tempting skin it left on display. Blade had made it clear he didn’t view her as anything other than food, but other vampires wouldn’t feel the same.
“I sincerely hope I’m not the entrée this evening.”
She wasn’t trying to be funny, but Blade’s fathomless gaze suddenly twinkled with amusement.
“That all depends. Try to keep your wits about you and you’ll probably be fine.”
