Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(17)

Saroya was rising! “Don’t fight her, girl!” he commanded, yanking Elizabeth upright.

“No, no, no—” Her lids slid shut.

He caught her against him, turning her in his arms. “Saroya, return to me.”

After a long moment, her eyes opened, narrowed; then her palm shot up to crack across his cheek. “How dare you leave me to rot in prison, you filth! I’ll play with your spleen before the night is through.”

“Saroya,” he grated, barely keeping his rage in check. Inhale, exhale. “Ah, my flower. I’ve missed you too.”





6


When Saroya drew back her hand to strike Lothaire’s smirking face again, his expression turned deadly. “Once was forgiven, goddess, but twice would prove unwise.”

Her hand faltered. Lothaire was a notorious killer, and as long as she was trapped in this mortal shell, Saroya was vulnerable.

Though her spirit would continue on after this human’s death, just as it always did, this was the body she wanted. Saroya was determined to keep

it alive and unharmed. To do so, she needed this vampire’s assistance.

Galling.

“Release me, Lothaire.”

Without a word, he did. She took a step back, surveying him for the first time in years.

Of course he’d changed little, frozen for all time into this immortal form. He was at least six and a half feet tall, lean but muscled. His features were flawless, gold stubble covering his wide, masculine jaw and strong cleft chin. His pale collar-length hair was thick and straight—now stained with blood. “You killed? Without waiting for me?”

“To effect your escape from prison, yes.”

Finally out of that hellhole!

She scanned her surroundings, finding them scarcely better. The area was decorated with a subtle flair, rich colors and fabrics of obvious expense, but it was uncluttered—aside from a pile of smashed marble and various shattered vases.

Saroya preferred flashy ornamentation, the elegance of a tomb filled with sacrifices to her, piled high with flesh trophies and bones.

Shimmering black silk against blood-spattered granite.

“Where have you taken me?” she asked in a pained tone.

“New York,” he answered. “To one of our homes.”

“I assume we have many.”

“We own mansions, villas, chateaus. Any dwelling you desire will be yours.”

As if she needed him to tell her that. She glanced down at her arm, at a drying track of red. “Did you bite me?” Narrowing her eyes, she added, “And do not think of lying to me.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You know I can’t lie, Saroya.” Natural-born vampires were physically incapable of it. Whenever a lie arose, a vampire would feel the rána, the burn, a scalding sensation in his throat.

“Did you dare pierce my skin?”

“There is little daring to it. But in this case, I only grazed your neck.”

She reached up and brushed the nick with her fingertips. For some reason, her body seemed awkward, her breasts heavy. “Taking straight from the flesh, cosa?? Twenty thousand years of my memories will undoubtedly send you over the edge,” she said. “You must have been very desirous of blood to have stolen hers.”

Was there a subtle flush on his face? “I wager you have to be at the forefront of consciousness in order for me to harvest your memories. As for Elizabeth’s—I believe I can handle twenty-four human years.”

“How long did you leave me in that prison, Lothaire?”

“A mere half decade.”

“What was more important than I?”

He shrugged. “Finding a way to circumvent your curse.”

“I assume that you’ve found such a means. Else I’d still be locked up.”

“I freed you because the body was about to be executed. By mortals.”

Too shaming to be borne! “I’d sensed a threat, but an execution? For such a paltry number of deaths?”

Some of the tension left his broad shoulders. “My exact thoughts.”

“So we’re no closer?” At least now that she was free, she’d be able to kill once more. In the past, she’d reaped souls from her kills, each victim providing her strength. She’d been a true vampire. Now she stole lives solely for pleasure.

“After years of searching, I unearthed the Ring of Sums.”

“Sums?” Her eyes widened. “Clever Lothaire.” For him to have thought of this possibility! That talisman was steeped in power.

“It will allow me to extinguish Elizabeth’s soul and make your body undying. You’re to become a vampire like me.”

Female vampires could only be born—never made. Though vampiric blood could potentially transform human males into vampires, a mortal female like Elizabeth would never survive the turning.

Even a former deity like Saroya didn’t know why.

But the ring would overcome that. What else might the ring do . . . ?

She almost felt like smiling—which she never did. Then her satisfaction dimmed. “I understood the ring to be lost centuries ago. Along with its owner.” A sorceress named La Dorada, a particularly treacherous adversary of Saroya’s, had guarded the ring.

No matter how zealously Saroya had sought Dorada’s death, her assassins could never deliver it. “You stole the ring from the Gilded One?”