In the Service of the King (Vampire Warrior Kings #1)(3)
In return, the vampire kings repaid them with their protection and their blood, which cured disease and slowed the aging process significantly. The Electorate understood that mating their human daughters with the kings and their warriors would enshrine the Vampire-Electorate Alliance for all time, cementing a partnership through familial relations that otherwise existed through diplomacy alone.
But, as with Kael, the war had left many of his vampire brethren hesitant to develop emotional ties that could be used against them.
Without mates, fewer newlings were born every year.
Knife holster in place, Kael walked to the hooks at the rear of the room and retrieved the innermost robe—a dark green silk that skimmed over his weary body and billowed behind him as he walked. He tied the belt around his waist in a careless knot and approached the feeding chamber.
Taking a deep, centering breath, the king eased the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside.
Kael pierced his tongue with his fangs to keep from making an utterance he had no business making. But for the love of all that was holy, the woman before him was magnificent.
Perfectly posed despite the thundering sprint of her heart, her long black-brown hair was braided and intertwined in the traditional way, ribbons and flowers threaded throughout. The sheerest of white silk robes did little to hide from his vision the sexy muscularity of her body. She was not thin, which pleased him. He had once turned away a Proffered for being too thin—he was 250 pounds and nearly feral once blooded, and he’d feared crushing her. Instead, this woman appeared strong, athletic. She was young, to be sure, but also womanly, with curves where women should have curves, with rounded flesh that would have filled his exploring hands and strong grip.
Were he to allow himself the pleasure. Which he damn well wouldn’t.
He stepped before her kneeling, submissive form and swallowed the blood his fangs had drawn into his mouth. “Tell me, young one, what is your name?”
Chapter 2
After years of imagining this very moment, he was speaking to her. And, oh, God, what a voice. Deep, resonating and slightly accented, it dragged over her like a caress.
Oh, he asked me something…what did he ask? Her brain engaged again and her lips fell open. “Shayla, Your Highness, Shayla McKinnon.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Shayla. I am Kael, Son of Iain, Warrior King of the Vampires, Chieftain of Clan MacQuillan.”
His introduction set her insides to trembling.
Vampire.
At one time, the concept had been impossible to conceive. But she’d been forced to confront the reality of their existence one cold winter night when men in uniforms and dark suits had arrived at her family’s home and delivered the news her older sister had been murdered. At fourteen, Shayla had been completely devastated. Though she realized her father’s position as editor-in-chief of a major Irish newspaper made him a prominent figure in their community, she’d known nothing of her parents’ high-level role in the Electorate Council.
Hadn’t known it existed at all.
But once she found out, knowledge was power, and the only thing that provided any solace to her grief was learning there were other vampires, good vampires, who fought the vile creatures who had harmed Dana.
From that moment on, purpose and a sense of mission filled Shayla’s life. She vowed to find a way to join that fight, a role she could fill in advance of inheriting her parents’ positions on the Electorate Council upon their deaths. So, when the offer to become one of the Proffered arrived, she jumped at the chance. If she could do nothing else, sustaining the warriors battling evil would make a contribution, if small.
But she wanted to do more.
A restlessness to help fueled her, driving her to overload classes and take summer school such that she graduated high school before her sixteenth birthday. She began university and the Proffered training in tandem, completing the latter at nineteen, readying her to perform her duties for one of the vampires some time during her twentieth year. College graduation occurred soon after.
Her interest in this Warrior King had even ignited an academic curiosity about Celtic history and culture, and she’d built on her training by pursuing those studies at the graduate level. Imagining what he’d seen in his long lifetime and what she could learn from him inspired her interest in the medieval history of the British Isles, now so central to the intellectual identity she’d developed for herself.
Toward what end she did all this, she didn’t quite know, but it felt right. And the fire in her gut demanded action, cried for vengeance.
The king padded across the mostly bare floor, circling her. The weight of his observation settled over her. She girded her muscles to brace against the tremors she almost couldn’t help. “Do you know why you are here?” he asked as he stopped before her once more.
Shayla inhaled to speak, but froze. You’re going to have to try harder than that. She mentally high-fived herself for not making such an elementary slip. He hadn’t specifically told her to respond, now, had he?
Excitement and adrenaline made her stomach flip-flop. How Shayla had hoped this man, this vampire king, would live up to her years of fantasizing. Once she’d learned, during her Proffered training, of his incredible exploits against the Soul Eaters—and his losses—the idea of meeting him, serving him, had quieted her restlessness like nothing before. She’d busted her butt working to the top of the class of Proffereds, earning the notice and mentorship of the most experienced and connected trainer. All for the chance of serving Kael the Fair, a chance she was so very thrilled to have this night.