His gaze focused on the tip of her sword. Then as if the threat of her weapon was forgotten, he studied her face, his gaze lingering, it seemed, on each of her features. His blatant appreciation unsettled her, and she clutched the hilt of her sword tightly, something she never did. Honed to exquisite sharpness with her diamond file, her sword cut through bone and muscle with little effort. It swung perfectly from her loose wrist as though an extension of it--she'd never needed to hold it tightly.
Take his head. One less vampire. The species checked in the tiniest way.
Why did it want to die?
"What is your name?" His words were clipped like an aristocrat's, but held a Russian accent.
"Why do you want to know?"
"I would like to know the name of the woman who will deliver me from this."
"You assume I'll deliver your death blow?"
His lips curled at the corners, but it was a sad smile. "Will you not?"
Another tightening on the sword.
He leaned his towering frame against the crumbling wall. He truly wasn't going to raise a hand in defense. "Before you do, speak again, creature. Your voice is beautiful. As beautiful as your exquisite face."
She swallowed. "Why do you remain here in this castle . . . ?" She trailed off when he closed his eyes as though in bliss from hearing her voice. "The villagers live in terror of you."
That got him to open his eyes. They were full of pain. "I rightly own this place and so remain here. And I've never harmed them, other than frightening them." He turned away and murmured, "I wish that I did not frighten them."
"They say you live here alone."
He faced her and gave one sharp nod. She sensed he was embarrassed by this fact, as if he felt lacking that he didn't have a family here.
"How long?"
He hiked his broad shoulders, pretending a nonchalance she saw through. "A few centuries."
To live solitary for all that time? "The villagers have beseeched me to kill you," she said, as if she had to explain herself.
"Then I await at your leisure."
"Why not kill yourself, if that's what you want?"
"It's . . . complicated. But you save me from that end. I know you're a skilled warrior and will make this quick."
"How do you know what I am?"
"I used to be a warrior too, and your incredible sword speaks much."
The one thing she felt pride over--the one thing in her life she had left that she couldn't bear to lose--and he'd noted its beauty.
He lowered his voice. "Swing your blow. Know that no bad could come to you for killing one such as me. There is no reason to wait."
Frustration spiked in her. As if this was a matter of conscience. It wasn't. It couldn't be. She had no conscience. No feelings, no raw emotions. She was coldhearted--had been blessed after the tragedy to feel nothing. She didn't suffer from sorrow, from lust, from anger. Nothing got in the way of her killing. She was a perfect killer.
The eyes that had been pleading for an end, now narrowed. "Did you hear that? Are you alone?"
"I do not require help from others. Not for a single vampire," she said absently. Oddly, her attention had dipped to his body once more--to low on his torso, past his navel to the dusky trail of hair leading down. She had a flash image of her trailing the back of one of her claws along it, while his massive body shuddered in reaction.
Her thoughts were making her uneasy, making her want to wind her hair up into a knot and let the chill air cool her neck--
"Ah, angel, you seem to desire one thing from me that I'm unable to give you."
She jerked her gaze to his face. Caught ogling the prey! The indignity! What is wrong with me? She had no more sexual urges than the walking dead vampire before her. She shook herself, forcing herself to remember the last time she'd hesitated.
On a battlefield, an age ago, she had spared and released another of this ilk, a young vampire who had begged for his life.
Yet he had seemed to scorn her for her very mercy. Without delay, the vampire had found her two full-blood sisters, fighting in the flatlands below them. Alerted by the shriek of another Valkyrie, Kaderin had sprinted, stumbling down a hill draped with bodies, living and dead. Just as she'd reached the flatlands, he'd cut her sisters down. The youngest, Dasha, had been caught off guard--because of Kaderin's panicked approach. The vampire had smiled when Kaderin dropped to her knees.
He'd dispatched her sisters with an efficiency Kaderin had emulated since that night. She'd like to say beginning with him, but she'd kept him alive for a time . . . .
So, why would she repeat the same mistake? She wouldn't. She would not forget a lesson she had paid so dearly to learn.
Squaring her shoulders, she steeled herself. It's all in the follow-through. Kaderin could see the swing, knew the angle she would take so that his head would remain on his neck until he fell. It was cleaner that way. Which was important. She'd packed her suitcase lightly.
*
As a young man, Sebastian Wroth had desired so many things from life, and having grown up wealthy among a large supportive family, he had expected them as his due. He'd wanted his own family, a home, laughter around a hearth, the luxury of giving a wife a surprise kiss behind her ear . . . . He'd been shamed to admit to this creature that he'd managed none of those things.
Half an hour ago, his only wants had been to kill his two older brothers and to die.
Now, Sebastian desired to gaze at this fascinating female just a little longer.
At first he'd thought her an angel come to set him free. She looked it. Her curling hair was so blond, it appeared almost white in the candlelight. Her eyes were fringed with thick black lashes and were dark like coffee, a striking contrast to her fair hair and wine-red lips. Her skin was flawless, light golden perfection, her features were delicate and finely wrought.
Fitting that hers would be the last face he looked upon while on this earth.
Yes, he'd thought her divine--until her avid gaze had strayed lower, and he'd realized she was very much flesh and blood. He'd cursed his useless, deadened body. He had no respiration, no heartbeat, no sexual ability. He could not take her, even though he thought . . . he thought this beauty might receive him.
The loss of sexual pleasure had never bothered him--until now. He lamented not being able to plunge into wetness, to watch her expression as she came beneath him. His eyes dropped to her slender neck, and then to her high, full breasts pressing against her dark blouse. He wished he could have kissed her breasts, run his face against them . . . .
"Why are you looking at me like this?" she asked in a baffled tone.
"Can I not admire you?" he asked, his voice sounding even more rough. "A dying man's last wish?"
"I know the ways a man looks at a woman." Her voice was so sensual, a voice from dreams. It seemed to rub him from the inside. "You're not merely admiring me."
No, he was thinking at that moment that he wanted to rip open her shirt, pin her shoulders to the ground, and lick her nipples till she came. Pin her shoulders hard and suckle her--
Suddenly, she gasped. "Your eyes are turning black."
But he scarcely heard her over the sudden explosion of sound. He swung his head around, his body tensing. "What is happening?"
She took a quick glance around her, eyes alert.
"You do not hear that?" Another explosion like that and this castle would collapse. He had to get her away. Even into the daylight outside. He must protect her--
Another explosion; he traced to just before her and her sword shot up, as fast as a blur. He snatched her wrist, but she struggled. Christ, she was strong, but he seemed to be more so than usual, more than he ever could have imagined. He pried the weapon from her wrist and tossed it to his bed on the floor. "Do not fight me. The roof is about to fall--"
"What are you talking about? What are you hearing?" She frowned, clearly listening for anything, then her eyes widened. "No, it can't be," she murmured as if in a daze. She s
tared at his chest in horror. "I am not a . . . Bride."
Bride. His jaw slackened. He remembered his brothers explaining that his body would come back alive when he found his Bride, his eternal wife. He'd always believed they'd lied to take away the bitter sting of all they'd robbed of him, including the death he'd craved.
Yet it was true. The sound he heard was his own heart beating for the first time since he'd been turned into a vampire. He nearly swayed when he inhaled deeply, breathing at last, after three hundred years.
His heartbeat grew stronger, faster, and his sudden erection shot tight and throbbing, pulsing with each beat of his heart. Pleasure seemed to course through his veins. He'd found his Bride--the one woman he was meant to be with for eternity--in this exquisite female?
And his body had woken for her.
But just as he was changing, so was she. He thought he saw silver flash in her glinting eyes. A tear dropped down her cheek. He couldn't stand to see her cry, felt like a knife was being plunged into his chest. He lay one palm on her slim shoulder, covering it. She flinched, but allowed the touch. He brushed her hair back and sucked in a ragged, unpracticed breath. Her ear was sharply pointed. His Bride was no human. He didn't know what she was, didn't care.
Brows drawn in confusion she patted the back of her hand against her cheek. She drew her hand down to see it was wet from a single tear. She stared in shock, first at the tear, and then at her sharply curling fingernails that were more like little claws.
"Please do not cry." He had a purpose now--to protect her, to care for her. "Tell me your name, Bride."
"Not a Bride to one of you. Never--"
"But you've made my heart beat," he rasped.
She hissed back, "You've made me feel." Waves of emotion seemed to flicker over her. The tears that had followed the first dried. Then she smiled, a heartrending curling of her lips. As quickly as it appeared, her smile faded. She shuddered violently, lowering her forehead to his chest from the force of it.
Just as his aching erection was becoming impossible to deny, she lifted her face, and her expression had changed once more. Her eyes grew intent on his face, and her tongue dabbed her plump bottom lip as she gazed at his mouth.
She was aroused. He didn't understand what was happening to her--nor to himself--
She laced her delicate arms around his neck, bringing their bodies together.
He groaned to feel her full breasts pressing against him. He'd suffered centuries without interaction with others, much less touch, and now he was feeling the most beautiful female, his Bride, in his arms. He feared he dreamed. His hands dropped to her tiny waist, squeezing, dragging her tightly against him. "Tell me your name."
As if in a trance, she said, "My name is Kaderin." Even the sound of her voice made his erection throb.
"Kaderin," he repeated, but the name didn't fit her. As he stared down into her eyes, he realized it was too cold, too formal for the fiery creature in his arms. "Katja," he rasped, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Katja, I must kiss you."
At his words, her eyes went completely silver, and seemed unseeing. But her full red lips were glistening, beckoning him. He cupped the back of her head and drew her to him. He groaned when their lips touched; electricity seemed to prick and tease his skin. Nothing had ever felt so powerful, so right.
If it took becoming a vampire to have just this moment, he'd suffer it again.
"More," she moaned against his lips.
He clutched her tight in his arms, then somehow remembered himself and eased his hold.
Her claws bit into the back of his arms. "Don't hold back. I need more."
She needed more, needed him to give it to her. She was his. He wanted to roar with triumph. He had been despairing earlier, but no longer. The feel of her claws sinking deeper into him--as if she feared he would get away--was ecstasy. She needs me.
"Kiss me more, vampire. If you stop, I'll kill you."
He knew she meant this literally. So he did, tasting her tongue, teasing it, then claiming her mouth with a hot, wet kiss. He savored the feel of her slowly undulating her hips against him in time with each thrust of his tongue. He kissed her with all the passion long denied him, with all the hope that had been wrenched from him returning. He kissed this fiery creature until she panted and sagged against him.
He was losing control. Impulses came for him to do things to her body, wicked things, and he knew soon he would obey them. "I'll always give you more, until I die," he grated.
And now, for the first time in three hundred hellish years, Sebastian Wroth desperately wanted to live . . . .
BOOKS BY KRESLEY COLE
The Immortals After Dark Series The Warlord Wants Forever A Hunger Like No Other
No Rest for the Wicked
Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night Dark Needs at Night's Edge Dark Desires After Dusk
Kiss of a Demon King
Deep Kiss of Winter
Pleasure of a Dark Prince Demon from the Dark
Dreams of a Dark Warrior
Lothaire
The Sutherland Series
The Captain of All Pleasures The Price of Pleasure
The MacCarrick Brothers Series If You Dare
If You Desire
If You Deceive
The Arcana Chronicles
Poison Princess
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An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
A Pocket Star Book published by
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2006 by Kresley Cole
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-0987-5
ISBN-10: -4165-0987-9
ISBN: 978-1-41652300-0 (eBook)
This Pocket Star Books paperback edition April 2006
POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Front cover illustration by Vince Natale Art & Illustration
Kresley Cole, A Hunger Like No Other
(Series: Immortals After Dark # 2)
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