The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(19)

She had been raised to protect her sisters, no matter what. That was her purpose, her privilege. A game was not going to change that.

Win by whatever means necessary, she'd thought only a few moments ago. Now she snorted. "We may not be separated, so let's not worry about that just yet. Right now we're going to gather all the sticks we can carry, as well as every sharp rock that we see. I want us prepared for battle by nightfall. Just in case."

Nola gave a stiff nod, but she didn't move off immediately. "Tell me we'll return home soon. Tell me, and I'll believe it." The vulnerability glowing from her expression was surprising.

"We'll return home," she replied without hesitation. Defeat was not something Delilah allowed. Ever. What about Layel? He shoved you down, could have hurt you and you wouldn't have been able to stop him. "You have my word," she forced past the sudden lump in her throat, her blood churning into liquid lightning. Damn that man, and damn the heavens! "Go. Before everyone else decides to make weapons, as well, and there's nothing left for us."

ENVELOPED BY SHADE, Layel had watched as each pair of creatures disappeared into the trees. To talk, he was sure. To plan. To arm themselves. At the moment, he was too furious to move. He'd been taken from his people and his war for the amusement of the gods. Intolerable!

"I will not stand for this," Zane snapped at his side.

"Nor I."

Zane blinked at him in surprise, as if he had expected Layel to chastise him rather than agree. "What can we do?"

"We can kill every creature the god brought to the island. That way, there are no players for his sadistic game and we can return home."

"What of the nymphs you so favor?"

A sigh slipped from him. "They are our friends. They live."

"What of the Amazons?"

Layel closed his eyes for a moment, drew in a shuddering breath. He'd thought to kill Delilah earlier, but had failed. Mistake. Now there was another reason to do so. A reason not so easily discarded. "They will not be so fortunate."

A slow smile spread across Zane's pale face. "The gods will regret bringing us here."

"Yes." A warm breeze slid against what little skin Layel had bared - the skin on his face, as well as a patch on his arm where one of the dragons had burned away his shirt. While he smelled salt and dew, flower blossoms, fruit and aroused female - damn, but he wanted to banish that scent! - this island lacked the scent of enchantment that Atlantis possessed.

In Atlantis, he could wander the halls of his palace, imagining Susan at his side, laughing up at him, green eyes sparkling. Here, he seemed to imagine nothing but the little Amazon. Even now, all he could picture was that blue hair fisted in his hands, that exotic face staring up at him in passion and need, those eyes hot, legs spread, feminine core wet and glistening, his tongue tracing those tattoos.

He craved her blood in his mouth.

His fangs sharpened, ready...so ready...

He would kill her first, he decided, hands compressing into fists. His nails were once again elongated into claws. They cut past skin and into the meat of his hands until warmth trickled and pooled in the creases of his fingers. Why are you so upset? Why are you hurting yourself? Any more blood loss and you'll weaken. As the god said, you need your strength.

"We'll wait for darkness to fall," he told Zane, the words emerging on another of those broken sighs. Why the reluctance to see his plan through? He didn't care about the Amazon. He hated her. Yes, hated. With nearly the same intensity he hated the dragons. "Then we'll attack them, one by one."

Delilah has done nothing wrong, his mind protested. She does not deserve death at your hands.

Logically, he knew that to be true. Yet logic meant nothing to him just then. He had to get that woman out of his head. She didn't belong there and was disrupting the only sense of peace he knew. A peace he desperately needed, for any distraction could allow the dragons to best him.

This time, when she was within reach, he would not look at her, would not smell her sweet fragrance. He would simply act. "Come, we need distance from the gods," he said, leading his charge deeper into the forest, not stopping until they reached a riverbank.

Zane bent down, palmed a stone and tossed it into the pristine water. "I wonder what happened to our brethren after we were taken."

"If they assume we are dead and crown a new king, I will kill them all."

Zane snorted in amusement, as Layel had meant for him to do. He valued his people; they were his greatest weapon against his enemy. And though he had been teasing, knowing well how loyal his men were, he would not tolerate a new king. It was funny, really, since he'd once abhorred his crown. "If they are the warriors I trained them to be," he continued, "they finished slaughtering the dragons and are now celebrating the victory and planning a search for us."

"A celebration we are missing." A dark glaze spread over Zane's eyes, making the irises as black as onyx. He grabbed and threw another stone. "I hate this place. The demons here..."

"Are yours." When Layel had stormed the demon queen's palace to pilfer her treasury after he'd killed her, he'd found Zane waiting in her bed, naked and oiled so that he would be ready for her pleasure. Clearly he hadn't been forced by physical means to remain there, but his relief at her death had been palpable.