The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(14)

Eyes narrowed, Zane moved out of the way. He stared Delilah down as she stalked past him, still no hint of the air shield in evidence.

She tossed the man a withering glance before once again focusing all her fury on Layel. "A bodyguard," she said, brows arched. "Afraid of a little girl, vampire? I don't know why, but I expected better of you."

That she was now inches from him, practically in his face, her sea-kissed scent tormenting his nose, electrified him. He'd just decided to kill her. Could he, though? he wondered now as his gaze locked with hers. All that violet...a man could get lost. His hands still rested at his sides, the muscles lax. Do it. Strike! Not even a twitch.

"I don't care what you expected. Your opinion has no value to me." Cruel, yes, but necessary. If he couldn't hurt her physically - what's stopping you? Simply act, move - he would have to hurt her emotionally. Anything to preserve the distance between them.

Her mouth fell open, pain shimmering in her eyes. Pain she quickly masked.

Has to be this way, he reminded himself, since he clearly wasn't man enough to slay her. "Don't come near me again, woman. Don't look at me, don't even breathe in my direction."

As he spoke, she ran her tongue over her teeth. "As if I'm the only one doing the looking. But I'll tell you what, vampire. I'll stop looking at you, if you'll stop looking at me."

His jaw hardened - and he refused to admit what else hardened at the sight of that pink tongue. "Done." He forced himself into motion, attempting to sidestep her.

She stiffened and jumped back in front of him. "Stay where you are. There are a few more things we need to work out."

True to his word, he kept his eyes averted from her. "No. Now, out of my way, Amazon." A mistake, letting her get close to him. Besides being too hot, his skin was suddenly too tight for his bones and his stomach was knotted.

"You're being very rude," she said. "I've killed men for less."

"Do you want a prize?" he asked drily. Still, he managed to face the beach. Her sea-salt scent continued to tease him, strong, lovely. Hauntingly familiar.

"I'll settle for your testicles in my trophy tent."

That did not amuse him. "Perhaps later. At the moment, I need them." He headed for Brand, who sat near the water's edge, knees drawn to his chest. His back was to Layel, his braided blond hair as soaked as Delilah's. Obviously the air shields were down, not just for Delilah but for everyone, creatures now touching one another.

As if sensing him, Brand hopped to his feet and spun. His lips curved into a grin, animosity flaring as if there had been no break between battles. "I expected you sooner."

"I live to disappoint you. Ready to die?"

"Come and get me, bloodsucker."

"My plea - " Layel hit the damned invisible wall again, knocking the breath right out of his lungs.

Brand's grin became smug. "What's the matter? Change your mind? Frightened?"

Calm. Do not show emotion.

"You're the coward, dragon," Delilah said, suddenly at Layel's side. Brand's smugness became fury.

"Can you move past this point?" Layel asked without facing her, trying to quash the pleasure that came with her defense of him.

She bristled at his harsh tone. "Can you?"

"Woman."

"That is not my name." She kept her gaze on Layel; he felt the heat of it. A quick glance at her proved he was right, and that her hands remained fisted, as if she expected Brand to attack her at any moment.

"Can you move past this godsdamn point, woman?"

Silence.

He waited. Even Brand waited. Still she did not speak. Had he hurt her again? Did tears swim in her lovely lavender irises? Why did the prospect not please him as much as it should?

"My name is Delilah."

"I know."

Her shoulder brushed his arm and he hissed. "Say my name," she said, suddenly breathless, "and I'll consider finding out."

Something about her tone...pure challenge layered the wispy undercurrents, as if she wanted him to deny her. He was not sure what to make of that. "Why do you wish me to do this?"

"I want to hear my name on your tongue."

"Again, why?"

"Because." Stubborn as he'd come to realize she was, she said no more.

"Tell me why," he demanded.

"Just say it!"

"No," he said, while inside his mind he whispered Delilah, drawing out each syllable. The name was a prayer and a curse, both wonderful and evil. Unable to help himself, he looked down and studied her. So lovely, and yet so dangerous in a way she could not possibly comprehend.

A pause. A deep breath, as though she prayed for patience. "Have it your way, vampire. But if you won't say my name, at least tell me yours."

No reason to deny her. She would find out one way or another. "I am Layel."

Her eyes widened. "The vampire king?"

He nodded curtly. Was that admiration now sparkling in her eyes? Surely not. "Try and step past me. Please," he added reluctantly. It was easier to beg than to give her what she wanted.

Silent, trembling, she moved closer to Brand. Unhindered, unfettered. Irritation raced through Layel that she could do so and he could not. She did not remain there, however. She returned to Layel's side.