The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(52)

Her eyes remained on Layel, ensnaring him, holding him captive. He could not have looked away had a blade been pressed to his throat. Her gaze was guarded, no hint of her emotions present. Why? What did she hide?

He bared his fangs at her and licked them.

Finally. Emotion. A flash of desire before she gulped and looked away. Only then, free of her powerful hold, did he realize something hard and tight had taken residence in his chest. Slowly it loosened, however, allowing him to breathe. His cock did not settle but continued to throb.

"All is well?" he asked Zane, noticing the bloodstained lips his friend still possessed. Blood always strengthened a vampire no matter its source, but blood overflowing with wine or medicines could cause a spike in aggression, anger and violence. Could that be the cause of Zane's current dark mood? Had he taken blood from someone inebriated?

"Yes." No pause in movement. Every time they were summoned, the god continued to remove their weapons, forcing them to make more at every opportunity. During their "off" hours, they had to be prepared for anything. "I am well."

Truth? A lie? "You do not like your new duties, then."

"I do not mind them." Flat tone, twitching muscles.

"Something is wrong with you, Zane."

"Yes."

At least he did not deny it. "Tell me."

"As king?"

"As...friend." The one friend Layel had allowed himself over the years was Valerian, and that was only because he'd known Valerian before Susan's death. They'd met in the Outer City and had become allies when they were too young to know better - the mixing of the species was most often frowned upon. They'd played together, discovered a passion for females together, and they'd fought together, guarding each other's backs.

After Susan, well, the nymph king had taken him in and cared for him until the emotional anguish gave way to a thirst for revenge.

Perhaps Zane needed someone to care for him. His time with the demons had probably razored his soul to tatters.

"Sure you want to know?" Zane inquired.

Layel nodded.

"Before, when you asked me whose blood I had taken..." Zane's fingers tightened over the rock and sparks erupted at the tip of the stick.

His stomach twisted into a knot. Do not say Delilah. If her name left the vampire's lips, Layel wasn't sure how he would react. Someone would die, he suspected. "You refused to tell me."

"I took from a woman."

No.

"From an Amazon."

No!

"From Nola."

First there was anger that Zane had strung him along, most likely out of shame. Then relief. It nearly felled him, and he realized he'd been reaching for the dagger he'd sharpened only a few hours ago. Thank the gods. His hands fell into his lap. "She allowed this?"

"She did, though I doubt she remembers." Yes, that was shame dripping from the words.

He blinked in surprise. "Why would she not remember?"

"I went to her while she was sleeping."

"And she did not awaken?"

"No."

"How?" he insisted. The Amazons were highly trained; they would awaken the moment a man settled atop them. That he knew firsthand. And even if Nola had somehow failed to do so, she would have noticed puncture wounds afterward.

"I invaded her mind." The shame morphed into self-loathing.

Layel scrubbed a hand over his face. Some vampires were gifted with the ability to insert thoughts and images into another's mind. Most were not. Layel could not, though he'd always wished otherwise. How much fun would it have been to convince one dragon warrior to slay another?

"I filled her mind with dreams of making love to me, and when she opened her arms and spread her legs, I took what I needed."

"And how did you hide the marks from her? From others?" The moment he spoke, Layel realized what the answer had to be. With as little clothing as the Amazons wore, there was only one hiding place.

Zane glared at him for a moment. "If you were not my king and my friend, you know I would kill you right now, yes?"

"Yes."

"Still you wish me to say it?"

Another, "Yes." Without hesitation. Making him say it might prevent him from doing it again, the shame voiced, never to be forgotten.

"I bit between her legs."

Though he'd known what Zane would say, the words still managed to shock him. Once again, I have lost control of my men. Under Layel's rule, the vampires lived by a code. They could drink from dragon warriors anytime they wished, but never - never! - were they to take from another race without permission.

Some creatures enjoyed being bitten, but some refused to even consider it, mistakenly afraid of being turned into blood-drinkers themselves. Over the years, Layel had learned only humans could be turned. Most died, however, which was why he'd never attempted to turn Susan.

Suddenly a flood of his mate's screams bombarded Layel's mind, loud enough to crack glass if they'd been audible, and sharp enough to slice his soul. They were always close to the surface, but he usually could keep them at bay. Shut up, shut up, shut up!

It was only when his gaze locked with Delilah's that he was able to beat them into submission. How? Why? He was sweating. Panting. Frowning, Delilah turned to her sister. To escape her hold, he did the same. Thankfully, the screams did not return.