One Bite (7 page)

“I had no idea your relationship with the trolls extended back so far,” Kirill commented lightly, his gaze zeroed in on Irina and the affectionate smile on her face. He ignored the part of him that really didn’t like her looking at the troll like that.

“My father believed all the people of this land deserved equal respect, so he took me to meet them all as often as he could,” Irina explained, only a slight hoarseness in her voice betraying her emotion. She cleared her throat. “When I was five, I wandered off into the woods and found
Skoll
here. My father had been talking to me about how the royal family hoarded the kingdom’s wealth and how some people did not have enough money to get by.” She mock glared at the troll who was in danger of splitting his face if he smiled any wider. “I found
Skoll
and offered him a handful of copper.”

The troll erupted into laughter again and Irina joined him. He finally lowered his head, wiping a tear from his eye. “A handful of copper,” he repeated breathlessly. “Oh, it was a grand gesture for a
child, that
is truth. Never had a troll been offered so much and so little all at the same time.” He seemed to get a hold of himself. “Tell me, child, will you be gracing us with a song tonight?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Irina said graciously.

Kirill swept forward and offered Irina his arm, more than certain the troll had been considering the same move. He half expected the troll to glare at him, but instead the beast raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

“Prince Kirill,” he nodded. “King
Risi
was surprised to hear of your association with Irina. Who knew beneath all that black velvet you had such exquisite taste?”

The smile on Kirill’s face could have cut glass. “Even I can recognize a treasure when I see one,” he said smoothly.

Skoll
shook his head and turned to the entrance to the mountain. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you inside. I don’t suppose I have to warn you not to touch anything?”

He didn’t. If there was one thing every creature in the land knew about trolls, it was that you did not lay a finger on their treasure unless you wanted your limb to be ripped off, dipped in gold, and added to the pile.

“I’ve never attended the Great Uppsala celebration before,” Irina spoke up. “I’m quite excited. It was so gracious of your king to allow us to attend.”

Skoll
smiled at her over his shoulder. “It isn’t often someone outside our race wants to attend. I wish I’d known of your desire, I would have brought you back when you offered me your coppers.”

“Still not letting
that go
, are you?” Irina grumbled
good
naturedly. “Am I to look forward to similar mocking from your friends?”

“Doubtless.”

Kirill listened to the exchange with growing interest. Political alliances were tricky, often difficult to arrange and even more difficult to maintain. The difficulty was exponentially increased when one was a prince instead of a king. Few kings were willing to form alliances with someone not yet in power without a significant show of authority. The first time Kirill had approached the troll king, he’d had to demonstrate control over his family’s wealth, hence the funneling of funds from under his father’s nose. When the troll king had sought to tap into a vein of gold in Sanguenay, Kirill had destroyed the good will between them by halting the encroachment. Even now, he was uncertain of how successful he could be in repairing that broken treaty.

Unless of course, Irina had the same friendship with the king that she seemed to have with this peon.
Although Kirill himself rarely put forth the time, or presented the vulnerability, needed to forge a strong friendship, he was no less appreciative of their use. He had discovered a vein of gold within the boundaries of
Dacia
, smaller than that in Sanguenay, but still respectable. Alone it may not have been enough, but with Irina here to tip the scales…

Kirill smiled at Irina, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He wondered how many more friends she had in the kingdom…

Warmth rose inside him as his confidence grew. Straightening his spine, he raised a hand to cover Irina’s where it lay tucked in the crook of his arm. His mood significantly lifted, he allowed himself a moment to slide his gaze over her face, dipping briefly to her tightly corseted chest. The sharp inhalation of breath did not escape his notice, nor did the sudden rush of blood to her heart that grew louder and faster with every beat. Satisfaction pulled his lips into a knowing smile and he stifled a chuckle at the way her eyes widened before she jerked her gaze forward. He could practically see her mind working, remembering the kisses they’d shared…the kisses they
would
share.

Kirill’s smile faltered. He was about to repair a critical alliance, this was not the time to be thinking with his lower half. Just because he’d managed to forge a connection to Irina with his bite, didn’t mean he would be enslaved by the same wanton thoughts that were no doubt plaguing her. He was the master, not the slave. Grateful her attention was no longer on
him,
he smoothed his face into his political mask and focused on the troll leading them into the mountain.

Heat flared between Irina’s thighs and she gritted her teeth behind her false smile. Between the pulse trying to tear its way out of the thick vein in her neck and the pheromones her desire soaked body was no doubt giving off, she had no doubt that the narcissistic vampire was well aware of her lustful thoughts. All she could do was pray that he attributed the effect to his vampiric powers. Irina knew as well as anyone that when a vampire fed from a human, and some other creatures, he created a bond that allowed him to exert influence over his victim, making them more susceptible to his hypnotic gaze and his natural sexuality. With any luck he would chalk her arousal up to his own sex appeal and not probe any deeper.

Curse great-grandfather
Motka
and his affinity for the rusalki
, Irina growled to herself. She resisted the urge to press her thighs together. It wouldn’t do her any good. The
rusalki
blood her great-grandmother had so infuriatingly passed on to her was well and truly awakened.

She thought back to their almost-encounter in the carriage and her cheeks almost burst into flames of embarrassment. Goddess, she’d been about to make such a fool of herself. She thought back to the early days of her father’s marriage to Serafina. The sorceress had tried to get Irina and her father to reveal the secrets of Irina’s heritage. Over and over, she’d stressed to her husband and stepdaughter the importance of knowing Irina’s heritage so that she could properly train the young woman. Irina couldn’t help but wonder if Serafina truly would have helped her if she’d known. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be fighting so hard to keep from climbing up Kirill’s body and clinging to him like a succubus.

No
, she told herself firmly. Serafina probably would have had heinous ways of teaching Irina control over these carnal urges. Irina shivered.

“You seem uncomfortable,” Kirill murmured.

Irina jumped to hear his voice so close to her ear. For a head-spinning moment she almost reached up to jerk him closer, almost urged him to bury his face in her neck until he bit her again, crushing her body to his—

“Irina?”

Skoll’s
concerned voice held a dangerous edge to it. Irina blinked, blushing furiously when she realized she was staring into Kirill’s eyes, only inches from her own. Oh, Goddess, were her lips parted?

“Step away from her, vampire.”

It was too hard to think, her head felt like it’d been stuffed with blazing cotton. She grunted in a most unladylike fashion as
Skoll
grasped her arm and pulled her away from Kirill. The vampire didn’t fight the troll, though whether that was a conscious decision or the result of his own distraction, she didn’t know. All she knew was that the vampire was staring at her, his eyes glowing red and a hint of fang dipping below his upper lip.

“Irina!”

Pressure on either side of her head preceded a sharp jerk and Irina found herself staring almost cross-eyed at
Skoll’s
worried face.

“Irina, are you all right? What did he do to you?”

Irina blinked, the heat in her blood starting to cool as she felt hundreds of eyes on her. She gently eased back from
Skoll’s
grip, raising a reassuring hand to pat his arm. “I’m all right, I’m all right.” She glanced over at Kirill, taking note of the hulking trolls that had moved to surround him in a discreet semi-circle. It dawned on her that the trolls had interpreted the tension between Kirill and herself as some sort of attempt on the prince’s part to ensnare her will. Mind racing, Irina fought to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“I’m afraid I underestimated my allure,” she said lightly, smirking at Kirill. “I seem to have bespelled my prince.”

“I feared that’s exactly what he was doing to you,”
Skoll
ground out, shooting a death glare at Kirill. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you. And you wouldn’t answer me, or even look at me when I spoke to you.”

“
Skoll
, leave the poor woman alone!” A gorgeous woman with fiery red hair and a green dress that put emeralds to shame swept up to them and batted
Skoll
on the arm. “Irina came to us with the Prince of Dacia on her arm, and you are flabbergasted because she wouldn’t look away from him to concentrate on you? Be off with you and let her finish reeling in her prince.”

Irina couldn’t help the smile that spread over her face at the scowl
Skoll
leveled on the female troll trying to shove him away. She was only half his size, but damned if
Skoll
didn’t have to shift his full weight to keep himself from flying across the room.

“He’s using vampire wiles on her while she’s a guest in our king’s mountain,” he snarled, glowering at Kirill.

The vampire prince stepped forward and Irina watched him out of her peripheral vision. His eyes no longer shone with the red glow that had heated her blood and his face was once again the epitome of calm collectedness.

“I would never insult His Majesty in such a way,” he said smoothly. He held out his hand and Irina only hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Irina is here as my guest. Of
her own
free will,” he added.

The touch of his flesh against hers, even in a gesture as simple as holding hands, sent heat flaring through Irina’s veins. She bit her lip to try and keep any sounds from escaping her mouth and betraying the raging sensations rushing over her skin. In that moment, she would have given anything to go back in time and take her stepmother up on her offer of so long ago.

“Irina, I’ve heard that you have a lovely singing voice,” the troll woman spoke up again, smoothly taking Irina’s hand off of Kirill’s and leading her farther into the cavern. “Won’t you delight us with a song?”

There was something in the woman’s eyes, some knowledge that calmed Irina’s nerves. Somehow the redhead knew what was happening, had sensed Irina’s discomfort. As out of control as she felt, Irina decided to accept the gift for what it was.

“I would love to sing for you,” she said gratefully.

“Wonderful! My name is Magna, by the way.”

Grateful beyond words, Irina let Magna lead her farther into the room. The farther she got from Kirill, the easier it was to breathe. Light seemed to shine at her from every corner and Irina gasped when she finally noticed her surroundings.

The trolls’ mountain abode was enormous. The ceiling rose impossibly high, almost convincing Irina that the entire mountain must be hollow. All around her sat giant piles of gold and gems, treasure that would have made a dragon drool. Male trolls stood throughout the room, tensing anytime someone wandered too close to their treasure. To the right was an enormous dais with a throne carved out of the mountain rock and set with jewels and laced with veins of gold and silver. King
Risi
sat on his throne, staring at Prince Kirill.

“Should I greet the king first?” Irina asked, tearing her eyes away from the piles of treasure long enough to remember her manners.

“Meeting the king requires a gift. I don’t know if that requirement is meant to make you worthy of his time or if it’s just a perk of being a king, but he won’t see you without one.” Magna gestured for a large boulder ahead of them. Its top was smooth and flat, almost like a stage, and more than big enough for Irina to stand on. “Your song will be your gift. Make it good and then you can greet the king.” She paused at the foot of the boulder and waved a hand toward the rock, murmuring an incantation. She offered Irina a smile. “All right, you should be able to walk right up to the top
now,
just don’t look down and the magic will hold you.”

“Can you recommend a song that might please His Majesty?” Irina asked, trying not to look down as she cautiously stepped forward. The air under her foot was solid, and a good six inches off the floor of the cave.

“I’m sure anything a woman with your blood sings will be wonderful.”

Irina almost fell off the invisible step. “What?”

Magna raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know exactly what you are, but I can practically hear music when you speak.
Rusalki, siren, sirin, perhaps?
Also, the royal fanged one couldn’t take his eyes off you and you looked like you were about to climb his body and have your wicked way with him right in front of everyone.” She waved a hand toward Irina’s hair. “Judging by your hair, I’d say at least a drop of your blood is rusalka. It’s dripping.”

Irina grabbed a lock of her hair, her lips parting in horror when she realized Magna was right. The tight black coils were damp, especially the ends. A few trickles of water leaked dark trails of red down her dress in the back.

“Oh, Goddess, help me,” she breathed. She raised her gaze to the room, almost afraid to look for Kirill but needing to know if he was watching just the same. “Did the prince notice? Did anyone else notice?”

“None of my brethren would take his eyes off his gold long enough to notice wet hair,” Magna said dryly. “The women probably noticed, but they won’t care enough to say anything. As for your prince, the last thing he was paying attention to was your hair.”

“Oh, no, I almost enslaved a prince,” Irina murmured, her heart sinking to her knees. “I had no idea vampires were susceptible.”

“They aren’t.”

Irina shook her head, watching as Kirill stepped closer to the throne, offering something to the king. Irina couldn’t make out the monarch behind a glittering stalagmite, but it didn’t matter anyway. It was Kirill she had to watch. “No, Magna, it’s true. The way he looked at me, not just here, but before. He stares at me like a drowning man—and he didn’t kill me, not even after I cut him.”

Magna sputtered a laugh and gave Irina a little shove. “Well, that’s a story you’ll have to share with me after your song. However, one thing I can promise you, my dear…
rusalki
don’t bespell vampires. Nor do sirens.” She paused. “If you have sirin blood, or firebird blood, that might be another story, but I’d have to consult my books. But based on my own observations, I feel confident telling you that nothing about what the prince feels for you is magic.”

“How can you be sure?” Irina protested, her stomach doing flips as she stared down at the troll.

The woman offered a kind smile and raised her hand. A ring on her second finger burst into a brilliant display of light and a few wisps of steam rose into the air above Irina. She jerked as she realized her hair was dry.

“No one knows magic like troll women,” Magna said softly. She nodded up toward the top of the rock. “Now go sing your song.”

In a daze, Irina climbed the magical staircase and stepped onto the rock. Desire still breathed like a living thing inside her, but away from Kirill it was manageable. Magna’s words danced in her head, mocking her with their nonsense. Kirill couldn’t be immune. There was no other explanation for his reaction to her. They were both victims of her own poor control over her heritage. What other explanation was there?

A song would prove it. Irina tilted her head, contemplating the slope of Kirill’s back, admiring him while he couldn’t see the look of appreciation on her face
. If only he wasn’t such a power hungry leech,
she thought wistfully.
He really is very handsome.
She sighed. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bespell someone against his will, not even someone as arrogant and deserving of it as Kirill. She would just have to sing, reach out with her voice and prove to herself and Magna that she could indeed affect the vampiric prince. That would scare him away from her. Kirill was definitely not the type of man to stay close to anyone who might be able to exert control over him. He’d fulfill his end of the bargain and leave her alone. The people would keep more of their hard-earned money and everyone would be happy. She would be happy.
Right?

Angry at herself for her pitiful thoughts, Irina squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. She took a deep breath and reached inside herself for the peace and joy that was the source of her song. Parting her lips, she let the melody spill out of her body and flow into the room.

One by one, the male trolls turned to face her, tilting their heads as every note worked to weave a tapestry of hauntingly beautiful music. The women didn’t appear affected, but they smiled in appreciation, nodding to Irina in acknowledgement of her skill. Irina forced herself to focus on Kirill, to meet his ice blue eyes, absent of any red glow. She looked at him as if she could look through him, reaching deeper inside herself for the heavier notes that
rusalki
had used to lure men to their deaths for centuries. Every note flowed to Kirill, every lyric drawn out for his ears. She looked at him and let go of her control over her desire, letting it soak into the notes and wrap around him all the way across the giant cavern full of trolls and treasure.