A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(91)

Ivo raked his gaze over Lachlain’s injured arm, appraising his opponent. “No, I’ll stay and fight for this one,” he said. “I heard you think she’s yours.”

“There’s no doubt of it.”

“She assassinated my nemesis when no one else could, and is the key to my crown.” Ivo’s voice was low, thrumming as though in wonder. “That means she belongs to me. I will find her. I don’t care what it takes, I will find her again—”

“No’ while I live.” He gripped his sword hilt in his left hand and charged, striking at Ivo’s head. Ivo blocked and their swords crossed, ringing.

Several more charges, each parried. Lachlain was out of practice, especially with his left hand. He sensed the other two returning and growled in fury, blocking a stroke from the back and slashing out with his claws, dropping one of the henchmen.

The other two put Lachlain between them. Before he could even register what had happened, Ivo traced to mere inches from Lachlain, slashing out with his sword, then tracing away. The blow ripped across Lachlain’s shoulder and chest, sending him spinning to the ground.





33


D amp ivy. Oak trees. Home. She’d somehow made it.

Or at least to the grounds of Val Hall. But her skin still smoked, and she was weak as a babe from her injuries. How much blood had she lost? Had she made it so far just to die at dawn?

She tried to roll over in order to crawl, but failed. The effort made her vision go blurry. When it finally cleared, she spied a massive, black-haired man peering down at her. Brows drawn, he scooped her up into his arms, then began walking up the long drive to the manor. Emma thought this was the drive. She could also be mistaken that it was a man.

“Easy, girl. I know you are Emmaline. Your aunts have been worried.” Deep voice. Strange accent. European and moneyed. “I am Nikolai Wroth.”

Why did that name sound so familiar? She squinted up at him. “You are a friend of my aunts?” she said, her voice sounding faint.

“With one. And it seems only one.” A short laugh with no humor. “Myst is my wife.”

“Myst married?” Was that where she’d been? No, no way. “That’s funny.”

“The jest’s on me, I’m afraid.” As they reached the manor, he bellowed, “Annika, call off the goddamn wraiths and let me in.”

Emma stared up at the sky, seeing swirling red swaths of ragged cloth circling the house. Occasionally she spied a gaunt, skeletal face, but it would change to beauty if you met its eyes.

The price for their protection was hair from each of the Valkyrie within. The wraiths wove each lock into a massive braid, and when it grew long enough, they bent all living Valkyrie to their will for a time.

“Myst hasn’t returned yet,” someone called from the house. “But you know that, or else you’d both be naked and fornicating on the front lawn.”

“The night’s young. Give us time.” To himself, he murmured, “And it was a field a mile away.”

“Don’t you have a tanning appointment to go to, vampire?”

Emma stiffened. Vampire? But his eyes weren’t red. “Did you follow me?”

“No, I was awaiting Myst’s return from shopping and sensed you trace into the woods.”

A vampire waiting for Myst? He’d said she was his wife. She sucked in a breath. “You’re the general, aren’t you,” she whispered. “The one Myst had to be pried from?”

She thought the corners of his lips quirked. “Is that what you heard?” At her solemn nod, he said, “It was mutual, I assure you.” He glanced away down the drive, as if willing Myst to return, and said almost to himself, “How much lingerie can one female need…?”

Suddenly Annika was shrieking, running for her, vowing to kill him ever so slowly.

Amazingly, his body was still relaxed. “If you do not cease trying to take off my head, Annika, we will have words.”

“What have you done to her?” she cried.

“Obviously, I clawed her, bloodied her, and burned her, and now, oddly, I offer her up to you.”

“No, Annika,” Emma said. “He found me. Don’t kill him.”

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Emma saw Myst returning then, dropping shopping bags full of lace—and leather—to run toward them in all her heart-stopping beauty. Gaze locked on Myst, the vampire finally tensed, and his heart sped up, beating loud like a drum.

Then Emma felt a very decisive yank as she went from his arms to Annika’s.

“I was on fire,” Emma told her. “I slew Demestriu.”

“Of course, you did. Shhh, you are unwell.”

When Myst reached them, she pressed a kiss on Emma’s forehead.

“Myst, he found me,” Emma said. “You shouldn’t kill him.”

“I’ll try to refrain, my sweet,” Myst answered in a wry tone. Curiously, no one raised a sword against this vampire.

The others gathered round until she was surrounded by her coven. When Annika stroked her face, Emma succumbed to the blackness.





Lachlain hauled himself to his feet, then sagged against the castle wall, still holding his sword out.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed so hard to have you tortured,” Ivo said. “But I can’t tell you how many nights have been gladdened by the thought of your skin cooked from your bones.”