Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(14)

No, not her! Lust rode him hard, but he would never act on it. Though Lothaire killed so readily, though he unfailingly acted without honor, he wouldn’t betray his queen.

Especially not with a worthless mortal, a female normally beneath his notice.

He released Elizabeth, shoving her away from him. Lothaire would slake himself with his Bride alone.

When would she rise?

Saroya had explained much of how the possession worked with Elizabeth. Neither female knew what the other was thinking, though Saroya believed the girl could sense her intentions at times—just as Saroya could perceive changes in Elizabeth.

The goddess found it difficult to rise unless Elizabeth was weakened in some manner, physically or emotionally, or when she slept.

The more Saroya herself slept, the more readily she could regain control of the body.

Yet once the girl began shoving her way back to the fore, Saroya would be overwhelmed with dizziness, blurred vision, and a feeling of movement within the body, a shifting inside.

Lothaire had asked her, “Why can’t you stay in control?”

With her gray eyes glittering, Saroya had hissed, “The mortal’s too strong.”

Now, as then, it appalled him that his Bride was subject to the whims of a human—a situation all too similar to his mother’s.

Blyad’! If Elizabeth could sense Saroya’s intentions at times, then couldn’t the goddess sense the presence of her mate?

Until she rose, he’d have to deal with Elizabeth. “Sit,” he commanded her.

Chin raised, she remained standing.

His brows drew together. So few ever disobeyed him, especially not on the heels of his rage.

Lothaire had stayed alive this long by using his ability to predict his adversaries’ moves. He knew how they would behave, oftentimes before they did. His life was an endless chess match, a calculated march taking him ever closer to his Endgame—of kingdoms seized and retribution delivered.

Yet this female continued to prove unpredictable. When she’d turned the blade on herself . . .

“Sit now. Or I’ll return with chains for you to sit shackled.”

She swallowed but didn’t move.

He almost found it a pity that she’d be gone so soon. Breaking her would have been amusing sport. “Very well.” He traced to one of his many hideaways, this one a strategic keep in the Ural Mountains, to retrieve a set of manacles.

Though immortals with untold strength and abilities routinely quaked before him, a powerless human who was not even a quarter of a century old was defying him.

Powerless. He thought again how easy it would be for his enemies to kill her. Why couldn’t Elizabeth have languished quietly in prison? This rescue couldn’t have come at a worse time!

Multiple factions—demonarchies, Horde vampires, Valkyries, Furies, Lykae—hunted him, seeking revenge, or, better yet, his death. As soon

as they found out he had a Bride in his possession, they’d target Saroya as well.

Thousands of years spent plotting would soon come to fruition—his Endgame finally achieved—as long as he didn’t get distracted in these final weeks.

He considered the Endgame his master because he served it alone, thinking of nothing else. . . .

No, he wouldn’t allow Elizabeth to alter his course.

He returned with the manacles. The girl had only gotten a few steps away when she froze at the clinking sound.



Ellie slowly turned to him, eyes widening at the sight of the chains in his hands.

When he’d disappeared, she’d thought to escape. Now she trudged to the couch and sank down on it, inwardly pleading, Don’t chain me, don’t chain me. . . .

“Do you fear me, human?” He fingered the links.

Of course she did! He had supernatural powers, he’d just killed, and for some reason this maniac had fixated on her.

But Ellie usually had a good sense about people, and she suspected he would respect mettle. So she answered honestly, “Right ’bout now, I’m pretty scared.” Her accent had grown more pronounced, a mountain twang that thickened whenever her emotions ran high. “But I reckon I’ll work through it.”

“And you fear these shackles?” His every movement spelled menace.

This devil’s playing with me. “Yessir, I do. But you don’t want to be

chainin’ me.”

He raised his brows. “I don’t?”

“What if Saroya wakes? I’m sure she’d be pissed to find herself all trussed up. And you don’t want to ruin your . . . reunion.” She could barely say the word. What would they do together?

Surely he’d want to make love to his queen at last. Because, for whatever reason, he never had before. Ellie was still a virgin. Which meant that Saroya had never taken a lover when she’d gained control.

After an endless moment, Lothaire let the shackles drop to the floor. The concession didn’t feel like a victory to Ellie, more like a baited trap.

But with the immediate threat averted, she dragged her gaze from him to evaluate her surroundings.

The room was multiple times bigger than the entire trailer she’d grown up in. The furniture looked rich but modern, like from one of those design magazines. The curtains were drawn so tight, she couldn’t tell if it was day or night. “Where am I?”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “New York.”