Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(6)



Elena was amazed by Aleksandra’s reaction—she laughed. She threw her head back and laughed. “Aw shit, Niki. That’s impossible. You’re just thinking with your dick. You’ve been too long without, that’s all. One good night in bed with a strong, hungry woman, and this creature’s pitiful call will be as inconsequential as her species…and just as easy to conquer.”

Nikolai shifted his gaze and the tip of the sword to the floor. Aleksandra ran her fingers across his cheek. She pointed at the sword. “Are you going to use that, or are you just showing off?”

He glared at her with his gold eyes. “Fuck you, Aleksandra.”

She laughed again. “You’d like that, but nope, little Niki, it’s not permitted.”

“You’re sick, you know,” he said as he slid the sword into the sheath behind his back.

She stowed the dagger back under the lab coat. “That’s why you love me so much.” She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Niki baby. You had a direct order. The minute she embraces the Underveil, kill her. If you don’t, you know the punishment for disobedience. You have to do this.” She brushed her fingers across his lips. “I couldn’t bear losing you. Don’t fail. Fydor wants you to screw up.”

Elena found herself almost growling at their intimacy. She was…jealous? Aw, for God’s sake. She couldn’t possibly be jealous of some blood-hungry woman who was stroking the face of the man who was going to kill her. Kill her with a sword, no less. What was wrong with her? She’d gone crazy. Yep. Certifiable.

“I won’t fail. I never have,” he said. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

The woman kissed his cheek. “I love you, you know. I’ll go deal with the detectives. Since the Underveil wasn’t exposed, I don’t have to kill them. I’ll just take their notepads and computers and screw with their memories.” She laughed. “Yeah, I think maybe I’ll make them remember going to a topless bar instead of the hospital. That should give them something to think about when they go home to their wives.” She winked at Nikolai. “I’ll tell the techies at headquarters to hack into the hospital system and erase her medical records.” She grabbed the patient chart from off the counter where she had laid it. “I’ve got this.” She gave Elena a pointed glare. “Poof! Like magic, little girl, you’re gone. You never even existed. None of your kind will exist when we’re through.” She trembled as Aleksandra chanted some strange words and disappeared into thin air with the chart.

She pulled her knees to her chest and bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. Unable to bring herself to look at Nikolai, she closed her eyes and laid her chin on her knees, waiting for him to carry out Aleksandra’s orders.



Nikolai stared at the diminutive, blonde woman with blood-soaked hair, curled up in a ball on the hospital bed. So fragile—not at all what he had expected. Vampires were fierce, calculating warriors, and this one was the daughter of Gregor Arcos, one of the most notorious vampires of modern time.

Gregor had killed Nikolai’s father two decades ago, instigating the bloodiest war in the history of the Underveil.

Fydor, Nikolai’s uncle, had sent him on this mission so that he could personally avenge his father’s murder. Eager for closure, he’d accepted the assignment readily, anticipating a worthy opponent.

A pitiful human was not at all what he had expected.

He had spent the last two decades preparing for this moment by killing every rogue vampire he could find in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain, but the void in his heart was just as empty. Even Aleksandra couldn’t fill it.

Certainly no gratification would be derived from reaping the soul of this tiny creature. Tiny, but not inconsequential. When he had stood over her in the convenience store, ready to end her life, something had happened—something more frightening than death itself: He had felt the pull of her soul. A distinct tugging at his own, calling him to join with her.

No. Impossible. Aleksandra was right. He was nuts. Maybe he had been too long without a woman. He shook his head and sighed. The girl in the bed shuddered, her head still on her knees and her eyes closed.

Something foreign in him wanted to calm her but knew it was the wrong thing to do. He was a Slayer—a terrifying being created to patrol the Underveil and execute immortals who broke the laws. He wasn’t a wimp who consoled unconverted vampires before he killed them. Grow a pair.

But what if Fydor was wrong? His messages had been odd recently, consumed with finding Arcos’s offspring and executing her as soon as possible, insisting she was planning an attack on the royal family to avenge her father. He’d devoted a huge amount of resources to the task and insisted Nikolai be the only one to carry out the mission, which had suited him fine. Killing anyone related to his father’s murderer seemed apropos. But now that he’d met her, something seemed way off. What if she wasn’t a menace to the Underveil? He couldn’t execute her until he knew for sure. He had to take her somewhere they could have privacy for a while. Some place Fydor and his soldiers had not been so that they couldn’t teleport in unannounced. Someplace even he had never been that was close enough to not use a ton of energy in transit. He intentionally infused his voice with hatred, more to motivate himself than to frighten her. “Get up, parasite. We need to get out of here.”

Marissa Clarke's Books