Royal House of Shadows Box Set: Lord of the Vampires\Lord of Rage\Lord of the Wolfyn\Lord of the Abyss (6 page)

His energy was draining, absolute fatigue taking its place.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Not there. You’ll drown.” Jane latched on to his arm and managed to drag him to the shore.

Once there, he just kind of fell the rest of the way, crashing into a mossy embankment. He tried to rise, but couldn’t find the strength. He needed to forage for food. Jane must be starving. He needed to build a shelter. The bugs would eat his woman alive. He needed to stand guard. She must not be hurt.

“Relax,” she said.

“Protect,” he murmured.

“Yes, I’ll protect you.” Gentle hands smoothed over his brow,

“No, I…” Oblivion claimed him before he could utter another word.

Nicolai
…

The deep male voice that called to him was familiar. Always in his dreams, when his defenses were weakened, but it was stronger now than ever before. And…beloved?

Nicolai…time…save…

In the back of his mind, he heard the
tick, tick, tick
of a clock.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

An image flashed in his mind. Not of the speaker, but of huge, grotesque monsters crawling toward him. Each had eight legs, with sharp, deadly points. They were black and hairy, their eyes big and beady, their tails pointed and curling toward him. They were staring him down, as if he were a tasty snack. Bile rose in his throat, but he pressed on, ignoring them.

“Where are you? What can I do?”

Nicolai…brother…heal yourself, and come. Time…save…

Brother? Nicolai tried to picture a brother. Nothing. He could not picture his mother, either. Nor his father. Even in his dreams, pain exploded through his head, shutting down his memories.

Tick, tick, tick.

Kill!
an equally familiar male voice suddenly boomed. Deeper, harder.

Damn it. He had to find out who was speaking to
him. Had to know. Had to, had to, had to. Life—and death—rested on his shoulders.

As he considered their identities, he thrashed, his hand connecting with something solid and warm.

He heard a gasp. For some reason, the female’s pain only increased his agitation. Must protect…

“Everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry,” she said, soothing him. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Jane, he thought, stilling. His Jane. Such a sweet voice, such a pretty face. Such a commanding personality, worthy of a queen. She was nearby.

Heal yourself…time…save…

Yes, he thought. With Jane nearby, he could do anything. Heal himself, and even replenish the store of power he’d burned through. He relaxed, willingly sinking back into oblivion. This time, he had a purpose.

J
ane spent two days gathering supplies and making weapons. She never strayed far from the unconscious Nicolai, just in case he needed her or they had unexpected visitors, so those supplies were limited. However, she managed to find fruits and nuts to eat, as well as small, thin twigs and mint leaves. Those, she’d turned into surprisingly efficient toothbrushes, which she used liberally on both of them.

Because they were near a stream, bathing her patient was easy. In fact, there’d probably never been two cleaner people trapped in the wilderness. Nicolai was no longer oiled, his skin was scrubbed to a healthy pink shine, and yet, the scent of sandalwood was stronger than ever. Every time she breathed him in, she tingled, her blood heating, her mouth watering.

It hadn’t helped that in bathing him, she’d had to run her hands all over him. As dirty as he’d been—cough,
cough—she’d had to bathe him
a lot
. Those muscles…so hard, thickly roped and laced with sinew. That trail of hair from his navel to his penis…always tempting her to wickedness.

And God, she was shame spiraling.

Nicolai might desire her, but he didn’t need another woman lusting after him while he was helpless. What’s more, he didn’t need another grabby woman touching him without permission, and already Jane had pushed the boundaries of his trust by bathing him (so many times).

Hands off from now on, she decided. And one day, she’d apologize for her behavior. Maybe. She wasn’t sure she would sound sincere. Despite his past, she’d
liked
touching him.
Bad Jane
. But, well, he’d seemed to like being touched by her. He tossed and turned intermittently, only calming when she was within reach.

Sometimes he questioned a man who needed his help, sometimes he cursed Laila for the vile things she’d done to him, and sometimes he fought ugly monsters, his arms and legs flailing. After the latter two, he always vowed retribution. Painful, slow retribution.

Something he was fully capable of delivering now. The swelling in his wrists and ankles was gone, his thumbs having snapped back into place, his feet having realigned right before her eyes. Even the abrasions on his skin were gone. It was quite an amazing process to witness.

The vampires she had studied had healed quickly, as well, but not
that
quickly. Nor had they slept this long in a single stretch. She worried about him.

Did he need blood? He’d had so much at the palace, and overfeeding could cause as much damage as
starvation. Perhaps more so, because overfeeding caused an insatiable need for more, more, more. Nothing else mattered ever again, and dead body after dead body was left in the wake.

She shouldn’t know that. She’d almost given herself and her knowledge away with the whole “bursting into flames” thing. And while she hated herself for having experimented on his brethren, she wished she’d done more, knew more. Anything to help Nicolai right now.

Jane sighed. She’d give him another day. And then what? she wondered.

She would have to construct some kind of hamper and drag him through the forest and into a town, find a healer and get him checked out.
If
there was a town other than Delfina nearby.

The problem—besides her lack of strength and direction—was her face. Her magical face. As Odette, she simply couldn’t lose herself in a crowd, as proven by the reaction of the people outside the palace. Word of her arrival might travel to Laila. Someone might attempt to capture Nicolai.

That someone would have to die by Jane’s hand, and she wasn’t quite ready to become a killer.

Another sigh slipped from her, this one weary. As a golden moon settled into a black velvet sky, she placed her handmade weapons—twigs sharpened on rocks until becoming daggers and spears—beside Nicolai. Then she lay next to him.

She’d washed her robe about an hour ago, the still-wet material now draped over a nearby tree limb. Except for her panties, she was naked. By necessity. Of course. So she wasn’t going to castigate herself over needing
Nicolai’s warmth. Well, not too badly. The baths had been frivolous; spooning wasn’t.

Lying next to him provided a wealth of wondrous experiences. Peace, after so many months of fear and regret. Soul-deep contentment. Hope for a future she had once dreaded. He shouldn’t affect her this quickly and this strongly, even with magic.

After some thought, she’d realized magic could not change a person’s feelings. He had never welcomed his captors; and had they possessed the ability to force the issue, they would have.

Though she was exhausted, falling asleep proved difficult. Her back had scabbed, and those scabs pulled and reopened with her every movement. And her legs… Without her morning jogs and physical therapy, her legs were stiffening up more and more frequently, aching and throbbing. She could practically feel atrophy setting up camp in her muscles.

What she wouldn’t give for a handful of painkillers.

At least she didn’t have to dread the approach of the sun. Their very first night here, she’d constructed a big, leafy canopy above the small site. Nicolai had claimed he wouldn’t burst into flame with ultraviolet contact, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. Granted, the sun here was muted, always shaded by clouds, and not nearly as hot as she’d experienced back home. But in her world, she
had
witnessed other vamps burning to ash. Maybe even one of his friends.

Stomach cramp.
She wouldn’t let herself go there.

Also, the canopy offered them camouflage from the enemy, hiding them from prying eyes. As proud as she was of her efforts, they’d so far been unnecessary. Laila and her men had never even marched past.

Most likely they weren’t even looking for the escapee, the princess expecting Nicolai to walk himself straight back to her bed.

Bed. Exactly where
Jane
wanted Nicolai. A soft mattress underneath him, Jane on top of him, her nails digging into his chest as she balanced. A tantalizing rush of desire poured through her, and she moaned.

Nicolai was right beside her. He could wake up at any moment and realize what she yearned for. But…maybe another sex fantasy was in order. For his sake. After all, she had to be disturbing him, rolling around like this. And last time, she’d fallen asleep the moment she’d climaxed.

Yes, for Nicolai’s sake, she thought dazedly, inhibitions crumbling as she imagined the hard thrust of him inside her….

A low moan caused Nicolai to jolt upright.

Out of habit, he cataloged his surroundings in an instant. The moon was high, golden, the stars bright, winking from their scattered perches. Ghost trees swayed against a cool, sultry breeze. A river rushed along a pebbled bank.

His brows drew together with confusion. He was enveloped by the sweetest scent of passion…fading…and the ripe scent of pain…intensifying. Who was in—?

Another low, female moan sounded, broken and harsh. His attention whipped to the left, down. Jane. Jane lay beside him. And gods above, she was practically naked. Her only covering was a tiny scrap of white material between the apex of her thighs.

He should remove it. With his teeth.

Instantly his fangs ached. A familiar sensation in
her presence. For a moment, he could only drink in the sight of her, his gaze greedy. Her breasts were small, her nipples pink as berries and beaded deliciously. Her stomach hollowed, showcasing every single one of her ribs.

Clearly she had been hungry for a long time. He would feed her, he thought, delighted by the very idea. She would never lack for food again. Would eat from his hand. Only the very best morsels, too. She would close her eyes at the succulent taste, savor every nibble, groan in joy when he sampled the meal with her, and then directly from her.

While blood was the source of his life, he needed food, as well. Perhaps because he was not fully vampire. He had a witch for a mother, and—

A witch for a mother?

Pain sliced through him, and he nearly pounded his fist into the ground. Not again. Frustration ate at him.

Then he spied the scars on Jane’s abdomen, and thoughts of offering her the choicest of meats fled, right along with thoughts of his family. Hunger of a different nature asserted itself. He ached to commit murder. Those scars…Dark Abyss… He’d known she had them, but not how many or how deeply they cut her.

From her navel down, she looked as if she’d been sliced up and sewn back together by a blind weaver. Thick, red scars crisscrossed in every direction, badges of pain most in the world would probably never experience.

How had she survived whatever had been done to her?

Whoever had hurt her would die, just as the guards who touched her had.

She deserved pampering. Not just the food from his table, but gowns of rich velvet and a bed of the finest goose feathers. Never would she work. She would relax, enjoy, perhaps spend her days naked, lounging in his bedroom, and her nights sweat soaked from passion.

He would feast from her body, her veins. Sample every part of her, dining between her legs at his leisure. Riding her hard and fast, letting her ride him slow and sweet. Taking her in every position imaginable, then perhaps inventing a few. His cock hardened, already aching.

She needs her rest. Needs to heal.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. But gods, much more of her incredible scent and he would fall on her, perhaps drink too much of her blood. She was like the morning dew on the petals of a rose, fragile, and he must always be careful with her.

Trembling, he reached out to smooth that honey hair from her brow…. When he saw his hand, he stilled. Turned his palm up to the moonlight. Wiggled his thumb. Healed. He was completely healed; there was no pain.

How much time had passed?

How long had he left Jane unguarded?

He looked around with fresh eyes, astonished by what he found. Enough time had passed for her to construct a hut, weapons, wash her clothing and his body. He was the man, the warrior, yet
she
had taken care of
him
.

Mine
. Worthy of being queen.

She’d told him she did not have a man waiting for her, and he was glad. Had she, he would have killed the man. Not painfully, not unless the man had once hurt
her, but he would have died all the same. After Nicolai found a way into her world. And he would have done so. No one but him would lay claim to this woman, not in any time or in any place.

And if you have someone waiting for you? Someone you’ve forgotten?
He frowned, not liking the thought. Fidelity was important. Jane had said as much. He didn’t know a lot about himself, but that he, too, believed.

But…he wanted Jane. And right then, he could not even conceive the idea of wanting anyone else, of being with anyone else. Ever. Truly, every cell in his body burned for Jane, only Jane. Somehow, she was already a part of him. Somehow, her essence was rooted so deeply inside him, he suspected they had always been destined to meet, to be together. But…

If someone
was
waiting for him, what would he do? Despite his fearsome temper, he revered the law and never went back on his word. Right?

Perhaps. But… There was that awful, awful word again. The law, his honor, fidelity, none of those applied to this situation. If he didn’t want another female, he wouldn’t accept another female. He wouldn’t cheat
Jane
. It was as simple as that.

While he thought himself somewhat decent in this matter, he did not think he fought honorably. He thought he won his battles through fair means or foul, and punished his enemies without a shred of mercy or remorse. Look at what he’d done to the guards of the Queen of Hearts.

And many years ago, he had led his army through the Wolfyn realm, the moon hidden behind clouds, the citizens of one of the kingdoms sleeping peacefully in
their beds. He and his men had razed the entire structure. He’d hated to do it, but that hadn’t stopped him. Anything to save his brother….

A sharp pain, his mind shutting down. The memory, lost. For the most part. Once, he’d led an army. He’d thought such a thing before, but now he knew. He had. He’d led them. But…an army of what? Other vampires? Mercenaries? Or had he been royally sanctioned?

The answers were not forthcoming, and he gritted his teeth in renewed frustration.

He focused on the here and now. On Jane. He was willing to fight for her. He wanted her in his life, and she might very well protest. If so, they would verbally brawl and he would do
anything
to keep her.

At last he smoothed the hair from her cheek and…

She had a black eye.

Nicolai stiffened, rage blooming through him, stronger than ever before. Someone had hit her. Who had dared hit her?

The animal instinct roared to the surface, snarling, desperate for blood.

Calm, he had to remain calm. For now. Was she injured further? As tenderly as he was able, he rolled her to her back. There were no other bruises on her face. The long length of her lashes cast spiky shadows over her cheeks, and he traced them just to be sure. They were smooth, soft and warm. Her lips were puffy and red, as if she’d chewed them from worry.

Didn’t matter. She was beautiful…a priceless work of art.

There were several cuts on her hands, but those came from the making of the blades. He had borne those same cuts on multiple occasions. Another memory, and it
came without pain. He did not pursue it. Jane was more important.

Bruises wrapped around her rib cage, stretching from her back, where she’d been whipped. Thankfully, though, she possessed no other battle marks. So. How had she gotten the black eye?

She shifted in her sleep, and another pained groan left her.

Her back must agonize her in this position. He should have left her on her side. Could he never do the right thing where this woman was concerned? He eased back down and gently worked an arm under her shoulder. Then he lifted her until she was plastered to his side, her injuries free of all contact. She burrowed her head in the hollow of his neck and raised her top leg, fitting herself against him like the puzzle piece she’d once praised.