Caressed - Moonlight

“Dorian.” Her voice brushed chills down his spine. He was afraid to turn around, to look upon her. His muscles clenched as he stood perfectly still. “Yes?” he asked, his throat dry. His cold heart tightened as he listened to her cross the floor. She stood behind him, he could feel her, smell her, taste her. She placed a warm, small, thin hand on his shoulder and he shuddered. Victoria came up to her tiptoes; leaned against his hard back, and lightly whispered, “Make love to me.” A tremor of excitement and pure happiness shook him as he turned. Dorian took her lips in a ferocious kiss that snatched her breath away and left her helpless. She fell against him, her limbs liquid. He did not need to be asked twice and he was not about to give her the chance to change her mind. He could not possibly wait any longer. He needed her. Now.

Caressed by Moonlight Amanda J. Greene

Publisher Amanda J. Greene Copyright © 2010 by Amanda J. Greene All rights reserved. No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced by any means. Cover art by Kimberly Killion. Edited by Kathy Davie, Danielle Donaldson, Rebecca Grimmius www.amandajgreene.com ISBN 978-0-578-06400-0

For my mother, Wendi Greene, who has always given me courage, strength, and love. You are the best mother a woman could have.

Acknowledgments

Thank you, Rebecca Grimmius for all the years, months, weeks, days, and hours she spent helping me with this project. I also need to thank Danielle Donaldson for me editing my work. Thank you, Robert. You always had faith in me, even when I didn’t have faith in myself.

Chapter One

1814, England

Starvation gnawed at their bellies. They had not eaten in almost two days and their aunt sat at her over-decorated dining table taking bite after bite of the delicious spread set before her. “Right this way,” the butler said, leading the two girls from the foyer and into the drawing room. He closed the doors behind him. Victoria was thankful. She did not wish to watch her gluttonous aunt gorge herself as she and little Margaret's tummies rumbled. “I'm scared, Tory. Are you scared?” Scared? Their mother had just passed away and their father had committed suicide soon after, leaving them all alone. Victoria had been forced to sell everything they owned including, the house that had been in her family for generations, to pay her father's debts. Knowing that she would not be able to support her sister, they had no choice but to move to London where their only living relative resided. Aunt Nelly was a hateful woman and Victoria had no doubt that she would try to take her sister from her. Scared? Scared was not a fitting word, terrified seemed to match her emotions perfectly. But she managed to bring a smile to her lips for her sister's sake. She would not allow Margaret to see her worry. The poor girl needed comfort. “Scared? We have nothing of which to be scared.” “Aunt Nelly never liked mother,” Margaret stated, her eyes down cast and focused on the Persian rug. Her fingers gripped the wooden arms of her chair tightly. Victoria's heart ached for her little sister. The girl had been the one to discover their father's body in his study. She had screamed and run through the house hysterically, then locked herself in her room. For two days she refused to see anyone or eat a morsel and now, three weeks later, she was beginning to speak again.

“And,” Margaret paused, shuffling her feet nervously, “she doesn't like you very much.” Aunt Nelly had no warm feelings toward her and she had loathed their mother. She had accused their mother of stealing her brother's life by becoming with child. “Do you think she will turn us out?” Victoria turned to the large windows. Thick, gray clouds hovered ominously over the city, threatening to unleash a fury of rain. “No, my dear, she won't,” she said, her breath fogging the cold glass. “Everything will be all right. You'll see.” She prayed with all her might that it would be, for Margaret's sake. Victoria leaned against the glass, lightning flashed, thunder shook the window, and rain began to pour. The Kingston girls anxiously waited, the rumbling of their hungry tummies slicing through the thick silence that filled the dark room while Aunt Nelly finished her extravagant meal. Victoria took deep, steady breaths as she mentally prepared herself for a verbal attack. The girls did not have to wait long. Aunt Nelly swept into the drawing room with a cool wind following her. Victoria shivered. She turned and met her aunt’s brown beady eyes; the battle was about to begin. The old woman's thick lips were puckered and her brow was wrinkled in an ugly frown. Margaret stood and timidly straightened her dress. “Stop fidgeting,” Nelly snapped. “And stand up straight. You are a young lady, not an urchin from the streets.” Margaret nodded her head meekly. Victoria came to stand by her sister and placing a comforting hand on the girl's slender shoulder. “Do not coddle her,” the old, bitter woman snarled. “She needs to toughen up. The world is harsh and she should learn to face it.” “She knows all too well the cruelties of the world. For the last four months she has watched her mother slowly die from sickness. As if that were not torture enough, she found her father's body.” “Do not pity her. She must grow up. She is not a child.” “She is only eight years old,” Victoria argued. “I do not enjoy being talked back to; it is insulting,” she said harshly, stomping her foot, her face the brightest of reds. Margaret hugged her sister's arm, her tiny nails digging into her flesh. Victoria

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wiggled her fingers to counter the loss of circulation. “Margaret, I wish to get you settled. Follow the nice maid to your room. I need to speak with your sister alone.” The maid ripped Margaret away from Victoria and dragged her out of the room and up the stairs. Victoria watched, her anger simmering. Aunt Nelly sat in Margaret’s vacant chair and fixed her evil eyes on her oldest niece. “You look exactly like your mother,” she spat. Men and women alike had praised her mother's beauty and Victoria had loved to be compared to her, but Aunt Nelly had loathed her sister-in-law and her good looks. Therefore, compliment was no compliment at all, but a grave insult. “I am aware that your father, my beloved brother, has left Margaret in your care. However, you are unsuitable to support the child and you cannot deny it. We both know you haven't got a penny to your name after paying off his debt. So, I am willing to take her off your hands.” Victoria grew tense as her aunt slowly studied her form. “How old are you?” “Twenty-two,” she answered a bit hesitantly. “Yes,” Aunt Nelly said thoughtfully, “you are definitely old enough to marry.” “Marry?” she said as shock shot down her spine and made her toes tingle. “Indeed,” she nodded, “I am going to be perfectly honest, I do not want you here. You resemble your mother too much and I have no desire to be constantly reminded of the bitch who stole my brother. So, this is what I propose,” she paused in thought. Victoria held her breath waiting for her damnation. “I will allow you to live here, in my home, for one month and at the end of the month, you must leave. I care not where you go.” “What of Margaret?” Victoria demanded. “She will stay here with me. She was not a child conceived in sin.” Victoria ignored the jab and asked with the most level of tones, “Will I be able to see her?”

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“On one condition,” Aunt Nelly said, holding up a chubby finger. “You must be married.” Victoria sank to the seat behind her, breathless and light headed. There it was, Aunt Nelly's dagger. “You see,” she continued, “I would dearly love it if you would leave tomorrow but it would be nearly impossible to find a suitable husband in one day. So I have decided to give you a month to find a man and wed.” “If I don't marry I won't be allowed to see Margaret.” Her aunt was trying to separate her from her sister. This was what Victoria had feared the most. She had hoped with all her heart that Aunt Nelly would not be so cruel, but she had known better. She had given Victoria a task to perform, knowing the likelihood of her failure. “Of course not. No niece of mine will associate with a lowly servant. You must marry.” Victoria bit her tongue so hard she thought it might bleed. If anyone had been a disgrace to the family, it was Aunt Nelly. She repelled all good society and had never married. No man would want such a cruel woman for a wife. Victoria was convinced Aunt Nelly’s lack of friends and suitors was due to her wickedness. “Stop grinding your teeth, it is a horrible habit.” “And one that I intend to keep.” Her aunt glared at her. She knew her proposal was ludicrous but she did not care. She had wanted the girl gone and out of her house. Victoria would fail, she knew, and that brought a crooked smile to her lips. She was doing this for her own enjoyment, but it was also in Margaret's best interest. She would make sure that her youngest niece would not be plagued by the shadow of her bastard sister. “Well,” Aunt Nelly sighed as she stood, “I'm off to bed and I suggest that you do the same, no man wants a wife with dark bags under her eyes.” Victoria sat alone in the drawing room. The storm still raged outside, the branches scratched at the windows, and the wind howled. She had to marry. It sounded so simple but it was near to impossible. She had no money, no land, and nothing to bring to a marriage. She was much older than the other women who would be enjoying the Season. She had no gowns and even if she did possess fine clothing she would not 4

have an occasion to wear them to. She was on no one's guest list for balls or parties or picnics. Her childhood friend, Lana Richmond, could possibly help her. She would know what to do. She would know how to hunt for a suitable husband. Victoria nodded in decision; she would call on her friend in the morning. “So be it.” Victoria pushed her worries aside and went in search of Margaret's room. She mounted the stairs and pushed open the first door on the right. Margaret sat before a vanity, brushing her hair. She smiled at the homely scene and crossed the room. The young girl sat the brush down and spun around in a fury. “That maid was not nice like Aunt Nelly said. She made me take a bath and scrubbed me so hard that I turned red.” Margaret pushed back the sleeves of her nightgown and held out her arms. “See?” “She just wanted you to be clean.” “Mother wanted me to be clean too but she never scrubbed until my skin turned red,” Margaret protested. “No, but you hadn't bathed in days and I'm sure that you were covered in dirt from the ride here,” Victoria added. “But it doesn't matter, you are clean and you smell very nice.” Margaret nodded and threw her arms around her sister's waist. “I don't want to stay here, Tory,” she said. “Aunt Nelly is a mean old hag and that maid–” “Everything will work out. Now it's time for bed.” Victoria gathered Margaret in her arms and carried her to the large bed that swallowed her tiny frame. She lay beside her and Margaret curled up into a ball wrapping the blankets tightly about herself. Victoria sang softly the song their mother would sing every night before tucking her youngest in bed. Once Margaret was asleep, she placed a soft kiss on her brow and moved to the chair before the fireplace. She had lived in the country all her life and had only ventured out into the world when her mother had taken her on a tour of the continent for her sixteenth birthday. Hating the city and the gossipmongers who lived there, her parents refused to allow her to have 5

a Season. She had attended a few parties and picnics back home but they were nothing like what she would experience here. There would be more people watching her, criticizing her behavior, and gossiping about her parents’ hasty marriage all those years ago. Now they would be spreading rumors about their deaths. Sighing, she rested her head against the back of the overstuffed chair and let the warmth of the fire wash over her. “This is not going to be easy,” she whispered to the flames. Her whole future happiness rested on the outcome of this very month.

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Chapter Two

“You what?” “I must find a husband by the end of the month,” Victoria said before taking a sip of the dark, delicious tea. “Why?” Lana asked. “It is rather complicated.” “Complicated?” Victoria took a deep breath. She did not want to show her nervousness to Lana. “Yes, you see, my aunt is going to toss me to the streets if I don't marry by the end of the month.” “Oh,” Lana said in understanding. “Well, you needn't worry about that, you can come live here. I'm sure that my parents would be glad to have you.” “No, you don't understand. I must marry in order to see Margaret. Aunt Nelly has made it clear that if I don't wed I will never see my sister again.” “Oh, dear,” Lana sighed. “But one month isn't much time. How can you possibly get to know someone well enough to marry within a month?” “I don’t have time for a normal courtship and I am prepared to propose, if I must. Will you help me?” “Of course I will help you. I just don't like these circumstances. A wedding should be something beautiful not a necessity.” “I don’t like it either, but I don’t have a choice.” On the thin side, Lana was fetching, with her soft blonde hair and blue eyes. It was odd that she had yet to find a husband, but her family had never pressed the matter. Victoria longed to be in Lana’s position right now. Victoria had enjoyed every freedom there was when her parents were alive, but now her aunt was forcing her to marry. She only hoped that the man would be understanding and not oppressive.

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“This is so unsavory. How can someone hate their own flesh and blood so much?” Lana said with disgust. Taking up her own cup of tea for the first time since Victoria sat down, Lana insisted, “You must accompany me to the balls this season.” “I have no gowns, Lana. I have no money or dowry. Who will want me? I pale in comparison to the other women. This is going to be very difficult, if not impossible.” “Difficult? Impossible? Tory, you will have men coming at you from all sides, money won't matter to them. As for gowns, I have old ones that we can tailor to fit your form and modify to match the trends of the season. It will be simple. Don’t you worry about it,” Lana smiled. “We will find a man to come up to scratched for you.” “Thank you, Lana, I don't know what I would do without you.” “I'm sure you would have managed without my help.” “Do you think that I’ll have a problem because of my age? I am twenty-two after all.” “You are hardly a spinster, Tory,” Lana laughed. “A lot of the other women are younger.” “You are much more beautiful than those other women. They don't stand a chance against you.” Lana squeezed Victoria's hand. “I always wished you and I would marry for love.” “Most marriages are loveless,” she said matter-of-factly. “Yes, I suppose you are right,” Lana paused in thought, then with a smile and a chuckle, she added, “You could always take a lover.” Victoria laughed, spilling a little of her tea on the great terrace of the Richmond mansion. She could not remember the last time she had a good laugh. For some time she thought she would never laugh again. Her mother had lain dying for months and, with the sudden loss of her father, she was sure she would never find happiness again. “The Allen's are having a ball this evening. It will be perfect for your first appearance.” Lana studied her. “Green would be an excellent color for your gown. I think I have an emerald one that will match your eyes perfectly. My aunt gave it to me as a gift last year, but it looks horrible on me.” “I doubt that.” Lana shook her head. 8

“Let's just say I don't have the bust for it, but we will deal with the dress later. Right now, we should focus on men. London is stocked with distinguished gentlemen. I'll make a list of the most eligible and worthy bachelors. Now, Victoria, I must warn you, London men are not like those nice boys out in the country. They are crude, ruthless, and will take advantage of you the first chance they get. Whatever you do, don't let your guard down.” “Yes, I can’t afford a scandal. But I have been to the continent, Lana. I spent four months in various countries surrounded by strange and rakes. I think I can hold my own.” Lana nodded her head in agreement. She had spent a little time in France and well she knew the forwardness of some of those men could be. She sat back in her chair, bringing the rim of her cup to her lips. “Let me think. With whom could we match you with?” She took a sip and then another, her eyes focused off into the distance while she thought. “Lord Albert is a great man. He’s about forty and is quite handsome for his age. He has a bit of wealth, but he’s never been married. He’s the old bachelor type but with your looks and figure we could get him to change his mind.” “I don’t want to force myself on anyone,” Victoria said with a light laugh. “Lord Rogers is suitable and wealthy. He’s very polite. There is also Sir Wendell, who is a widower with three children. You don’t mind children, do you?” “I love children. I may even like to have a few of my own some day.” “Sir Wendell is a sweet man.” Lana continued with her list, “Baron Fraser would make a good match for you and Sir Millings. Oh, and Lord Shillmend and Mr. Tavis. Yes, all of them will do,” Lana nodded, pleased with herself. “They are all very nice and pleasant to the eye. However, I think I will have Ben investigate them.” “Oh, Lana, do not drag your brother into this.” “He can help us quite a bit. All these men seem perfect and respectable, but he could get to know their true nature. Most of the men in London like to visit Willows.” “Willows?” “It is a notorious gentlemen’s club. Every mysterious. Ben was a frequent visitor

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before he married and moved to his country estate. ” “That is a brilliant idea. Men are more likely to reveal their true selves in private. I just don't want to trouble your brother.” “It is no trouble. I'm sure he will be more than happy to help.” “Thank you,” Victoria sighed, her shoulders slumped in relief. “Don't worry about a thing. I will find you the best possible husband there is.” It was nice of Lana to say that she would not have to worry, but how could she not? Victoria had only a month to find a husband. Why hadn't her father pressed her to marry? Why had he given her so much freedom? In truth, a woman Victoria’s age should be wed, not hunting like a lioness for unsuspecting prey.

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Chapter Three

Dorian rubbed his temples as his head throbbed beneath his fingertips. “Are you insane?” “Yes, I'm insane. I have gone completely out of my mind. I'm crazy, like Hadrian.” Raphael gasped and jumped back. “God save us!” Hadrian had been a great vampire ruler. After the murder of his brother, he had gone insane and exiled himself to an ancient fortress high in the Carpathian Mountains. There he lives alone in silence and madness. No vampire world dare to journey to that ancient palace. “It was a joke.” “Hell's teeth, Dorian. That's not funny. The vamp truly has gone completely mad.” “Is that not what you are accusing me of?” “Well…yes.” “What is it that you want from me?” Dorian asked. Raphael had not stopped hounding him since he had walked through the door. “You deserted your Clan.” “I did not desert them.” “You packed up and sailed across the ocean without a word to anyone,” Raphael argued. Dorian slammed his fist down upon the desk. “Are you accusing me of running away?” he said, his voice low and menacing. Raphael took a step back; fear began to creep up his spine. He swallowed hard and said, “No, my lord.” “Good.” Dorian relaxed back in his throne-like chair. 11

“It's just that the hunters–” “Are on a mission to destroy the clan,” Dorian finished. “And they won’t be satisfied until every member of the Mylonas Clan is dead.” Raphael nodded. “Why are you here in London instead of back home where you are needed?” “Can you think of anything more terrifying to a hunter than a vampire chieftain residing in London, which so happens to be one of the most populated cities in the world?” Raphael's eyes grew wide in understanding. “I am here to draw the attention away from the Clan.” “That is brilliant! You are a genius,” Raphael raved, grinning from ear to ear. “And a moment ago you were accusing me of being insane.” “Genius and insanity go hand in hand.” “I suppose,” he said. “Why did you follow me? You couldn’t have honestly believed that I would abandon my Clan.” “I came to talk you into coming back, but now I understand your motive for leaving.” Raphael paused as he chose his next words carefully. “It’s Kal. I believe he is trying to turn the Clan against you.” Dorian tipped his head in agreement. “There is no doubt in my mind that Kal is up to something. He has always desired the Mylonas crown.” Dorian had left Kal to rule in his absence, giving him complete control. He had trusted him, but it was obvious that the vampire did not merit his trust. Was he trying to steal his throne? Kal could have hired the hunters to exterminate the Clan in hopes of building his own. That sort of treachery, he feared, was not beyond him. He must change his second-in-command, for the protection of his people. “I never really liked Kal.” “Then why on earth would you make him your successor?” “Viktor had requested that I make Kal my second. It was his last request before the curse took him. How could I say no? I kept my word and, upon his death, I accepted the throne and named Kal as my heir. As I have said, I never liked the vampire.” Dorian leaned back in his chair and glanced at the tall, mahogany clock that stood against the opposite wall. “I have a task for you, Raphael,” Dorian said, yanking off his boots. “You are to be the ruler of the Clan during my absences. 12

You are a military man; you have stood by my side in many battles. I know I can trust you and I know your loyalty is to our people. You will do what is best for them.” “I thank you, Your Majesty. I will be honored to be your second and your heir.” “I should have given you the responsibility in the first place, but I could not go back on my word,” Dorian said, massaging the nape of his neck. “My Clan and I are suffering because of Viktor’s mistake in judgment. It is obvious, from your description of Kal’s actions, that he cannot be trusted and therefore he must be removed from power.” Raphael nodded in agreement. “Now no more depressing talk,” Dorian sighed as he stood, rubbing his temples once more. An irritating tingle had begun at the base of his spine and was now spreading throughout his body. “I must get ready. I have a ball to attend.” “A ball?” Raphael’s brows rose with surprise. “Yes. I must be sociable,” Dorian said as he stepped into his large dressing room, closing the heavy, wooden door behind him. “Otherwise I'm not a threat…” Dorian’s voice failed him as unbearable pain rippled over every inch of his body, causing his muscles to spasm. He silently fell to his knees, his hand gripping his chest. Raw, pure emotion engulfed him and ignited his black soul. Loneliness, despair, and misery consumed him. He gasped for air as sweat broke out across his brow. The curse dug into his heart with poisonous talons. Dorian prayed his death would be quick but the witches would never allow that. Every king who had come before had suffered, why would he be any different? He had known one day he would join the other chieftains in Hell. He had ruled for almost four hundred years, making him the longest reigning monarch in vampire history. It was a miracle he had lived this long. He had failed, just like the previous rulers, in finding his mate and he would die. He only hoped his demise would not come until he had saved his people. They needed him. As another wave of burning pain washed over him, he clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. A need to be loved, to be held, to be cherished ripped at his soul until he thought he would cry out from the agony.

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He refused to let the curse weaken him. Dorian gathered his strength and desperately tried to shove the pain aside. He pushed himself to his feet but had to press his back against the wall for support. Closing his eyes, he took in deep, calming breaths. As the emotions began to fade, he ran shaking hands through his hair. He pushed away from the wall and stumbled to the water basin. The cool liquid was a blessing to his tense, heated flesh. Once he had regained his composure, he continued disrobing and reached for a fresh white shirt. “I don’t suppose you would like me tagging along to watch your back. The news of your presence here, I’m sure, has traveled fast. Hunters must be swarming the city.” Dorian took a quick peek into Raphael’s mind and was relieved to find his friend had no idea what had just taken place within the closet. He could not afford to have his secret known. He cleared his throat. “You’re right in assuming that I don’t want you hanging on my coattails and I've been protecting myself for over three thousand years. I don't need your help, but I do appreciate your offer.” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck. He hated social gatherings and he knew that the king loathed them even more. Their Clan rarely held parties for that very reason. Dorian was not a social being; he was a warrior. “I do understand why you are mingling with the rich and entitled but I am having a hard time picturing you at a ball. As boring and stuffy as those balls are with all those blue hairs chatting like birds, the young hopefuls prowling for a husband, and the men boasting about…everything.” “It will be dull but I must draw the hunters’ attention to me.” When Dorian stepped from the dressing room clothed as his title demanded, Raphael found it difficult not to laugh aloud. “I do hope you enjoy yourself.” “Not bloody likely,” Dorian snapped, noting the laughter dancing in his friend’s eyes. “But I must be on my way. I am already late.” Giving himself a quick scrutiny in the mirror, he turned to the other vampire, “I trust you will take care of the Clan.” “You may rely upon me, my lord. I will set sail tonight.” “Good.” 14

Chapter Four

“What did I tell you?” Lana smirked as she pulled Victoria away from her mob of admirers. She had been the center of attention since she walked through the door. Men crowded around her and argued over which one would dance with her next. Her feet ached from their clumsy feet and her ears rang from their boisterous voices. “I told you that your age would not matter, nor your lack of a fortune.” “Indeed, you did,” Victoria whispered back. “And these girls certainly pale in comparison to you,” Lana went on. “You look ravishing and I'm confident that all the men here will agree with me.” “I had not expected to have so many suitors. How am I to choose?” “Well, all I can say is that every girl here is jealous of you. No woman has ever had so many men after her at one time.” “I feel like a fox in a fox hunt.” “Yes, and they are the hounds,” Lana said as she glanced back at the group of men watching them walk away. “But you needn't pick one just yet, there are more parties to attend, more men to meet. London has a pool of young bachelors ripe for the picking.” “You make them sound like fruit,” Victoria laughed. “And when you hear them talking about us they make us sound like brood mares waiting to be bred.” The girls’ giggles vibrated through the room, turning curious heads. They smothered their smiles and slipped from the ballroom to the hall. “So,” Lana began once she got her giggles under control, “have any of them caught your fancy yet? I noticed some very handsome gentlemen surrounding you. Would you like to add any of them to the list we made this morning?” 15

“Just about every one of them in that group,” she glanced over her shoulder, “are too young for me.” “Too young, my foot.” “If you haven't noticed, Lana, all the older and more mature men are in the card room. Those that are in the ballroom have kept their distance. They must be intimidated by all the young blood.” Lana glanced across the hall at the smoky room. “Those men are no fun.” “Exactly, they are more serious. If I told them my predicament they would be more apt to understand than those featherweights parading themselves out on the dance floor.” “So, you don't want some jack-a-dandy. That makes sense,” Lana said with a shrug. “I don't blame you, I wouldn't want my husband chasing after light skirts all the time either, but the men in the card room have perfected the game of seductions like an art form. They know how to twist a woman's heart.” “Scandal is more than likely attached to their names, but I also think they would find a marriage in name-only more suitable.” “That is a very good point if you don't plan on having any children,” Lana added. “I could marry a man who already has children.” “Miss Richmond!” a woman called, waving her handkerchief in the air. Lana groaned as she smoothed her dress and rolled her eyes. “We have been spotted,” she whispered. “By whom?” “Tabitha Wisten and her mother, the two worst gossips in all of England,” Lana said. “They probably want an introduction to the woman who has been turning all the young men's heads. Be careful,” she warned, “they may pounce on any word you say.” “Here you are. I have been looking all over for you. Have you been hiding from me all night?” Miss Tabitha Winsten said with a smile. “No, of course not,” Lana lied. She had deliberately stepped from Tabitha's view every chance she got.

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“I see that you are being quite rude, Miss Richmond,” Lady Wisten noted, her eyes pinned on Victoria. “Will you please introduce us to your friend?” “Yes, I'm sorry. Lady Wisten and Miss Wisten, allow me to introduce, Miss Kingston.” “Kingston? That name sounds very familiar.” “Of course it does, Miss Wisten, we just read about Lord Kingston's death in the paper,” the mother said. “I'm sorry about your parents, it must be hard.” “Yes, it was hard,” Victoria agreed, ignoring the woman's insincere tone. “Are your son and husband in attendance this evening?” Lana asked, changing the subject. She knew that if she did not interfere, Lady Wisten and her bitch of a daughter would rip into Victoria like a sack of grain. “Garry is in the card room with my husband. Is any of your family here?” “My mother,” Lana replied. “I trust she is in good health?” Lady Wisten asked, her eyes still fixed on Victoria who returned her stare. “Yes, my mother is always in excellent health, thank you.” “And your aunt, Miss Kingston, is she well? I am afraid I have not seen much of her recently.” “She seemed in perfect health when I arrived.” “And when was that?” “Last evening.” “Don't you think attending a ball so soon after your parents’ deaths is inappropriate? I would―” “Oh, mother,” Miss Winsten interjected. “Did you see who just arrived?” The Wisten women craned their necks as they peered down the hall to the front door. “What is he doing here?” Lady Wisten asked. “Thank god. They have someone else to talk about now. Watch these gossipers go,” Lana whispered in Victoria's ear. 17

“He has not accepted an invitation to a social gathering in almost two weeks.” “No doubt he’s been entertaining himself with all the ladies that threw themselves at him at the last ball he attended,” Lady Wisten grunted. “I heard the widow, Lady Tillman, was spotted leaving his home the other day and just this morning, three gypsy women departed from his front door. One can only imagine the sinful things that are taking place in that fine house.” “Or perhaps he did not like any of the other hosts,” Victoria suggested. She had no clue as about whom they were speaking, but she could not resist the urge to ruffle their feathers. The two Wisten women cast irritated glares at her and returned to their chatting. “I heard that Sir Rowel’s wife was seen leaving his home as well.” “Do you think he even received an invitation? Lady Allen normally doesn't approve of his type,” Miss Wisten pointed out. “My dear, his type does not need an invitation and Lady Allen will probably be ecstatic that he has graced her overstuffed ball with his presence.” “His type?” Victoria asked Lana in a whisper. “I can't see the man, but I assume they are talking about Prince Dorian Vlakhos. He is rumored to a prince from some far-off country near Russia. He arrived about a month ago and quickly became the talk of the ton. Women flock to him every time he enters a room and, according to the gossip mill, he has sampled his fair share of ladies this season. Despite the rumors of his love making skills, he remains quite a mystery.” “Well, he won't stay a mystery for too long with those two around.” Lana smiled and they turned their ears back to the gossips. “Have you heard about Prince Dorian, Miss Kingston?” Miss Wisten asked. “A little,” she answered, glancing toward Lana. “He is the most eligible bachelor this season, extremely rich and titled,” Lady Wisten stated. “But he is a rake,” Miss Wisten added, “and it is just sinful the way women flaunt themselves before him.” 18

“He is very handsome,” Lana admitted simply. Mother and daughter gasped at her forwardness and Victoria bit her lip trying not to laugh. “I wonder how many hearts he will conquer tonight?” Miss Wisten said. “It seems that the second he enters a room all the young girls fall in love with him.” “He will conquer plenty I fear. You two,” Lady Wisten snatched up both Victoria and Lana's hands, “should be careful. He will try to steal your hearts I'm sure. Don't fall for his sugared words or his sinful smiles. He is a devil, that boy, and he will lead you straight to ruin.” “Being ruined by him wouldn't be so horrible,” Lana whispered. “What was that?” Lady Wisten said. “Your advice will be heeded.” “Good,” she released the girl's hands and once again fixed her eyes on Victoria. “I'm sure the last thing your parents would have wanted is for you to be swimming in scandal.” “I full-heartedly agree,” Victoria said. “Your mother caused enough trouble for your family, you needn't add to it.” Victoria opened her mouth, a deadly insult ready on her tongue, but Lana pinched her arm in warning. Victoria glared at her friend. “It is awfully warm in here. Lady Allen really should cut her guest list,” Lana said as she tugged on the back of Victoria's dress. “Yes,” Victoria agreed, fanning herself with her hand. “Champagne may cool us off.” “I could certainly use a drink,” Victoria mumbled under her breath before she turned and stomped into the ballroom, leaving Lana behind to excuse them. She snatched up a glass of champagne but did not stop. She smiled to a few of the men at the refreshment table and continued on into the night. To Victoria, the cool air was refreshing and a blessing. It was hot beyond belief in that crowded room and her rising temper was no help at all. Lady Wisten's words stung. She would not be surprised if 19

the lady and her aunt were best friends. Their opinion of her dear, late mother was the same.

Dorian despised parties. He hated the young girls fighting for his attention and he hated the jealous men. But he could not serve his Clan if he wasn’t seen. He had to mingle with society if he was to draw the attention of the hunters away from his family. Women smiled at him, fluttered their lashes, and even winked at him as he made his way through the room. Some were even bolder. They pressed against him and quickly whispered their names and addresses in his ear. It was the same everywhere he went. Even when he had been human, women would beg for him to take them to his bed. Ever since it got out that Lady Tillman had paid him a strictly social visit, he was now the talk of the ton. He had been interested in renting one of her properties to stable his horses and, naturally, the bored, twisted minds of the aristocracy would have to distort it into an afternoon tryst. Whoever had spread the gossip must have completely forgotten that Lady Tillman had entered and departed his home in the presence of her full-grown nephew, who had taken over her financial affairs since the passing of her husband. There was no possible way he could not deny that he had taken lovers within the last month but he preferred his own kind. Humans could be so fragile. His few tumbles had been with vampires and those very talented gypsy women. Dorian shook hands with a few of the men and exchanged pleasant words with a few of the more respectable ladies before he dashed outside. He took in a deep breath of the fresh night air and spared a glance up at the moon. The sky was not as clear as it was back home and he found it irritating. The one thing that had ever given him peace was the brilliant shine of the moon. “It isn't as clear as the country.” “I'm sorry?” “The sky. It is clearer in the country,” Victoria said as she stepped from the shadows of the trees. The man turned to face her and she gasped as if she had been struck. He was tall, taller than any man she had ever seen, muscled and 20

thick. Strands of deep brown hair fell across his angelic yet masculine face, her fingers twitched with the desire to brush them away from his magnificent eyes. Those fathoms of blue were like the sea after a tremendous storm, piercing, penetrating, and exotic. His jaw was straight and square, his lips thin and alluring. He was absolutely beautiful, in a dangerous, very masculine way. “Yes.” Dorian’s delicious lips turned up in a smile. His husky voice moved over her skin like a caress, her entire body was aflame as his smoldering gaze that roamed over her, leaving nothing untouched. Dorian was swept away by this young woman's beauty. She looked like an ancient goddess. Her nearly black hair sat in tight ringlets atop her head. He could see every detail of her face in the moonlight. Her deep, green eyes framed with long, flirting lashes, her slim nose, perfectly molded cheekbones, and lush lips that would tempt any man. His eyes slowly moved down the length of her bare neck, over her slender shoulders, and paused for the briefest of moments on her full breasts then continued their journey across her waist and hips, all the way down to the hem of her gown. Victoria shook her head trying to remember why it was she had come outside. She commanded herself to think and forced the thick, sensual haze from her mind. She turned her eyes back to the man and found that his had never once left her. The way he studied her was beginning to grow irksome and she had the sudden desire to slap that satisfied smirk off his face. “I do believe you are staring, sir.” “I am,” he said, his smile widening. And he wasn't finished. He looked her over once more, much to Victoria's aggravation. “Do you belong to anyone?” he asked. “Belong, sir?” “Yes.” “I don’t believe that is any of your business.” “Ah, no one?” he said, his interest rising. “That is not what I said.” “And why is it that such a beautiful woman belongs to no one?”

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“I'm not married or engaged,” she stated then snapped her mouth shut. She should not have given this seductive man that information. In his hands the knowledge could be dangerous. “I concluded that, but surely your parents…” Victoria tilted her chin up. “My parents have recently passed away.” “I'm sorry,” he apologized, his smile gone. “Why should you be? You didn't know them,” she stated, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. Now was not the time to cry, not in front of him, even if she had the desperate desire to feel his strong arms around her. “The little kitten has claws,” Dorian said intrigued. “I like that.” She laughed. It was a warm sound that made him want to kiss those rich lips of hers. “You are trying to make me blush, but it won't work. I’ve dealt with men like you before.” It was Dorian's turn to laugh now. She had never dealt with anyone like him. He was no ordinary man. He was a vampire king. “Men like me, kitten?” he asked when he had finally gained control of his laughter. “Yes,” she said with a nod, her irritation growing. He had laughed at her. Did he think she was a young naïve chit who knew nothing of men and their ways? “You are the rakish type whose only talent is seducing innocent girls.” “That is not my only talent. Although I must admit,” his smile turned devilish, “it is one of my favorites.” He took a step forward. “Tell me your name, sweetheart,” his voice was bewitching, smooth, and elegant. Her name? Her name? Her mind was a whirlwind of sinful images, tender caresses, and feather light kisses. Her name? How could she have forgotten her name? Dorian chuckled at her confusion. She looked so sweet, her emerald eyes glazed over with passion. Her lips parted and moist, and he took another step.

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“Please, a name, my lady,” he begged, moving closer. “My name?” she asked herself. “I–My–” She shook her head, clearing it of its sinful haze and announced, at long last, “Victoria Kingston.” “Victoria,” he repeated with a nod. “A gorgeous name, it suits you well.” Another step, now they stood a breath apart. He could feel the heat from her body; her rapid heartbeat was music to his ears. This woman was a treat and it appeared that he would no longer need to amuse himself with gypsies and vampire whores. His policy was to not bed women who were members of fickle court life but he was more than willing to make an exception for this girl. She was a delicacy and everyone deserved a little indulgence once in a while. Victoria backed away; she could not allow herself to be so close to him. He was a libertine and she could not afford to be seduced. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, he announced, “I am Dorian Vlakhos.” Her eyes flew wide. This was the man about whom Lady Wisten had warned her. This was the prince who had caused such a stir. Now she understood why the women were fawning over him. He was everything he was said to be, a devilishly handsome man with who had seduction on his mind and she was out on the terrace alone with the rake. He could ruin her. He could tarnish her good name. Panic began to flutter in her belly. “Well, Your Royal Highness–” “Call me Dorian.” “Your Royal Highness–” “It’s much less of a mouthful to say.” “Prince Dorian–” “As you please,” he said with a shrug. “Your Royal Highness,” she snapped. “I really must be getting back to the party. My friend is waiting.” She moved to step around him, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. “Not yet.” Victoria sighed in exasperation. “Prince Dorian, I have no desire to become another one of your conquests for this season.”

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“I just want us to become better acquainted,” Dorian stated. “And we will,” he added with a raised brow. “No,” she declared, yanking her arm back. “We won't.” She turned on her heel and stormed back into the house. Dorian watched her with a smile on his face. He could not remember the last time he had smiled and this girl had him smiling like a fool. He fought the urge to go after her, pull her back outside, and into the shadows where he could make good his promise. Victoria Kingston was going to be a tough skirt to catch, but he was not a man who backed down from such a challenge, especially not when the reward was so sweet.

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Chapter Five

Dorian reclined in a high-backed armchair, his feet propped on a footstool as he waited for his host to arrive. He had requested an audience with an old ally, a vampire who belonged to no clan, an outcast in their society. Dorian stood when the sound of footsteps pricked his ears. The door opened and the vampire greeted him with a frown. “So formal, my lord? You don’t have to stand when I enter the room. Please, be seated,” Gabriel urged as he closed the door. “We will not be disturbed here. The women and servants know not to bother me unless a fight is happening or if someone wins big money.” “You have them well trained,” Dorian said with a light chuckle, resuming his seat. “I’ve barked and snarled at them a few times; they are dumbwitted humans but they understand threats.” Crossing to a table upon which lay several decanters and crystal glasses on a tray, the vampire asked, “Would you like a drink?” “I thought that we could share this.” Dorian slipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a golden flask. “I brought it from home.” Unscrewing the cap was all he needed to do to make his friend smile. The scent of the alcohol was strong. It was truly the only liquor upon which a vampire could get drunk. Dorian’s Clan was the only one that knew the secret of the brew. “I can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of drinking Silver Moon. Give it here.” Dorian chuckled and forfeited the bottle. “You are looking well, Gabriel.” “As are you,” the vampire noted as he poured the liquor. “London must agree with you.” “It’s better than some places,” Gabriel said with a shrug.

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Dorian nodded. This vampire had a tortured past. His face was young and beautiful, but despite his youthful looks, his eyes told an entirely different story. Gabriel was a vampire whom no one should ever underestimate. “But I won’t be here too much longer,” Gabriel sighed, handing Dorian a glass of the glowing, silver liquid. He took a seat in the armchair next to the king. “I will be heading to America at the end of the month. It’s a booming, rising country. They are having their troubles but who doesn’t have troubles?” “Are you going to be closing down here?” “Yes.” He took a sip. “London is done for me. I need some place new.” “I didn’t know you were planning on packing up and moving. I suppose now the reason for my visit means nothing. I came to inquire on how my being here in London has affected your business.” “The hunters you have brought with you haven’t disturbed me. Everyone and everything knows that this seedy part of the city belongs to me. The witches know to stay off my territory. Besides, I have roving guards to pick off any trouble makers.” Dorian was impressed. Gabriel had been making a name for himself in the underworld. “I’ve heard a rumor recently,” Dorian began before taking a drink. “Boras is planning on unifying the outcasts.” “Yes, that is indeed his plan. I don’t give don’t care whose businesses he takes over or whose territory he claims as his own just as long as he doesn’t come anywhere near mine. I’ve given him a warning. Boras better not interfere with what is mine or there will be hell to pay. I keep whatever belongs to me.” Gabriel turned to Dorian and asked, “What does the royalty think about an outcast forming a clan?” “I can only offer you my opinion. I never speak for others, but I feel the same as you. As long as Boras stays away from my Clan, allies, and businesses, then he can do whatever he likes.” Gabriel propped his feet up on the short table in front of him. “Boras would be a fool to think he could threaten a clan. He doesn’t have the strength himself not to mention his army would be made up of outcasts, typically the weaker beings of our society.”

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“You have quite the following yourself, Gabriel,” Dorian pointed out. “I imagine many vampires will be joining you on your voyage to America.” “They are free to make their own choices. If they choose to follow me then they are welcome. They will be provided with work, shelter, protection, and food.” “By the looks of this room I would say your gambling business is doing well.” “Very well,” Gabriel boasted. “I plan to set up a couple gambling halls in America. I’m heading to New York and maybe down to New Orleans. I might even work my way out west.” “Taverns are popular among all classes of society.” A knock sounded on the door. Gabriel beckoned for the intruder to enter. It was his vassal. “The guards caught a witch snooping about.” “Lock him up,” Gabriel said. The servant nodded and retreated. “I assume you were followed,” he said to the chieftain before downing the rest of his drink. “Of that I have no doubt.” “I’ve received word from the continent that your Clan is slowly being exterminated.” “Unfortunately, that is true. I have come to London hoping to draw some, if not all, the attention away from my people. Hunters have followed me, but not as many as I would have liked. I am hoping with my appearances at London's ton gatherings I will attract more of the witches’ interest.” “I have a feeling the witch sitting in a cell in my basement is more interested in conversing with you than with me.” “It’s a Red Order witch you have,” Dorian stated. “I can smell his blood.” Gabriel studied his friend for a moment. That comment had caught him off guard. Generally, Dorian had his powers in check, keeping them in a stranglehold. Gabriel couldn’t smell the blood. He was nowhere near as old as Dorian nor was he as powerful, but to pick

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up the scent of magic in blood was difficult. This could only mean that the beast within Dorian was stirring and growing hungry. “I would like you to do me a favor, Gabriel.” “Name it and it shall be done.” “I would like your men to thin out the herd of hunters for me while you’re still here. I will be doing my own patrols every night, but it would be useful if I had a little help. I want to kill as many of these bastards as I can.” “It will be our pleasure, Dorian. I haven’t been on a good hunt in years. I must admit that I am a bit sad mercenaries aren’t in such a high demand these days. I thoroughly enjoyed that line of work.” “I did too.” “Would you like me to start with the one in the cell downstairs?” “No.” Dorian stood. “Use him as bait.” “I will do what I can to help out.” Dorian shook Gabriel’s hand. “You may keep that bottle as my token of thanks.” “I greatly appreciate it. I look forward to drunkenly falling into my bed in the morning,” he said laughingly. “I must be taking my leave. I have a pressing engagement and beautiful prey to stalk.” Gabriel laughed and raised his glass. “Happy hunting.”

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Chapter Six

The room was filled with guests; their voices rumbled the walls. Victoria longed to be alone in a quiet place where she could read or draw, but the Hennings’s house would not be it, neither would her aunt’s. She would receive no privacy or peace anywhere she went. “The work was just finished last week.” “I hear that you completely remodeled the majority of the rooms,” Lord Rogers said from his seat beside Victoria on the lightly shaded, floral sofa. “Yes, I did. Would you like a tour?” the woman asked. “Indeed.” “I think we would all like a tour,” Miss Winsten agreed, standing. Rogers held out his arm to Victoria who quickly took it and allowed him to lead her after the line of guests that were now following their hostess, Lady Hennings. As they weaved in and out of the rooms, Victoria took the time to study Lord Rogers. He was the best kind of gentleman, as far as she could tell. He was young and handsome with thick, blond hair and warm, brown eyes. His smile was genuine and his laughter inviting. He was a man of considerable wealth and courtesy, from what she had heard, and he seemed to have a great interest in her after their first meeting at Lady Allen’s ball. He was at the top of her list, but Lord Rogers did not rob her of her thoughts with a smile. Victoria chewed her bottom lip in thought. That insufferable prince had wrapped her up tight in his cloak of seduction. Since their meeting, two nights ago, she could not tear her thoughts away from him, but it was hopeless to dream about a man whom she could never have. “Is something wrong?” Lord Rogers asked.

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“No. Why?” “You were practically gnawing your lip off,” he smiled. “Oh,” she gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. Her fingertips brushed lightly against her swollen lip and she winced. “I was thinking.” He chuckled and took her hand in his. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lip gently and smiled. “Hard I would say.” “Yes.” She smiled awkwardly. His touch was forward and not at all invited. “The next room is the one that my husband insisted that we refurnish,” Lady Hennings announced. “It is the library.” Victoria was shocked when they entered the massive room. Books lined every wall and stretched from the floor to the ceiling. “I just love books,” she whispered in awe. Her eyes were wide and full of happiness as she walked to the center of her personal heaven. “They are mostly foreign,” Lady Hennings stated disparagingly. “Really?” Victoria asked excitedly, paying no attention to the woman’s tone. “I hope you have a library at your home, Lord Rogers,” Lana whispered with a mischievous smile. Lord Rogers nodded and watched as Victoria twirled about the room like a child, but Lady Hennings was already leading the tour on to another room. He could not spoil her enjoyment. He continued on with the group assuring her that he would return when the tour was finished. Victoria was so caught up in the splendor of the great library that she had not heard the door close and lock. Dorian leaned against the doors, his dark eyes following her about the room. She plucked a book from its resting place and began to thumb through it, a bright smile lighting up her beautiful face. So he waited for her to notice him. It did not take long. She turned and the smile instantly vanished.

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“Prince Dorian,” she gasped, her voice would have been inaudible if he were human. She cleared her throat and snapped the book shut once she conquered her surprise. “I had no idea you were coming to this party. When did you arrive?” “A few moments ago,” he said as he pushed his large form away from the doors. “Why didn't you continue on with the others?” “They don't interest me.” “I don't think we–” “Lord Rogers,” he continued, his voice turning hard. “Is he a friend of yours?” Victoria's grip on the book tightened as he drew nearer. “Yes, and I don't see how that is any business of yours.” “I beg to differ. Since you are fixed on marrying, I hope you find a man of whom you will quickly tire.” “Who informed you of my desire for a husband?” Dorian shrugged. “What young lady doesn’t want a husband? Besides, I have heard rumors that you are prowling around.” He smiled Her eyes narrowed. “I do wish you luck. The sooner you become tired of your marriage bed the sooner you will come to mine. Rogers, from what I know of him, is a great and upstanding gentleman. He is perfect for a nice girl, such as you, to marry. But he is also the kind of man that a woman would become bored with easily. Have you tried to have a conversation with the man? He talks mostly of the weather and his fine horses.” “He is not my only suitor. I have a long list full of others.” “If the rest are anything like him, I promise you will come happily to my bed.” “Is that a fact?” she said, her chin stubbornly tilted up. “That,” he smiled, “is a fact and I'm willing to wait.” “I will never come skipping to your bed.” “I have all the time in the world,” he assured her with a shrug. “I can wait.” “I think it’s time we rejoin the group,” she said. 31

“Why? They don't know I have arrived and your friends know where to find you.” “It is hardly decent for us to be alone.” “Well,” he crossed the room with measured strides, “look around you, kitten,” he said spreading his arms wide, “there is no one here to see us. We are completely alone.” They now stood an embrace apart. Victoria clutched the book even tighter, her knuckles turning white. She began to chew on her bottom lip nervously and grimaced as a bead of blood welled. Dorian gazed at the tempting, crimson droplet that colored her luscious lips. He immediately closed the space between them and slowly slid his hand over the delicate flesh of her throat and cupped the back of her neck. He could hear her pulse jump and her breath quicken. He could smell her arousal and, when he looked into her eyes, he was lost in pools of emerald desire. She wanted him to kiss her. She needed him to kiss her. He slipped his arm about her waist pulling her against him. His hand resting on her hip its heat burning through the thin material of her gown. He bent his head, his eyes the darkest of blue. He kissed the corner of her mouth and swept his tongue gently over the tiny bead of blood. He had never tasted anything so sweet. Victoria closed her eyes savoring the pleasure of his light caress and when his lips pressed fully to hers she surrendered completely. The loud thud of the book hitting the floor met deaf ears. Dorian's grip on her waist tightened as he deepened the kiss. He did not want to frighten her with his desire and he struggled to hold on to the thin strands of his sanity. He could not remember the last time he had wanted anything, anyone so badly. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, chaining his passion, when his body demanded that he take her. The beast within him roared for her. Never had he reacted like this to any woman. She was different, special. He made her mindless with his ever-demanding kiss, his tongue playing and dueling with her own. His hand had slipped from her neck and was now massaging her shoulder. His strong fingers branded her soft flesh and, when they began to knead her breast, she groaned in pleasure. Dorian’s lips left hers and blazed a fiery trail down her throat pausing a moment to run his velvet tongue over her enticing pulse. She gripped his massive shoulders as he bent her slowly over his arm and sprinkled feather light kisses over the tops of her breasts. 32

She was helpless against his prowess and was utterly seduced. She was ready and willing to do whatever it was he wanted, Dorian smiled with satisfaction. He lifted her and set her on the desk just behind them. His thumbs hooked in the small sleeves of her dress and he nipped at her shoulder as he dragged the material down. Victoria clutched at his shirt wanting to tear it to shreds. She needed to feel his hard body against hers. “Miss Kingston,” Rogers called as he tried the knob of the locked door. Dorian cursed. He could kill that man. He reluctantly pulled away and straightened her sleeves. He set Victoria back on her feet, her eyes still closed, lips still parted, and cheeks flushed. She was beautiful and he could only imagine what she would look like in his bed, beneath him. He smiled to himself when her eyes finally fluttered open; she had not heard Rogers at the door. She gazed up at him confused. Then, as she regained her elegant composure, her emerald eyes narrowed and impaled him. If he were a mortal man her intense stare would have set him aflame. He saw her hand rise and felt the hard slap she delivered. He smiled and fingered his jaw. “I suppose that means we will be finishing this later.” She raised her hand again but he caught her wrist. “I deserved one but I won't allow you a second.” Victoria snatched her hand away and pushed him aside so she could pass. “There will never be a later,” she snapped, her voice low and threatening. She turned on her heel and headed to the doors. Releasing the lock, she threw the door wide open. Rogers stood smiling like a schoolboy and Victoria roughly took his arm and practically dragged the man down the hall. Dorian watched amused. Her temper was glorious and he loved it. It had been hundreds of years since anyone had been so open with him. He appreciated her honest anger. He idly rubbed his jaw and grinned. His kitten had claws. Dinner was being served. Rogers seated Victoria then moved to the chair on her right. “It is too bad you missed the rest of the tour, Tabitha tripped over her clumsy feet, bumped into a table, and knocked one of Lady

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Hennings's Italian vases to the ground,” Lana whispered. “It was hilarious.” Dorian entered the dining room and all conversation stopped. “Your Royal Highness,” Lady Hennings said coming to her feet. “I had no idea you were here. Please, have a seat.” “Thank you.” Every eye watched as he took the only remaining seat. “Good evening, Miss Kingston,” he said as he sat directly across from her. “You two know each other?” Miss Wisten asked. Victoria clenched her teeth, anger sparking in her eyes. “We met at Lady Allen’s ball the other night,” he answered. “You did?” Lana exclaimed, surprised that Victoria had not told her. Every eye now was turned to Victoria. She knew the thoughts that must be running through their minds. If she had not told her best friend about their encounter she must be hiding something. “You arrived just in time, Your Highness, we just sat down to dine,” Lady Wisten said. “It is too bad that you missed the tour, Lady Hennings has preformed marvels with her home.” “You don't say? I would like to hear about it.” Dorian had started the conversation and everyone slipped into it easily. Jokes were told and the laughter was loud. The food was delicious and the wine exquisite, but throughout the entire meal Dorian did not eat a sliver of meat or vegetable and only took a few sips of wine. He occasionally participated in various conversations, but there was one thing he did constantly during the meal that everyone took noticed of, his eyes never left Victoria Kingston. Victoria had tried to ignore him, tried to pretend that he was not there, but she could not. He had such a demanding aura and figure that her eyes kept drifting back towards him. Every time their gazes met, he would smile a dangerously seductive smile and she would remember how that very smile tasted. Once the meal had ended, the men went off to play cards and enjoy their brandies while the women retired to the drawing room. Victoria did not wish to face the interrogation she would undoubtedly 34

receive from the gossips and so she claimed that a headache plagued her. “It would be terrible if you fell ill,” Lady Wisten said. “Oh no, I just need some rest is all,” Victoria said “I hope you feel better in the morning and do not miss my picnic tomorrow,” Lady Stevens said. “I wouldn’t miss it,” she assured the group. “Will you be staying, Miss Richmond?” Miss Wisten asked. “No, I really should take Miss Kingston home and see that she is well looked after. Good evening.” The women bid farewell and all wished Victoria good health before the pair were escorted to the door by the butler. Victoria did not relax until they entered the coach and pulled away, sighed and sank down to lay across the rich, red velvet-covered bench. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you I met the prince.” “I don't care about that,” Lana said waving her hand. “It was just a bit of a surprise that’s all. What I would like to know is if you have added him to your list.” “My list? Good heavens, no,” Victoria announced, shooting up. “He is unsuitable.” “Unsuitable?” Lana asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hardly. He would make a perfect husband. He is rich, handsome as the devil himself, and rumored to be a great lover.” “That last part is what makes him unsuitable.” “I hate to disappoint you, Tory, but a man can change. Take my brother for instance. He was a rakehell and many unfavorable rumors followed him. We all feared that he would never marry and curb his lustful ways, but he did. He is absolutely head over heels for his wife, Carol. So you see? The prince could change.” Victoria sat up and gazed out the window. “I saw the way he was looking at you,” Lana stated. “And if I were you, I would put him at the top of my list and pray that the rumors of his sexual skills are true.” Victoria could not help but laugh at Lana’s forwardness. She was a woman who always said what was on her mind. Unfortunately, 35

she did not have that luxury. Victoria needed to be the pretty, meek, and somewhat silent type to snatch a rich husband quickly.

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Chapter Seven

Dorian was pleased with himself. The party had gone well. He removed his greatcoat and tossed it to Dobbins then collapsed on the plush sofa. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled to himself. His fire-spitting kitten was not as indifferent to him as she pretended. She may shoot daggers at him with her eyes and slice him to bits with her tongue, but she desired him. He could taste it in her kiss and feel it in the warmth of her body. However, she would not give in easily. He knew that she would take great care in never being alone with him again. She would avoid him and be on her guard, which only meant he would have to try harder. “My lord?” Dobbins asked from the other side of the study’s door. “Come in,” Dorian called, sitting up. “Your mail, sir.” “Thank you.” Dorian took the small stack of papers offered to him and stood, sparing a glance at Dobbins. “Everything well?” “No, my lord,” the butler answered, his voice quaking. “No?” “No,” Dobbins repeated. “There is a young man here for you. He arrived just after you left for your meeting with Sir Gabriel. He is in bad shape. The poor lad has been attacked.” “Where is he?” Dorian demanded. He had been so completely consumed by his thoughts of Victoria that he had not noticed the aroma of young blood that filled his home. “He is in the guest quarters. He says that he has a message for you.” “A message?” Dorian whispered to himself as he took his seat behind his wide desk. “Bring him here, Dobbins.” The servant nodded and hurried off. 37

Dorian’s brow knitted in a frown. He knew the message must be from a hunter. His plan was working; the bloodthirsty witches had followed him. He just wondered which hunter would be brave enough and depraved enough to send a bloody messenger directly to him. The scent of blood polluted the air and Dorian cringed inwardly as Dobbins helped the boy into the room. “My lord,” the boy groaned. “Set him on the sofa,” Dorian instructed, shooting to his feet. Dobbins gently set the injured messenger down. “Sir,” the lad said again as he reached into his blood-soaked pocket, “I have a letter for you.” He held out the parchment, his hand shaking. Dobbins took the note, broke the wax seal, and handed it to his king. “Who did this to you?” Dorian asked. Ignoring the paper for the moment, he set it on his desk. “Did you see them?” The boy shook his head and winced as pain rippled down his spine. “I was sleeping on a bench in the park – when I was attacked.” “Did he say anything to you?” “He said that if I didn’t find you and…” the messenger moaned and doubled over in agony, “give you that letter,” he panted, “he would kill me.” “Dobbins, take the boy back to his room and I’ll have Mrs. Dobbins tend to him.” Dobbins leaned across the desk and whispered, “I don’t think the boy will last through the night, sir. Mrs. Dobbins can’t help him. Death has marked this lad.” “Yes, but it hasn’t taken him,” Dorian whispered back. Then, to the boy, he said, “You will be cared for here. You needn’t worry.” The butler grumbled and helped the boy to his feet. Once the study was empty, Dorian pulled open the top drawer of his desk and removed an ancient dagger. He fingered the tip then slowly ran the blade across his palm drawing blood. He willed the wound to stay open as he allowed blood to drip into a brandy glass. When the bottom of the glass was covered, the wound promptly disappeared.

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“Mrs. Dobbins,” he called. Dobbins’ wife poked her head into the study. “Mix it with some tea and take it to the boy.” “Are you sure you wish to use your blood? Mine should–” “Mine is guaranteed to work,” he stated. “See to it that he is properly fed, bathed, and, in the morning, send him to Mr. Crumbell’s home. I know he can use a new stable boy.” Mr. Crumbell’s stable boy had quickly met his end earlier this evening after Gabriel had used the young witch as bait. “Yes, my lord.” She curtsied and took up the glass. Dorian waited until Mrs. Dobbins to close the door before returning to his seat. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then snatched up the note. “Mark Wright,” he read with a scoff. “I should have known.” The hunter had the biggest ego he had ever encountered in his long life. It was no wonder that he would be the one to follow him to London and send a battered messenger to his front step. That little bastard was trying to intimidate him. Of all the brainless and — Dorian froze as he read the last line. “Damn it,” he growled as he crumpled the note and viciously threw it to the floor. The hunter knew about Victoria; that fact sent a shiver down his spine. I don’t think you want anything to happen to your precious human, Victoria Kingston, Dorian repeated to himself. He slammed his fist on the desk. That hunter had no idea with whom he was dealing with. Wright hoped to frighten him with his knowledge of Victoria, but instead he enraged him. How dare he threaten to take what belonged to him? Dorian started in surprise at his own thoughts. He knew he was a possessive man. It was in his nature, but possessive of a human? A mortal he had only met two days ago? There were plenty of them walking the earth. Why should he care about this one? He desired her and wanted nothing more than to get her in his bed, but after a few nights of passion it would be over and he would move on. That was always the way of it. So why should he care that Wright was threatening her life? 39

He leaned back in his chair and propped his large feet on the desk. What could make him feel this way? She was a special woman, he knew. She was brave, intelligent, determined, passionate, and honest. She never hid her emotions from him. Even when he was human, people guarded themselves, never showing or telling him what they truly felt. They had shied away from him, scurried off when he entered a room. He had been a great, ancient warlord who had fought to gain all that he had. Victoria was different. She was hot and cold, sweet and sour, and he loved it. Her lavender scent was refreshing, innocent, and seductive. Her eyes were mesmerizing, her lips inviting. He longed to feel her warm, soft body beneath his, her legs wrapped around his hips. His fangs sprang free as he imagined burying himself deep inside her over and over again as her sweet, spicy blood slipped down his throat. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He was more than just physically attracted to her but what other kind of attraction was there? He absently rubbed his chest. Ever since he had met Victoria the curse had not attacked him. Sorrow and loneliness had not ripped at him. They had not crept up on him while he was alone, nor did they haunt his dreams. His hand paused over his heart, a frown darkening his brow. What did all this mean?

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Chapter Eight

It was a beautiful day for a picnic. The sun was bright, the air was warm, and a fresh breeze blew, tickling the hairs on the back of Victoria’s neck. She sat on the white blanket with the titled ladies, each delicately holding their parasols. Victoria noted that she was the only one not wearing laced gloves. She knew that it bespoke of her lack of wealth but she didn’t care. She had never liked wearing gloves. Children ran about freely, flying kites and chasing each other. Victoria had wanted to bring Margaret along but Aunt Nelly would not have it and refused to give a reason for her decision. Margaret could use some time in the fresh air and she would have enjoyed frolicking with other children. If she were to grow up in London it would not be such a bad idea for her to make friends. “Did you invite Prince Dorian?” Hearing his name shattered her thoughts. She turned and frowned at Lana who only smiled back. “Yes indeed. I sent him an invitation,” Lady Stevens said. “Why do you ask, Mrs. Richmond?” Miss Wisten pressed, her eyebrows raised. Lana ignored the suspicious glances of the women surrounding her and sipped her tea. “I was just wondering if he would be gracing us with his presence on this fine afternoon.” “I heard one of the most vulgar things this morning about the prince,” Lady Wisten stated. The women set their cups down in anticipation, except Victoria and Lana, who both rolled their eyes at the gossipers. “Do tell,” Lady Hennings urged.

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“I was told, by a very respectable source, that last night before your dinner party, Lady Hennings, he was seen entering and leaving Willows from the back door.” Gasps and murmurs took over the crowd. Leaning toward Lana, Victoria asked, “What does that have to do with anything?” “Everyone knows that Willows is a popular place for the men to visit. It is respectable to enter Willows from the front entrance as only gambling and drinking take place in the front. But whoring, paying off large debts, and seriously dangerous business goes on in the back. It’s quite damning for a titled and wealthy gentleman to be seen coming from that door.” “No doubt he was visiting the women there,” one lady said with a huff. “Perhaps he has lost his fortune playing cards,” another added. “Only vermin do business there.” “He does appear to be quite the philanderer,” Lady Hennings spat. “I'm shocked that Beatrice allowed her daughter to dance with him at Lady Allen’s ball. It could ruin her reputation and all her marital prospects,” Lady Hennings added. “A dance is harmless,” Lana protested. “It wasn’t the dance, it was the way he was holding her,” the older woman clarified. Her reply was met with agreeing nods and more murmurs. “Do you all remember the first ball he attended? He danced with Lisa Norse and her engagement was ended the very next day,” Miss Wisten added. “Perhaps that is the reason Prince Dorian does not attend many balls, he doesn't wish to upset others’ lives,” Lana said. “And I doubt that he is out to seduce every woman in London.” Just me, it would seem, Victoria thought. “I wonder if any of the young women this season will ensnare him. It would seem that all the great rakes find a wife in their later years,” Lady Wisten said, reaching for a teacake.

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“He is hardly old,” Lady Stevens said. “But at the rate he is going he is bound to be caught by some lovely lady.” Victoria clenched her teeth. For some unexplainable reason their gossip rubbed her nerves. Yes, she knew full well that he was out to seduce her, but they were not privy to that fact. These women were out for blood, trying to damage his name. Even though she felt no great love for the man, she did not think it was fair that they should be tearing him apart with rumors and suspicions. Venomous tongues were what destroyed her mother’s reputation. Rumors and falsehoods surrounded her parents’ marriage and they had driven them out of London. “Caught indeed,” Lady Hennings agreed with a nod. “At the end of the season he will most likely have ten bastards on the way. He probably won’t marry any of the mothers.” “I seriously doubt that he is so lacking in honor. How dare you speak of the man in such a distasteful manner when he is not present and therefore cannot defend himself.” Victoria was shocked by her words, as was everyone else. She felt as if she should protect Dorian. He may be a libertine but he did not seem to be a dishonorable man. He never once played her falsely. Dorian had been honest, he admitted he wanted her from the start, and she respected him for that. “I think the rumors speak for themselves,” Lady Hennings countered with a dismissive shrug. “They are rumors,” Victoria tossed back as she came to her feet. “Now, if you will excuse me, I'll be leaving. Lana, I’ll meet you later this evening. I need to take a walk.” Victoria could not get out of the garden fast enough. Lord Rogers waved to her from where the men stood. He had brought three of his finest horses with him today Lord Stevens having mentioned at the dinner party the night before how much he would like to purchase one. She waved back but did not stop; she was in no condition to flirt. Many of the men on her list were present this afternoon but she was not in the mood for interviews. Another ball would be held later in the week and she decided that would provide a better opportunity to get to know her suitors. Her heart was racing. She knew she should not have interfered on Dorian's behalf, now those busybodies were going to go blabbing all

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over town how she and Dorian were having an affair. That was just the rumor she needed to circle the ton while she searched for a husband. She stomped across the well-manicured lawn, her eyes on the ground as she silently cursed herself for being a fool. She was about to round the corner of the house when she suddenly slammed into something very hard. Victoria looked up, an apology ready on her tongue, but she quickly bit it back and snapped, “I defended you.” “Well, thank you,” Dorian replied in confusion. “That was not a smart thing to do.” “Why not?” “Do you know what they will think of me now?” Dorian gazed down at her with a smile. She had the most adorable face, her anger narrowing her thin brows, her annoyance pouting her lips. She was a vision even when she was in a temper. “What who will think?” He had no desire to read her mind to find the answer. This was quite an amusing game. When her eyes met his, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “I shouldn't have told you. It is not your concern.” A hot flush of embarrassment crept up her throat to set her cheeks on fire. Needing to change the subject, she asked, “What are you doing here?” “I was invited.” “Oh,” she sighed, gathering herself. “I knew that.” She had told him that she had stood up for him and that stupid smile on his face told her he was happy. Now he would have no doubt that she — No! She did not like him. She could not! He would only ruin her. She could not lose her sister. But even those thoughts did not change the fact that she could not stop thinking about the kiss they had shared, the way his lips felt against hers, how his warm his fingers felt on her skin. She could not help but wonder what else would have happened in that library if Rogers had not rudely interrupted. She chided herself mentally once more. Lord Rogers had saved her from ravishment. “And what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in the garden with the ladies?”

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“I'm walking home.” “Allow me to escort you.” “I can get there all by myself, thank you.” “The Stevens’s house isn’t exactly in the heart of the city, my kitten. You’re a long way from home if you mean to travel by foot. My carriage is right over there,” he said, pointing to the black box with midnight-blue velvet curtains covering the windows. “The stable boy took the horses but I’m certain I can get them back,” he added with a light chuckle. “No,” she snarled. “I mean, no, thank you. I need to walk. I need to clear my head.” Dorian ignored her protests, took her by the arm, and began to tug her across the driveway to the collection of carriages. She dragged her feet and struggled to free her arm, but it was no use, his hand was like an iron band. “Your Royal Highness, I really don’t need your help.” “Wait here a moment.” Victoria grunted as he headed toward the stables and the group of men. She was not about to wait. Turning on her heel, she headed down the drive. She took a deep breath to calm herself and allowed the pleasantness of her surroundings to wash over her. The road was wide with tall trees lining one side and a steep trench on the other. Birds sang overhead and she found some peace. However, it was not long before she heard the sound of hooves click-clacking on the cobblestone. Glancing over her shoulder, she groaned. “Miss Kingston,” Dorian’s voice rang from one of the windows, his coachman slowing the horses to make his lord’s conversation easier. “What?” she snapped. She had just begun to relax and he had to spoil it. “I thought I had offered you a ride home. I may have imagined it, so I will offer it now. Would you like a ride home?” “You did offer your services and I declined, as I will do now.” “It is not safe for a young lady as pretty as you to be walking the streets of London alone.” “If you haven't noticed, Prince Dorian, it is daylight. I don’t think many men will believe me to be a whore.” 45

“I've taken note of the time of day.” More than she could know, he thought. His eyes were beginning to burn from the brightness of the sun, he had not walked in the daylight for many years and he needed time to adjust. He was among the very few vampires that could withstand the murderous rays of the sun. “But really, I must insist.” Victoria stopped, as did the horses. Dorian opened the door for her. She squared her shoulders and took a step back. Dorian Vlakhos had to be the most stubborn man she had ever met, and it both angered and intrigued her. She certainly did not want a pushover for a…no. She would not finish that thought. “From the stories I’ve heard of you, it is not safe for me to accept your offer.” “Once again, there is no one here to see.” Her cheeks burned with an intense blush as she once again recalled their meeting in the library the night before. “Prince Dorian, you do not understand the situation in which I find myself,” she stated. “I cannot be associated with you in anyway if I hope to find a husband.” “I fail to see how my transporting you home has anything to do with–” “It doesn't, but that is not what everyone else will think.” Victoria turned to continue her walk when the earth beneath her foot gave way. She let out a short yelp, she closed her eyes, and braced herself for the impact, but it never came. Instead she was caught in a set of strong arms. She gasped, her shock reflecting in her wide eyes and stilled heart. “How did you do that?” “Does it matter how I saved you as long as I saved you?” Dorian asked with a wink. “Now that you have suffered such a traumatic event, I really must insist you allow me to take you home.” He started up the steep incline with ease. Victoria shook her head. How could a man move so quickly? He had been inside his carriage before she slipped. It was truly amazing. She was so bemused that she did not notice when he set her in the carriage and called out to the driver to move on. Finally she managed to whisper, “Thank you, Your Highness.” “Please, call me Dorian.”

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She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Dorian.” It was the softest, sweetest thing he had ever heard. Her voice skipped over his skin like flames and he fought with every fiber of his being to stay on his side of the small, dark interior. He wanted to crush her in his arms and kiss her with all the desire that fired his cold blood. He reclined and balled his fists at his sides. He had to remain in control. He had to ignore his raging urges. He had to keep his distance. But he wanted nothing more than to claim her here and now, with such a force that even in a thousand years neither of them would forget. Later, he told himself, she will be mine. “May I inquire as to your address?” he said trying to redirect his thoughts. He was thankful that the gown she was wearing now was not as revealing as what she wore the night before. The bodice did not do her curves justice and those magnificent breasts he had the pleasure to caress, were well hidden by an abundance of lace. “I would appreciate it if you dropped me off a block away from my house. My aunt doesn’t take kindly to strangers, especially male strangers.” He nodded and turned his gaze to the window. He couldn’t look at her. The memories of their kiss in the library and the sweet taste of her blood were too fresh and potent in his mind. The beast within him was awakening. He would have to feed and the woman sitting across from him was a delicious temptation. She was truly a flower. He smiled to himself. A flower with sharp, poisonous thorns, but he didn't care, he wanted her, and he would have her.

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Chapter Nine

Victoria was left to roam the store alone. Lana stood outside talking, laughing, and openly flirting with a very handsome man. Perhaps I will not be the only one getting married in the near future, she thought as she moved amongst the tables and studied a few sketches of gowns. Lana shook hands with the man and waved for Victoria to come out. Almost fifteen minutes had gone by since her friend had dashed out the door. She smiled as she remembered the look on Lana’s face when the man walked past the window. She had frantically gathered her skirts and ran for the door calling his name, and waving her arms above her head. Lana had made quite the spectacle of herself and no doubt the old gossiping hens would hear of it soon. Victoria sighed. Those women were nothing but a thorn in the side of society. Constantly running their mouths and spreading nothing but rumors and vicious lies. She could only hope that no one had seen Dorian carry her to his coach. A long, unescorted ride with him back into the city was not as harmless as a twirl around a dance floor. She huffed and rolled her eyes at the absurdity. How could a dance possibly ruin a girl’s marital prospects? “Did you find a doll?” Lana asked as she hooked her arm with Victoria’s. “Yes, and I think Margaret will love it.” “Lovely! It’s her birthday and she does deserve a special gift.” The two women walked in silence for a few moments before Victoria’s curiosity got the best of her. “Out with it,” she ordered. “Out with what?” “Who was that man with whom you were speaking?” 49

“Adam Howland,” Lana said easily with a wide smile. “And?” Victoria nudged her friend in the ribs with her elbow. “What?” Victoria rolled her eyes and continued, “He seems like a nice gentleman and he is very handsome. I think I remember seeing you dancing with him at Lady Allen’s ball and flirting with him at the picnic yesterday.” Victoria paused, a bright smile on her lips. She could tell Lana was getting aggravated and she knew exactly what to say to push her friend over the edge. “So, what would you like as a wedding gift?” “Hell’s teeth,” Lana cursed and giggled when the group of blue hairs they passed gasped at her vulgar language. “You are the one hunting for a husband, Tory, not me.” “You don’t have to hunt in order to find one.” “Will you please concentrate on shopping?” “I have a doll for Margaret. I don’t need anything else.” “Then I guess we can be heading home. It will be dark soon.” Victoria laughed as Lana pulled her across the street to Hyde Park, which lay between them and Lana’s house. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, we have been invited to the Howland’s ball at the end of the week.” “Don’t you mean ‘you’?” Victoria asked playfully. “No, I mean ‘us’. Mr. Howland was kind enough to deliver the invitation personally.” “Much to his pleasure, I’m sure.” Lana rolled her eyes and shook her head exasperated with Victoria’s inquiries. “He is handsome,” Victoria repeated. “Yes,” Lana conceded through clenched teeth. “Can we stop talking about Mr. Howland?” “Only when you tell me why you ran after him like a fool.” Lana’s lips remained tight and thin as they made their way through the park.

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Victoria sighed and carried on, “He seems absolutely charming and polite, from what I could tell through the window.” “Very charming indeed. He’s intelligent, witty, and–” She snapped her mouth shut in surprise. Victoria laughed. “I knew it! You like him.” “I most certainly do not.” With such a stern look and hard tone she could have tricked anyone else into believing her—except her best friend. “There is nothing wrong in admitting you like someone,” Victoria said. “When you admit you like Prince Dorian I will admit I like Adam Howland,” Lana tossed back. Victoria stopped and stared at her friend in shock. Was she as transparent with her feelings for Prince Dorian as Lana was with her feelings for Adam? She had tried her best to hide her mixed thoughts on the dark rogue. “I–I don’t like Dorian.” “And the sky’s not blue,” Lana said. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other at Lady Hennings’s dinner party. I also know that every time you are standing there ripping into your bottom lip you are thinking about how wrong he is for you and that he could never be marriageable material. My friend, I just know you too well and, it would seem, I know you better than you know yourself. Stop pretending you don’t like him and add him to your dratted list. You will be a much happier woman.” Victoria was stunned. Lana had her pegged. Perhaps she did like him but she still refused to believe she was in love with him. Love was the only emotion that would make her add him to the list. “What you think is ‘like’ could just be infatuation,” Victoria said, trying to convince herself of that possibility. “It could be something fleeting like that,” Lana agreed with a shrug. “But I doubt it. I think it’s more than just a physical attraction between the two of you. I do have the outsider’s perspective. Therefore I see more of what is going on than you do. Plus, you talk about him all the time.” Victoria sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, that was also true. 51

“I’m sorry to bother you ladies,” a man said as he stepped directly in front of them and removed his top hat. “I overheard the two of you talking about a Dorian Vlakhos.” The women looked the man over cautiously, each deciding that he was not to be trusted. He wore the clothing of a gentleman and his light brown hair was cut in the fashionable style, but the flicker of hate in his eyes told them he was no friend of the prince’s. “Yes,” Victoria said, straightening her spine. “Good. I have been searching for him. I’m a member of his Clan from back home. Could you tell me where I can find him?” “I’m sorry. We don’t know where he lives,” Lana said. The man’s eyes latched onto Victoria and an ugly sneer twisted his lips. Victoria could not move, she was somehow fixed to the very spot where she stood. Her limbs felt like lead. The man’s amber eyes glowed as he took a step forward. Victoria was captivated by their unearthly lure. Lana tugged on Victoria’s arm trying to pull her away, but she couldn’t get her friend to budge. She took in a deep breath, preparing to call for help. “Where are your manners, Wright?” Dorian asked as he sauntered up. He placed his hand on Victoria’s shoulder and gave her a slight shove toward Lana. “Vlakhos,” Wright spat. “You should be happy to know that I received your letter and that the boy is in perfect condition.” “Yes, I am glad,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. Dorian nodded pleasantly and turned to the women. “Go on, I’ll catch up.” Lana tugged on Victoria’s arm and they hurried away. Wright waited until the women were out of hearing range to speak. “It’s a nice day isn’t it, vampire? The sun has been awfully bright of late. Shouldn’t you be inside cowering in a corner?” he mocked. “Obviously no one taught you how to speak to royalty,” Dorian said. The sun was no concern of his, besides it was beginning to set. “I see no royalty here.” 52

Dorian ignored the insult and turned to the witch, studying the short hunter whose eyes flickered with loathing. “Funny, for some reason I thought you would be bigger. Your father was a tall man,” Dorian said nonchalantly. Wright took a threatening step forward, but Dorian did not retreat. He stood his ground. Even when he was mortal, all those centuries ago, he never refused a fight and he certainly wasn’t about to start. The hunter shrugged. “Word has apparently not reached you yet,” he stated. “I am the number one hunter of your Clan. I, with my own two hands, have slaughtered the majority of your pet leeches.” He took another step. They were only a foot apart now. “I have taken it upon myself to see to the complete destruction of the Mylonas Clan and,” he smiled, “you.” Dorian chuckled and shook his head. “You think I jest, vampire?” Wright said, his eyes narrowing. “No, I believe you are very serious and that is what I find so amusing.” “Really?” he sneered. “And what I find absolutely hysterical is how easy your General, Kal, is making my mission.” Dorian decided he would analyze the hunter’s comment later, now was not the time to worry about the usurper. Noticing that his words had no effect on the vampire king, Wright decided to change the subject to one he was sure would get the vampire’s attention. “She is very beautiful, I can see why you would want her,” Wright mused idly, glancing over his shoulder in Victoria’s direction. “Stay away from her,” Dorian snapped. “I take it that you don’t like to share.” Dorian closed the remaining space between them, his eyes changing from their stormy blue to a deadly, fathomless black. “I am the one you want,” Dorian whispered, his voice hard and lethal. “Leave her out of this.” “It’s true, I am after you, but it’s also true that if I hurt her, I hurt you.”

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“Lay one finger on her and I’ll make your last days feel like a lifetime of torture.” With that, Dorian turned and headed after the ladies knowing that now was neither the time nor the place to rip the arrogant hunter to shreds.

When he finally caught up with the couple, they were mounting the steps of Lana’s home. “Miss Kingston,” he greeted. “Are you planning on going home tonight?” “Yes, it’s my little sister’s birthday.” “I think it would be wise if you allowed me to escort you home. London is dangerous in the day, but even more so at night.” Victoria was about to protest. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She did not need a man’s help, but Lana quickly interjected. “I completely agree, Your Highness. There are some very strange people out there these days.” Victoria was so stunned she was unable to say her goodbyes, and before she knew it, Dorian had taken her arm and was leading her down the row of elaborate houses. The sun had set and the moon was bright, a slight wind beginning to blow and Victoria inched closer to Dorian. The heat from his body was comforting and inviting. “Who was that man?” she asked, breaking the silence. “No one of importance,” he answered with a shrug. Mark Wright was perhaps one of the most important people in her mortal life. He posed a very serious threat, but he was not about to tell her. “It would be best if you stayed away from him,” he added. “I didn’t go looking for him.” “Just appease me,” he said. “Fine, but only because I agree with you. The man was sinister.” They turned a corner and continued down the street of lovely town homes, whose windows lit their path. She was shivering now and

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he was like an inferno. She almost hated pulling away when they reached her aunt’s home. “Thank you for your escort,” she said quickly then spun to open the door. He placed his hand over hers on the knob. She turned to find him leaning over her. She took in a deep breath and almost swooned from his scent of sandalwood and sensual male. Dorian tilted her chin up and placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. The light caress stole her breath and she had to fight the vicious urge to pull him back. “Good night, Miss Kingston,” he said with a smile. He bounded down the steps, stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, and continued on his way home, whistling. Victoria bit her lip and opened the door. She prayed that her aunt was not home, for she was not in the mood to go a round with the old woman. She just wanted to find Margaret. “Miss Victoria,” the butler greeted, “your aunt is out at the opera tonight.” “And Margaret?” “In the dining room.” “Will you ask Beth to set a place for me, please?” “Certainly, Miss.” “Thank you.” Victoria was starving. She had not eaten one bite all day. Not wanting to face her aunt at the breakfast table, she had quickly slipped out the front door and hurried to Lana’s. They had left Lana’s house as fast as she had entered and went off to shop. She smiled to Margaret when she stepped into the dining room. The little girl sat alone at the large, empty table. “How was your day, princess?” Victoria asked as she took the seat across from her sister. “I helped Beth make sweet biscuits.” “Are they any good?” “They’re very good. You can have one, but Beth made me promise to wait until after I eat all my dinner.” “That is a good idea.” 55

“Why weren’t you here for breakfast?” the girl asked as she took a bite of bread. “I had to be over at Lana’s early.” “Oh.” The cook, Beth, pushed open the swinging door from the kitchen and set a plate of food on the table for Victoria. “Beth, can you bring out the biscuits now? I just finished and Tory said she wanted one. Please?” Beth laughed and returned from the kitchen with the sweets. “Thank you for watching her today, I know my aunt doesn’t like to trouble herself with the task.” “It’s nice to have Miss Margaret for company. She reminds me of my own two girls at home,” Beth said. “Are you going to bring them tomorrow? I would really like to meet them.” “I will, but you will have to stay out back in the stables. Lady Kingston does not like children running about her house.” “We’ll be good and stay in the stable,” Margaret promised with a hard nod. “Well, if that is all, Miss Victoria…” “Oh yes, we will see you in the morning. Thank you, Beth.” Once the meal was finished, Victoria allowed Margaret to lead the way upstairs. A small bath awaited the child in her room. Victoria busied herself with tidying up the room as her younger sister stepped into the tub. “Scrub good, you no doubt have flour all over you.” “Tory,” she asked, her voice low and unsure. “Yes?” Victoria answered as she pulled down the covers of the bed. “Have you found a husband yet?” Victoria abruptly straightened and slowly turned to face her sister. “I overheard Aunt Nelly talking to another lady about how you needed to find a husband or you would never be able to see me again. Is it true?” Margaret’s eyes filled with tears. 56

“Oh, darling.” Victoria hurried over to the tub and wrapped her arms about her sister. The water soaked her gown but she did not care. “Don’t worry, we will be with each other for always.” “Did you find a husband?” “No, not yet, but I have time.” She kissed Margaret’s forehead. “Everything will be fine, I promise.” “I don’t want you to go away. Mother and Father already went away,” she wept. “I will always be here. Don’t fret. I will find a husband and I will take you with me.” “Aunt Nelly won’t let you.” “She has to let you come with me.” “If you’re supposed to take care of me, why are we living here? Why aren’t we at home?” Victoria closed her eyes at the sound of the small, quivering voice. “Because I have no money and no way to support us,” she answered. “If I fail to provide for you then you will be given into Aunt Nelly’s care. But that won’t happen. I will find a very nice man and we will live happily ever after, you’ll see. Now stop your crying,” she said, wiping the tears from the young girl’s cheeks. “It’s your birthday and I have a present for you. But you need to get washed first.” Margaret nodded and splashed water on her face. Victoria slowly walked back to her bed and sat. Time was dwindling.

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Chapter Ten

“Lord Shillmend must be taken off your list,” Lana whispered. “He proposed to Miss Gable yesterday.” Victoria nodded as she made the mental note. She had crossed three other men off her list earlier that week. Ben, Lana’s brother, had turned over a few rocks the three gentlemen would have preferred to remain covered. Mr. Tavish, a younger man, in whom she was not particularly interested in, had an enormous gambling problem coupled with enormous debt. Lord Albert, the older yet very handsome and rich confirmed bachelor, was a bachelor for he had an interest in younger men. The week before, she was able to draw a line through Baron Fraser’s name, he had left for France and was not due to return for months. Her list was now down to three men: Lord Rogers, Sir Millings, and Sir Wendell. “I am glad that we are narrowing it down; I’m running out of time.” “You have almost two weeks left.” “Yes, and in two weeks I must lock a man into marriage.” “I wonder if an engagement will satisfy your aunt,” Lana mused. Victoria frowned, “I seriously doubt it. One of these men in this very room has to marry me.” “Ben is still looking into Sir Millings and Sir Wendell’s backgrounds. He is also putting together a list for you. I will be leaving to visit him tomorrow. I am an aunt now; my father received the news this morning. I will be gone for at least four days. Until then, you can flirt your way about to see if any more of these fellows strike your fancy.” “I think I will choose between the three remaining on my list.” Lana nodded. “That’s a wise decision and one of them is heading this way.” 59

“Good evening, ladies. I trust that you both are having a splendid time.” “Indeed, we are enjoying ourselves,” Victoria said with an easy smile. Sir Millings straightened his shoulders, sticking his chest out like a stag. “Would you care to dance, Miss Kingston?” “I would love to.” Sir Millings was only slightly taller than her and a bit thick around the middle. His graying brown hair could use a trim, but she was grateful he was one of the older men that kept up with his hygiene. He was not devilishly handsome like the man who stood at the edge of the dance floor. Dorian gave her a wink as Millings led her out to the floor. The music began and she tried to keep her focus on Millings, but with every turn, her eyes would land on Dorian, who did not move an inch from his spot. Dorian watched Victoria with careful eyes as the other male twirled her about the floor. She looked beautiful, completely angelic. Her face lightly flushed and her lips slightly parted. He growled low in his throat when Millings’ hand slipped from her waist to her hip. He wanted to rip the man’s arm off. He had to struggle to keep the vampire within under control. That was his woman and no man could touch her in such an intimate manner. Dorian took deep breaths as he fought to calm himself. He had not fed recently and the beast within him was becoming more powerful. He was relieved when the music ended. Victoria curtsied to her partner and made an excuse to find Lana, leaving Sir Millings on the dance floor. Dorian smiled as he noticed her limp, it would appear that the oaf had clumsy feet. Victoria sat and let out a slow, grateful sigh. Sir Millings had danced all over her feet and she was almost certain he had broken one of her toes. “A little sore?” Relief fled and irritation quickly set in as she answered, “Yes, if you must know.” “I assume Sir Millings is another contender for your hand.” “He is and you are not, so go away.” 60

He chuckled. “I have an odd feeling that you would rather dance with me than with that lout. He is heading this way and I promise I will not stomp on your feet.” She glanced over her shoulder and groaned inwardly. Dorian was right; her jolly suitor was making his way over. “I have other methods of avoiding him. I could go to the powder room.” “And hide in there all night?” he teased. Her scowl would have made a normal man back away in fear but Dorian just smiled, which irritated her even more. The man was persistent. He clearly desired her in his bed, but he was willing to wait for her to make the decision to join him. Unlike most of the gentlemen she had met. They had flirted and danced with her, and seemed to be polite, honorable fellows only to turn around and beg her to sneak off with them. Dorian had never asked her to meet him in a dark corner or tried to drag her there. She had to give him credit for that, though he was a rouge like the rest. She needed a husband. Lovers could possibly come later. “Will you pleasure me with the next dance?” Dorian asked. Victoria’s eyes shot to Miss Wisten and her mother standing by the refreshment table, their eyes on her and Dorian. She sighed. She would never find peace in this city. She was constantly watched and already rumors were being whispered about her. Victoria looked down, her eyes on Dorian’s polished black shoes. According to the gossip, she was having an affair with Dorian and could possibly be spending some of her nights with Lord Rogers. Lana’s words, a dance is harmless, echoed in her mind and at the time she had agreed. Things had changed thanks to the squawking pigeons. She glared at them for a moment. A dance with the sinfully handsome Dorian Vlakhos was far from harmless. It would most likely confirm the rumors that were waltzing on the tongues of the gossips. She was thankful that Lord Rogers had left for the country the day before. His mother had summoned him; therefore he would not be present while the lies circulated. However, he assured her he would return by the end of the week. “No, my feet are aching and I would rather give them a rest. And,” she paused as she searched the crowd of guests for Sir Millings, “it appears that my suitor is occupied in conversation.” “The next dance,” he stated as he took the seat beside her. 61

Victoria inched as far away from him as possible, without falling off her chair. Dorian gave her a peculiar look. “Why do you scoot away? I’m no leper.” “It’s not proper.” “What isn’t?” “We are sitting too close to each other,” she clarified. Her eyes were back on Miss Wisten and Dorian followed her gaze. Nodding his head in understanding, he slid his chair to the side, creating a respectable gap between them. “Does that make you feel more comfortable?” “Yes, thank you.” “Although,” he said, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, “I couldn’t help but notice how close you were sitting next to Rogers in his carriage yesterday morning.” “He smells better than you,” she replied, trying to hold back a smile. Dorian chuckled. “I doubt that. The man practically lives in the stable with his horses.” He held up a hand when she began to make another comment. “And I will not believe you if you say he is a winning conversationalist. The man is a bore.” Victoria snapped her mouth shut. She could not protest that last statement. Lord Rogers was a good man and one of the most insipid men she had ever met. But she knew if she did choose him, she and Margaret would lead very peaceful and safe lives. He was wealthy and came from a good, respectable family. Surely Aunt Nelly could find no fault in the man, though she would try. Dorian had called this one, she grudgingly admitted. He had stated plainly that the man talked only of horseflesh and weather. Lord Rogers was clearly an intelligent man; he just did not have anything of interest to say. She prayed that if she did marry him their conversations, if nothing else, improved. Victoria feared that this match with Lord Rogers would be a loveless one. She knew she would grow fond of him but she also knew that their bond would never blossom. She disliked the idea of a marriage without love. She had always dreamed of having a relationship like her parents. They never hid the feelings they had for each other.

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Dorian’s voice shattered her thoughts and she turned to see with whom he was speaking. A man handed him a piece of paper, bowed slightly, and quickly headed back to the refreshment table to continue serving the drinks. “Miss Richmond has left,” he declared as he read the message. “What?” Victoria demanded, snatching the small paper from his hand. “How could she leave? She was to take me home.” Dorian shrugged. “It appears that Miss Richmond has shirked her duties and passed them on to me. I am to be your escort home.” Victoria crumpled the tiny paper into a ball. Lana had done this on purpose. She must have seen her talking with Dorian and taken it upon herself to play matchmaker. Only this man had absolutely no interest in marrying her and every interest in bedding her. Lana had been pushing her to consider the prince as a potential husband. She had even taken Victoria’s list of suitable men and added Dorian’s name to the very top in large, bold print. Victoria knew that Dorian could have her with just one kiss and she was positive he knew it too. His mere presence was lethal to her purpose and she would box Lana’s ears for this. “Will you allow me to escort you home?” “Why do you bother asking? Arguing with you didn’t do me any good the last time, now did it?” she snapped. She had done her best to avoid him this past week after rumors began to circulate about them, but tonight she had no escape. “No,” he said with a smile and light chuckle. Dorian offered his hand to Victoria who did nothing but glare down at it. “Sir Millings is coming.” Victoria looked up in panic. The man finally broke free of the people who had snared his attention earlier and was heading straight toward them. She quickly took Dorian’s hand and stood. “Miss Kingston, are you free for a dance?” Sir Millings asked, ignoring her and Dorian’s laced fingers. “No,” Dorian snarled. Sir Millings gasped and stumbled back. The fieriness of Dorian’s voice sent fearful shivers up and down his spine. He stood immobile as Vlakhos led the beautiful Victoria away. 63

“Did you have to snap at the poor man?” He shrugged. Slipping an arm about her waist, he drew her against him. Victoria’s breath escaped her as their bodies met. She retreated a few steps only to have him snatch her back. She could feel his heat through her gown and gave a sigh of relief when the music started. She glanced about the room and grew weary of the many disapproving looks that were sent her way. “Don’t worry about them,” Dorian whispered. “Look at me.” His voice was so enchanting, so soothing, and she did exactly as he asked. Their eyes locked and held as they twirled. The rumbling voices of their fellow guests faded into silence. Sweet music was all Victoria could hear and Dorian was all she could see. His eyes cast a spell upon her, one that she did not have the strength nor the desire to try to escape. She was his captive, locked in his embrace. She could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet, she was almost positive they were floating. “Close your eyes.” His lips brushed her ear and his warm breath tickled her neck. She allowed her eyes to drift closed and surrendered. He brought her flush against his chest and sparks of desire electrified her body. Her mind swam with lustful yearnings as his arm tightened about her waist. The music ended too soon for their liking. Her eyes slowly fluttered open. His gentle gaze touched her very soul; their mouths were scarcely an inch apart. She gasped and pushed herself away. His fingers grasped her wrist. His eyes jumped with excitement as he felt her pulse skip a beat beneath his fingertips. “I think that’s enough dancing,” her voice was low and ragged. “Perhaps you’re right.” He reluctantly released her and glanced about the room. Damning whispers pricked his ears and he groaned inwardly. Her reputation was taking a battering. “I’m ready to leave,” she stated. She felt the eyes upon her and knew what people must be thinking. Sir Millings stood in a circle with a few other gentlemen, his face twisted in an appalling scowl and it was apparent that he believed the lies that were circling the room. Well, I can cross him off the list, she thought. “We mustn’t leave together. It would surely harm–”

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“My Reputation,” she finished, her lips curling back in anger. “My very name harms my reputation. Every gossip in London had their minds made up about me the instant I set foot in this godforsaken city. They all believe my mother to be a whore and therefore so must I. Well, they,” she motioned to the group of women standing in a corner frantically whispering, “can all go to the devil. I am tired of trying to please those old crones.” Dorian could not help but smile. She was absolutely stunning when angry, her eyes dancing with bright green flames. “I will meet you outside in a few minutes. I will be waiting just beyond the gate.” With that she brushed past him and out the door. Another dance began and Dorian headed to the refreshment table. He needed a drink. The weak liquor had no effect on him but its taste was comforting. “You are one lucky bastard,” a young man declared as he clapped Dorian on the back. “Excuse me?” Dorian asked, turning toward the richly dressed aristocrat. “Victoria Kingston,” the man clarified. “I know plenty of fellows who have been trying to get under her skirts and they all have failed. She is a pretty piece.” “I would greatly appreciate it if you did not talk about her in such a distasteful manner.” The man shrugged and sipped his drink. “She’s no different from any of the other women who are willing to lift their skirts and spread their legs for a chance at a title and wealth.” Dorian’s temper had reached its boiling point. He wanted nothing more than to tear the snob apart with his bare hands. But he had already made one scene this evening; he did not need to add to the rumor mill. If he punched the bastard, the gossips would make it seem like a love triangle. Instead, Dorian slammed his glass down on the table and pinned the man with an evil stare that promised death. “If I ever hear you speak of Miss Kingston like that again I will not hesitate to rip your head from your shoulders,” Dorian growled. The man’s eyes were wide in disbelief and paralyzing fear. Dorian turned and, with long elegant strides, exited the ballroom.

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Victoria leaned her shoulder against the cold, block wall that surrounded the lovely manor house. The sound of lively music and voices drifted in the night air. She had danced with the devil. Lana was absolutely wrong; a dance was not harmless. She thanked the stars above that Rogers was not here to witness her folly and prayed that he would not hear of this scandal. He would be back next week and she would propose. He was her only hope. The remaining men on her list had been present this evening and would surely believe all the lies that were being spread. She was entirely lost in her ocean of thoughts; she did not hear a horse approach. “My lady, your chivalrous knight has arrived.” She started at the intrusion of his voice and took a step back, but Dorian was not about to let her refuse his help. He bent down, scooped her up with one powerful long arm, placed her beside him, and tapped the horse into a slow walk. She was stiff next to him until they rounded the corner and were out of sight of that awful house. She relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. Dorian took in a deep breath and allowed the lavender scent of her hair to wash over him. She was so innocently inviting. He needed to get her home before she fanned the flames of his longing into a raging inferno. Dorian knew he should not have stolen the hack, but he had no choice. He had every intention of going hunting after the party, therefore, allowed Dobbins to return home with his carriage, leaving him to roam the streets on foot. However, he now had a beautiful lady to escort home and she needed a seat. They passed by his home and he was a bit surprised to sense Gabriel’s presence there. His friend must be waiting for him. Dorian studied the windows and he held back a grin when Gabriel pushed aside the curtains of his study. “Why is that man waving at us?” she inquired, confusion in her voice. “Because he is my friend and that is my house.” “Oh,” she said in understanding. “You have a lovely home.” The cool wind felt like ice on her cheeks, but she loved it. She decided to ignore the huge man beside her and enjoy the ride. It was a peaceful time of night, when the moon reigned as king high in the sky. 66

He brought the horse to a stop before her home, jumped down and helped her down. She quickly moved away, needing distance. “Thank you.” “For what?” he asked. “I couldn’t let a beautiful woman like you roam the streets of London alone. It would not be very princely of me.” “Indeed, it wouldn’t,” she chuckled. Dorian gently brushed a silken strand of her dark hair away from her throat. Victoria swallowed hard as he stroked her pulse with the pad of his thumb. The caress warmed her entire body; the chill of the night had vanished. She wished he would take her in his arms and kiss her with all the passion that he possessed. That realization startled her. She pulled away and headed for the steps. He snatched her arm and spun her about forcing her against his chest. His heat scorched her. Dorian knew that if he kissed the perfect lips his eyes devoured, he would not be able to stop. He would take her here on the steps and to hell with anyone who passed. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten his kitten with his abnormal hunger and lust, and so he loosened his grip. He took in deep breaths of air trying desperately to calm down. Victoria’s heart pounded. She knew Dorian was struggling with himself. She could see it, feel it, and hated it. She did not want him to regain his control. She wanted… Dorian was stunned, immobile. Victoria had kissed him. It was the smallest of pecks, but she had done it. She had also squeaked in horror and ran into the house. Dorian’s head was spinning and he had trouble returning to his saddle. No one had ever been able to catch him off-guard, but this little woman had. She had tied him up with knots of lust and confusion. Then swooped in for a surprise attack. She could have run him through with a sword and he would have never seen it coming She had kissed him.

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Chapter Eleven

A book whizzed past her head as she entered the drawing room. Aunt Nelly stood by the shelf, her face bright red and her brown eyes shooting sparks of deadly flames. Her lips were razor thin as she took up another book. She clutched it so tightly her knuckles were as white as snow. “Whore,” she snarled as she hurled the book at Victoria. “Have you gone mad?” Victoria demanded, dodging the paper filled missile. “I saw you out there with that man. You brought your lover to my front steps. How dare you bring him here? This is a noble house not some lowly brothel, which is where you belong,” she screeched in outrage. “You have disgraced the family name.” “I have disgraced the name?” Victoria repeated, her temper rising. “Yes, you and your mother. You both are nothing but the Devil’s mistresses, with your fine faces and sinful figures. I should have tossed you out on the street the instant you walked through my front door, like a beggar. I knew you would be trouble, just like your mother.” “You can say whatever you like about me, but not my mother!” “You have no right to be angry. I am the one that deserves to be angry. What was I to say when Lady Wisten informed me of the attention you have been receiving from the young gentlemen? How was I to respond when Lady Hennings came here and told me about you spending your spare time in that foreign prince’s bed.” “Lies! Slanderous words that are passed along by gossips, decent people know not to listen to them,” she answered.

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“I have seen you with my own two eyes.” Aunt Nelly slammed her meaty fist down on the bookshelf. The wood quaked and Victoria wished it would fall on the wretched woman. “You have ruined every chance that Margaret had for a good marriage. They will think her a finely used strumpet just like her mother and sister.” “You would believe rumors before you would believe your own family?” She was appalled; the woman’s hate knew no bounds. “You are no family of mine!” Nelly snarled. “I saw the way you two talked, so at ease and free. Then, you kissed him, right outside my door.” She threw another book. Victoria caught it and slung it back. She hit her aunt in the shins. The wretched woman howled then curled her lips in a smile that dripped with evil. “Get out of my house. I don’t want to see you here again.” “I’m not leaving without Margaret,” Victoria stated firmly. “She is no long your concern.” “We had an understanding, Aunt Nelly,” she pointed out; her voice was as controlled as she could manage. She wanted to scream at the woman, to shake her until she was dizzy. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. “You are unfit to care for the girl.” “I will be wed at the end of the month.” “That is absolutely laughable,” Aunt Nelly croaked. “No man would want you. Not even that foreign devil if he knew how well used you are.” “You say that I am a disgrace to the family but in truth, Aunt Nelly, you are the disgrace. You are a bitter, loathsome, foul, old woman who never married because no man wanted you. You have rotted from the inside out and not even the people that once were your friends will have anything to do with you. You are just jealous of my mother and I. Men trail after us and we have friends in abundance. Jealousy is an ugly trait, Aunt.” The older woman screamed and began to shoot book after book at Victoria, who dodged and ran for the dining room door. She ducked inside and sprinted to the servants’ stairs. She was going to get Margaret out of here. She had no idea where they would go, Lana and her family were out of town as well as Lord Rogers and she knew no one else in town well enough to ask for help. She would not go to Miss

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Wisten for it was hers and the other gossips’s fault that all of this was happening. No, she had a part in it too. She had kissed Dorian. What on earth had compelled her to commit such a ludicrous act, she would never know. She came to the second floor and threw open Margaret’s door. The girl sat on the enormous bed with tears trailing down her cheeks. “Come on, darling,” Victoria said in a rushed yet soothing voice. “We must leave. Gather what you need.” The little girl nodded and stood. “Hurry, Margaret,” Victoria urged. She knew that Aunt Nelly would be up here any moment. “Grab a few things.” Margaret grabbed a dress and her new doll. Victoria took her up in her arms and decided that the front stairs would be the best way out if her aunt had followed her from the dining room. She rushed down the stairs and had just made it to the entry when Margaret was ripped from her arms. The little girl wailed as she was handed to the maid. Aunt Nelly stood ready for battle with her hands on her hips. Victoria reached for her sister but was shoved aside and toward the door. “The girl stays.” “No!” Victoria screamed as she tried grabbing her sister again. Aunt Nelly took hold of Victoria’s arm, pulled open the front door, and flung her out onto the steps. She landed hard, not noticing the pain; she quickly came to her feet only to have the door slammed in her face. She tried the knob but it had already been locked. She pounded on the door. No one came. Thunder shook the deep night and Victoria turned from the house. She knew that her aunt would be watching her from a nearby window and she would not give the woman the satisfaction of her tears. She hurried down the street and around the corner where she came to a stop. She leaned against a brick house and allowed her tears to fall. Where was she to go? Lana’s family would not be back for a few days. She chewed at her lip in deep thought, ignoring the lady and gentleman who rushed past her with their umbrellas high in the air, prepared for rain. There was only one other person who might offer her aid and she was desperate.

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She pushed away from the wall and rushed from street to street hoping the rain would wait until she reached her destination. She had no such luck. The clouds opened and poured what seemed like an ocean down upon her. Victoria ducked under the cover of Dorian’s small porch. She wrung what water she could from her clothes before knocking on the door. Her hands shook from anxiety, anger, fear, or the cold, she did not know. A tall. thin man dressed in black answered the door. “Is Prince Dorian home? I really must speak with him,” she requested, her voice quivering. “I’m sorry, Miss, but the Prince does not wish to be disturbed by visitors this evening.” Dobbins began to close the door, but Victoria pushed with all her strength against it. She would not have another door slammed and locked in her face tonight. “Please, it is imperative that I see him,” Victoria insisted. Dobbins shook his head in refusal. “Please tell him that Miss Kingston is here to see him, I’ll even wait outside so I don’t ruin the floors. Please?” she begged. Dobbins gave a heavy sigh. He knew his lord would not be pleased if he allowed her in but he opened the door so she could squeeze by. The girl was in sorry shape, drenched to the bone. “Wait here, I don’t want you to catch your death out there. After all, it would be on my head.” She nodded and smiled, her teeth chattering. The butler quickly disappeared down the dark hall. He lightly tapped on the study’s door. “Enter.” Dorian sat in the large chair behind his desk gazing out the window, deep in thought. Gabriel had brought news of the number of hunters his men had killed but he also brought a letter from one of the Mylonas soldiers. Even though most of the witches had left his land and were now in London, his people were still being terrorized. Two more villages had been burned to the ground and Kal wanted to gather the remaining Clan members within the walls of the castle. Dorian would have agreed with this decision and, in fact, that was what he wanted Raphael to do, but he did not trust Kal. For all he knew, Kal 72

would round everyone up and turn the fortress into a slaughterhouse. Once locked inside the castle walls there was no escape. For now, being scattered was the best way for his people to survive. “Disheartening news from home, sir?” Dobbins asked noting the envelope on the desk and the letter that was ripped in half. “What is it, Dobbins?” Dobbins hesitated in his answer. “My lord, I know that you had requested not to be disturbed, but there is a lady who would like a word with you.” “A lady?” he repeated, watching the lightning tear apart the sky. “Yes, she says that she has something very important to speak about with you.” “I gave you orders. I do not wish to see guests this evening.” “Yes sir, but she is set on seeing you.” “Then tell her to return tomorrow. I need to hunt. Gabriel is leaving for America this evening, which leaves the witch hunting to me. Their numbers have drastically risen in the last few days.” Dobbins nodded in understanding, Dorian had to closely monitor and control the witch population since Gabriel would no longer be here to help him. But he had one last question for his lord before he returned to his work. “My lord, the woman is soaked through. May I take her to the kitchen where Mrs. Dobbins can make her something to eat and give her some tea?” “Fine,” Dorian agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand. Dobbins nodded and headed toward the door. He stepped into the hall and the sweet scent of woman and lavender wafted into the study. Dorian shot to his feet, his heart pounding, his blood rushing, his lust flaring. “Why didn’t you say it was Miss Kingston?” he demanded harshly. Dobbins’s face turned a shade of white only belonging to the dead. “I apologize, my lord.” “Show her in.”

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“Right away, my lord,” Dobbins responded as he hurried off. Dorian had no idea what had brought her here and he did not care. All that mattered was that she had come to his home willingly. She had entered the lion’s den and he was not about to let her go. He opened a drawer in his desk and swept the letter away. He would give the disturbing news of home more thought later and his hunting would have to wait. Right now he was going to give Victoria his undivided attention.

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Chapter Twelve

The door was quickly and silently shut behind her. Victoria slowly walked to the center of the office. She glanced at the fire burning in the hearth. She longed to rush over to the blaze and fall to her knees at its warmth. “Oh my god, what happened?” he demanded as he rounded his desk. Dorian was shocked to see her in such a horrible state. She was a drenched mess. Her clothes were plastered to her body, leaves speckled her hair, and her eyes were red from tears. She shivered like an abandoned kitten. “I'm sorry to have disturbed you.” “Think nothing of it, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around her, wetting his clothes as he pulled her against him. She roped her arms about his waist, clinging to his heat as he led her to the fire. He sat her down on the rug and rubbed her hands between his own trying to give them life. “I know you did not wish to have visitors tonight, but I had nowhere else to go.” “You are more than welcome here,” he assured her with a charming smile. “I am happy that you have come but it is improper. What if someone saw you, tongues could be waggling even now.” She turned away from him and fixed her gaze on the fire. “It doesn't matter anymore.” Dorian was taken back. What had happened to cause this sudden change in her? She looked defeated and it ripped at his cold, ancient heart. There was no longer a shred of doubt in his mind that Wright had been correct in his assumption and that terrified him. For some unknown reason, he had grown attached to this wet kitten. It horrified him that Wright knew if he hurt Victoria, he would hurt him. He cursed silently. Only a brutish knave would use such a dirty trick.

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He decided that now was not the time to be thinking of such things. She needed to get warm before she went into shock. He took her up in his arms, in spite of her protests. “I can walk,” she said haughtily. He smiled. Despite how she looked, her spirit was still intact. “Yes and it is such a pretty little walk, but you are chilled to the bone. We need to get you dry and warm before you fall ill and die on me. I would not like that at all, Miss Kingston.” He shouldered the door opened and bellowed for Mrs. Dobbins who promptly appeared at his side. “Heat some water for a bath and bring some hot tea to my room. Miss Kingston must get warm.” “Yes, sir.” Mrs. Dobbins hurried down the hall to the kitchen. “Your room?” Victoria sternly repeated. He chuckled as he felt her body stiffen in his arms. “Don't fuss, sweetheart, you will have a room all to yourself later, but the only tub in this house is set up in my chamber. A hot bath does sound nice, doesn't it?” “Of course,” she answered with a nod. They entered his room and he set her down on her trembling feet. He tossed her the robe that rested on his bed. “You can go in there and change,” he said, pointing to his dressing room. She hugged the robe to her chest. His scent was thick on the soft material and it calmed her nerves. “I know you are wondering why I am here,” she whispered. “I will be asking you all those questions later. First you need to get out of those wet clothes.” She turned and headed to the dressing room. Dorian waited until she closed the door to go to the guest room across the hall and start a fire. He needed something to do to distract him from Victoria and he knew she would need a warm room. He would have no problem sharing his bed with her but he knew she would. It was the right course to take; he was not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman. Though he had to admit he would be hard pressed not to take her in his arms and console her. 76

He returned to his room to find her standing by the window that overlooked the street. Droplets of rain ran down the glass much like the tears that dripped from her brilliant, emerald eyes. He crossed the room to stand behind her. He wanted to say something comforting and reassuring but he had never been good with those kinds of words. Vampires were lacking in compassion. “I now understand why my parents hated London,” she stated, her voice tired and rough. Dorian placed a hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her around to face him. Their eyes met and held for what seemed like blissful years. The knock on the door broke their trance and Dorian bade them enter. Dobbins carried buckets of steaming water followed by his wife who lugged buckets of cool water. Dorian took the water from Mrs. Dobbins and helped Dobbins empty them into the large copper tub. When the task was done he excused himself, his servants following him, leaving Victoria alone in privacy and thought. She slid the robe from her shoulders and sank into the hot water. It heated her flesh and bones immediately. She sighed and rested her head on the brim. She was exhausted; it had been a chaotic day. Tears welled once more but she pushed them back. Weeping would not solve anything. She needed to think. She needed a plan. She had to marry. She had to propose to a suitor, but Victoria knew next to nothing about the gentlemen. The only man she knew well was Rogers and he was out of town. She wished that Lana were here to help her make this decision. She did not have time to wait for either of them to return. She needed to find a husband now so she could take custody of Margaret. Her head ached from all the worry. She hoped that Dorian could help her in some way. Maybe he knew the men on her list. She slowly washed and relaxed in the soothing water, then dried off with the towel that Dorian had left her and redressed in his robe. Victoria patted her hair dry before opening the door. She looked up and down the hall before heading to the stairs. She was certain that she would find Dorian in his study. Victoria lightly pushed open the door and there he lay on his sofa, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, his long legs stretched out. He looked like a large jungle cat lounging, waiting for his prey to skip by. She closed the door behind her and came to stand above him. He turned to gaze up at her, his sea blue eyes sparkled with questions, but he did not say a word. 77

She looked like an angel standing there in his deep, red robe. It was almost ten sizes too big and pooled at her feet. She was absolutely adorable. Her cheeks were flushed from the bath and her skin smelled like sweet lavender. Dorian clenched his fists, resisting the urge to pull her down on top of him. “I think it’s time I share with you my entire situation,” she said as she sat in one of the over sized armchairs by the fire, her hands resting lightly in her lap. She took a deep, calming breath. “Do you remember the first night we met?’ “Even in a million years I will remember,” he answered truthfully. Victoria rolled her eyes and continued, “I told you that my parents had died?” “Yes.” “When they passed on, my younger sister was left in my care, along with my father's debts. I had to sell everything that we owned, including the family estate, to pay his creditors. That left me with no way to care for my sister. We were forced to move to London to live with our Aunt Nelly. Upon my arrival, my aunt made it very clear that she did not wish to be burdened with my presence. She wanted me out of the house and out of her hair. She presented me with a nearly impossible bargain. I would marry at the end of the month or be thrown on the streets and never be allowed to see my sister again. You see, Prince Dorian, if I am proven unfit to provide for my sister, Margaret, she will remain with my aunt. I can't allow that to happen.” “That definitely explains why you were in such a hurry to find a husband.” “That is not all. I know you are aware of the rumors that have been circling about us, slandering my good name. She has over heard them and tonight she watched us from the window when you dropped me off.” Her cheeks grew hot. “And she saw me kiss you.” He smiled at her blush. He wanted to kiss her now, but he restrained himself. “We quarreled,” she said not wishing to go into detail of their argument. “And the bargain we had has been broken. I am hereby banned from the house and my sister.” “I see,” Dorian said, sitting up.

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“I must marry,” she stated. “I favored Lord Rogers over the rest of my suitors, but he is not here. I have no choice but to choose between the men that are in London.” His stomach tightened uncomfortably. He did sympathize with her plight. She needed a husband to regain custody of her sister, her last true relative. The girl meant everything to her; he could see it in her eyes. He had originally wanted Victoria to marry a simpleton and come to his bed, but now the last thing he wanted to do was help her into another man's arms. “Do you know anything about the gentlemen that have been courting me?” “I'm sorry,” he said shaking his head. “I have no information that will help you.” “But, you knew about Lord Rogers's faults.” “I am a keen observer,” he answered. “You must have observed the others.” “I'm afraid not.” Victoria dropped her eyes to the rug. Dorian could not help her. She had been foolish to think he could. The man was not very accommodating. It was not entirely true what he had said. He did know a few things about the other men, but he would not share that information. He had interfered in her life only wishing to accomplish his own selfish goal. Yet when it came to it, he could not bring himself to shove her at another man. The thought of it made him sick. “Then, I suppose I will have to make the decision on my own. In the morning, I will propose and by the end of the day, I will be married.” “You can't do that,” he declared. “And why not?” she asked defiantly. “I need a husband and at this point, any gentleman with wealth will do. I know how it sounds but I don't care, it is the truth.” “Damn it! You can't just pull a name out of a hat.” “That is a good idea,” she said thoughtfully. “No, it isn't,” he snapped, coming to his feet.

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“What do you care?” she demanded. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He clenched his jaw. He knew that his words would some day come back to bite him. It was true, he had made it clear he wanted her to marry, get bored with her husband, and move on to him, but not anymore. He could not stand the thought of another man touching her. “Dorian, I have to do this, I have to keep my sister. It is the only way.” “I will not allow you to throw your life away.” He was beginning to panic and it did not sit well with him. He would not lose her. “You can't just settle on any man. You are a special woman, Victoria.” She was surprised by his words and even more surprised when he pulled her up by her shoulders. He tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “There is one man whom you have not considered, one man who is not on your list.” “Whom?” Her voice was a whisper. “Me,” he stated plainly. “Marry me.” “Oh, be serious,” she scoffed, pulling away from him. “I am being serious.” “Surely, you jest.” He was not laughing, not chuckling, not even smiling. She was growing uncomfortable under his intense, sober stare. “I am completely sincere, I assure you.” He had gone mad. He had felt cornered and there was no way to escape. She threatened to go off to another man's bed. He had thought that was what he wanted, but he was dead wrong. He could not, would not share her with any man, he wanted her for his own and by marrying her he would get exactly what he wanted. And so would she. “I don’t think that is a good idea.” “Why not?” “I'm sorry, Prince Dorian, but I can be a jealous woman and I would not want my husband sneaking off in the middle of the night to go entertain himself with a common trollop.”

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“You have me all wrong,” he said gripping his chest in mock pain. “You wound me to the heart.” She raised an unbelieving brow at him. “I don't bed common trollops,” he clarified. Victoria rolled her eyes, “I fail to see the difference between a low-born loose woman and a high-born loose woman.” “The titled ladies tend to smell better.” “What about the gypsies?” she tossed back. Dorian laughed, he was not surprised she had heard that story. “They were clean. I made sure of it.” She snorted at his insinuation. “Can you tell me why I should marry you?” “Well, it is partly my fault that you are in this mess, if it weren't for me you would still have another two weeks to find a husband. The ton already thinks that we are having an affair and in their eyes it would be right and proper if we marry. I am also a man of great wealth and class. You and your sister will be well provided for. You will not want nor need for anything and you will only receive the best.” Every word rang true and Victoria was stunned into silence. There was nothing she could say. “If you marry me, we will both get what we desire.” She turned and found him gazing down at her, his eyes burning with hot flames. He smiled and stepped toward her. He slipped his hand behind her neck and lowered his head. His lips just a fraction from hers, he whispered, “I desire you.” She could have melted into a puddle. His hand felt so warm on her flesh and she longed for him to move them over her body. They would sear her flesh with pleasure. His touch shattered her thoughts and boiled her blood. Her heart pounded. “And you desire me,” he said, moving his mouth to her ear. His voice shook her very bones. She closed her eyes tight trying to marshall her thoughts and senses. There was nothing that she would like more than to become the wife of Dorian Vlakhos, she had oftentimes fantasized what it would be like to have that gorgeous, powerful man all to herself. But she knew that it would never be so. She knew that he would not be faithful, that 81

he would still go about as if he did not have a wife. He did desire her, but he did not love her. “I swore I would never marry a whoremonger.” He growled and snatched up her hands. “You are a stubborn woman, Victoria Kingston. I am willing to give you everything you want, yet you spite yourself by refusing my match and for some reason that is based on speculation. I could surprise you, I could be the best husband in the history of the world, but you will not give me the chance.” He could give her all that she wanted. Margaret would be taken care of and that was what was really, truly important. She was willing to sacrifice her happiness to a stranger for her sister, so why could she not sacrifice it to the one man in all of London whom she knew best? Did it matter that he didn’t love her? He was the answer to all her problems. He would take care of her and Margaret. They would have a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and that’s what mattered. Swallowing her pride was hard, but she managed to say, “You are right. I am being foolish. I realize that this marriage is not for me, but for my sister, and you meet all my requirements for a husband.” “You will not regret your decision.” His smile promised ecstasy.

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Chapter Thirteen

As Dorian mounted the steps of his home, the storm still raged and the rain pounded down. He reached for the knob and found an envelope tucked neatly above it. He plucked the paper from its resting place and continued into the house. He removed his drenched greatcoat and dropped it on a chair in the hall. “Good morning, sir,” Mrs. Dobbins said as she brushed past him, on her way to the kitchen. He nodded in greeting before pushing open the doors of his study. He emptied his pockets on the desk and sighed as he went to the fire. It was madness, pure madness. That was the only way to explain his actions. He glanced over to the marriage license that now sat on his desk. Raphael had been right; he had gone insane. Dorian sighed and rubbed his temples. In his panic, he asked a mortal woman to bind herself to him, a vampire. His lust had driven him to this, but he would never go back on his word. Dorian unseeingly gazed into the flames. He was no mortal man; he had nothing to offer a wife. He could not give her children or a love to last throughout her lifetime. She would grow old and die and he would live forever. He had to keep their time together short and that reality hurt. Deciding that no good could come from his thoughts, he turned his attention to the issue of home. Dorian went to his desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out the letter he had received and ripped the night before. He tossed it into the fire and watched as it shriveled and turned to ash. Then, his thoughts shifted to the envelope that he had found on his door. Dorian broke the wax seal. His eyes turned black as he read. Wright had nerve and it was going to get him killed. The witch taunted

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him with the announcement of more of his clansmen’s deaths and more threats on Victoria’s life. “Damn it,” he whispered, crumpling the paper in his fist. What was he to do now? She is human and humans are easily killed. He had no doubt that Wright and the other hunters of the Red Order would go after her. The witch had plainly stated that he was willing to harm Victoria to get to him. His eyes glistened with a deadly light as he calmly fed the note to the flames. He wished he had killed more hunters this morning; maybe the dwindling number of witches would humble Wright. “Your Royal Highness?” Victoria's sweet voice called from the doorway. He took in a deep, soothing breath while he tried to force his rage back in its cage. He could never allow her to see the monster in him. She could never know who or what he was. Dorian ran a hand through his hair and fixed his lips in the most charming smile he could manage as he turned to face her. “You are up early, kitten. It is barely past dawn, could you not sleep?” As she came further into the room, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was a power in the large study, dark and threatening. It thickened the air like smoke and made it difficult to breath. The energy was ancient and capable of terrible deeds. It pressed down on her with such a force she grew dizzy. “Are you well?” Dorian asked watching her carefully as she stumbled toward him. “You are very pale.” She clutched his shirt trying desperately to steady herself, “I am just a little light headed.” “It must be from all the stress and excitement,” he said, helping her to the sofa. “You should sit.” “Do you feel that?” “Feel what?” She glanced about the room. The malevolent energy vanished. “Nothing, my mind is just playing tricks on me.” Dorian said nothing as he silently cursed himself for exposing his power to her. How could he have been so careless? The pressure of

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his strength had claimed the lives of both humans and vampires, when they were too close. He could not slip again. “Your Highness–” “Please call me Dorian. We are soon to be husband and wife. I think it is safe for us to use our given names.” “Of course, Dorian,” she said with a light laugh. He swept an arm about her waist and pulled her close. “My name on your lips is like honey to my ears,” he whispered. She blushed and rolled her eyes. “I'm being honest.” “You are a terrible flirt.” “I thought I was the best.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before pulling away. He would have her soon enough, she would be his wife by the end of the day and his lover by the end of the night. “You will be pleased to know that after you retired last night I went out and acquired a special license that will permit us to marry straight away without running off to elope.” “How?” she asked incredulously. “Let's just say I have an influence over very influential men. I also have arranged for Reverend Samuel to stop by the house later this afternoon so we may recite our vows.” “You have thought of everything, haven't you?” Her eyes turned down to her hands, resting in her lap. Dorian kneeled on the floor before her and tilted her chin up with his index finger. “Is this what you want, Victoria?” he asked. The question, however, was more for his peace of mind than hers. He could not tell her that he was a vampire, but he could give her plenty of opportunities to change her mind. Damn, when had he become so chivalrous? “I have given it a lot of thought and, yes, this is what I want.” “You want to marry me?” he asked. “Yes.” He kissed her brow. Dorian knew that he should not take what she said to heart, but he could not help it. 85

“Then we shall be wed this afternoon.” “What of Margaret? I would love for her to be at the wedding.” “Her presence would make the hasty tying of the knot perfect,” he agreed. “But do you think we can snatch her from your aunt's grasp without proof of your new found support?” Victoria sighed, he was right in his assumption. Her aunt had not allowed Margaret to set one foot outside her front door since they had arrived. Why would she let her leave and attend her older sister’s wedding?

It was done. The words had been spoken before three witnesses, Mrs. Dobbins, Dobbins, and a chimney sweep passing by the house. The license was signed and a large, delicious meal was planned for the celebration. It was so amazing that Victoria had wondered if this match had been meant. The coach rolled down the streets of London at a leisurely pace. The sun had set and the stars of early twilight stars were beginning to twinkle. Victoria twisted her fingers nervously as they came closer to Aunt Nelly's house, she knew the woman would not give Margaret up easily. She gave an unhappy sigh as the coach pulled to a stop before her aunt's home. The coachman swung down and opened the door. Dorian exited and helped her down. “You have the license?” she hurriedly asked. He chuckled and patted his coat pocket. “For the third time, yes. You needn’t worry.” She nodded and allowed him to lead her up the steps. The door was promptly answered and they were shown into the drawing room where Aunt Nelly, Lord and Lady Hennings, and the two Wisten women, sat. “Miss Kingston, it is nice to see you,” Miss Wisten said with a smile. “This is a surprise,” Lady Hennings added. “Lady Kingston said you would not be joining us.” “I'm not.”

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“Good evening,” Dorian said with a respectful nod of his head. “What are you doing here?” her aunt asked, her eyes narrowing, her focus on Dorian. “Excuse me, madam, I have not introduced myself, I am Prince Dorian Vlakhos.” “Yes, you are the Prince,” she scoffed, “who has been bedding and ruining all of London, including my wretched niece.” “That's a lie,” he stated, his voice cold and elegant, his face as set as stone. Every eye in the room was now upon him. “How dare you come to my home? You no longer belong here.” Her attention was entirely on Victoria now. “I have come for my sister,” Victoria said, her shoulders squared, she was ready for battle. “You can't have her. She belongs to me.” “She is not a piece of land to which you can stake a claim,” Victoria snapped. “She is a human being.” “You dare raise your voice to me, you little whore, in front of my guests,” Aunt Nelly snarled coming, to her feet. “I don't think that name calling is necessary,” Dorian interjected. Aunt Nelly sneered as she came to stand before the prince. “There is no need to defend her. She does not need your protection. Besides, I'm quite certain that she has manipulated you and tricked you into love, just like her bitch of a mother did to my brother. You waste your time with this one. She may be a pleasure to have in your bed, but she will ruin your life. Kick her to the curb before you are trapped.” “She has not tricked me, madam, and she certainly is not a waste of my time,” he said between clenched teeth. “You are a fool. Think about it, man, if she was willing to crawl into bed with you, how many others would she gladly join?” The room gasped at the woman's words. “You know as well as I that your words are false,” Victoria shot back. “Are you ashamed, is that why your anger is pricked now?” Aunt Nelly taunted. “It is about time you pay for what you have done.”

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“I have done nothing wrong!” “You ruined my brother. You are the reason he married that tramp.” “Stop insulting my mother.” “It is no insult if one speaks the truth.” “Perhaps we should return another night.” Lord Hennings said as he stood. “No!” her aunt shouted. “I will not allow my dinner party to be ruined because of the Devil and his mistress have come.” What a lovely comparison, Dorian thought. “Get out of my house,” Aunt Nelly demanded. “Not without the girl,” Dorian declared. “You can’t have her. I would have thought that your wench would have told you the terms of her loss.” “She did.” “Then you know that the girl’s well-being is in my hands.” “Miss Margaret is only to be given to you if Miss Kingston cannot provide for her.” “And she can’t.” He casually shrugged as he reached into his coat pocket. “Sadly, that’s true.” Aunt Nelly’s lips widened in an unholy smile believing she had won. “But I can.” The smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. “What?” Dorian held the legal document out to her. “This is our marriage license. She is no longer the orphaned Miss Victoria Kingston, but Princess Victoria Vlakhos.” All the guests started in shock and Lady Wisten swooned in her seat. The entire room was speechless, with the exception of Aunt Nelly. She snatched the parchment from Dorian’s grasp and looked it over. “You whore hound!” she railed. “You can’t just swoop in and take–” “I am titled and possess much wealth. I am more than capable of providing for the Kingston women. Now,” he turned to Victoria, “go collect your sister and her things.”

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Victoria squeezed his hand and smiled, giving him a silent thank you, then hurried up the stairs. Dorian took the license back and folded the paper as neatly as he could and stuffed it back in his pocket. “You have made a huge mistake. She is no good, I tell you, no good.” “I will be the judge of that.” He stepped closer to her and hushed his voice so that his next words would be heard by her only. “From this day forward you will have nothing to do with these two women. Bother them in anyway and I will see you stripped of your land and possessions.” “Are you threatening me?” she hissed like a snake. “No, I’m warning you.” Victoria quickly returned hand in hand with a cheerful Margaret, who hugged her doll. Each Kingston girl carried a tattered cloak bag stuffed full of their meager belongings. “Goodbye, Aunt Nelly,” Margaret said with a curtsy. Their aunt took an unsteady step forward, raised her hand and prepared to strike Victoria. Dorian caught her wrist. “We will be leaving now,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Good evening to you all.” The new family headed to the door. Dorian wrapped a protective arm about his wife’s shoulders and Victoria clutched Margaret’s hand lightly within her own. “Congratulations,” Miss Wisten called after them. Her mother, who shot her a disapproving glare, stomped on her foot. “I hope they have a long, miserable marriage,” Aunt Nelly said as her front door slammed.

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Chapter Fourteen

“He is nice,” Margaret said, pulling the covers up to her chin. “And he is handsome.” “I'm glad you approve,” Victoria smiled as she sat on the bed. “I can't wait to go shopping tomorrow. It should be very fun. Don't you think it will be fun? I've never been to a shop before.” “It will be grand,” she agreed, lovingly smoothing back Margaret’s hair. “Now you must settle down, you need to get some sleep.” Ignoring her sister's words, Margaret went on, “The food was really good, even better than the food at Aunt Nelly's house.” “Yes, she did not like to use spices.” “That is because she is cheap,” Margaret announced. “Who told you that?” “Beth would mumble it when she cooked,” the girl answered with an innocent shrug. “Do you think that we will ever go to Dorian's country? He made it sound wonderful when we talked at dinner.” Victoria started at the question and the big, green eyes that were now fixed upon her. She had never given that possibility a thought. He was a prince of a far-off country and he would have to return some day. But when he did go back would he take them or would he leave them behind? She did not come from a wealthy, titled family. She was truly no match for him. Would he leave and pretend their marriage never took place? A death like chill settled in her bones as she was consumed with the feeling of abandonment. “Tory?” Margaret asked.

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“I'm sorry,” Victoria said shaking her head, clearing away her thoughts. “I don't know how to answer that question.” “I would like to see it. We could live in a castle.” “I would like to see you go to sleep,” she said, desperately needing to change the subject. The little girl yawned. Victoria kissed her brow and stood. By the time she had crossed the room and closed the door Margaret had entered her own special world of dreams. Victoria paused in the hall outside the room Mrs. Dobbins had assigned her the night before. Despite the exhaustion that demanded she seek the comfort of her own warm bed, she decided to find Dorian. She needed to speak with him and now would be as good a time as any. She had the deep desire to ask him the same question Margaret had asked her, but why should she care if he left? She knew that he would allow them to stay in this house and give them an allowance, his honor, if nothing else, would demand it. She descended the stairs and was about to head down the hall to his study, where he spent most of his time, when she spotted him in the dining room. He sat at the head of the table where she had left him earlier. His face was dark, brooding, and chiseled with thought, but when his eyes met hers the darkness vanished and was replaced with his smooth polished smile. “Is she asleep?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “She is a sweet girl,” he sighed. “I had no idea what a horrible woman your aunt is. I should have stolen you away and married you the first night we met. That is, of course, if you would’ve had me,” he added with a chuckle. “Would you have married me then?” “No,” giggling at his expression of shock. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “if I were an intelligent woman like you, I wouldn't have married me either.” “Would you have gone for Lord Rogers?” “Never!” he exclaimed with a snort. “That man is as dull as a shoe.” Victoria laughed and Dorian could not help the completely genuine smile that crept its way across his lips. It was a glorious sound. “I love your laugh.” His voice was deep and husky. 92

“And I like yours,” she replied. “You should laugh more often, it would do you some good.” “I'll try. With you and your little rag-a-muffin sister around I don't think I will find it a straining task.” She turned her gaze from him. This conversation was growing a little too intimate for her liking. She wished to keep her emotions as distant from him as possible. He could leave any day, at any moment, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop him. It would be best if she kept her feelings locked away and hidden, at least that way she would not get hurt. “I have an odd feeling that by tomorrow everyone in the country will know we are married.” She smiled. “Thank you again for helping me.” “Please, I will have no more thanks.” She yawned and he took note of her eyes, they were not their brilliant green but dull and almost lifeless. She looked as if she would topple from the chair in a dead sleep. He sighed heavily, “Kitten, you look absolutely drained, you should go to bed.” “We need to talk first,” she said, all humor gone from her voice. Dorian sat up, folded his arms over his chest, and turned his all-too-serious gaze upon her. “About?” She began nervously, “You never made it a secret that you desired me physically but I just don’t think I am ready.” “You want to wait to consummate our marriage, is that what you are trying to say?” “Yes,” she whispered, then she hurried to assure him, “But I have no intentions of making you wait forever. I just don't feel comfortable. I know you are my husband and it is your right.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I had this entire conversation planned in my head and nothing I say seems to be coming out right.” He tried hard not to smile. She was adorable when she was flustered and she was even tempting when she was angry. Hell, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I want to get to know you better before we move to the next step.” 93

“Would you have gone to bed with Lord Rogers on the first night?” Her nose scrunched up in repulsion and she shook her head, “No.” Dorian chuckled and stood. “You don’t need to know someone in order to–” “I'm not one of those women, Dorian,” she snapped. “That's not what I meant.” “Good, because if it was, you could say goodbye to our marriage bed.” She stood and stomped from the room. Men were such swine sometimes, thinking only of their own pleasure. She would not feed his ego anymore by asking him what his plans were for the future. Knowing Dorian, he would mistake her questions for signs of caring. That was the last thing she needed. Victoria steamed up the stairs and flung open the door to her room and froze. Her things were missing. She had gathered what was left of her possessions from her aunt’s house and had asked Mrs. Dobbins to set them up. She walked all about the room opening drawers and armoire doors. As Dorian reached the second floor, he peeked inside and found his bride on her hands and knees peering under her bed, giving him a great view of her backside. “Checking for monsters?” he asked with an amused chuckle. Victoria straightened and turned to find Dorian leaning against the frame of the door. “Do you recall the bag I brought from my aunt’s?” “You mean that tattered, old brown thing?” “That ‘thing’ is my cloak bag,” she huffed, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “More like was a rag,” he said under his breath. “I beg your pardon?” “Yes, and you handed it to Mrs. Dobbins when we returned,” he answered with a smile. “That is what I thought,” she sighed, ignoring his amusement. “So, what is the problem?” 94

“I can’t seem to find the bag or my things anywhere.” He pushed away from the threshold and loudly cleared his throat before bellowing for Mrs. Dobbins. “Oh, please don’t yell at the woman,” Victoria begged. “I’m not going to yell at her. I am going to simply ask where she put your cloak bag.” “Your room is all prepared, my lord,” Mrs. Dobbins announced as she came down the hall. “Mrs. Dobbins, where did you place my wife’s things?” “In your chamber, of course,” she answered with a broad smile. “Is that not where they belong?” Dorian nodded with a light laugh and dismissed the maid. “What do you find so funny?” Victoria demanded. “Your things, I fear, have been unpacked in my room.” “Oh,” Victoria whispered. “I understand why she would—I will have to move them.” She jumped to her feet and dusted her hands off. “Will you allow me to gather my things before you retire?” “Why don’t we just share a room?” he asked, leaning against the frame once more, his hair falling invitingly across his eyes and her fingers tingled with the desire to brush them aside. “We are after all man and wife.” “I believe we just had this discussion,” she said, her voice stern. “No, we were talking about something entirely different.” “I don’t understand.” “There is no harm in a married couple sharing a bed. In fact, it is encouraged. Besides,” he added with a sly smile, “we need to keep up appearances. What if one of the servants shared the knowledge of our odd sleeping arrangement? That would surely cause gossip and, I for one, don’t want anymore whispers floating around of our hasty marriage.” “I hadn’t thought of that. I assume everyone believes we are either madly in love or that I am…” her words trailed off as a crimson blush colored her cheeks. His stormy eyes sparkled with laughter at her embarrassment and she dropped her gaze to his chest.

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“With child,” he finished. “Time will silence that rumor, my kitten.” Victoria nodded, she knew that bit of gossip would soon die out. When her belly did not begin to round, all would know that it was nothing but a vicious lie. But if she did move into Dorian’s room that lie may just turn into truth sooner than she would like. She had told him that she wanted to wait and he had seemed to understand. She knew that he desired her, that knowledge thrilled her more than she would ever like to admit, but was she playing into his hand? Could this be a trap? Or was his offer completely innocent. She studied her husband as he stood nonchalantly in the threshold. He looked like sin with one shoulder braced against the wall, his dark hair framing his smooth, hard, angelic face. His frame filled the doorway like an ancient wall that could not be moved. A shock of excitement pricked her heart as his satin gaze ran over her. They were filled with such longing, such thirst that she trembled from their force. “I will share a room with you.’ “And bed?” he asked. “Yes,” was answered with a roll of her eyes. “I am not about to sleep on the floor.” He nodded with triumph and stepped away from the entry. “After you, kitten.” Victoria slowly crossed the room on quaking limbs. Her entire body tingled and she feared that she would melt to the floor at any moment. Dorian watched her step across the hall to his room. She paused for a brief breath before opening the door. He quickly followed her. He had won this round with his emerald-eyed vixen. He knew that the Dobbins’s would never spread gossip. They were among the handful of people he trusted. They were honest and loyal to a fault, but Victoria did not know that. “You may take the first bath,” he said, passing her and continuing on into his dressing room. “Tomorrow, we will need to purchase a robe for you.” “Why?” She dipped her fingers into the hot water and sighed. “Because mine are all too big for you.” “Will you give me some privacy?” 96

Dorian chuckled and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. “What do you need privacy for, kitten?” he said playfully. “I will be seeing that sweet, little frame sooner or later.” “I would rather it be later,” she stated. “I know you would, that is why I will sit in that chair,” he pointed to the armchair facing the window, “and gaze out into the night.” “Dorian, I would appreciate it if you would step outside.” “There is no reason for me to leave. It is too dark in here for me to see your reflection if that is what has you so worried about. Enjoy your bath and take all the time you need.” With that, he crossed the room, sat himself down in the chair, and casually propped his booted feet upon the window seat. “Oh, and you’ll find your belongings in the armoire in the corner,” he called over his shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder to the large, rich, cherry wood piece of furniture. “How did you know they would be in there?” she asked. “I asked Mrs. Dobbins to go and buy you some furniture while we were at your dreadful aunt’s. I assume that is what she bought since it was not there before,” he answered flippantly. “It is lovely.” “I will only allow the best for my wife.” “Thank you.” “You needn’t thank me,” he said glancing over at her. “Now, get in the bath before the water gets cold.” Victoria tugged at her lip nervously as she began to remove her clothing. She did not take the time to fold everything in a neat stack and instead stepped quickly up into the tub. She allowed the warmth to seep into her bones. “Don’t turn into a prune on me,” Dorian teased. A light laugh escaped her as she began to wash. Dorian wished he were as calm as he appeared. His hands fisted as he heard her lather and splash, there were very few moments in his life when he had longed for normal hearing and this was one of those moments. She hummed a light tune that he knew he would never forget. The scent of lavender clouded the air and drove him mad. He 97

wanted to look, he wanted to touch, he wanted to devour, but he would not move. He would sit, his eyes fixed on the moon, until she was dressed. Completely ignorant of Dorian’s struggle, Victoria slowly rose from the soapy water, donned his robe, snatched up a towel, and nearly sprinted to the armoire. She flung the doors open and hid behind them as she dried and slipped her nightgown over her head. “Don’t trust me?” he asked, his voice revealing a hint of his stress. “I’m shy.” “Trying to soothe my wounds?” “Why would I ever do that?” she asked mischievously, stepping from her hiding place and closing the doors. She gathered the robe and towel and placed them at the foot of the brass tub. “I hurried and tried not to spoil the water too badly if you would like–” “Don’t worry,” he said standing. “I will take my bath in the morning and what in heaven’s name are you wearing?” Victoria looked down at her nightgown and back up at Dorian confused. “What do you mean?” “That couldn’t possibly be safe for you to wear to bed. It looks as if it will choke you to death.” Victoria fingered the buttons and ruffles at her throat. “It keeps me warm,” she stated. “You have me to keep you warm.” She gathered her nightgown, raising the hem off the floor, and moved to the bed. “What do you wear?” she asked, pulling back the covers. “Nothing,” he stated. Victoria spun around so fast it was amazing she kept her balance, her green eyes wide with shock. “What?” “I believe you heard me.” “You are going to have to start sleeping in something if you are to share a bed with me.” 98

“Why? Nothing is going to happen.” “You are right, nothing is going to happen and I am not afraid of anything.” “Good, then I will continue to sleep the way I have always slept.” Victoria slipped under the covers and glared at her husband. “Oh, come now, kitten, don’t give me that evil look.” “If I sleep wearing something you should too.” “You could always sleep in–” “Don’t finish that,” she said, her hand raised in the air. “I knew you were going to say something like that.” “See! You’re already getting to know me,” he smiled. Victoria snorted, rolled her eyes, and turned her back to him. Dorian chuckled as he removed his clothing. He blew out the one candle that remained lit in the room and sank on to the bed. Victoria scooted away from him and he chuckled again. Wrapping and arm about her waist, he pulled her back against him. He ignored her murmuring protests and kissed her ear. “Goodnight, sweet wife.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Raphael trotted down the lane humming an ancient rhyme. He let out a small sigh as he crossed over the bridge that separated Dorian's lands from King Hadrian's. He was tired. It was taking him longer than he had expected to get home. He could only travel at night and he was constantly hiding from the hunters that patrolled the roads leading back to his Clan's lands. Raphael had chosen to take a lesser-known route. It took longer, but he knew it would be safer, and that was crossing over Hadrian's lands. Hunters rarely ever set foot on this territory. Hadrian's Clan had been tearing each other apart. Their civil war never seemed to end and the witches believed that the clan would destroy themselves. Dorian had been the only one to believe in Hadrian. He was positive that once the king shook free from his madness, he would rule once again and peace would settle over his land. A peaceful delight washed over Raphael as he reached the end of the old bridge, but it was immediately snatched away by a cold wind. The road ahead was dark and haunted by shadows, sinister trees hung over head, and the brilliant moon rays of the moon could not penetrate the darkness. He nudged his horse forward, wearily watching the shadows. Eyes seared his back as he slowly progressed. An arrow shot through the air and pierced his shoulder. Raphael ignored the pain as he brought his mount to a fast gallop. They sprinted down the path. Charging toward the light beyond the trees. Another arrow hit, he howled in pain, blood running freely down his back, soaking his tunic. He sagged in the saddle, but managed to hold on to the reins. The air was cold and biting as it hit his face with such force he almost toppled from his seat. He knew that if he could reach the open land, he would be safe. His attackers wanted to hide their identity or they would be out on the road before him.

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A rain of arrows sailed through the sky. He snarled as one hit home, plunging through his heart. All his strength fled and he fell to the hard earth. The horse plowed on while Raphael cursed, blood slipping from his lips. He lay in a humbled heap, blood pouring from his wounds and seeping into the earth. Blackness claimed his site as the sound a viciously familiar voice faded into silence. He would welcome death. “You are all such poor shots,” Kal snapped at the hunters. “I had to kill him myself, you useless bags of flesh.” “Sir, we should be leaving,” a witch said. “Hadrian's patrol men is about. They will no doubt smell his blood.” Kal nudged Raphael with the toe of his boot and studied the vampire's face. “I wonder what he was doing back,” he whispered to himself, then turning to the witches, he said, “The Validus will never cross the border, but we should be moving on to the keep, the sun will be rising in a few hours.” Kal smiled down upon Raphael's body before waving his hand for them all to go back into the forest and retrieve their mounts. “Should we not rummage through his clothes? He might be carrying something of value,” one witch asked. “I would have received word if Raphael carried anything of importance. We will return for his ashes tomorrow.”

“The hoof prints lead to the bridge,” Horace announced to his small group of men. He sniffed the air and cringed as he recognized the faint smell of blood that floated on the breeze. Mylonas blood. He pointed his mount toward the bridge. “Sir,” one of the warriors called, “what are you doing? That is Mylonas' land. We are not to cross the bridge.” “Can you not smell the blood?” Horace asked. “He might have been attacked by hunters, we should go and investigate. Besides, there are few who know of this crossing, he must be from the royal house. King Hadrian would help the man if he was here and Lord Falcon would do the same.”

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Horace crossed the bridge and paused as he waited for his men to follow. He dismounted and hesitantly started down the path. The forest was empty, but he did not trust his senses, witches were tricky creatures. He slowly approached the body of the fallen vampire fearing that it may be a trap. He rolled the man over with the toe of his boot and nodded when he saw Dorian's crest embroidered on the vampire's greatcoat. “Take him up,” he ordered. “But sir, he is dead. There is nothing we can do for him. The sun will be rising soon and we must get back to the castle.” “Don't question me!” Horace snapped. “He is not dead yet and if we leave him he will burn. Take him up and place him on my horse.” Once everyone was saddled, they turned about and raced toward the safety of the keep. They hurried in, closed, and secured the large, thick doors. The sun was just peeking over the hills. Horace carried Raphael toward the large table that stood directly in the center of the hall, where their commander sat. “Lord Falcon!” he called. “We found a Mylonas.” “On our land?” Falcon asked, shoving his chair back and rising to his feet. “No, he had used the path that King Hadrian and King Dorian had cut. He must be from the royal house to know of it.” Falcon nodded. His eyes dropped to the wounded soldier and his liquid, silver eyes turned to stone as he recognized the vampire. “Take him to a guest chamber and fetch Edwina.” Falcon watched his general hurry up the stairs. Why was Raphael sneaking into his own clan's territory? He knew that the Red Order had singled Dorian's clan out for extinction and that Dorian had gone off to London in hopes of drawing the hunters away from his people, from what he knew, Dorian’s plan had worked. Very few hunters remained, but even though the number of witches had decreased, Falcon still had men patrolling the borders. The witches had never caused his Clan any grief, for it was common knowledge that his clan was busy killing themselves. When Horace stumbled down the steps and sprinted to the kitchen, in search of Edwina, Falcon mounted the stairs. He hoped Raphael would be able to talk, but, from what he saw of the vampire, he feared that he did not have much time left. 103

He found the first chamber door open. He stepped in sealing the entrance behind him. Raphael lay on the bed face down, the arrows still in his back. Falcon went to his old friend's side and removed the deadly spears and rolled Raphael on his back. “Good, you already took out the arrows, the wounds should heal quickly now. Were they tipped?” Edwina asked, entering the room. She sat the bucket of water and basket of herbs she carried down, near the foot of the bed. “Yes, poison.” “Damn witches,” she sighed. “You forget from time to time that you are one,” Falcon said with a chuckle. “I have lived here since my husband died all those years ago. I’m more like a vampire than a witch. Now step aside, I need to clean his injuries,” the old woman instructed, pushing Falcon aside. Falcon turned from the bed, preparing to leave the witch to her work. He silently prayed Edwina would be able to perform a miracle. He froze as a cold feeble hand snatched his wrist. “F–F–Fal–con,” Raphael sputtered, “my–my pock–et. Kal is th–the one.” His hand slipped and he fell back into a death like sleep. Edwina watched as Falcon carefully reached into Raphael's coat pocket and pulled out a bloodied piece of parchment bearing the Mylonas Clan’s seal. He ripped the paper open and devoured the words. His growl shook the room. “Bad news?” Edwina asked as she tore open Raphael's shirt and began washing the blood away. “I’m leaving for London,” he stated as he stalked from the room, leaving the heir of the Mylonas clan in Edwina’s care. He flung open his chamber doors, gathered some clothing, and shoved them into a small sack. He snatched his mother's necklace from its stand in his armoire and clasped it about his neck. He rubbed the small, enchanted ruby. His mother had been a witch and when he had been changed she made the necklace to protect him from the deadly sun until he aged enough to withstand the rays on his own. He kissed the stone before concealing it beneath his shirt. Falcon took the stairs two at a time and found Horace sitting at the table. The vampire jumped to attention and greeted him. 104

“I’m leaving for London this moment,” Falcon announced. “But sir, it is daylight out,” Horace protested. “I will survive. While I'm gone, you are to lead the Clan.” “Me?” “Yes, watch over everyone and keep the rebels and hunters away from our lands. I also want you to keep a close eye on Raphael, the injured man you found. He is a close friend of king Dorian and we don't want anything to happen to him.” “Yes, sir.” Falcon turned and headed for the door, he opened it just far enough so he could slip through. The sun was an unwelcome burden to his sensitive eyes. He would have to adjust. He ran to the stables, saddled his mount, and galloped down the road. He had to warn Dorian.

Margaret skipped about the shop, dancing around tables piled with soft linens and silks. “No ruffles. They are absolutely hideous,” Dorian stated firmly. The seamstress quickly swiped the sketches from the table. She wanted to please the prince and his new wife as best she could. Once word got out that the princess was wearing her designs, women would line up for her services. “What of these dresses, Your Highness?” the dressmaker inquired as she spread more sketches upon the table. Dorian studied them and shook his head. “No, these are too plain.” “I like plain,” Victoria insisted. “I don’t. I want my wife richly clothed in the latest styles and fashions.” “But I am the one wearing the gowns,” she protested. “You can put jewels on your clothing. I don’t need anything so elaborate.” “Fine,” Dorian sighed. Turning back to the seamstress he said, “The gowns should be made of your finest silks, linens, and muslins. The chemises as well.”

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The woman nodded. “Of course, I would use nothing else for the lady. May I suggest emerald green as one of the color for the gowns; it would match Her Royal Highness’s eyes.” “Yes,” Dorian agreed. “And I would also like gowns in a deep blue, light blue, a light yellow, also a cream, a ruby red, and perhaps a few in black. You may decide which color works best for each dress, unless my wife has a preference.” The seamstress turned her eyes to Victoria, but she had nothing to add. She was shocked at how well he was at designing a woman’s wardrobe. “Victoria?” Dorian said. Her face had suddenly gone pale. “Would you like anything else?” “You have chosen everything perfectly,” she said once she found her voice. “But do you think I need all these gowns? I have a few that Lana gave me. I can collect them when she comes home.” “I am shocked to find a woman who doesn’t want more clothes,” he said with a light chuckle. “The ones you have are lovely, but not fashionable.” “I don’t care about fashion,” Victoria added, waving her hand in dismissal. “Well, now that we are married, the way you clothe yourself reflects upon me and I will not have people thinking that I am incapable or unwilling to clothe my wife properly. Please, allow me to spend my money on you,” he begged, his eyes large and round. His sweet face was irresistible and all Victoria wanted to do was smother him with kisses. “I trust you will have these gowns and ten others done in a timely manner,” Dorian asked the dressmaker. “Of course, your Royal Highness,” the dressmaker nodded as she gathered up the designs. “Dorian, you really don't need to spend so much.” He placed a finger over her lips silencing her protests. “Your little sister said the same thing and I will tell you what I told her. You two are in my family now and I take care of my family. I give them everything they could ever need or want, and more.” “Thank you,” she whispered against his finger. The simple movement of her lips was enough to light his blood on fire. His eyes 106

devoured her small frame and he smiled when they returned to her face. A deep blush colored her checks. “It is my duty and I am growing very tired of hearing you say that phrase.” “Tory!” Margaret called. “Look at me. What do you think of the hat?” Victoria turned to find the young girl’s head completely swallowed by an enormous feathered hat. She laughed and hurried over to her sister. “I think it is a bit too big for you.” Dorian watched with caring eyes as the pair played with the ridiculous headdresses. Warmth gripped his heart, a warmth that he had never felt before. He rubbed his chest in confusion, but he did not have much time to think on the peculiar feeling. The seamstress totaled the purchase and he happily paid. “Are you ready, my dears?” he asked, coming up behind the two newest members of his Clan. “Yes,” Victoria said, plucking the wide-brimmed hat from atop her head. “Come along, Margaret.” The little girl took her hand and Dorian held the door for them. The air was cool and bit at their ears and noses. The sky was clouded, the sun barely peaking through their thick haze. Victoria and Margaret huddled together while Dorian strode beside the pair as if untouched by the cold. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” Dorian stopped at the sound of the familiar voice, his body instinctively prepared for an attack. He slowly turned to find Wright striding toward them. Victoria wrapped a protective arm about Margaret’s shoulders and stepped behind Dorian. “Yes, it is.” Turning to Victoria he asked, “Will you please go find a hack to take us home?” He handed her a few coins and she led Margaret away. “I do believe congratulations are in order,” Wright said mockingly. “A vampire king marrying a lowly human; it is an odd pairing.” “I don’t think so,” Dorian replied. “I trust you got my note.” 107

“Yes, and I believe you found my reply…some of your fellow hunters’ bodies.” Hatred flashed in Wright’s eyes. “You’re aware that more witches will be watching your wife and sister-in-law?” “I am.” Wright chuckled and took a step forward. He whispered, “I hope I’m the one to make her a widow, I'm sure she will look lovely in black.” “I am inclined to agree with you,” Dorian smiled. “She would look exquisite in black.” The hunter snorted in disgust. This vampire was not one to be goaded into a fight, no matter how hard he tried. But it did not matter. He would kill the blood-sucking bastard. He just needed to wait for the prefect moment. Nothing would spoil his victory and he would go down in the history books as the hunter who murdered the ancient Dorian Vlakhos. “I was surprised that you did not send another bloodied young man to deliver your message.” “If you haven't noticed, Vlakhos, you have two ladies in residence. I didn’t want to frighten them.” “I'm sure they appreciate your thought,” Dorian said in a careless tone, crossing his arms over his wide chest. He appeared relaxed to all, but he was more than ready to rip this hunter’s head off. “The Mylonas family will soon be no more, you have my word.” “I wish you luck, my Clan is the largest of all the vampire clans.” “Your people believe that you deserted them. That you ran away like a coward.” “For some reason, I find that hard to believe.” Dorian knew that his soldiers would not believe such lies. They had fought by his side for hundreds of years; they trusted him. His people could not possibly believe he would leave them to their fate. He had fought for them and protected them for what seemed like an eternity. “They hate you.” “Then, I suppose I shouldn't be too distraught over their deaths,” Dorian said. “Now since this conversation is over, I will be 108

taking my leave.” Wright sneered, his lips curled over his horrible teeth. He watched Dorian cross the street, pulled a dagger from his coat, and hurled it at the vampire's back. Dorian spun and caught the blade between his fingers. “Too high,” he smiled. “I would have thought a famous hunter like yourself would know where the heart is at.” Dorian dropped the weapon and once again turned his back on the Red Order hunter.

Dark night had eclipsed the sky. The moon was high and gave the study it’s only light. Dorian sat before the window, cast in shadow. Wright's words echoed in his ears as questions plagued his thoughts. He had never been one to sit back and wait for an attack. He was a strong believer in striking your enemy before your enemy had the chance to take the offensive. But he could not just go charging head first into the throng of witches that were now amassing in London. He had to think of Victoria and Margaret's safety. What would happen to them if he were killed? That question unsettled him. He should be worried more about what would happen to his Clan than what happened to the pair of humans that were now living in his home. He was not Dimitri. He would not make the same mistakes the ancient emperor had made. “Sir.” Dobbins' voice was a wonderful interruption to his thought. “Your mail,” the vampire said, setting the letters on the desk. Dorian turned and thanked his loyal friend. “And this one,” the butler muttered as he pulled an envelope from his pocket, “is for my lady, it was forwarded from her aunt.” Dorian dismissed Dobbins and stood. Victoria was coming down the hallway; he could smell her fresh, womanly scent, he could hear her heartbeat, and his fangs tickled in his mouth. He could hardly remember the last time he fed. Being as old as he was, he did not require blood as often as others. He could go six months without feeding, but not much longer than that. The beast within him was

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beginning to awaken and it would not be long before it began to rattle its cage. “I see you have finally opened the door,” she said stepping in. “I was beginning to worry about you.” “Worry about me?” he repeated in a whisper. Her words heated his cold heart. “The moment we got home, you shut yourself up in this stuffy study. You didn't even come to dinner.” Dorian rounded the desk and went to stand before the fireplace. “I wasn't hungry.” Victoria closed the door, and lovingly asked, “Is something wrong?” “Nothing,” his voice was hard and cold. A tone that every vampire recognized and knew it was time to keep their mouths shut. “I'm not blind, Dorian.” Dorian gave a heavy sigh and turned to his wife. She was no vampire. He watched her cross the room, her steps light and delicate. She sat on the sofa, folded her hands in her lap, and turned her large, emerald eyes up at him. They probed and searched for his soul, an essence that he had long thought dead. “No, you aren't,” he sighed. “Mr. Wright is not a friend of yours,” she stated. “Far from it.” Dorian turned back to the fire. “Our families have been warring for centuries. My old friend, Hadrian, used to say, 'there is nothing like a feud, it keeps you sharp and prepared for anything’,” he remembered with a small smile, “Wright followed me to London.” “Why are you feuding?” “To put it lightly, he wants to ruin me.” “Then why did you come to London? What is here that caught your interest? You surely didn’t come here looking for a wife.” “Good lord, no!” “Thanks.” Dorian laughed and turned back around to face her, resting his shoulders against the mantle of the fireplace. 110

“I would say that marriage was a perk, but in all honesty I came to London hoping to draw the attention away from my family. You see, Wright's Clan hates that we are more powerful than they are and they would take any chance they get to ruin me or my good name.” His stomach twisted as the lie slipped from his tongue but there was no way he could tell her the truth. She would think he was mad. “I understand.” “Do not worry,” he assured her. “You have a letter. It is sitting on the desk.” Victoria jumped to her feet and hurried over to the large wooden table. She snatched the parchment up with greedy fingers and ripped open the seal. Dorian watched her, a smile touching his lips and amusement sparkling in his eyes. Her face lit up with happiness and an unexpected jolt of pleasure shocked him. Dorian chuckled at her enthusiasm and wished he had someone in his life that would react in such a way for him. Or, maybe someday, Victoria would greet his letters with love and send sweet, kind words back to him.

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Chapter Sixteen

Victoria sat quietly sipping her tea as Lana talked. She had waited for the last two days to tell her friend about her marriage and she would have to wait a little more. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Lana said, setting her cup down and picking up a folded paper. “This is the list of suitable men that my brother made. I know that you don’t have much time left and trying to catch more suitors in your net would be difficult.” Victoria looked the list over and smiled, “Lord Rogers was his first choice.” “Ben didn't even interview the chap, he just wrote his name down.” Victoria sighed, “Lord Rogers is a good man.” But he was not the man for her. The more time she spent with Dorian the more she became convinced that he was the right choice. So what if he did not love her, she did not love him. Deep down she still yearned for a love like her parents had and, maybe over time, she would find that with her husband. “So, is he the one you are going to pick? He is fair to look upon and very nice.” Lana took a sip of her tea before she added, “But he is dull.” “As a shoe,” Victoria whispered to herself, covering her wide grin with her delicate fingers. Dorian's words echoed in her ears and she tried her hardest not to laugh. He had spoken the truth. The man carried on and on about horseflesh and the weather; their discussions never changed. “What was that?” Lana asked, taking note of her friend’s amusement. “Nothing,” she answered clearing her throat. “Thank Ben for me. He put a lot of time and effort into making the list.” Victoria sat up

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tall in her chair and raised the teacup to her lips. “But I have no use for it.” “No use for it?” Lana repeated, her eyes slanted. “Have you made your decision?” Victoria nodded and took a sip of the rich tea. Lana squealed in excitement and ripped the cup from her friend's hands. Victoria was shocked that the warm liquid had not sloshed over the rim to land in her lap. “Why didn’t you tell me? You let me go on and on about Ben's new baby and the wonderful weather we had in the country. You should have stopped me. You should have told me the second you walked in the door.” “You were so excited and happy. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” “Well, I am all attention now. So, who is it?” Lana was leaning so far forward that the tiniest gust of wind would knock her off her seat. “First, I must tell you that my aunt has thrown me out of the house.” “Oh, dear,” Lana gasped. “When did this happen? Is the bargain between the two of you off? You can stay here, my parents won’t mind. I will not allow my friend to live on the streets.” “Thank you for the offer, but I have found a place to stay.” “What is to become of Margaret?” Lana continued, not hearing what her friend had said. She was too caught up in her swirling thoughts. “I will tell you,” Victoria laughed, “but you have to stop asking questions and let me tell the story.” She waited for Lana to nod before she went on. “When I was thrown out of Aunt Nelly’s house, I had nowhere to go. You had already left and Lord Rogers had sprinted out to his country estate to visit his mother.” “So what did you do?” Lana demanded, her fingers gripping the edge of the table, she could barely control her excitement. Victoria scolded her with a “sh.” “I could only think of one person who would help me, so I went to him.” “Him? Oh my god! You went to the prince, didn't you?” “Yes.” 114

“Brava! I knew you liked him. So, what happened?” “I told him about my problems and he asked me to marry him.” “He just offered? Please tell me you accepted,” she begged. “I did.” Victoria could not resist the smile that tickled her lips. “This is just wonderful. My heart is pounding.” Lana picked up her Chinese fan, which had been resting on the table and began to cool herself. “So when is the happy day?” “It was three days ago.” “You are married?” Lana gasped in shock. “You married Prince Dorian? You lucky little wretch! You managed to snag the man every girl dreamed of having.” Victoria laughed and took up her tea again. Lana snatched the list back and ripped it to shreds then tossed it up in the air. It fell upon them like rain. “And I have Margaret,” Victoria added. “Victory is mine.” Lana smiled brightly and patted Victoria's arm. “It would seem you've gotten everything you wanted.” “I did,” she agreed. Lana leaned forward and dropped her voice down to a whisper. She motioned with her finger for Victoria to come closer. She glanced about the room to make sure no one was around to hear their new discussion. “So, how was it?” she asked, her voice as low as she could possibly make it. “What?” “What indeed?” Lana scoffed. “You married the most handsome man London has ever seen and you ask me what?” Victoria blinked at her, innocently confused. Lana rolled her eyes and clarified, “Your wedding night.” “Oh,” Victoria sighed, turning her attention back to her tea and pulling away. “Well?” Lana pressed. Victoria did not answer and Lana sat back with a frown. “You didn't have a wedding night, did you?” Victoria still didn't respond. “And you are making the poor man jump through hoops.”

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“There has been no jumping through hoops." “Yet,” Lana added. “I just…” “What?” “I want to know him better.” Lana studied her friend closely and shook her head. “No. You want love.” “That is ridiculous. Many marriages are loveless.” “It is written all over your face, Tory. You want love in your marriage and you are waiting for it. Well, I can tell you right now that Dorian does love you; he just doesn't know it yet. Or if he does, he just hasn’t admitted it to himself.” “He couldn’t possibly love me,” Victoria protested. “He only wants me to warm his bed and once I have done that, he will move on to someone else.” “He loves you dearest, of that I know. Have you forgotten Lady Hennings's dinner party already? Vlakhos gazed at you for hours, his eyes never left you.” “He was just trying to annoy me.” “Then what about that time in the park just last week? When you and I went for a morning ride and he trotted beside us. He picked all those lovely flowers for you.” “He was only trying to woo me.” “He saved you! You told me that he saved you from falling to your death. That has to mean something. If he didn’t care for you at all, he would have just left your body in the ditch.” Victoria remembered that frightening moment. She still, to this day, was amazed at how fast he had moved. He had been in his coach and in a heartbeat he was holding her firmly against his chest. “Not to mention once he heard about your situation he offered to marry you. He loves you,” Lana said with a nod. “And you love him. You both are just too blind or too pigheaded to notice, but I can see it and so can everyone else.” Victoria had no reply. Lana made valid points.

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“I also have something that I have not shared with you yet. Adam Howland called on me at my brother’s home and he proposed. I told him that I had to speak with you first. Remember, I will not admit that I love him until you admit you love your husband.” Victoria was stunned. Lana was holding off her own engagement and happiness because of her. “But I know when I am being ridiculous,” she added pointedly, her eyes locked on her friend. “So, tomorrow evening, when he comes over for dinner, I will accept his offer.” Filling her teacup, she turned the conversation back to Victoria. “Now tell me, have you been torturing Dorian? He has wanted you for sometime now and the waiting has got to be driving him mad.” “I am the one who is being tortured,” Victoria exclaimed, in her defense. “Now, I seriously doubt that.” “It's true,” she insisted. “He tortures me with his mere presence. Every time he is around every thought slips from my head.” “All of them?” Lana asked with a sly smile. “Well no, I think about running my hands through his hair and his lips on mine. The man sleeps in the nude.” Lana rolled her eyes. “I would hardly consider that a complaint.” “No, the man is gorgeous, but his nakedness does not help me collect my scattered thoughts.” “Maybe you should share your feelings with him. It might give him confidence.” “Confidence is the last thing that man needs. He has so much confidence it could fill the entire ocean.” “Then he needs love from his wife.” “Pardon my intrusion Miss Richmond, but Mr. Howland is here to see you.” “Thank you, Cheryl, will you show him in?” Lana set her tea down and hurried to the large, gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace. She smoothed her gown, fixed her hair, and pinched her checks to give them color. “What in hell’s basket is he doing here?” Lana whispered. 117

“You didn't invite him?” “I asked if he would come for dinner tomorrow night. The man is punctual, but an entire day early is ridiculous.” Victoria smothered her laugh with her hand and stood. Lana had only turned from the mirror when Adam entered the room. He quickly crossed to her, taking no notice of Victoria. He took Lana's hands in his and passionately declared, “I must know your answer. I thought I could sit about and be patient but I can't. I need to know if your will marry me.” “You are out of breath and flushed, you should sit down.” “I ran here,” he said with a shrug. “There was too much traffic on the streets to take a buggy or a horse.” “You ran?” Lana repeated. “Tell me you will marry me,” he pleaded. “I will.” Victoria watched as Adam joyfully scooped Lana up in his arms and she was glad for the couple. They hugged and laughed and he spun her about. She silently tiptoed from the room and left, only pausing for a moment to ask the butler to extend her congratulations.

Dorian and Margaret stood toe to toe in the small yard in front of the stables, each with a long wooden sword in their hand. “Ready?” “I'll beat you this time,” Margaret declared. They both took one large step back and lightly tapped the tip of their swords together. Margaret lunged forward and Dorian blocked. The pair dueled across the yard and into the stables, weaving around bales of hay, wheelbarrows, and horse stalls. Dorian laughed and instructed as they battled, until he tripped over a rake and fell into a pile of hay. Margaret nudged his chin with the end of her weapon and smiled triumphantly. “I told you I'd win,” she gloated.

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Dorian chuckled, “You did, indeed.” Margaret took a step forward, not seeing the rake, and toppled over into the hay. She quickly sat up, spitting strands of hay from her mouth. Dorian laughed and patted the young girl on the head. “It happens to the best of us,” he said, helping Margaret to her feet. “I think we’ve had enough instruction for today. Victoria should be home soon and dinner will be ready shortly.” “We should wash up. Tory hates it when I come to dinner dirty.” Dorian nodded and picked up the two swords then followed the skipping Margaret into the house. They had just reached the stairs when Victoria entered the foyer. She took in the hay-covered pair and bit back a smile. “Rolling about in the hay?” “I won, Tory,” Margaret announced, jumping up and down; her dark curls bouncing about her shoulders. “I got him good.” “Won what?” “I was teaching her how to use a sword,” Dorian answered. “She’s a quick learner.” “Yes, and I won.” “That is wonderful,” Victoria said, clapping her hands. “But now you need to go pick all that hay out of your hair.” “I'll help her, my lady,” Mrs. Dobbins offered taking Margaret's little hand. “And dinner is ready to be served.” “Thank you, Mrs. Dobbins.” “It is no trouble. I'm happy to help Miss Margaret. She has become the daughter I never had.” Victoria smiled as she listened to Margaret’s sweet voice tell the story of her victory as she headed up the stairs. “I should get freshened up myself,” Dorian said when the house grew silent. He turned and mounted the stairs when Victoria called after him. “Yes, kitten?” “I'll help you.” He smiled and held out his hand, she hesitated a moment before taking it. 119

“I’ll enjoy your company.” Dorian led the way up to their room. He pushed open the door and removed his coat, tossing it to the bed. “Sit at my vanity,” Victoria instructed. He sat his large, muscled frame on the tiny chair before the mirror and chuckled as he plucked a thread of hay from his hair. Victoria brushed his hands away. “How was your visit with Miss Richmond?” he asked, watching her in the mirror. Her gentle, elegant fingers ran through his hair, combing out the strands of golden hay. “It was very enlightening.” His hair felt like the softest of silks as it slipped through her fingers, thick, dark, and tempting. It was an intimate moment that could easily lead to another more intimate moment. “She is engaged,” she said, trying to focus her attention on the conversation. “Who is the lucky chap?” “Adam Howland.” “Howland? He hosted the last ball we attended.” She nodded. “He seems to love her very much.” “Then they should have a happy marriage.” “Dorian, may I ask you a question?” “You may ask me anything you like.” “Do I torture you?” “Torture me?” he asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What I mean to say is, do I tempt you too much?” His stormy eyes met hers in the mirror. All emotion had vanished from his face and her heart skipped a beat. “Every damn day,” he answered, his voice deep and rough. “That is not my intention.” “I know,” he sighed, reaching back and hooking his arm about her waist. “I try to keep my hands off you.” He rubbed the small of her back. “In truth, I try to hide from you during the day, but when we lay in bed and you press yourself so innocently against me in your sleep — 120

That is torture. I want nothing more than to take you in my arms and hold you close.” He pulled her against his back. “I respect the fact that you want to get to know me better and I'm willing to wait.” Victoria wrapped her arms about his neck and rested her chin upon his head, their eyes once again locked in the mirror. “You are a good man, Dorian.” He cringed inwardly at her ignorant words. She knew nothing of his past, nothing of what he is. She was so trusting and warm while he was detached and cold. He was a vampire, and he would not allow that part of him to ruin the short time they had together. “And you are one sweet, fire-spitting kitten.” She smiled and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before continuing to gather the hay. When she was finished, Dorian stood and turned to her. He brushed her soft neck with his thumbs and leaned down as Victoria tilted her head, prepared to greet his lips. “I'm starving, let’s eat, let’s eat,” Margaret called as she dashed down the hall with Mrs. Dobbins hurrying after her. Dorian groaned at the intrusion, knowing their moment had been destroyed, but Victoria took his breath away when she pressed herself to him and whispered, “Later,” against his lips.

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Chapter Seventeen

Victoria tied the silk robe about her waist and turned to gaze at Dorian. He sat in his chair peering out the window as he did every night while she took her bath. He had given her complete privacy, never glancing over his shoulder or claiming he needed to fetch something so he could sneak a peek at her. It was as if he was not there. “I'm out,” she called to him. Dorian sighed and stood. His muscles ached, as they did every night after her bath. It took all his will power to stay in that chair as she bathed. He turned and clenched his jaw at the sight of her standing in her scarlet robe. It hugged every curve, every hollow of her body, and set his loins on fire. He turned his eyes to the tub, needing to look at anything but his beautiful young wife. “Was it warm enough? Dobbins was concerned that he had mixed too much cold water in with the hot.” “It was perfect.” He nodded and fixed his eyes on the floor as he walked past her. His hand twitched with the need to reach out and touch her, but he clenched it into a fist and came to stand before the bed, his bare back to her. Victoria watched Dorian, desire heating her eyes. She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she thought again about Lana's words. Did Dorian love her? Was it at all possible? She had expected that over time he would at least grow fond of her, but love? Could it be possible that she meant more to him than a sweet treat to curb his appetite? He had saved her from death, absolute ruin, and kept her from losing her sister. He had teased her, baited her, and taunted her. He was considerate, giving, and understanding. Then, at times, he was also protective and caring. Lana was right. All the signs were there, but she needed him to admit it. She needed to hear the words from his sinful lips. She knew he 123

was stubborn and she knew he was not a man to give in easily. She would be patient with him, while she showed him how much she cared. She had given Lana’s words a lot of thought as she sat in her bath. The man drove her crazy, in more ways than one. He could spark her anger faster than anyone she had ever met, but he could bring a smile to her lips and light her desire just as quickly. Her heart stuttered every time he touched her. Could these strange feelings be love? Yes. She nodded to herself. She loved him and she would show him. “Dorian.” Her voice brushed chills down his spine. He was afraid to turn around, to look upon her. His muscles clenched as he stood perfectly still. “Yes?” he asked, his throat dry. His cold heart tightened as he listened to her cross the floor. She stood behind him, he could feel her, smell her, taste her. She placed a warm, small, thin hand on his shoulder and he shuddered. Victoria leaned against his hard back, and lightly whispered, “Make love to me.” A tremor of excitement and pure happiness shook him as he turned. Dorian took her lips in a ferocious kiss that snatched her breath away and left her helpless. She fell against him, her limbs liquid. He did not need to be asked twice and he was not about to give her the chance to change her mind. He could not possibly wait any longer. He needed her. Now. Dorian groaned when she opened her mouth to him, his tongue plunging inside to conquer and toy with hers. His strong hands moved up her back, massaging as they went. His skilled fingers fisted in her long, wet hair as his mouth broke away from hers. He nipped at her chin and traced her jaw with his tongue before he attacked her ear. Shivers raced down her spine as he suckled the sensitive lobe. Her heart was beginning to pound and the rhythmic beats vibrated through Dorian's body. Her blood was heating, but he wanted it to boil. He dropped his lips to the tender flesh of her throat and gently sucked on her pulse, a gasp of pure delight escaping her throat. His hands slipped into the robe, stroking her sides as he slowly parted the silk folds. The robe slipped from her shoulders and cascaded to the floor unnoticed. Dorian took her lips again, his hands roaming over her back in sensuous circles, pressing her bare breasts hard against his nude chest. 124

The warmth of her body seeped into him, comforting him. He wanted her with a need, a passion, that he never knew was possible. Her skin was so delicate and it drove him to the brink of insanity. He was consumed with desire, he wanted to drive into her fast and hard, but he knew he couldn't. He had to go slow, he had to be patient. Feeling like a plundering barbarian, he wrenched his lips away from hers, leaving Victoria dazed and gasping for air. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the raging storm in his body. “Is something wrong?” He shook his head and kissed her forehead. Then took her up in his arms and set her gently upon the bed. He did not look at her; he feared he would lose what little hold he had on his control. “These trousers need to come off,” he said as he began to attack the buttons, needing the distraction. Victoria's eyes devoured him, slowly moving across his solid chest, down over his tight stomach, and came to rest at the bulge between his thighs. She licked her lips in anticipation as he freed the last button, and then gasped. His rich laugh brought her eyes up to his. “Never seen one before?” he said, his large shoulders shaking with mirth. “No. I don't go around peeking at men.” “Good thing too. If you did, I doubt you would have remained a virgin for long.” She blushed and dropped her gaze to his chest as he continued to remove his clothing. He came down on the bed and pressed her back against the pillows then took one leg in his hand and rested it upon his shoulder. He traced her ankle with his tongue and trailed a line of fire to her knee. He nipped and kissed until her body hummed with red-hot passion once more. He allowed her leg to drop as he slowly moved up her body like a wild, prowling, jungle cat. He blanketed her frame with his as he smoothed her hair away from her face. He traced the curve of her bottom lip with his warm tongue, placed light kisses to each corner of her mouth before Victoria wrapped her arms about his neck and snatched his lips. She could not stand to be teased any longer. She wanted to be pleased. Dorian growled low, accepting her demand, his hands moving to cup her breasts. He brushed each nipple with the pad of his thumbs 125

and they grew into hard buds as she shivered in pleasure. Victoria rubbed her legs enticingly against his. He groaned and buried his face in the curve of her neck as she wiggled her hips. He kissed and licked his way down her throat and nipped playfully at her collarbone. Victoria's breath caught in her throat as his perfect mouth hovered a scant inch above her nipple. She writhed beneath him, his warm breath was tormenting as it whispered over her breasts. She closed her eyes in anticipation, waiting and longing for the feel of his scorching tongue. A loud cry echoed in the large chamber as his mouth fastened on the bud. Her back arched as her fingers gripped his hair. He made agonizingly slow love to each of her breasts, suckling, kissing, laving, and nipping. She moaned and sighed in delight and he smiled with satisfaction. He was in control, but he knew she could make him lose it and that was the most powerful aphrodisiac. His hand slipped between her silken thighs and quickly found the heat he so desired. He pulled away from his luscious feast to catch her lips. Victoria met his mouth hungrily and squealed with pleasure as he sank a long finger into her depths. He stroked her pulsing flesh as he toyed with her womanly nub. She tugged at his shoulders wanting more, needing more, and he obliged, slipping another finger inside her hot sheath. Eyes shut. Victoria was lost in the sea of exquisite sensation. A delicious storm swept through her body and pushed her toward the cliff of pure ecstasy. Her muscles were taut. She had reached the edge. Dorian pulled away and chuckled at her whimper of protest. He ignored her pleas, ignored the demands of her body, and began to torment her once again with his succulent mouth. He licked a hot trail down her neck, across her shoulders, and between the valley of her breasts. Dorian nipped and kissed each rib sending chills down her spine and to her toes. He seared her navel with his tongue and grinned against her stomach as she moaned wildly. His mouth continued down to the apex of her thighs. He paused to look up at her before leaning forward to press a possessive kiss atop her curls. She murmured in protest then hissed in pleasure. Her head fell back as his tongue tasted her in hot, languid swirls, growing all the more ravenous with each thrust. She was rich, viscous, sweet honey and he knew he could never get enough. He wrapped his solid arms about her waist bringing her closer to him. He groaned as her hands grew into fisted in his hair. Victoria moved her hips to his fierce rhythm. She was wild in her abandon and he loved it. 126

Her back arched as the coiling heat within her grew and tightened. Her breath came in gasps as Dorian ravished her. She rubbed her legs against his sides as she gripped his hair. Just when Victoria felt she could not take anymore of his sweet torture, the world burst into a bright blaze and she cried out his name as magnificent ecstasy washed over her. His strong hands cupped her breasts as he continued to take her with his mouth. His thumbs brushed her nipples while his tongue brushed her pleasure nub. “Oh, no more,” she begged between gasps. “I can't take any more.” “You can and you will,” Dorian growled. His assault grew more feverish as he slipped a finger between her slick folds. She whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to his shoulders. Her nails bit into his skin as another shattering climax gripped her. He smiled to himself and slowly retraced his way back up to her mouth. No part of her was left unexplored. Victoria greedily took his lips and suckled his tongue as she locked her arms about his neck. She cradled his hips with her hips and tunneled her fingers through his dark, rich, thick hair. He deepened the kiss as he pressed the broad head of his shaft against her hot core. With blind hunger, she rubbed herself against him. He could not hold back any longer. With one swift thrust, he was buried to the hilt. Victoria broke the kiss and giving a small cry of pain and he froze. Had he been too rough? Had he hurt her? He knew there was pain for a virgin and he feared he had made it worse. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her temple, “I'm sorry.” “Dorian,” her voice was shaking as she took his face in her hands. He was shocked and thrilled when she placed a soft kiss to his lips. Dorian remained still, allowing her to adjust to his size. Then slowly, carefully, he began to move within her. Desperately wanting to make up for the pain he had caused her, he loved her neck and throat, kissing, licking, as he began a steady, vigorous rhythm. He was aware of her every heart beat, every breath, every touch, every gasp of pleasure. He clenched his teeth as he thrust and thrust and thrust, fighting against himself. His eyes focused on the all too vulnerable pulse of her throat. 127

His fangs grew long with desire, as his manhood swelled even larger with need. He ran his tongue over the delicious proof of life and grazed it with his teeth. He was about to surrender to the beast within when she sighed his name. It was the lightest of sounds but it touched his black heart. His eyes moved to her face. He watched the hot flush of passion and arousal wash over her skin. He savored her gasps and as he penetrated and withdrew and took note of the frantic arching of her back and hips. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. His body claimed hers with deep, sure, possessive strokes. She writhed beneath him, her thighs gripping his hips, her nails digging into his flesh. The moon exploded into stars of vibrant colors as she cried out his name. The feel of her climax, her warm, tight sheath clenching around him, fueled his need. He drove into her again and again, intent on sating an insatiable hunger. Faster and harder he plunged to her depths sending her spiraling through time and space, her moans and gasps filling the room as she was wrapped in a blanket of mind numbing pleasure. Dorian drove into her one last time, buried himself deep in her core, and melted in delirious bliss, flooding her, filling her, experiencing a primordial ecstasy. He kissed her with an urgency that he had never known and hugged her close. Not wanting to leave her, he ended the kiss and propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips swollen from his intense kisses. “No one could have prepared me for this.” She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “If I had known what it would be like, I would not have asked you to wait.” Dorian kissed her brow. He had never experienced such a perfect moment. He could not deny that he had been pleasured before, but never like this. My kitten is special, he thought as he gently brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I guarantee you will never become bored in my bed,” he said, confidence dripping from his lips. “No,” she agreed, her head still spinning. “That is something about which we will never argue.” She laughed and opened her eyes. Great, luminous, sparkling pools of green peered up at him and he could not resist the urge to place a soft kiss upon love-worn lips. He rolled to his side and she snuggled against him, her head resting against his shoulder. 128

“Good night,” she whispered moments before she slipped into a sated slumber. Dorian lay in thought. He had been insane to think he could spend only one night with her. She had given him the greatest pleasure he had ever known. His heart ached as the thought of leaving her entered his mind. He would have to go back to his Clan soon, for they needed him and she certainly could not go with him. He would have to let her go; he would have to leave her behind. He pressed her hard against him and inhaled her light, lovely scent. He would never forget the feel of her or the taste of her or the way her eyes light up when she smiled, but he would leave her. He had no choice. A peculiar, unnerving feeling spread through his chest as he stared at the ceiling. Was it sadness?

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Chapter Eighteen

Margaret sat peacefully in Victoria's lap, her little head resting against her sister's shoulder, her eyes half open. “You are falling asleep, dearest.” “No, I'm not,” Margaret protested. “I'm listening. Please, keep reading.” Victoria affectionately smoothed the girl's hair back and placed a kiss on her brow before she continued. Dorian sat behind his desk, a warm smile gracing his face. He enjoyed the intimate scene before him and he longed to be a part of it. His mother never read to him, never told him stories, and never looked on with him kindness. She had loathed him, rejected him, and his father saw him only as another strong arm in his army. No one had ever loved him or cared for him, he had always been alone, until now. Victoria was everything he had ever wanted. She was sweet, innocent, caring, and passionate and he could not help the emotions that swelled within him every time her eyes turned to him. The last week had brought them closer and closer together. They would spend almost every minute of the day together and every minute of the night desperately clutching each other as the flames of ecstasy consumed them. He never wanted to leave. If the world was perfect, they could grow old together, but that sort of happiness was out of his reach. Dorian turned to gaze out the window. He would never have a life of love and happiness. He was a vampire king, not a human prince, and he had no place in his life for a family. He was here in London doing his duty to his Clan and once it was done he would return home. His stomach twisted and his heart clenched as they did every time he thought of leaving. He could not help but feel as if he were abandoning them, casting them aside as if they were nothing but a pair of old gloves.

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Would Victoria be sad? Would she cry? Would she beg him to stay? He feared he would not be able to resist her tears or her pleas. But she had been practically forced into the marriage. If she had not been at risk of losing her sister he had no doubt that she would still be refusing his advances. Would she care if he left or would she be glad to see him go? That thought pained him more than a dagger through the heart. He pushed away from his chair and went to stand before the fire. “Excuse me, sir,” Dobbins called from the entrance of the study. “Yes?” “There is a man here to see you.” Glancing at Victoria he said, “Send him around in the morning.” “I'm sorry, my lord, but I really think you would like to speak to this gentleman.” Dorian nodded in understanding, there was a vampire here to see him. “Who is it?” “It is Sir–” “Greetings, Vlakhos, I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Thank you for showing me in, Dobbins.” The butler nodded and returned to his work, straightening up the house. “Welcome to my newest home.” Victoria watched as the men happily shook hands. She closed the book and gently stood, cradling Margaret's sleeping form in her arms. The book slipped from her lap and clattered to the floor, bringing the men's attention her way. Dorian came to her side, snatched up the book, and wrapped a proud arm about her shoulders. “Lord Kenwrec, I would like you to meet my wife, Victoria, and her sleeping younger sister, Margaret.” “Your wife?” The Black Knight’s face was priceless. His jaw almost hit the floor. Falcon crossed the room, his cold gray eyes studying her. He bowed and took her hand, placing a soft kiss upon her knuckles, and smiled. 132

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I feared Dorian would never settle down.” “Didn’t everyone,” Dorian snorted. “It is nice to finally meet one of Dorian's friends, I was being to wonder if he had any,” she said with a light laugh. “He has very few,” Falcon admitted teasingly. “Will you be staying the night?” Victoria inquired. “Yes,” Dorian answered. “I insist. It will give us time to catch up.” “I will have Mrs. Dobbins ready a room for you, Lord Kenwrec.” “Please, call me Falcon.” “Thank you, Falcon. If you will excuse me, I must put Margaret to bed. Goodnight.” Dorian closed the doors behind his wife. “She is very beautiful, Dorian,” Falcon said, shrugging out of his rain-drenched coat. “You are a lucky man. Tell me, how is it that you came to be wed to a mortal?” “I will, after you tell me why you are here. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to see you Falcon, but I know your visit is one of business. You have too much work to do and hardly ever leave your land.” “True, as King Hadrian's second, I took over his duties when he felt he was unable to tend to them.” “You mean when Hadrian exiled himself.” Falcon nodded. “Rebels pop up here and there but for the most part they cause no trouble.” “I'm glad to hear that peace is finally coming to your clan.” “No,” he said, shaking his head, “peace will never rule my people until Hadrian returns.” “Why could I not have a loyal second like you?” Dorian sighed. He walked back to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle. “What is your news?” “I will start at the beginning,” Falcon stated as he came to rest on the sofa. “When the hunters of the Red Order singled your clan out for extinction, I began a patrol to secure my boarders. Then you did the 133

one thing that no one expected, including me, you headed to London. Great plan, by the way, most of the hunters did desert your land.” “I know,” Dorian said with a roll of his eyes. They were here, just as he had wanted only now he wished they were somewhere else. “You aren't happy that they followed you? I thought that was your plan.” “It was but…” Dorian stopped and slammed his fist on the mantle, the wall shaking from the force of the blow. “Your wife and her little sister,” Falcon finished. He swept his eyes over his friend and smiled. Dorian was in love. He could possibly be the first vampire king to find his mate. He knew the legend all too well and he prayed every night that Hadrian would be blessed with a woman who could heal his wounds and free him of his madness. “About a month ago, my men discovered Raphael near death on the road that you and Hadrian had cut.” Dorian whirled around, concern and anger coloring his face and twisting his dark brows. “Don't worry, he's alive,” Falcon said. “Edwina saved him.” “Is that what you came to tell me?” “Yes, and more. There was a brief moment when Raphael awoke from his healing sleep. He managed to stutter out a few words. In a roundabout way, he told me about your letter in his pocket, the one stating that he is to be your new second. He also said 'Kal is the one'. What I think he meant is that Kal is the one who attacked him.” “Damn it!” The fire flickered and the entire house shuddered from the force of Dorian’s anger. “I knew that Kal was a traitor. I was coerced to make him my second in command. King Viktor would only pass the crown to me if I vowed to make Kal my replacement. The old vampire was on his death bed, I could not deny him.” Dorian fell onto the armchair across from the sofa, his hands balled into tight fists. “I left the moment I read your letter and I was going to head here, to inform you of what was happening, but instead I crossed the bridge that adjoins our lands. I slipped in and out of a few of your towns. I never made it to the castle. Though, there is no need. It is true that the Red Order is hunting your Clan, but Kal is the one that is leading them. I saw him front an attack myself. I'm sorry, Dorian, but I 134

felt that it was best that you heard the news from me rather than a letter. With witches crawling the city, there was no guarantee that a letter would ever reach you.” “Yes,” Dorian gritted out. “But you have just brought my worst fears to light. I had suspected Kal, which is why I sent Raphael to take control and watch him in my absence. Thank you for taking care of him.” “Don't thank me, thank Edwina. She is the one who nurtured him back to health.” “I will thank her when I return.” “And when will that be?” Falcon asked eyeing the king. “You have a family now. You can’t just pack up and leave. What will you tell your wife?” “I don't know. I have been dreading this day since we wed.” “Women tend to complicate things,” Falcon said with a smile. “They certainly do.” Dorian dropped his head down in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Especially if you love them.” “Love,” Dorian repeated, his stormy sea eyes clashing with Falcon's shinning silver gaze. “That is what I said.” “Impossible,” he denied. “But you married her.” “I rescued her,” he stated firmly. “She needed me to marry her or she would lose her sister.” “Is that the only reason?” Dorian smiled devilishly. “I wanted Victoria in my bed. You said it yourself, she is beautiful.” “Yes, possibly the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” Falcon added. “But, you have never lacked beautiful company. There are plenty of comely women out there, Dorian, what makes this one so special?” He did not know how to answer Falcon's question. He had lusted after her since the first night they met; he had wanted her with a passion that could not be ignored. No woman had ever attracted him the 135

way she did. She had to belong to him, only him. She had shown him a part of life he thought he would never experience, but all good things had to come to an end. “I will leave at the end of the week.” Shadows of pain fell upon Dorian’s face. He would leave and he would never return. Dorian would give Victoria no hope of his return. He would be cold and ruthless; he would be King Dorian Vlakhos of the Mylonas Clan, hard as stone. And Falcon knew there was nothing he could do to change his friend's mind; once Vlakhos had made a decision, there was no arguing with him. “How do you plan on getting home? There are hunters swarming every road, every path. They will no doubt be waiting for more of your people to cross our bridge.” “There is one way to penetrate the castle that no one knows of except for me.” “But they will be watching all the ports waiting for you to return.” “Not all the ports,” Dorian said with a smirk. “My arrival will be a complete surprise.”

Victoria sat before her vanity, her long, black hair cascading across her shoulders and down her slim back. She looked up, her eyes meeting Dorian’s in the mirror. She smiled and continued to brush her hair. Dorian hesitated a breath before he crossed the room. His face was grim and etched with hard lines. Her smile faded as he drew nearer, she knew something was wrong. Had Falcon brought bad news? “Victoria,” he said, his voice cold, his eyes distant. She turned to face him. Dorian stood before her like a towering ancient statue. All the light was gone from his sea-weathered eyes, replaced with a fathomless darkness. “What is it, Dorian?” Concern was all he could see. She genuinely cared, but he was not worthy of her affections nor did he want them. Only mortals put value on emotions.

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“I sail for home at the end of the week,” he answered with a curt nod. She blinked first in disbelief then in hopeless acceptance. She knew this day would come, she had prayed that it would not be so soon. Victoria searched his face for a hint of the Dorian she had grown to love, but he was gone, replaced by a cold stranger. He was no longer her husband, no longer the man who had made sweet love to her. She knew he had a life, one that was hundreds of mile away in some foreign land. He had family, friends, people that needed him. He belonged with them and not with her. He was a prince and she was a penniless woman whom he had married out of sympathy and lust. Her magnificent green eyes glistened as she turned her back to him. Dorian watched her closely. His heart screamed that he take her in his arms and tell her that he—No! He would not love her. He could not. He had to leave. He had to return to his people, they needed him, and they had to mean more to him than this woman. “When will you return?” Her voice was low and weak. A deadly silence filled the room. Her heart raced as she waited for what seemed like an eternity for his answer. The word 'never' had never sounded so cold, so heartless, or so final. It was like a dagger had been plunged into her heart. She bit her lip and closed her eyes against the flood of tears. She would not cry, not in front of him. She would not allow him to see how much he had hurt her. “I will see to it that you are well provided for. An account will be set up with all the money you will ever need and more. You can stay in this house or move back out to the country if you so desire,” he said wanting to soothe her. He could feel her pain, taste it. But it made no difference; he would not change his mind. “You will never have to want for anything.” Except for you, she thought, but she did not say a word. “I'll be down stairs with Falcon.” He turned on his heel and left the room. Victoria watched him go. She stood, her shoulder's square and chin high, and walked to the bed. She pulled back the covers but could not bring herself to enter it. This was the bed they had shared. She sighed and went to the window. She sat on the bench, leaned her brow against the glass, and allowed the tears to slip from her eyes. He was leaving.

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Chapter Nineteen

“Tory.” Lana scooted over to Victoria's side and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “What happened?” “Dorian is leaving.” “He can't be. He is in love with you.” “No,” Victoria said shaking her head, “he isn't in love with me. He married me out of pity and lust.” “That can't be true,” Lana argued. “Dorian saved me from losing my sister, which is nothing more than an act of compassion. He had told me himself, numerous times, that he desired me in his bed. Lust is not love,” she explained, unshed tears burning her eyes. “When is he coming back?” “Never,” Victoria managed to answer with a light sob. “Never? He is never coming back? That scoundrel! That blackguard! Does he expect you to support yourself?” Lana demanded, outraged. “He is leaving me his home and plenty of money; in fact he is meeting with some bankers this afternoon to arrange everything.” “Oh Tory, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I pushed the match. I wanted you and Dorian to marry. I thought you would be a perfect couple, especially since it seemed like he loved you.” “Don't blame yourself, Lana. I was the fool who fell in love with him, not you. But I will be fine. I still have Margaret.” “Yes,” Lana smiled, “you have your sister and now you even have the best independence a woman could ever have. A husband in name only who is hundreds of miles away, he pays for all your expenses, and you can take on any lover you wish.”

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“You are always looking at the bright side,” she sniffed, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Someone has to.” Lana handed Victoria her handkerchief. “I just need some time to adjust and accept my loss. I think Margaret and I will move back to the countryside. It is more peaceful and quiet there. Dorian said I could go back if I like. I wonder if I could buy back my family's home.” “With his wealth, I'm sure you could buy all of London.” Victoria laughed lightly and handed Lana back her handkerchief. “Thank you, Lana.” “I am always here for you.” Victoria sighed and leaned back against the pillows of Lana’s bed. Anger, sadness, and uncertainty swirled within her heart. How could he just leave her? She was his wife and she had every right to go with him. Victoria shot up, her back straight, her spine rigid. “I should demand that he take us with him.” “Demand? That he take you where? His home?” “Yes, I am his wife, I have every right to go with him. Besides, I should meet his family and his friends. It is the proper thing to do.” “True,” Lana agreed with a nod. “Did he say he didn’t want to take you with him?” “No, he never said that. Maybe he thinks I don't want to go. Maybe he thinks I would rather stay in wonderful England than go with him to some foreign country that I'm sure is as cold as Hell. He might even think that I wouldn’t want to take Margaret away from the only world she has ever known.” “A drastic change like this could be a huge shock to the poor girl and she has been through so much in these past months. Do you think it’s wise?” Victoria smiled, Margaret had been talking none stop about the possibility of living in a castle like a real princess since the night they had moved in with Dorian. “Yes, she would love to go on an adventure.” “Did he ask you if you wanted to go?”

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“No, but he is mistaken if he thinks I will just stay here and pine over him for the rest of my days.” With her mind made up, Victoria stood, her shoulders squared. “If you go, when will you be leaving?” “He plans to set sail in a few days.” “I insist that you all come for dinner on your last night. We will have a small going-away party.” “Dorian will probably be preparing the ship, but Margaret and I will be there. I will need to give you my new address, once I learn where it is I will be living,” Victoria said with a laugh and stood. She bid Lana goodbye and showed herself out. Victoria’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as she planned what she would say to Dorian. She had to be a little diplomatic with him, the man was stubborn to a fault and she did not want to risk him telling her no. She was so distracted with her thoughts that she had not noticed the man following her. She rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt. Wright stood before her, a cruel smile curling his lips. “My lady, how are you on this fine morning?” he asked in greeting, tipping his hat. “I am in a hurry,” she said dismissively, brushing past him. “I would like a word with you,” he continued. “I don't have time to–” She was yanked back; her arm caught by a tall, dark haired man, his grip like iron. “Let go of me!” she demanded twisting about trying to get loose, but it was no use. The man pushed her against the stone wall. “Don't worry, he won't hurt you,” Wright said, trying to soothe her fears. “I just want to have a little talk with you.” She was surrounded now. All her escapes blocked. Dorian had warned her to stay away from Wright and here she was, pinned against a wall with him on one side and his companion. She prayed that someone would walk by, but it was still early in the morning. It would be unlikely for someone to be on a morning ride or walk just yet. How could she get away? Screaming wouldn't help if there was no one to hear her and she was not about to show the vile men her fear. Wright traced her jaw with his finger as his eyes roamed over her body. 141

“You are a prime piece, you know,” he whispered. “It is too bad that you are now tainted. His stink covers you.” He lowered his head, his mouth an inch from her ear. His breath was hot and repulsive. She waited for him to move closer then she brought her knee up, slamming it in to his groin. Wright cried out and fell to his knees cursing. The taller man tightened his grip on her arm and she stomped her heel on his toe and wiggled free. She prepared to run but her arm was snatched again. Victoria turned, her hand raised in defense, ready to strike. “Are you all right, my lady?” Falcon asked. “Oh, thank goodness it’s you, my lord. I thought it was one of those oafs again.” She glared at her attackers. “Falcon?” Wright barked. “What the hell are you doing in London? Shouldn't you be home leading a civil war and slaughtering your people?” “I wouldn't be tossing about insults if I were you,” Falcon snapped. “This matter has nothing to do with you, Validus.” Wright struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. “I'm inclined to disagree,” Falcon said taking a step forward, shoving Victoria behind him. “Does the little princess need a protector?” “Actually, she seems to be doing quiet well on her own.” Falcon grabbed hold of Mark's vest and lifted the smaller man up so that they were eye to eye. “Stay away from Dorian's family. They have nothing to do with your feud.” “She married him. She is one of them now,” Wright said. “Until he changes her, she is still human,” he whispered, his voice too low for Victoria to hear. “Humans mean nothing to me. Least of all those who give themselves to vampires.” Falcon dropped the witch, who landed with a hard thud on the cement. “I think you are in the wrong profession,” was all he said to the hunter. He nodded to the other witch then turned to Victoria. “I assume you are heading home, allow me to accompany you.” “Thank you,” she said, turning her back on the two men.

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Wright jumped to his feet and drew his dagger. He had missed Dorian's heart but he was sure he would not miss Falcon's. He brought the weapon up and was about to let it fly when his companion knocked it from his hand. “Why did you do that?” “No matter how angry you get, you never attack a foe from the rear,” the taller witch snapped before whirling around and stalking back to his horse that waiting, tethered to a lamppost.

“Is the prince home, Dobbins?” Victoria asked as she swept into the house. “No, my lady,” he answered. “He just left to go to the bank.” “Will you notify me when he arrives? I have something very important to discuss with him.” Dobbins nodded and waited for Victoria to disappear up the stairs before turning to Falcon. “There are hunters watching the house,” he said. “Mrs. Dobbins and I are trapped here. We could not sneak out before dawn to do any of the shopping.” “As long as you stay in the house and away from the windows, you should be fine. Or you could hide in the basement, no light will reach you there.” “That is where Miss Dobbins is now. I was waiting for you or the king to return so I could warn you about the witches.” “I'll keep an eye on them.” “Thank you, sir.” Dobbins turned and hurried to find safety in the cool darkness of the basement. Falcon slowly walked through the house studying the paintings that hung on the walls. He toured the kitchen, the dining room, the drawing room, and the library before he came to stand before Dorian’s study. He entered the room cautiously even though he knew the vampire king was not in attendance. He went to the window and smiled as the bushes rustled. The hunter scurried away to find another hiding place. He closed the heavy curtains, cloaking the room in darkness.

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He was full of conflicting emotions. Falcon sat on the sofa, his hands resting lightly on his stomach as he leaned back into the cushions. He closed his eyes as he slipped into deep thought. Dorian had come to England with hopes of helping his people and ended up married. How the ancient vampire managed that incredible feat, Falcon would never understand. Dorian had skipped from woman to woman, from bed to bed, over his long years. He spent his nights with light skirts, women who wanted nothing from him but his body and his money, the two things Dorian was more than willing to give. He had always kept his trysts short never sharing too much of his time. He was a king first and a man second. Dorian was an excellent judge of beauty. His women had always been comely, so it came as no shock to Falcon that Dorian would choose Victoria as his next conquest, but he hadn’t simply bedded her and forgotten her. He had married her. Falcon’s brow wrinkled as he searched for the answer. Dorian clearly had feelings for the girl. The question, however, was could it be love? It was a foolish thought. No king had ever found his mate, but Dorian could be the first. That thought had crossed Falcon’s mind before, however, he had not given it much consideration. It would be a blessing if Dorian had found his mate. The front door opened and closed. Falcon tensed for a moment before the familiar aura of Dorian’s power filled the air. “Dorian, is that you?” Victoria called. “Yes.” She hurried from the bedroom, her feet shaking the ceiling, and down the stairs to stand before her husband. She had given her words a lot of thought but they escaped her as she opened her mouth. Dorian stared at her expectantly, his eyes capturing hers. “What is it?” he said, his voice sharp. His annoyance pricked her anger. She squared her shoulders, placed her hands on her hips, and turned her chin up. “Don’t take that tone of voice with me. I have done nothing and have said nothing to anger you.” “True, but I am busy.” He tried to step pass her but she cut off his exit. “I am your wife, am I not?”

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“What sort of question is that? Of course you are my wife.” “I’m glad to hear that you remember, for I was beginning to believe that you had forgotten.” “I couldn’t possibly forget,” he sighed. Though he wished he could forget. Her eyes flared. “I’m sorry if you regret our marriage,” she spat. Dorian’s stomach twisted at her words. He did not regret anything, but he had to push her away for her own good. “But I am your wife, and as your wife, I demand that you take me with you when you leave. I have every right to see your home and meet your family.” “You can’t come with me,” Dorian stated, his jaw set. “It would be too dangerous for you.” “I have been on a ship before, I will not get ill. I have also traveled for long periods of time and can handle the rush. And if you fear that I cannot handle the cold of your country think again. I am tougher than you may believe, and so is Margaret. We are your family now, as you have said.” “You don’t understand. My Clan is under attack.” “You told me about the feud and I know you are perfectly capable of keeping us safe.” “You are not coming with me,” he growled, his stormy eyes clouding over. “I am your wife and I have every right to go with you!” She turned on her heel, marched up the stairs, and slammed the bedroom door. Dorian ground his teeth and clenched his fists into tight balls, his nails digging into his palms. Blood trickled down to the polished wood floor. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to rip at the walls and tear apart the furniture. The woman did not understand. She and her sister could be killed if she went with him. He growled low in his throat and stalked to his study. “Waiting for me?” Falcon slowly opened his eyes to find Dorian standing just inside the door. “Yes,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, “close the door, Dorian, we need to talk.”

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“If it is about those blasted hunters outside, don’t waste your breath, I already know. They think to threaten me by surrounding my home, but not one will dare enter. And if you mean to talk to me about my wife, you can leave now.” “What I have to say does involve both subjects that you find so distasteful at the moment.” Dorian glared at Falcon as he nudged the door closed with his foot. He leaned against the wooden threshold and locked his blue fire eyes on his friend’s profile. “I think your lady is right, you should take her with you,” Falcon began. “But before you go into a rage, let me tell you my reasons.” “Fine,” Dorian gritted out. First Victoria attacks him and now Falcon; if he did not know any better, he would have thought they had planned this assault. “A little before dawn, Victoria slipped out and headed for her friend’s home, I think the girl’s name is Lana. Knowing you would prefer that she not go out alone, I shadowed her.” “Will you get your point?” Dorian demanded impatiently. “The girls talked for a bit before Victoria headed home, but this time she wasn’t alone. I followed at a safe distance, not wanting to alert the hunter to my presences,” Falcon continued. “Wright was waiting for your beautiful wife around a corner. Don’t worry,” Falcon laughed at Dorian’s black scowl, “nothing happened to her. She is fine and is healthy as you saw a few moments ago.” “Thank you for saving her.” When I couldn’t. Dorian had stormed from their room last night and had not returned. He knew he had to be strong, he had to do what was best for Victoria, and that meant he had to leave. “It is my duty as a Black Knight to protect the royal house members,” Falcon said with a shrug. “My point is, Dorian, that the hunters have now targeted Victoria and I think it is safe to assume that they will go after little Margaret too.” “Once I’m gone, they will follow me and leave the ladies alone.”

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Falcon shook his head and stood. “No, they may have followed you once but I doubt they will follow you again. They know as well as I that there has to be a hidden meaning as to why you got married.” “There is none!” Dorian declared. “I married her so I could have her that is all.” “So you say.” Falcon’s eyes narrowed in accusation. “But that remains to be seen.” “Are you calling me a liar?” “I have called you nothing of the kind.” “If I leave her then they should know I don’t care about her and they will follow me.” “You know that once the Red Order singles a person out for death they will not stop until the deed is done.” “She is not a vampire.” “Wright has told me himself that humans mean nothing to him, he would not think twice about putting a knife to Victoria’s smooth throat.” Dorian whirled away from the door and slammed his fist into the wall, shattering the wood panel. “Once you leave, Dorian, the ladies will no longer be protected. They will be fair game.” Falcon paused, watching Dorian closely; he took in a deep breath and declared, “If you don’t take them with you, I am staying here.” “You can’t, you have a clan to run.” “If the hunters follow you and give up on Victoria and Margaret in two weeks then I will leave, but if they stay and still threaten the ladies’ lives, I will bring them back home with me.” “The hell you will,” Dorian snarled. “If you will not protect them, I will. I pledged to always protect the members of the royal families and I never go back on my word.” “I protect my own.” “I know,” Falcon smiled. He had won. Dorian growled. Damn! Falcon knew how to manipulate him. He knew how to get under his skin. He turned and flung the door open and stomped up the stairs. He kicked in the door of his bedroom in and 147

stood like a conquering warrior. Victoria sat in his chair before the window, her green eyes wide as they met his. “You better start packing your things, my sweet kitten, for we set sail in two nights.” He whirled back around and stormed out of the house. The front door banged shut behind him; the entire house shook from the force. Dorian’s anger was about to boil over. He needed to hit something, to pummel something, to kill something, and today the witches would be the hunted.

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Chapter Twenty

Victoria was rudely shaken awake. It was still black outside, but Dorian was dressed and ready to go. He thrust her clothes at her with a rough command to hurry. She slid the gown over her head and he helped by fastening the hooks while she brushed her hair. He wrapped her cloak about her shoulders and left the room without a word. She washed her face and swept what remained of her toiletries into a handbag before scurrying off to wake Margaret. Dorian brushed her aside, cradling the young girl in his arms with tender care. Margaret still slept peacefully. They descended the stairs and swept out the door into the waiting carriage that would carry them down to the docks. The ship was covered in life as men rushed about preparing to sail. Dorian handed Margaret to Dobbins, who quickly took the girl below to settle her in bed. Victoria glanced up at the sky and wondered as to the time. She had thought they would be leaving early in the morning not in the middle of the night, sneaking away like thieves. Dorian did not pressure her to get on the ship. In fact he completely ignored her and went to observe the men load the trunks and the rest of the valuable cargo that had decorated his fine house. Victoria was hurt and confused by his treatment of her. She had honestly believed that some feeling had grown between them over the last few weeks. Then duty called and the man she had once known was gone. He had not come to bed the past two nights and she now knew where he had been, here, at this ship, working. She knew she could not be angry with him for wanting to go home, he had his people to consider, but why would he not want to take her? He had said time and time again that she was his and that she and Margaret were his family, yet he had meant to leave them behind. A pebble rolled past her foot and before she had time to wonder who had kicked it, she was seized from behind. A warm hand was placed over her mouth as another snaked around her waist. She 149

screamed against the palm pressed to her lips, but she was sure the muffled sound was drowned by the waves crashing on the docks. Dorian turned. There was no fear, no rage, no concern of any kind in his eyes or on his face, and for a moment, Victoria thought he would turn back and continue with his work, allowing her attacker to carry her away. “I have no quarrel with you, sir, but if you don’t release her, I will be forced to kill you,” his voice was cold and stern, like a headstone. “Why don’t you come down here and say that, leech?” the man challenged, tightening his grip on Victoria’s waist, pinning her hard against him. She tried to wiggle free but the man’s hold on her was impossible to break. “We have your lovely woman, Vlakhos,” Wright taunted, stepping from the shadows. “You were warned to stay away from her,” Dorian said tiredly shaking his head. “Do you ever listen?” In a breath, Victoria’s attacker’s hands slipped from her mouth and waist, releasing her. She jumped aside and gasped, staring wideeyed at her would-be abductor, a dagger protruding from the center of his forehead. Had Dorian thrown it? She had not seen him move. She looked up at him. He stood on the deck, his face cold as stone. A shuffle of feet sounded behind her. Another set of hands tried to capture her and she shoved the man back with all her strength. He stumbled over the edge of the dock and fell with a large splash into the freezing ocean water. She did not waste any more time and sprinted up the gangplank to the ship. She was about to rush to Dorian when Mrs. Dobbins grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the door under the quarterdeck. “What will be your next threat?” Dorian asked with a light chuckle. “You no longer have my wife to hold hostage.” Wright growled and let out a piercing shriek. Hunters poured from the shadows. Dorian scoffed at their meager number, only twentyseven. They seriously underestimated his strength. “Trouble?” Falcon asked coming to stand at Dorian’s side. “Just a bunch of boys playing war.” “Come down and fight, vampire!” Mark said. 150

“Go away.” Dorian waved his hand dismissively as he turned back to his work. “I have no desire to be delayed.” “Need to set sail before the sun rises?” a witch called. “Afraid of the light?” another sneered. “Naïve little bastards,” Falcon cursed under his breath. “Or are you so eager to be in your harlot’s arms that you shrink from a challenge?” Wright had a feeling that would prick the vampire’s anger, and it did. Dorian turned and fixed his eyes on the short witch. “Was that comment really necessary?” Dorian asked, his voice smooth and lethal. “Need I remind you that I would gladly take your life?” “You couldn’t take anything,” Wright spat. “That is where you are wrong.” Dorian clasped his hands behind his back and, with measured strides, crossed the deck and descended to the dock, Falcon on his heels. The crew, made up entirely of shape-shifters, came to the railings. They watched, bloodlust clouding their eyes. They knew of the hatred between the vampires and witches, but they had never witnessed a battle such as this promised to be. “And I’ll prove it,” Dorian added. Wright’s lips curled into a vile smile. As he unsheathed his hunting knife and waved it above his head, the witches attacked. Dorian and Falcon waited for their enemy, making no advancements and pulling no weapons. Dorian struck the first enemy down with one blow, dodging the arrows and daggers that were flung at him. The witches swarmed the two vampires like bees around their hive. Wright stood back, watching hungrily as Dorian fiercely fought off the hunters. Dorian threw a witch to the ground and punched another, knocking the hunter unconscious before he struck out with his mind. The witches flew back as if hit by an invisible tidal wave, six surviving the impact. The wind blew cold with an evil whisper. Falcon watched him warily. Something had changed within Dorian, something dangerous. The wind cracked like a whip and all fell silent, Dorian’s power floated in the air.

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“I warned you to stay away from her.” “She is a filthy, vampire whore and deserves to die.” He walked slowly to Wright and came to a stop when he stood toe to toe with the hunter. “It is a shame that so many hunters had to die because of your foolishness.” Dorian’s smooth, pleasant voice sent chills down Wright’s spine. “I’m surprised that Spinle allowed you to head the hunt tonight.” “That ancient relic doesn’t tell me what to do,” Wright snapped. “He doesn’t even know we came to see you off.” A perfect, white smile graced Dorian’s beautiful lips. It was a predatory smile and possessed no warmth. The beast that had been so carefully chained was suddenly unleashed. “How unfortunate for you,” he chided softly, his eyes fading to black. “He is the only person that could possibly save you. Did you ever wonder why Kal never tried to kill me himself?” Dorian asked with a smug grin. “He knew he would never succeed. That is why he has chosen you to do his work for him, you witches are cannon fodder, expendable.” Wright roared and raised his knife. He slashed at Dorian but met no flesh. He swung again and stumbled in shock when the vampire disappeared. He looked about the dock anxiously, his eyes covering every inch of what could be seen in the night. “Behind you,” Dorian whispered. Wright swooped around striking the air with his knife. “Do you really think I would sneak up and attack your back?” he asked with a light chuckle. “I have more honor than that.” The witch growled and spun to face his foe. Every fiber in his being demanded that he drop the knife and run, but he was no coward and this vampire was nothing special. He was just another bottom feeding leech. Dimitri had been killed easily enough and he was one of the original vampires. This vampire was a fledgling and even though he was old he was nowhere near as powerful as Dimitri had been. Wright ran at the vampire, hacking away at the air with his knife. Dorian caught Wright’s wrist, twisted his arm, and buried the knife in the hunter’s gut. Wright fell to his knees, shock and pain mixing in his eyes as his face turned pale. Dorian grabbed the witch by the hair, dragging him up. His strong fingers bit into Wright’s throat with magnificent force and incredible ease. He bent over the hunter’s 152

vulnerable artery. “Dorian!” Dorian’s head snapped up. Falcon stood frozen and horrified. He had never seen Dorian like this. His eyes were as black as the pits of hell, his fangs like that of a lion. Dorian closed his eyes. He could not stand the look of complete shock on Falcon’s face. He had lost control and almost made the biggest mistake of his unnatural life. With a slight twist, he snapped the hunter’s neck and allowed the body to drop. Dorian gasped for breath as he shook uncontrollably, trying desperately to regain control of himself. Falcon came and placed a hand on his shoulder trying to calm his friend’s quaking body. He had allowed his inner beast to surface. Dorian slowed his breathing and willed himself to calm down; it would do him no good to show weakness. “I see I’m too late.” Falcon turned and found Jacque Spinle stepping into the light. He glanced about the dock at all the bodies. The witches that still lived were coming to their feet and retreating. “They will be heading back to camp for reinforcements,” Jacque said watching the hunters disappear. “Get that damn ship loaded,” Dorian demanded. The deck once again became busy with life as the crew scurried about their work. “Why are you helping us?” Falcon asked, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not helping you,” the witch answered. “But I’m not going to stop you either.” He went to Wright’s body and turned the younger hunter over with his boot. “He was such a fool,” he sighed. “He said you didn’t know he was here.” “I didn’t until one of his drunken hunters spilled the news. I came here as fast as I could, hoping that I could stop the fight. But looking at this place…” he glanced around once more at the dead hunters, “I don’t think I could have stopped anything.” “It was a long time coming, Spinle,” Dorian said. “I don’t hold it against you, Vlakhos. You did what you had to do. Wright was an idiot and was unfit to lead.” Spinle turned his back to the vampires as he continued. “I was there the night that Kal came to Wright’s home. They made a pact, the two of them, to get rid of you 153

and your Clan. I have no love for vampires, as you both know, and I have killed many in my time, but I never butchered them or raided their homes like they do. There is no honor in trickery.” He turned back around, his eyes meeting Dorian’s. “I refused to kill any of your people during this staged feud. That is why most of the men turned to Wright. They thought I had grown weak and that Wright was the strongest hunter, but he never hunted. Kal offered your people to him on a silver platter, telling him where to attack, telling him all their hiding places.” Spinle shook his head. “And the way that fool treated your wife, going after her like a snake. He was nothing but a dog.” “It is strange to hear a witch talk like this about a fellow witch.” “I didn’t like the whelp,” Spinle stated. “Thank you for telling me all this,” Dorian said. “It is nice to know that not all hunters are half-witted.” “You gave that worm more chances than I would have if I were you.” Dorian nodded and turned back to his ship. Falcon was about to follow when Spinle grabbed his arm. “The king needs to feed.” Falcon fixed the hunter with an icy glare and demanded, “How do you know?” “The only time a vampire would even consider taking a witch’s blood is if they need to feed. I would say that Vlakhos’s time is up.” “You saw him?” “Yes, and it is good that you stopped him. Wright’s blood would only whet his appetite, he would have no doubt gone chasing after the other hunters who had fled. Keep a close eye on him, Knight,” Spinle warned. “None of us want anything to happen to Queen Victoria or Miss Margaret.”

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Chapter Twenty-One

Dorian slumped in his chair before the bay window. The sun's soft glow was beginning to skip across the water, chasing away the darkness of night. His hands shook as he ran them through his hair. He breathed a heavy sigh, trying to calm his demons. He had gone too long without blood and he needed to feed. For the past week he had been ignoring his hunger, pushing it aside, but it had surfaced. He had almost taken the forbidden blood of a Red Order witch. Falcon, as a Black Knight, sworn to up hold all vampire laws, would have been forced to slay him there before all if he had taken one drop of Wright's blood. The beast inside him had taken control. How could he have let that happen? He thanked God that Victoria had not seen him become the monster of myth. “The ship is loaded,” Falcon announced, shutting the cabin door behind him. “The hunters are coming,” Dorian stated with a distracted sigh. He could smell their magic, hear their footsteps and their strong heartbeats. “Tell the men to lift anchor.” “I did.” Dorian nodded and continued to stare out the window. A dead silence filled the room. Falcon leaned against the door, questions sitting on his lips, but he was not daring enough to ask them. He knew Dorian was powerful, he was the oldest and strongest of their kind, but he still had to feed. Falcon wondered how often Dorian needed to take blood. The necessity for blood became less and less as a vampire aged, until they no longer required the life giving-liquid. “Six months,” Dorian said to the silence, answering Falcon's unspoken question. “Every six months I must feed and I am almost two weeks past my date.” Spinle's words rang in Falcon’s ears as he thought of the danger Dorian now was to Victoria and Margaret. Falcon doubted his 155

ability to protect them. He was strong but Dorian was stronger. What would he do if Dorian became crazed? “Why did you wait so long?” The king shrugged his large shoulders in answer. “A common waterfront street walker would suffice,” Falcon offered. “And have Victoria see her leave my cabin? No.” He shook his head. “I have enough problems with my wife as it is. I don’t need to add to them.” “But you must feed before we set to sea,” Falcon argued. “It is dangerous if you wait too long. You could go mad.” “I am well aware of the consequences. I have gone hungry before, it is nothing that I can’t handle.” “But this voyage is not a short one, Dorian. You must–” “I said, no!” Dorian snapped, slamming his hand down on the arm of his chair. “Think of Victoria and Margaret,” he pleaded. “What if you attack one of them?” “I trust you to keep them safe. If you must chain me to this chair, so be it. If I do attack them, you will kill me, simple as that.” “Kill you and have Kal become king? Have you forgotten that Raphael never made it to your keep with your letter?” “I have forgotten nothing.” “Do you really think that Kal will step aside for Raphael? I would love to say that I would help Raphael win your crown but after nearly a hundred years of civil war, my Clan has finally begun to settle. I will not march them into battle against a depraved, power-hungry vampire.” “Then keep me in this damn room,” Dorian snarled. His nerves were raw and he was quickly losing patience. His head pounded. He groaned as he thought of the pain he would suffer as time went on and his hunger grew. This was not going to be a pleasant voyage home. “I don't think…” Falcon’s words lodged in his throat, his eyes shot to the door. Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. Victoria's scent drifted softly through the air as her sweet pulse vibrated through his body. He shuddered visibly as she called his name. A cool numbness washed 156

over him like a tidal wave, relieving the aching tension of his muscles and the pain that cut through his skull. “Open the door,” Dorian rasped softly. Falcon hesitated before complying. He cracked open the door and stepped aside creating just enough space for Victoria to slip through. He never once took his eyes off of the king. Victoria entered the cabin and was immediately assaulted by a dark cloud of tension that almost made it impossible for her to breathe. She glanced between the two men. Falcon's cold silver eyes were fixed on Dorian's strong profile, watching and waiting for something, anything. Falcon's fingers rested on the knife tethered to his side while Dorian sat motionless in his chair. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked. “No,” Dorian answered, turning to look at her. A strange tingle spread across the back of her neck as Dorian's empty blue-green eyes touched hers. Her breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. He stood with a slow, predatory grace. “Will you leave us?” Falcon glanced to Victoria, who gave him a nervous smile before turning back to Dorian. “I'll be right outside,” he said. He closed the door and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, and focusing on the conversation in the captain's cabin. “Are you well?” she asked. Her concern touched him and brought a smile to soften his face. “I'm sorry if I frightened you, kitten. I fear that I'm not quite feeling like myself. I think I may be coming down with something.” “Then you should be in bed,” she chided lightly, heading toward the bed that rested against the left wall. “I don't think that is necessary, I'm not sick yet.” She scanned him, carefully studying his features. His face was pale as the moon, his eyes were sea-weathered, and his hair was wild. He looked like a caged lion, desperately craving freedom. Victoria crossed the room to stand at his side before the window. The water glittered with the first rays of the sun as she 157

watched her beloved England slip away. A chill ran down her spine as she thought of the possibility of Wright following them. “He won't,” Dorian said, answering her thoughts. He cursed himself for speaking. When he did not feed, his powers were almost impossible to control. Her thoughts drifted through his head like a cloud through the sky. “Who won't?” she asked, her brows knitting together. “What I meant to say is, I have dealt with Wright and he will not be following us, but I can't say the same about his men. Although they have no idea in which direction we have sailed and therefore will have no idea where we are going.” “I thought we were going to your home.” “We are, but we are taking a less traveled route that no one would suspect. It will take us longer to reach my home, but it will be safer.” Victoria nodded and took his hand. She gasped at the coldness that met her warm flesh. “Your hands are like ice.” The warmth of her skin was like an electric shock and it seeped deep into his flesh His bloodlust came charging forward like a hurricane, sweeping him up and tangling him in its torrent. The intoxicating smell of her blood danced in his nostrils as the feel of her pulse tapped against his hand. His fangs slipped from their hiding place and rubbed against his tongue. “Dorian?” her voice was filled with concern and laced with fear as his hand caught her wrist. His fingers held her immobile as he bent his head down and took in the clean scent of her hair. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and reached out with his mind seizing hers. He whispered soothing words to calm her fears. Victoria was captured in a net of dizzying pleasure. His mind dominated hers, filling it with a misty fantasy that stole her breath away. He snatched her roughly to him, pressing their hips together tightly, one arm wrapped about her waist as the other moved to cup the back of her neck. His lips hovered over the tempting pulse of her throat. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, bringing him closer. Falcon slammed his fist against the wall of the cabin, the sound snapping Dorian back into reality. He cursed and shoved himself away 158

from his tempting wife. She stumbled back from the force of his movements and the release of her mind. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Leave.” His words were low and harsh. Her eyes shot to Dorian, he standing in the far corner of the cabin, his arms wrapped around his middle. He grimaced as pain drilled into his skull. He looked helpless and vulnerable. She took a step toward him and his eyes jumped with evil excitement. “Leave, Victoria.” “Why?” The hurt and confusion in her voice was clear, it pierced his heart. She did not understand what had caused such a drastic change in him. He had been romantic and seductive one minute and cold and angry the next. He had known she shouldn’t be in the room. It was dangerous for her; he could not restrain his hunger. He could easily kill her. But he needed her. He needed her caring, warm touch and her smooth voice. The beat of her heart pounded in his ears. “You shouldn't be in here.” “You are ill,” she said, ignoring his words. She was coming towards him now. He turned his back as she reached for his arm. “Dorian?” She was standing behind him now; he was aware of her every move, her every breath, her every thought, and every beat of her heart. She wanted to ease his pain and was willing to do anything to help her husband. Victoria ran her hand up his back and Dorian hissed. Her touch was the perfect blend of ecstasy and excruciating pain. “Please, you need to go,” he said between clenched teeth. “Why?” She began to massage his shoulders. “You aren't safe� ― I can't control myself.” He cursed as her breath brushed the nape of his neck. His eyes grew black, his fangs burning to pierce her skin. He pulled away needing the distance. Victoria blinked with a start as he vanished and appeared in his chair before the window. How could he possibly move that fast? “Get out.”

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“But I want to help.” “Get out!” he bellowed. Victoria stood motionless and puzzled. She opened her mouth to speak again but he grabbed her shoulders, his fangs flashing. Her eyes were a peculiar blend of fear, confusion, pain, and love. He had never seen anything like those emerald green orbs. He turned and dragged her to the door, flung it open, and shoved her into Falcon's waiting arms. He slammed the door shut, the sound of the bolt sliding home cut through her like an executioner's axe. Falcon turned her about. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes shooting from her neck to her wrists. “No,” she whispered. Her throat was dry and tight as tears gathered in her eyes. Was that it? What had happened? “My lady, he is not himself right now. Please don't hold this against him.” “What is wrong with him?” “He is very ill. I think it would be best if you keep your distance.” He called for Mrs. Dobbins who poked her head out of Margaret's room down the hall. “Will you please fetch some hot tea and deliver it to her Royal Highness’s cabin?” The servant nodded and headed to the stairs that descended to the galley. Falcon hooked an arm about Victoria's shoulders and led her to the door across the hall from her sister's. “I will have your trunks moved to this cabin. It will be safer for you to be in a separate room, away from your husband.” “Please, lord Falcon. Tell me what's wrong with him.” He looked down at her, his gray eyes sympathetic but he said nothing and turned away.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

The narrow hall was dark, silent, and empty. An evil shadow stood guard at Dorian's door and sneered at Victoria. She leaned against the wall a few feet away. Confusion sparkled in her eyes as her skin tingled with a fearful chill. It had been almost two weeks since the morning she had been flung from Dorian's cabin. She had pounded on the door, demanding that he let her in, demanding that he speak to her, and demanding that he allow her to help him. He had never answered. He had never even acknowledged her presence. Silence was all that ever greeted her at that door, and then evil came. Dark and forbidding, it swarmed like bees before his door and would only spread to allow Falcon entrance. Victoria found herself envying the man, wishing that she would be able to pass the threshold. The walls rumbled as a crash reverberated through the air. Victoria jumped. The noise had come from inside Dorian's cabin. She wanted to run to the room but fear kept her rooted to the floor. The door was thrown open and her heart skipped a beat. Her mouth went dry. Falcon stepped from the cabin. She mouthed his name, her voice gone. His eyes turned to her; their tired sympathetic depths swirled with anger. He was about to speak as another quake rocked the ship. He shook his head and turned to the ladder that led to the deck. She took a step forward and, finally finding her voice, she called his name. He ignored her, as he had done every time she called after him. He had not spoken a word to her since the day he had escorted her to her new room. With a sigh, Victoria walked back to her cabin where she found Ophelia busy pouring tea. The kind servant smiled and handed her a cup. “Thank you.” “No trouble, my lady. I enjoy sharing evening tea with you.” Victoria nodded and sat on her small bed. “Would you like sugar?” 161

Victoria nodded and paid no attention to Mrs. Dobbins while she dropped two lumps of sugar into her tea. Victoria was lost in thought as she normally was these days. She constantly wondered why Dorian had snubbed her and why Falcon avoided her. She also worried night and day about Dorian and prayed for his welfare. “Don't fret, my lady, king Dorian will be well once we reach land. He will be back to his normal self again. You'll see.” “How do you know?” Victoria asked, turning her questioning gaze to the caring woman. “I have been with the king a long time and I know how he is.” “The king?” She had never heard Dorian referred to as a king before. Had his father died? That would explain his new title and his current madness. But it didn't explain those black eyes and the fangs she had seen. She shook her head discarding the memory. Her imagination had just gotten carried away. There was no way any human could have black as night eyes and fangs like a beast. “Did Dorian's father pass away? Is that the reason Lord Falcon came to London? Is that why he had to leave so soon?” It would explain his callousness, his coldness, and his eagerness to leave the city. Mrs. Dobbins’s heart sank at the hopeful note in the young woman's voice. She did not understand, she was innocent to what Dorian’s true nature and she was grasping at anything that gave Dorian's strange behavior a rational explanation. But she had to dash the girl's hopes. “Dorian's father passed on long ago, my lady, along with the rest of his family.” Victoria's eyes fell to her cup as she slowly took up the spoon and began to stir the cooling tea. She thought she had worked through the mystery, but her guess only pushed her even farther into the dark where the blood-curdling image of her husband with empty eyes and greedy fangs lurked. She had tried to ignore her instincts that told her Dorian was a vampire. She was not a child to be frightened by myths or stories. She knew that there couldn't possibly be vampires, but in the corner of her mind there was a black shadow of doubt. Her constant pondering made her tired and so she sent Ophelia away and slipped into her lumpy bed. 162

The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the air smelt like the sea. Birds sang as they floated from one tree to another and butterflies fluttered beside Victoria as she walked along a path that ended at a meadow filled with daisies. She basked in their fresh scent before she began to wade through the ocean of flowers. But she was soon brought to an alarming halt. There, amongst the yellow of the daisies lay her husband, dressed in black, his arms crossed behind his head, acting as a pillow, and legs stretched out. His face was so pale she feared he was dead. Then his eyes slowly opened. “Hello kitten,” he greeted, his lips curling back into a sensual smile. His magical eyes pinned her now as he gracefully stood and dusted off his trousers. He held his hand out to her and beckoned, “Come with me. I want to show you something.” She could not resist his voice. She slipped her hand in his. Victoria was surprised to discover that despite his coloring, his skin was warm. He smiled, wrapping his fingers about her wrist, and revealing his long canines. A spark of fear shot through her bringing an excited growl from him. He turned and tugged her across the flowery meadow to the edge of a deep, dark forest. “I don't think we should go in there.” “There is nothing for you to fear in here,” Dorian said over his shoulder as he stepped into the forest. “I won't let anything hurt you.” “Except you,” she replied. He smiled and pulled her into the cover of the sinister trees. Evil eyes watched them as they weaved through the forest. They burned with delight at Victoria's nervousness and unease. Her heart pounded as Dorian pulled her further from the light and goodness of the meadow. The Devil was in these woods and she has a feeling the Devil was her husband. He stepped silently over the fallen, dried leaves and twigs as she stumbled. She could hardly see him at an arm’s length in front of her, but he could see perfectly. “What is it that you want to show me?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Sh,” he hushed, the sound was soothing to her fear, “you don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?” His grip on her wrist tightened as they hiked up a small incline, Victoria tripped on the hem of her dress every other step she took. 163

Once they reached the top she froze, standing as rigid as a pole, peering blindly into the mouth of a black cave. Dorian allowed her hand to slip from his as he entered the darkness. She swallowed hard and brought trembling fingers to her throat. Her stomach twisted with terror as horrifying images of blood and death flashed before her eyes. He was evil, every instinct she had screamed it, but she knew she could not escape him. If she ran he would catch her. If she hid, he would find her. This forest was his; this world of darkness was his. “Come,” he said holding his hand out to her. His eyes flickered violently between their romantic sea green and lethal black. She tried to ignore his sinfully seductive voice, but it clouded her mind and brought her forward. “I need you,” he whispered. She lifted her hand and reached for his, she could feel the warmth of his flesh. Falcon yanked Victoria back and snapped, “What are you doing?” Dorian slammed his fists against the door, enraged. Falcon tucked her under his arm and led her down the hall. She peered up at him, her eyes filled with confusion, and Falcon cursed. He had not thought Dorian would try to pull this trick. He knew the king could enter people's dreams and he had used his ability to lure Victoria to him. Falcon shivered as he thought of what could have—no—what would have happened if he had not found her. She had been reaching for the doorknob. Her hand had been but a fraction of an inch from gaining entry. “What happened?” she asked as her eyes finally took in her surroundings. “Go back to bed, my lady, and stay there,” Falcon demanded before he turned and once again went to the ladder to seek the coolness of the sea air. “Wait!” she called after him, but he kept walking, as he always did. This time, she was not about to let him go. She followed him up the steep steps and out into the night. “I said, go to bed.” “No.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I have questions that need answers. Since my husband is incapable of providing those answers at the moment the burden falls to you.” She tilted her chin up, challenging him to protest. He said nothing and she sighed, dropping her arms. “I just need to understand what is going on. I know you have 164

been avoiding me these past few weeks and I think it's because you are afraid of my questions.” “No,” he said shaking his head. “I’m afraid of the answers.” “I am his wife and I deserve to know what has happened to him.” “Nothing has happened to him.” “What do you mean?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing. He did not answer. “Please, talk to me.” “I can’t. It’s not my place.” “Damn it, Falcon! Tell me. Is there something wrong with my husband?” “There is nothing wrong with him. It is negligence that has put him in this situation.” Falcon snapped his mouth shut fearing he had said too much. Dorian would be furious if he spilled their secret and, in truth, it was not his responsibility to tell her of their race. Victoria slowly walked to the railing. She leaned over and gazed down at the shimmering, deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean. “Nothing has happened to him and nothing is wrong with him,” she whispered to herself, and then added to Falcon, “I haven't been able to get the image of Dorian out of my mind. Those deep, haunted black eyes and gruesome fangs.” She paused in thought before she turned to Falcon and asked, “What is he?”

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Falcon's jaw clenched. Victoria leaned her back against the railing, dropping her eyes to the wooden planks of the ship. “He isn't human,” she stated softly with a nod. She knew Falcon was hiding something and he would never reveal the secret. But judging from his expression, tense muscles, and cold eyes, she knew she was close to the answers she sought. The question now was, did she want to unearth the truth? Yes, she wanted the truth no matter how ugly it was. “Is he a vampire, Falcon?” He sucked in a sharp breath and that was all the response she needed. She had married a vampire. King Dorian Vlakhos, her husband, was a vampire. It should shock her, it should frighten her, and it should disgust her. Instead she felt pleased for reasons she could not explain. She smiled as she took in Falcon's defensive stance and his smoldering gray eyes. “And so are you.” “You have a wild imagination.” “Don't try and deny it.” Falcon blinked in shock. She had discovered their dark secret and she was not mad or terrified. She accepted it with ease. He remembered his original thought when Dorian had told him he had married. She could be Dorian's life mate, the one woman who could save his friend from an inevitable death. “Yes, I am,” he said, and with four large strides he came to stand over her. She did not retreat or panic, but stood calmly waiting for him to continue. “Nothing has happened to your husband. He has not been harmed or taken ill and nothing is wrong with him. He is acting exactly the way he should, given the circumstances.” “There has to be some sort of explanation for his behavior.”

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“He needs blood.” “Blood?” she croaked, her hand rising to her throat. “Yes. That is why you can't stay with him or see him. It is too dangerous for you. His bloodlust is so great he fears he will kill you.” “And all this time I thought I was being punished.” “You've done nothing wrong.” She turned back to the water as relief and sadness swelled within her. She was overjoyed to hear that Dorian did not hate her, but she knew he was in pain. “I want to help him.” “Help him?” “Yes, just tell me how.” “No, Victoria. I don’t think that is a good idea,” Falcon protested. “You could get hurt or worse.” “He is suffering, Falcon,” she snapped, whirling on him. “I will do anything to help him and you won't stop me.” Falcon nodded. She had to be Dorian's mate. She was the only woman he had ever known who would freely offer he life to a bloodthirsty demon. There was only one way to find out if his suspicions were fact, if she was destined to be queen. He would have to send her to the king. “You must go to him,” he sighed, defeated, finally surrendering. “What you find in that room may not be your husband, but a vampire. You must see past the beast to the man inside, he is there. Be careful, my lady, and if you need me, just scream. I will be out here.” Victoria softly touched his arm and smiled, “Thank you, Falcon. I know you were only doing as bidden, and that you were protecting me. You are a great friend.” “I didn't keep the secret.” “Yes, you did. I discovered it myself.” She gave him another warm smile before gliding down to the second level.

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He watched her until she disappeared. He could not help feeling as if he had sent her off to be a sacrifice. He hoped this would all work out, that she was the one who would save Dorian.

Victoria stood before Dorian's cabin, her hand hovering directly above the knob of the door. Her dream played in her head and she realized that, through her dreams, Dorian had tried to lure her to him. Falcon had saved her. It was comforting to know he would do the same again if need be. She took in a deep breath as she willed herself to be brave. The black shadow that had swallowed Dorian's door vanished and in she stepped, the door slamming shut behind her. She glanced about the dark room nervously. Only two candles by the bed gave it light. The cabin was in complete disarray. The fine hand carved desk was toppled on its side, the armchair before the window was upside down, paper acted as rugs on the floor, and deep claw marks marred the walls. Victoria traced the gouges with the tip of her finger. “What are you doing here?” Victoria reeled around to find her husband huddled in a corner, his knees to his chest with arms wrapped tightly about them. His eyes glowered up at her as his hair fell disheveled across his face. She slowly crossed the floor to stand just out of his reach knowing that if he wanted to grab her he easily could. She had witnessed his speed before. “I didn't summon you,” he said, his voice gruff. “You tried.” “Falcon saved you,” he snapped, his lips curling back over his teeth. “Why are you here?” “I want to help you.” “You want to help me?” He snorted. “Leave Victoria, I don't want your help.” “But you need it,” she countered. He laughed, the sound was chilling, but she ignored it and began to unlace the ties of her robe. 169

“What are you doing?” he rasped, his eyes fixed on her hands at her breasts as she loosened her laces. “Removing my robe.” “Don't,” he begged on a whisper as the silk fell to a pile on the floor. “It is stifling in here.” Her lavender scent was overwhelming and the sound of her steady heartbeat was maddening. She had to go. “Get out!” “No,” she protested. “You don’t know what you are…” his words stopped as her thoughts drifted through his mind. “Or perhaps you know exactly with what you are dealing. But,” in a flash he stood behind her, “can you handle it?” “Yes.” She would not let him scare her off. “No,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “You can’t possibly know. My dear friend, Falcon, even leaves the room every time I change.” “I want to help you, Dorian. Let me,” she pleaded, “I need to help you.” She wanted to scream the words. She had felt so useless the past two weeks. He was her husband and he needed her even though he would not admit it. Knowing he was in pain and being unable to aid him had been insufferable. “I will kill you. Leave!” She did not move. He roared, snatching her by the shoulders, he spun her around and slammed her back against the wall, trapping her with his body. He held her arms over her head, his fingers like shackles about her wrists. His eyes burned black, his fangs stood long and prominent. His voice was low and hard. “Is this what you want to help?” She could not speak. Her voice was gone, vanished. He shook her. “Answer me!” His black eyes captured and held hers as his grip tightened. “Yes,” she squeaked.

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He snarled and spun away from her. She brought her hands down and began rubbing the pain away. Dorian sighed and ran his hands through his hair as desperate exasperation washed over him. “What can I do to make you understand?” The question was directed to himself. In that brief moment, he was again the man she had married and not the vampire she had just faced seconds before. But his eyes were still clouded black and those fangs still flashed. He looked so vulnerable and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him. He must have heard her thoughts for he turned his deadly gaze back to her and snapped, “I don’t want your pity. If that is why you are here, I suggest you leave before I throw you out.” His threat was empty she knew, his voice did not hold any menace and neither did his eyes. She shook her head stepping, away from the wall. “Then why do you insist on helping me?” “Because I care for you,” she confessed. “And because it pains me to see you like this, suffering when there is no need.” “No need?” he laughed. “I could kill you if I took your blood.” Victoria shrugged. “You could, but I know you wouldn’t.” He took a threatening step toward her. “How can you be so sure?” he challenged. “The man I married would never allow it.” “If you hadn’t noticed,” he advanced again, “he is not here.” “Maybe not,” she conceded, closing the remainder of the space between them. She brushed her fingers along his knuckles. “I want you, Dorian.” His eyes sparkled with devilish delight. “Those are bold words, kitten,” Dorian warned. “I remember the first night we shared together as true husband and wife. And the next night and the one after that,” her words faded away. He knew what she was trying to say. They had lived peacefully before Falcon had come carrying bad tidings. Since that day, Dorian had been cold and unfeeling.

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“I’m sorry for the way that I have been acting,” he apologized. “I did it because I thought by acting like a complete blackguard it would be easier for you to see me go.” His eyes flickered between their blue-green and black before settling on black. She nodded in understanding. She ran her hand up his arm and behind his neck. “I want you.” He opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him by pressing her fingers against his lips. “I want you, Dorian, the man and the vampire. You.” Victoria pressed herself against his solid body and brushed her lips across his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, brushing over his fangs, and sent a violent wave of pleasure down his spine. He did not wrap his arms about her or bring her hard against his body. Instead, he pulled his lips away. “You need to go,” he demanded, his voice gruff. She ignored his words and ran her hands down his sides to his hips. Her fingers undid his belt and Dorian was stunned by her brazenness. His little, innocent kitten was acting the ravenous lioness. He had to admit that he liked the idea, but now was not the time. His moods were unpredictable and his actions uncontrollable. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. “Victoria, you don’t understand,” he began calmly. “I can’t be trusted right now. You have to go.” “I need you,” she said, turning her face up to his as her fingers began to loosen his buttons. “This isn’t out of pity?” he asked, his voice hard again, his eyes shinning with anger. “If it is…” “Is it wrong for a woman to want her husband? Is it wrong for her to need him?” She shook her head. “You pleasured me beyond imagination last time we made love and now, I want to pleasure you.” His kitten was playing with fire and if she were not careful, it would consume her. Victoria kissed him soundly again on the lips before trailing her tongue down his throat. She released her hold on his trousers and they fell to the floor, his manhood standing proud and now staring her in the face. She tugged on her bottom lip nervously and then she looked up at him. Dorian’s eyes were black and whirled with desire and defiance. He wanted this too, he needed this, but he would deny them 172

both. She would not let him. Dorian closed his eyes in ecstasy as Victoria’s tongue swirled up his shaft. Her mouth was like fire surrounding him, drawing him in. He clenched his teeth as lust, yearning, hunger, and thirst surged through him. Her lips were so soft, her tongue was so hot, and he knew he could not let this go on. He tried to speak but the words would not come as sensation after pleasurable sensation lapped at him with every stroke of her tongue. He yanked her to her feet and claimed her lips with a soulsearing kiss while his hands ripped at her nightgown. He took her up in his arms and lightly tossed her on the bed before joining her. She had not seen him move or tear off his clothes but he kneeled on the bed before her, bare and wild. Her heart raced with anticipation as he slowly ran his hands from her ankles, over her bent knees, up her spread thighs, and continued until he reached her breasts. Each hand cupped a breast, massaging and kneading, his thumbs flicking the nipples, making them protrude and tighten. His lips came to her ribs, licking and nipping, she bucked against him before he straightened. He raised her hips to his, his fingers gripping her buttocks. He pressed the head of his shaft against her entrance and growled with primal satisfaction, she was creamy with need for him. Every sane thought he had ever had, every fear, every worry vanished. There was only her body and his, and the ravishing need that consumed him. Dorian thrust hard and deep. Her cry of pleasure ripped a roar from his throat. He moved within her, trying to go slow, but the beast would not allow it. The feeling of being inside her was exquisite, hot silk clutching him, taking him in deep. The pleasure was almost unbearable. Her fingers skipped across his chest with every thrust. She arched, wanting more of him. She was wild with need, her legs hooked about his hips trying to bring him closer. He obliged, dropping his weight down on her, her arms roped about his neck, her nails scratching at his shoulders. Dorian drew his lips across her chin and traced her jaw with his tongue. She sighed his name over and over as she came closer and closer to her climax. Then she exploded. Her body rocked with shock waves as the terrible pleasure devoured her and with a growl his heated lips opened on the curve of her neck. Her pulse pounded ecstatically.

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He could not remember the exact moment when he lost control. He closed his eyes as his fangs lengthened. On impulse, he sank them deep into her throat as he buried himself within her. She screamed with a newfound pleasure. Dorian drove into her over and over as he fought to find his own release. His mouth moved insatiably on her throat. Her blood was the sweetest he had ever known, intoxicating, seductive, and pure. His thrusts were more demanding as he took her with an animalistic fervor. Her sighs and moans of pleasure were all he could hear. Their bodies moving as one was all he could feel. It was a drugging sensuality. They came together, a tidal wave sweeping them away. He sealed her wound with his mind as he slowly came back to earth. Her heartbeat was dangerously slow, her face pale. He had taken too much. Dorian took her in his arms and brought her up with him. He draped her across his lap, smoothed her damp hair aside and did the only thing he knew. He slit his wrist with a razor sharp fang, took hold of her mind as it threatened to slip away at any moment, and willed her to drink. Fear tore at his heart. Panic threatened to take hold of him. She was not responding. He could not lose her. Not now. Not ever. He should have made her leave. He should have tossed her out the damn door. “Drink,” Dorian urged, pressing his lips to her hair. She did not stir, his arms tightened about her as he tried to force himself into her mind. It was no use. Her heart was slowing rapidly. He kissed her temple as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I love you.” The words were torn from his heart; his despair was so great that he had not noticed he had spoken them in his native tongue. A language he had not spoken for thousands of years. He wanted to roar his anger, his agony to the heavens, but he did not have the strength, his throat was tight as he continued to chant in ancient Greek “I love you” over and over again. He winced when her lips moved over his offering. Dorian closed his eyes as he encouraged her with his thoughts. She gradually began to draw on him, sending pleasure swirling through him. She grew more demanding as the strong, healing blood worked its black magic. Her hands greedily clutched at his arm, pressing it closer and tighter to her mouth. His pleasure quickly turned to pain. With a hiss, he pulled his arm away willing the wound closed.

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Victoria turned foggy, green eyes up to him, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip pouting with droplets of blood. “Sweet kitten, you bit yourself.” Dorian ran his thumb across her soft lips, wiping away the rosy liquid. He licked his finger and hissed. The strong scent of burning flesh floated in the air. Victoria fell limp in Dorian's arms as he clenched his teeth and held her close. As quickly as it had come, the torturing heat vanished, leaving him gasping for air. He gently laid her down and ran his fingers through her hair. Then dropped his hand to his hip and grimaced. He glanced down at his newest scar. His eyes shot to Victoria. She bore the same mark on her hip. His mouth went dry and all he could do was mouth the words, “Good lord.” He yanked on his trousers and left the cabin. He needed to find Falcon. Now! Dorian shoved the door open. The cool, sea air had never felt better. He glanced over the deck and found Falcon leaning against the railing towards the bow. “How did you know?” Dorian demanded. Falcon did not turn, but answered, “I didn't. I just guessed.” “I find it hard to believe you would gamble with Victoria's life like that. I could have killed her.” He almost did, but he would not think about that. “Do you remember the first night I came to your house? I was completely shocked when you introduced this beautiful young woman as your wife. Then after I gave you the news from home, your face fell and your shoulders shrank. I knew then that she had to mean something to you. I could tell by the look on your face and the tone of your voice that you did not want to leave her. That is when I first began to suspect she could possibly be your intended.” Falcon paused as he turned to face Dorian. “As your hunger grew worse and worse, you would curl into a ball in the corner of your cabin and repeated her name again and again. Your voice a low tormented whisper.” “Was that why you would leave the room?” Dorian asked. He did not remember much of the voyage. His memory was speckled with empty dark spaces of time when the beast had taken over. “Yes. It wasn't the monster in you that drove me away. It was the man in you. I

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couldn't bear to listen to it.” “What made you send her?” “She came to me demanding answers.” “What did you tell her?” Dorian's voice was no longer friendly, but stern. “Believe it or not, that wife of yours knew what you were. She’s smart,” Falcon said with a smile. “She wanted to help you and there was no way of talking her out of it.” “I know,” Dorian sighed. He had tried to get her to leave many times but she would not go. He rested his arms on the railing gazing out into the night. The air had never smelt so sweet. “Welcome back.” “It's great to be back.” “I take it that you now have no doubts that she is your mate?” Dorian nodded as his hand slipped down to his hip. He had the circular-shaped scar to prove she was his. “There is one question that I must ask. Will she be a vampire?” “No.” “I took her blood and gave her mine. That is how you make fledglings.” “It is,” Falcon agreed, “but, from what I understand, when you find your mate you must give and receive in order to bind her to you. There must have been a moment when you shared blood.” Dorian thought back. It had been the blood on her lips, a mixture of his and hers. “Dimitri told me that the bonded mate of a vampire never fully transforms. However, she will never age, she will never die, and she will never become ill.” “A vampire without the thirst,” Dorian sighed. “Yes, something to that effect.” Dorian's thoughts floated back to his wife. She was beautiful, she was all that was good and he was all that was evil and yet they were meant to be. She was his mate.

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“What have I done to deserve her?” Dorian whispered. “Why am I the one who was meant to be king and not those who came before me?” “You are a good man, Dorian, and as for your second question, there is no answer.” “Typical,” he snorted. “I have a question for you,” Falcon said. “What are you going to tell Victoria?” “I don't know.”

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Chapter Twenty-Four

She knew she was alone before she opened her eyes. Victoria sat up and glanced about the room. All the furniture had been put to rights, the papers were neatly stacked on the desk, and even the claw marks on the wall were gone. The sun beamed in through the bay window, giving the room a golden glow. She pushed the sheets aside and slowly rose, her legs were weak, and her head ached. Her robe was cast over the back of Dorian's chair. She grabbed the soft material and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Her eyes fell to the red mark at her hip. She rubbed it with her fingers and cringed. It was an odd shaped scar, a circle within a circle. What would have caused the scarring? The door was nudged open. Victoria quickly wrapped the robe about her form and fastened the ties in a tight knot before she turned to face the intruder. Dorian kicked the door closed behind him. He crossed to the desk and set down the tray of food he carried. Victoria fell back a step when he met her gaze. His eyes narrowed on her. “Do you fear me, kitten?” he asked. Victoria swallowed hard and shook her head. “No.” The man or the beast that she had seen last night did not frighten her. They both had a vicious bark but a weak bite. He had not harmed her, even though he feared he would. “It is all right if you do. I'd understand.” Then looking down at the platter of food, he asked, “Would you like something to eat?” Her belly rumbled, the aroma of the food was irresistible. She floated to the desk and sat in Dorian's chair. “I'm famished,” she said, picking up the fork. “I know the feeling,” he stated. The light fled from his eyes and he turned away from her, walking to the window.

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He had spent all night thinking of what he could say, of how he could explain what had happened between them. Dorian looked into her memories and breathed a sigh of relief when he found she had no recollection of their bonding. Silence cloaked the room. Victoria tried to ignore the devastatingly handsome vampire by the window as she ate, but no matter what she did her eyes kept drifting towards him. Her skin burned to feel his lips, his tongue, and his hands. “Will you tell me about yourself?” she said, needing to think about something other than his body pressed tightly to hers. “What do you want to know?” Dorian pushed an ottoman over to the desk and sat before her, elbows resting on spread knees, hands clasped. He fixed his eyes on her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, his stare was intense, and it made her tingle all over. “Are you a prince?” “No. The imaginative London gossips assigned me the role. I do believe I played it well. After all, I could not tell them I am truly a vampire king.” “Will you tell me about your childhood.” His eyes fell from hers, to stare at his hands. “It wasn't a pleasant one,” he answered, his voice hard. “And I would rather not talk about it.” She nodded and moved on with a lighter subject, “How old are you?” That brought his charming smile back. “I am 3,013 years old. I was born in the winter 1199 years before the death of Christ.” Her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Impossible,” she breathed, setting her tea down, her hands shaking. “I'm a vampire, Victoria,” he said. “My age is very possible. I was twenty-seven when I was changed and will remain twenty-seven forever.” “You are ancient.” “I am old, not ancient. The Fathers were ancient.”

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“Fathers?” “The pure-blood vampires, the originals,” he answered. She swallowed hard again, her mind a buzz of questions she was hesitant to ask, but she would not shrink away. She needed answers. She needed to understand. Sitting up straight in the throne-like chair, she was determined to learn all she could. “Where did the Fathers come from?” “No one knows anything about the creation of our race. I asked Dimitri numerous times before he died. He took the knowledge to his grave.” “Who is Dimitri?” “He was the last pure-blood to die,” Dorian stated, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of sadness and anger. Dimitri was the first true friend he had ever had and Dorian was convinced that his death had been well thought out. Ven, Dimitri's second, had made it clear to all that he wanted the throne. Dorian believed the leech had offered his friend to the Red Order and that Kal was doing the same to him. But Kal was taking it a step further than Ven. He was killing the Clan members with the hopes of starting his own family. Shaking his head, banishing his dark thoughts, he cleared his throat and continued, “Dimitri wasn't a Father though. He did not create a clan, unlike the others. He believed that no one deserved the life of a vampire.” She bit her lip and mustered up her courage to ask, “Have you changed anyone?” He fixed his eyes on her again. “No, I agreed with him. The kings who came before me made enough fledglings. As it is, my Clan far outnumbers the rest. Or, I should say it did.” Kal and the Red Order hunters were slimming the numbers. “How were you made?” She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but curiosity pushed her to ask. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Cassius, one of the Fathers, changed me. It was after a ruthless battle. He had hidden himself amongst my men, pretending to be a soldier. He told me later that he liked to join human wars, it gave him an excuse to kill.” Dorian paused as he tried to remember that day 181

long ago. “The battle lasted for days and, after the second wave of attacks, only a handful of my men were left. There was to be no retreat, no surrender, my men did not know the meaning of those words. We fought until I alone was standing with Cassius at my side.” He winced now as he remembered with clarity. “The enemy kept coming. I beat them back and cut them down until a spear ran me through. A coward had struck me from behind and before I fell, I claimed his and five others’ lives.” Dorian's eyes became distant. “The wind blew, carrying the scent of death with it. Both armies were destroyed. Cassius had laid waste to my enemy. I was struggling for breath when he came to me. He placed a hand over my heart and tilted my head to the side. Cassius leaned down and whispered, ‘you will live warrior’. Then he bit me. I was too close to death to be frightened. He drank until there was nothing but a drop left of my blood.” Dorian rubbed his neck. “Then, he brought his wrist up and slit it with his fangs. Leaving his hand over my chest, he pressed his wound to my mouth. I was powerless to stop him. The pain of my body dying melted away and all grew dark.” Victoria gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles white. She was captured in his story. She could see the scenes as if she were standing right before them. “He explained to me that the reason he put his hand over my heart,” he pressed his palm to his chest, “was to keep my soul safe. A vampire is more powerful when he still possesses his gift from God.” He sucked in a painfully sharp breath. “I've never told anyone that.” Victoria was shocked when his eyes flickered with terror. Had he just slipped a death-dealing secret? Did he think she could not be trusted? Dorian’s gazed dropped once again to his hands. “I shouldn’t have a complete soul,” he stated. “Do most vampires not possess a soul?” “When a vampire shares their blood, it poisons the soul until the next full moon comes. While a fledgling is in transition, the soul shuddered and most of it dies, but some pieces are left behind, leaving the vampire with an essence of their former self. We retain our ability to feel emotion, though we do not handle them very well since we are no longer whole.” “What happens if a vampire’s entire soul dies?”

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“They die. Most don’t make it through the transition. If a person was emotionally and mentally strong in their life, they should survive the change, but it’s not a guarantee.” His eyes came up to hers, black and questioning. She shuttered from their force. Their lethal depths danced with delight at her spark of fear. “Does it bother you that I am a vampire?” he asked, revealing his fangs. “It did in the beginning. I didn’t want to believe you were some mythical beast. I kept trying to forget what I saw that first night we were on the ship.” Dorian remembered when he had lost his hold on the vampire within him. He allowed her to see what he was and had feared that he had ruined everything they had together. “What changed?” His black eyes were sharp. “I don’t know,” she lied. Victoria knew the moment she saw him huddled in the corner of the cabin last night the she had fallen in love with him. She did not know when it happened. The night they made love for the first time? Or when he proposed? No, it had been the night they met under the moonlight. Dorian had laid claim to her heart then and now she would no longer hide her feelings for him. Victoria stood and, without a thought, she rounded the desk and came to stand before him. His eyes slowly faded back to their natural swirl of blue and green and his fangs retracted. She gingerly touched his face, her fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw. Dorian took her hand and stood, towering over her like an ancient king. “I have to tell you something,” he whispered. Her eyes were so trusting as they gazed into his. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. Then she stole his breath away. She kissed him. Dorian knew he should pull away. He knew that he should make her wait until after he told her what had happened last night. But he could not move and his heart tightened as he wondered how she would react to his words. He groaned, deepening the kiss, pushing his worries and thoughts aside, he brought her tight against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he tugged on the belt about her waist. The front of the robe slipped open. His hand dipped in and drifted up her ribcage to

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her breast. He cupped one and toyed with the hard nipple. She groaned. His free hand gripped her bare hips, his fingers biting her soft flesh. Dorian’s lips fell from hers to feast on her throat. He glanced up and cursed, the bed was too far away, he would never make it, his hunger to claim her, to be inside her, was too strong. He backed her against the desk and with one swift movement, he placed her on the edge of the smooth, wooden furniture. Victoria’s breath came in gasps as Dorian’s lips tortured her. His teeth teased her collarbone, her shoulders, and played with her ears. She gripped his shoulders, his shirt bunching in her hands. He spread her legs wide and pressed his hips against hers. She could feel his swollen shaft against her thigh and it drove her wild. His hands skipped down her hips, across her belly to the place she yearned for him to touch. One long finger dipped into her as his mouth came to mate with hers. Dorian stroked her until she was close to oblivion. He undid his trousers and drove in deep. Victoria moaned into his mouth as his tongue matched the powerful thrusts of his hips. He moved fast and hard. She thought she would die before she reached the end. Dorian’s arm’s enveloped her, he crushed her breasts to his chest, he growled at the feel of her hard nipples through his shirt. Victoria’s toes curled as she was pushed higher and higher to climax. Then, with one last gasp into his hot, ravenous mouth, she burst into a scorching blaze of pleasure. Dorian buried his hands in her hair as her muscles clenched him, sending him over the edge. She fought for air and, once the last vibration of ecstasy washed through her, she sagged against his hard chest, dizzy. Dorian panted, dropping his head to her shoulder, he whispered, his voice gruff, “Will you be mine for all eternity?” “Yes,” she sighed. He brought her head back and gazed into her dazed eyes. Her lips were moist, swollen, and parted. She was pale and he remembered how much blood she had lost the night before. He kissed her softly before he pulled away. He fixed his trousers and retrieved her robe before taking her up in his arms. Dorian set her down on the bed. Smoothing back her hair, he placed a kiss on her brow. She smiled, sated, satisfied, and drained. “Sleep, kitten. We will talk more later,” he vowed.

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He waited the few seconds it took for her to drift into her dreams before he left. He paused outside the door, rubbing his temples. He had been a coward.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Dorian could not believe his weakness. He had allowed his fear to rule him. Leaning against the railing, the sun warming his skin, he cursed himself as a coward. The mere possibility that Victoria might reject him and the new life that was destined by the Fates had terrified him. His fear had kept him from telling her that the past night was the last night of her mortal life. She was his mate and as such she would never age, never become ill, and never die. She was now queen of his Clan. He no longer had to sit in the darkness of his home alone, no longer had to lay awake in the late hours of the morning alone. He now had a mate, a lover, and a partner with whom to share his life. But would she accept and welcome their never-ending future together? Their marriage had been hasty and out of necessity for her. She needed a hero to rescue her and her sister and he just happened to fit in the rusty suit of armor. In truth, he had wanted to help her, but he had spoken the mortal's binding vows for all the wrong reasons. He wanted her in his bed. To use her until he tired of her and then he would move on and go home. He would support her and little Margaret for the rest of their lives, giving them every possible comfort. But after that first night, after he had made her good and truly his wife, he knew he had been wrong. There was no leaving and forgetting this woman. He had been an idiot to think otherwise. Dorian shuddered as he remembered the night Falcon arrived. His heart had ached, his stomach had tightened, and loneliness and despair filled his heart. The thought of leaving her had been torture, but he had his duties, his responsibilities. He was king of a dying Clan and in order to save them, he would have to sacrifice his own happiness. Now, it was Victoria's happiness that was to be sacrificed. He slammed his fist down on the wood railing. The ship trembled and the crew backed away. The shifters knew better than to be near the vampire chieftain when he was angry, none wanted to lose any body parts. That worry, however, did not affect the Black Knight. Falcon casually

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sauntered up to his old, brooding friend. “Either she did not take the news well or you didn't tell her.” Dorian shot a hot glare over his shoulder and Falcon shook his head. “You need to tell her.” “I will.” “Before we reach land, preferably. Being surrounded by vampires and still thinking you're mortal would be terrifying.” “I'll tell her.” Falcon nodded and sat on a step leading up to the captain's deck. “She won't reject you, if that is what you are thinking.” “How do you know?” Dorian snapped. “When did you become a seer?” Ignoring his friend's surly tone, Falcon said, “She is your mate. The two of you were destined to be together. She can't refuse you.” “She doesn't love me.” “How can you be sure of that?” he tossed back. “She came to your rescue, did she not? And she accepted your other half.” “That takes courage.” “What makes you think you are so unworthy, Dorian?” Another glare that was chilling to the bone was flung his way. He was pressing a bit too hard but he wasn't about to stop. He was slowly going to tear down Dorian's stone wall even if it left him with a few more scars. “Or perhaps I'm asking the wrong question,” Falcon mused with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew his next question was going to fire off Dorian's temper. “What makes you think Victoria is so unworthy?” Dorian whirled around and Falcon flinched from the fury that colored the king's face. “You're out of line, Knight. Perhaps, I need to remind you of your place.” “I think not.” Falcon stood. “I'll be going before you rip my head off, if you don't mind.” “Smart choice,” Dorian bit out. 188

Falcon inched past him and headed below deck. The sun was high in the sky and sleep beckoned him. “She is perfect,” Dorian whispered. Victoria was everything for which he longed and never thought he would have. He knew, as king, he was destined to die. He never expected to be spared the fate that befell all who had been royalty. He had been given an incredible gift and in truth he didn't feel he deserved it. What made him special? Why was he chosen to rule eternity? His thoughts turned soft as he imagined spending the rest of eternity with Victoria. Making love to her every night and waking up next to her every morning would be bliss. He went cold again. It will only be heaven if she will have me.

Victoria dressed and went to find Margaret who was already dining at supper, Mrs. Dobbins at her side. Victoria was shocked; she had slept the entire day away. After giving her big sister a hug, Margaret pulled away and smiled. “Dorian said you weren't feeling well, Tory. But he promised you would get better and come to see me.” “Of course, I would come to see you.” “I'll fetch you a plate, my lady.” “Thank you, Mrs. Dobbins.” Victoria visited with Margaret and put her to bed before she went in search of her husband. But she only found Falcon in his assigned cabin, bent over his desk. “I have not seen His Majesty since this afternoon,” he said, pausing in his letter writing. “I would check up top and if he isn't there, I would just wait. He’ll come around.” She nodded and left him alone in his small cabin. She mounted the stairs and walked a quick lap about the deck. Not finding her husband, she shrugged her shoulders and retreated back to their chamber. Lighting a candle, she went to the bay window and sat on its thin bench. The moon was bright and it seemed to whisper to her. 189

“Did you sleep well this afternoon, kitten?” Victoria jumped at the sound of his voice. She had not heard him enter. “Yes,” she answered, once her heart stopped racing. He crossed the room and sprawled out in his chair before the window. Dorian patted his lap and without hesitation, Victoria went to him. He laced his arm about her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I'm going to tell you a story and you must keep in mind that it is true, no matter how unbelievable it may sound.” She nodded. “There are four races that inhabit this planet, the humans, the vampires, the witches, and the shape-shifters or Weres. For the most part, humans live in complete ignorance of these other species’ existence, but it wasn't always this way.” He took in a deep breath. He was going to tell the complete, gruesome truth. “Vampires slaughtered whole villages and laid waste to any and all humans who crossed their paths, until the witches decided to interfere. They took it upon themselves to save the mortal race.” “How many vampires were there?” “Four, but only three were murderers.” “Dimitri was the fourth and the others were the Fathers,” she stated. “You catch on quick, kitten.” He smiled then his face turned to stone again as he continued, “Some witches possess the ability to see into the future. They knew that one day, vampires would rise in number and be ruled by a monarchy. So, in an attempt to control the vampire population, they placed a curse upon every vampire that spoke the vows that made him or her chieftain. The witches stole our leaders’ immortality and then began to hunt the fledglings, the vampire's brood.” Dorian tilted her chin up so he could gaze into her eyes as he finished his tale. “However, there is a sliver of hope attached to this damning curse.” “What was it?” Victoria asked when Dorian did not continue. He cleared his throat as he searched for the right words. “When the right

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monarch ascends to the throne, his mate will be created.” Victoria's breath caught in her throat as his words settled in her mind. “The curse has claimed many rulers over the centuries and I thought my fate would be the same. I did not believe that the witches would ever allow such a thing.” He kissed her lightly. “Until I married you. You are my mate, Victoria.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger against her lips and shook his head. “I’m not finished yet. Save the questions, please.” She nodded. “When the vampire has found his intended, he must bond her to him, but she must be willing.” He paused as he thought of his next words. They had to be perfect. “Last night you learned what I am. You accepted me and saved me from starvation and insanity. When I drank from you, I took too much. You teetered on the brink of death. Not knowing any other way to save you, I gave you my blood.” Dorian ignored her gasp and placed his hand over her hip that bared the brand of destiny. “Unknowingly, I tied you to me.” Victoria’s hand fell to his. “You are immortal now, Victoria. Upon the next full moon, your transition will take place.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Am I going to be like you? Am I going to be a vampire?” “Not exactly.” Her breathing was fast as she collapsed back on the cushioned bench of the bay window. “This can’t be,” she shook her head in shock. This was all too much, but she knew it was true. It had to be true, she could feel it in her heart that it was the truth. It was all meant to be. “I won’t have to drink blood, will I? I don’t think I could.” “Only on the night of your transition,” he said. “You will not have the same restrictions as vampires do but you will have all the benefits.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “You will be my queen.”

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Victoria did not know what to think. The thought of living forever was certainly appealing especially since she would be with Dorian, but what about her sister? What would they tell her? “What of Margaret?” she asked. “She will remain mortal and live out her life. If you’re worried that she will notice neither of us aging, you are wasting your time. She will never know. I have masked my age many times before; we will appear older as she grows up, just like normal humans would. It’s a trick that I can play on a mortal’s mind.” “But I will see her die.” Dorian watched as Victoria’s eyes glazed over with fear and sorrow. In a blink, he was by her side pressing her to him. “Yes,” he said softly, “that is a burden we all have to bear. I watched my family and friends die, one by one. It is hard to handle, but I will be there for you. I will help you.” Wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, she sat up. Her mind was a jungle of new and disturbing information that she would need to sort out, but that did not stop her from adding to it. “What of your people, Dorian? Will they accept me? Will they do anything to Margaret?” “You have nothing to fear, my kitten. You are their queen and they will love you. Margaret will be cared for. No one would dare harm her.” “And the feud?” “I will protect you and my new sister-in-law. You must trust me.” “I do,” she whispered against his lips. “You have no objections to being my mate?” “Do I have a choice?” His stomach knotted. “No.” “What’s done is done, correct?” “Yes.” She kissed him and all his doubts of their future happiness melted away, but his fears did not. Kal and the Red Order still threatened his Clan and now they directly threatened his new family. 192

Chapter Twenty-Six

The anchor plunged to the depths of the dark sea as the small boat was lowered. Falcon sat, cradling a sleeping Margaret in his lap while Dorian wrapped a strong arm about his wife’s waist. Dobbins commanded the oars and slowly they made their way to the rocky shore. “I don’t trust this place,” Falcon stated, his voice low, his body tense for action. “Scared?” Dorian taunted. Falcon snorted and studied the secluded cove. Trees stood tall and threatening, concealing the mysterious vampire clan that dwelled within. His eyes narrowed as a slim figure, draped in a black, velvet cloak, emerged from the shadows. The tiny boat came to a stop, its belly scratching along the rocks. Dorian climbed out, his boots disappearing in the cold water. He lifted Victoria up and carried her to the uneven shore. Falcon followed, his eyes never leaving the ominous creature that stood but two yards away. “I must say, I never expected you to take this route home. Good move, Dorian,” the figure said. “Very rarely do I make a bad one.” The figure inclined its hooded head in agreement. “Many questioned your motive for skipping off to England, but I never did.” “I’m glad that you had faith in me.” “We are warriors, Dorian, you and I. We think alike.” Long, graceful hands emerged from the over-sized cloak to push the hood back. Falcon’s breath caught. He knew that soft voice could not belong to a man, but he had never suspected it belonged to such a beautiful woman.

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“Sonya, may I present my mate, Victoria.” “Oh, great stars in heaven,” she exclaimed before rushing over and gathering Victoria in a tight embrace. “Welcome! I am honored to meet you.” Backing away, she smiled. “I am so glad that Dorian has found you. You don’t know how much this means to us that one of our kings has found his queen.” Then taking Victoria’s hand in hers, she urged the small party to follow her. Dorian watched with a broad grin as the two women entered the forest. Turning to his friend, he said, “You can breathe now, Falcon, she is gone.” Falcon’s cheeks turned a light pink as he realized that he had been holding his breath. “Dobbins, you may begin unloading the ship and the crew can come ashore.” “Yes, my lord.” Dorian turned back to Falcon and lightly patted Margaret’s head. The girl was a sound sleeper; no amount of commotion could wake her. “Come. Let us get Margaret out of the cold.” The old fortress stood like a proud soldier amongst the trees. Sonya led Victoria up the steps to the hall. The men close on their heels. “Would you like some wine or perhaps some hot cider to chase the chill away? Winter is coming and the air is growing cooler each day.” “Some cider would be perfect.” Sonya threw the heavy doors aside as if they were nothing but gossamer curtains. Her strength was a little alarming. The warmth from the blazing fire in the hearth bathed the large, sparsely furnished room. A handful of chairs and stools stood before the fire with only a long dining table and benches to give them company. “I will have it sent up to you, but first allow me to escort you all to your rooms. You must be tired, it is late.” She glanced over her shoulder at the young girl in the warrior’s arms. “And the little one could use a bed.” She showed them to a door at the far corner of the dark hall.

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“These are my private chambers,” she announced. “You will not be disturbed here. I must warn you to watch your step. The stairs are just beyond this door.” Even though she had informed the group, Victoria still stumbled on the first step. Sonya caught her before she fell to her knees. Smiling, she said, “They are tricky.” The stairwell was dark with only a torch here and there to light the way. Dorian kept his hand on the small of Victoria’s back as they ascended. Finally, they came to the second the floor. “This first room on the left is for the Knight,” she announced, her eyes meeting Falcon’s for the briefest of moments. “The second may be the girl’s and the one directly across from it is all yours, Dorian. I wish all of you a pleasant night.” With that, she turned and floated back down the stairs. “Dorian, could Margaret sleep with us? I don’t want her to wake up alone in a foreign place.” “Of course, kitten,” he said, placing a kiss to her brow. “I’ll take the snoozing bundle, Falcon.” Gently taking Margaret in his arms, he bid a goodnight to his friend and followed his wife. A fire had already been lit. Victoria sighed as its heat chased away the chill in her bones. She flopped on the large four-poster bed and closed her eyes. It had been a long day. Dorian had driven her crazy all morning and afternoon with his lovemaking and Margaret had dragged her all about the ship playing one game after another. When she heard land had been sighted, she was too intrigued to go below and sleep. She stood on the deck between her husband and friend as the land grew closer and closer. “Where are we?” she had asked. The wind had been cool against her cheeks as the ship cut through the water like a sharp knife. “We are in Livonia,” he answered. “Is this where your Clan lives?” “No, my Clan is based in the Principality of Transylvania, part of the Habsburg Empire.” “But that is nowhere near here,” she exclaimed. “Why did we sail so far north?”

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“Sailing to a French port or even one in the Mediterranean would be suicide. The hunters are thick in western and eastern Europe, but they would never enter the north. This is Shaw witch territory and no one would dare enter their land uninvited.” “Oh.” Feeling like an ignorant child, she wrapped her arms about herself, pulling the fur coat Dorian had draped over her shoulders, closer. “Why are we here?” “One reason is that no one would guess I would take this way home. Another is because Queen Sonya is an ally of mine and, if I plan to infiltrate my own lands undetected, I will need her help. The last reason is she has the fastest horses ever created; the Shaws bless them. They will cut travel time in half.” Victoria rolled over on the bed as she wondered how an animal could run so fast. She had wanted to see the horses Dorian had told her about, but the stable was behind the keep and Sonya had led her directly inside. Perhaps she could visit the stable tomorrow, for now she was completely exhausted. Dorian placed Margaret beside her sister. He whispered loving words to Victoria before she drifted off to sleep. Then, he silently left the room. Falcon stood in the corridor holding the bottle of cider. “A servant just brought this up. Victoria had requested it.” “She is sleeping but I could use a warm, spicy drink.” They descended the stairs and pushed open the door to find Sonya sitting before the hearth. Falcon took in a sharp breath. He had heard tales of this warrior queen’s beauty but none had described her accurately. The firelight shimmered across her flaxen hair and golden eyes, which were focused on him. “You are a Black Knight, are you not?” she inquired. “Yes.” “To what clan do you belong?” “Validus,” he answered, proudly squaring his shoulders. Sonya carefully looked him over. “Latin for strong and powerful,” she whispered the translation as she calculated the warrior. “Hadrian’s Clan is full of men that fit the description. What is your name, Knight?” “Lord Falcon Kenwrec, Your Royal Highness.”

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“Hadrian’s second? I am thrilled to finally meet you. I have heard that you have brought some peace to your clan at last.” “It wasn’t easy.” She inclined her head. “Have a seat and uncork the cider. In the morning, I will send another bottle up for Victoria.” Goblets were quickly brought and the warm cider was poured. They sat in silence as they sipped the sweet liquid. “Do you happen to have any news of my Clan?” Dorian asked. “Only that another village has been destroyed.” “That isn’t news.” Dorian sighed. He was tired of being informed of villages being burned to the ground. “What of Kal? Has he tried to contact you?” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “In fact, he has been ignoring my letters. I was suspicious when he began to spread rumors about why you left. He made it clear to all that would listen, their mighty king, would never return. He said you had abandoned them.” She took a sip of the cider. “I knew it wasn’t true, but to test his motives I sent him a letter offering aid.” “What exactly did you propose?” “I told him that I would be more than happy to send a legion of men to replenish your army. I even offered my land as a refuge for your people. The Red Order wouldn’t dare cross my border.” No one would dare threaten Sonya’s border for, within her land, the strongest yet most peaceful of witch clans resided, the Shaw. She had a special pact with them that ran deeper than race or blood. “But he ignored my letter and the many that came after it. I would say that he is deliberately leaving your people open for attack.” “He is,” Dorian hissed between clenched teeth. “He wants to start his own clan.” “Now, that is just ridiculous,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “He isn’t strong enough to create fledglings and he can’t honestly believe that you would allow him to do such a thing.” “Apparently, I have a price on my head.” Sonya laughed, the sound would forever echo in Falcon’s heart. “Tell me,” she said once she brought herself back under control. “What is your ingenious plan?” 197

He sat his goblet on the floor and leaned forward, dropping his voice so low that she and Falcon were the only ones who could possibly hear. “You will write another letter offering assistance and Falcon and I will deliver it.” Her brow wrinkled in thought for a moment and then her eyes grew wide. “You will wear my colors, carry my banner, and ride my horses.” “No one will stop us or question us if they think we are your knights.” “Surely you will be recognized the closer you get to your castle. You can’t walk up to the front gates.” “I have a private entrance,” he answered. “I do have another favor to ask of you though.” “Go ahead and ask.” “May Victoria and her younger sister, Margaret, stay here?” “Of course, I would love their company. However, I don’t believe your wife will stay.” “What do you mean?” “She will follow you and I will be powerless to stop her.” “Powerless? You, the Warrior Queen, whose name strikes fear in every vampire’s cold heart, would be powerless to stop a mere woman?” “I am a hardened warrior but you seem to forget that I am a woman too. She is your mate, Dorian, and she belongs at your side.” “She belongs some place safe.” “The safest place in the world for her is in your arms.” “Not when I’m attacked by a band of hunters,” he pointed out. “You can’t make me believe that you would allow anything or anyone to hurt her,” she argued. “I can’t take her with me.” Sonya sighed and shook her head. “I will protect them, you needn’t worry.” “I won’t.” 198

“When do you want the letter?” “By tomorrow evening,” he answered. “And when do you plan on leaving?” “Tomorrow evening,” he repeated. “You shall have it.” “Thank you, Sonya. This would be impossible without you.” “I owe you a large debt, Dorian. There is no need to thank me, and once again, I bid you both a good-night.” Falcon stood and took her goblet. Giving him a smile, she walked to the door that led to the stairs. “Smitten, are we?” Dorian raised a brow raised. Clearing his throat, Falcon resumed his seat. “She is right you know? Victoria won’t like this. She threw a fit the last time you planned on leaving her behind.” “I am doing this for her safety,” he defended. “I know, and so does she, but that doesn’t change anything. She will want to be with you.” “She can’t.” “Go on and try to explain it to her. It didn’t work the last time and I highly doubt it will work this time.” “It will.”

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I won’t stay here!” Victoria snapped. “You need to understand that I want you to be–” “Safe,” she finished. “Yes, I do understand.” Dorian sighed. He had won. She was going to stay. He leaned back in his chair. They had been arguing for the last hour and his head was starting to hurt. “I am still going with you.” He let out a loud growl and roughly drew his fingers through his hair. “No, you are not.” “Why?” “We’ve just gone over this,” he sighed. “You and Margaret are staying here, under Queen Sonya’s protection. That is final.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stepped between his legs and peered down at him. “No, it’s not,” she stated. “I am going and if you leave me behind, I will follow.” “What of Margaret?” Thinking that he had made an excellent point, he waited for her to change her mind. “Falcon could stay here. She is particularly fond of him and I know he adores her and would keep a close eye on her. She thinks of him as the uncle she never had. The Dobbinses will be here too. She is in capable, caring hands.” She had answers for everything. Finally, throwing his hands in the air, he grumbled and agreed. She smiled and kissed his brow. “Come, let us go below and join the others. I am starving.” Taking the hand that she offered, he allowed her to tug him from their room and down to the hall. 201

Sonya sat next to Margaret as the little girl chatted and ate her porridge. Falcon stood by the flaming hearth. Servants skirted about each other with a special task to perform. “Good morning,” Sonya greeted. “I hope you slept well.” “Exceedingly well,” Victoria beamed as she sat across from her sister. “Would you like some cider?” “It is really good, Tory. Have some,” Margaret urged. Dorian left the women to their meal and joined Falcon. He sighed and fell into the chair he had sat in the night before. “The plan has changed,” he grumbled. Smiling, Falcon returned to his seat. “She refused to stay, didn’t she?” “That woman can be insufferably stubborn.” “Can’t we all?” Dorian shrugged. “You will stay and keep Margaret company. The Dobbinses will remain here as well. We want Margaret to be comfortable and surrounded by people she knows.” “I have no objections, but you must be extra careful on your journey. I will not be there to guard your back.” “I will be ever watchful. In no time, I will be back in power.” Glancing over his shoulder at the women, Dorian chuckled, “And this will be the perfect opportunity for you and Sonya to become better acquainted.” Falcon’s eyes turned sharp. “You know that nothing could possibly happen between us. It is forbidden.” “Have you ever thought that some rules are meant to be broken?” “Not these rules, Dorian. No knight is to have a relationship with a noble woman, least of all a queen.” Dorian said nothing as he studied the knight. Falcon was smitten, there was no denying it and Sonya seemed to be interested, but the law would not allow a knight to court a noble woman. The early vampires feared that such a relationship would compromise the 202

warrior’s judgment and the lady’s safety. It was a shame their laws were so backward, but nothing could be done until Hadrian returned, the only way a law could be changed or thrown out was if all the kings agreed and signed an amendment with their blood. “I am willing to let it be, Dorian.” Dorian nodded. Falcon took his vows very seriously, sometimes too seriously and he would never go back on his word. Dorian’s eyes traveled back to his wife, her face bright with laughter, and the sound sent pleasant chills down his spine. He wished Falcon would one day find a love that would last him throughout eternity; if there were anyone in the world that deserved happiness, it was the Black Knight. When Margaret bounded out of the hall with Mrs. Dobbins in tow, the men joined the women at the table. “She wished to go and tour the forest,” Victoria answered when Dorian inquired where the little runt was heading. “Has my wife told you that she will be accompanying me on my journey?” Dorian asked placing his hand over Victoria's as he sat beside her. He squeezed her fingers to show his displeasure. She winced with a smile then stomped on his foot. “That wasn't nice, wife,” he groaned low, his toes throbbing. Victoria said nothing, turning her attention back to Sonya. “No, she hadn't. I am glad to hear it. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed your company, Victoria, but it is better that you go. You can keep Dorian out of trouble.” “Earlier this morning, Dorian was telling me some very interesting things about you and he raised my curiosity. Would you mind if I asked you some questions? You don't have to answer them if they make you uncomfortable.” “I don't think any question will be too painful to answer. Ask away.” Falcon scooted closer so he could hear this conversation more clearly. He craved to know all he could about this gorgeous warrior queen who set his body on fire. “Are you from Livonia?” “No, I was born and raised in Estonia.” “What century are you from?” 203

“I'm nowhere near Dorian’s age,” she stated with a light laugh. “But I was born in 1561, the year the Swedes gained control of northern Estonia. My father was the lord's stable master and mother was one of the lady's personal maids.” She smiled. “I had a younger sister, Sveta, who would follow me every where, even to the knight's training yard.” “You watched them train?” “Not really. I would go when they had finished their workouts. Heino was a great friend of mine, and a great warrior. He taught me how to wield a sword and many other weapons.” A pinch of jealously pricked Falcon as he thought of Sonya in the arms of some faceless man. “And when were you changed?” Victoria quizzed. “My mortal life ended in 1580, I was nineteen.” “You were young.” “Not as young as some,” she said with a shrug. “Will you tell me about it?” “Victoria,” Dorian warned his voice low and stern. No vampire as powerful as Sonya could have had an easy transition. The fact of the matter was, the harder a human fought for their life, the stronger they would be as a vampire. “It's all right, Dorian. I don't mind.” Falcon's ears twitched with anticipation as he waited to hear the tale. He was almost flush against Dorian's side. “Could you back up?” Dorian asked. Falcon slid back an inch, but no more. Dorian shook his head. The poor man's eyes were fixed on Sonya. Despite what Falcon said, Dorian knew his friend was a doomed. “Heino had said I was a natural fighter. He had given me a few of his old weapons and I cherished them and practiced every day,” she began. “It was a full moon that summer night. I was coming back from the fields when I heard screams from the village. A pack of shifters had attacked, ripping and tearing their way through the homes and cutting down those who stood in their way. I ran, my legs carrying me as fast they could, to my home behind the keep. Sprinting past the soldiers preparing to battle the supernatural beings, I demanded my mother and sister go into the house. My father was nowhere to be found.” She 204

paused, her eyes dropping to the table. “I strapped my sword to my belt and stuck daggers in my boots and headed out to join the battle. “The soldiers fought bravely, but were slaughtered along with the civilians of the village. They lay butchered. Heino was lifeless, bleeding into the earth. I fought on until I came to the stable. My father was impaled with a hoe. I stood and stared at him for what seemed like days but could only have been seconds. The screams of my mother and sister slapped me from my daze. I hurried to my home in time to see a wolf leap for my mother, curling its white teeth about her throat. She died. I couldn't save her. “I slit the throat of the shifter who held my sister. Shoving her behind me, I fought them. Some were in human form, others were transformed into wolves.” She took in a deep breath. “I tried to protect my sister, but in the end I failed. My name being shouted out in terror was the last thing I would ever hear her say. I was the last to be killed. A swift stab in the gut took me down.” Her bottom lip trembled the slightest bit. Falcon was the only one to notice. He wanted to comfort her and that worried him. A Knight’s purpose was to protect, not to love. “They laughed as they left me to bleed to death. I managed to crawl to Sveta. I held her to me as she took her last breath.” Victoria's throat was dry and her chest was tight. All she could think of was Margaret. She could imagine how Sonya must have felt holding her sister as she died. A chill swept through her as she realized that one day she would see her sweet sister pass on to the next world. Victoria would live forever and Margaret wouldn't. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She would not dwell on what was to come. If she did, life would be miserable. Dorian brought her to him and she laced her arms about his waist. He kissed the top of her head. He would help her when the time came to say goodbye to her sister. He would be there. “It was almost dawn when Dorian found me.” That statement slammed everyone into the present. “Dorian found you?” Falcon repeated. “Yes,” she smiled, the sadness vanishing from her voice. “I had smelt the blood and smoke of the town. I searched for survivors and only found one.”

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“He carried me to Gudmund's camp. He was the sixteenth king to rule my Clan,” she clarified. “Gudmund changed me and gave me the strength to hunt down every one of those rebel shifters.” “I love happy endings,” Dorian sighed, hoping that Victoria was done with her questions, but he was not that lucky. “How did you become queen?” Victoria asked. He wanted to change the subject and she agreed that Sonya could use a break but she needed to know. “The Swede, Gudmund, and I became great friends, he was like the brother I never had. Upon his passing, he named me as his heir and since my reputation as a skilled warrior and leader was well-known, the clan accepted me despite my young age.” “Now, that is a happy ending,” Victoria sighed. Turning to Dorian, she said, “And you thought her changing into a vampire and killing all those nasty shifters was a great ending.” “Are you still planning on setting out tonight?” Sonya asked. “Yes, have you prepared the letter?” “Of course, it is stamped with my seal and ready.” “I hope you don't mind Margaret staying here. She can be a handful at times, wanting you to play with her and all. Falcon will be here to help keep her occupied.” “You needn't worry about me,” Sonya said. “I will love to entertain her.” With a sigh, she dropped her eyes back to the table. “She reminds me of my own little sister.” Then her fist tightened and her eyes flared. “I will protect her with my life; she will be safe here.” Victoria reached across the table and patted the other woman's hand. “I know.”

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kal’s heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. Fury blazed in his eyes as he shoved the heavy doors open. The room immediately fell silent. “What is it?” he snapped. Spinle stood and Kal pinned him with an angry glare. “Where is Wright and what the hell are you doing here?” “Wright is dead,” Spinle said. “And I am here because Vlakhos has left London.” “Why aren’t you searching all over that damn island for him?” Kal barked. “Because he left by ship,” Spinle clarified. “I have reason to believe that he is on his way here.” Kal’s hands curled into balls at his sides. This was very dangerous news. His plan to usurp the throne was slowly falling apart. Dorian had to know what he was up to by now and Raphael was missing. He had left his former subordinate for the sun to burn, but when he had returned the night after, he found no ashes and no sign of a chard corpse. Someone must have rescued him. Kal had searched and burned every vampire village within fifty miles of the scene, but Raphael was nowhere to be found. For a moment, he had thought the Validus had taken him, but that was impossible. The Validus would never cross the border. Now, Dorian was missing and there was only one place he could be heading. Home. “Did he leave alone?” “I don’t know.” Kal scowled. He wished he had the ability to read the thoughts of others. Spinle never hid his feelings about him. It was well-known that this particular hunter despised him and the feeling was mutual.

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Kal’s fists twitched as he envisioned ripping the hunter’s head from his body. “Henry!” Kal snapped. The young, dark-haired vampire jumped to his feet. “Yes, sir?” “I want to know if Dorian had any visitors while he was in London and if he is traveling alone.” He needed to prepare himself and his army if Dorian was not alone. A slow chill climbed up his spine as he thought of one frightening possibility, Gabriel could be coming. “I will take care of it, sir,” Henry announced and hurried from the room. Kal would not be surprised if the noble Knight, Falcon, had skipped off to London if his clan had found Raphael. However, Kal was not about to hop the border to find out. “I trust all the borders, roads, and ports are being watched,” he asked his commander. “Yes, my lord. Every vampire-dominated port is swarming with our men. We will be notified the instant his ship enters any harbor. We also have hunters posted in every town within your territory, he will not be able to seek refuge anywhere.” Turning back to the Spinle, Kal said, “Do you know when he set sail?” “I wasn’t there,” Spinle lied. “Wright had launched an attack on the ship and I was told by one of the survivors that Vlakhos had taken to the sea.” “He has most likely landed and is working his way here.” Kal cursed. “Tell everyone, if they see Vlakhos, kill him and bring me his head. I would love to mount that son of a bitch’s skull on my wall.” With that, he stormed out of the room, his rage following him like a hurricane, slamming the door shut behind him.

A lump threatened to choke the life from her. Tears spilled silently and rolled down her cheeks. She had been thrown from her horse, surviving a fall from which any mortal would have died from,

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but that was not what upset her. She had lost the horse. It galloped away, and her backside ached. “I’m just glad that the transformation has begun. You could have died,” Dorian said, helping her to her feet. She shrugged his concern aside. “We are never going to find that damn horse. We have been looking for hours.” “I’m sure she will turn up,” he added, answering her glare with a smile. “She got spooked.” “This is going to set us back. I know you want to reach your home as soon as possible.” “True, but a day isn’t going to make much of a difference.” Lightning cracked above and thunder rolled across the sky before the heavens opened and unleashed its wrath. “This is just perfect,” Victoria sighed, exasperation wrinkling her pretty face. “The storm will surely frighten the poor horse even more.” “She will be fine.” “We need to find her.” “If anything, the animal will find us. These horses are very intelligent.” “Most of the food and clothing are in my saddle bags,” she pointed out. “You can survive a night with no food.” Reading her thoughts, he added, “I don’t need to eat. Vampires thrive off blood. Food is unnecessary, but we can eat if we wish.” “What about clothing?” she asked. “We could catch our deaths out here in these soaked garments. It is raining if you haven’t noticed.” “We can’t get sick and have noticed the rain.” His warm breath curled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck, heating her flesh and sending shock waves through her body. The cold had been nipping at her toes and fingertips, but now it was replaced with a ravenous flame. “I never knew how seductive men’s clothing could be.” His hand ran across her belly as his arm slipped around her waist. “They hug every curve,” he finished, his fingers brushing over her breasts ever so lightly. 209

Her annoyance evaporated. Dorian stroked her erect nipples through the thin material of her shirt, each hand cupping and massaging a feminine globe. His tongue drew sensual circles across her nape, tickling and pleasing, sending shocks down her spine. Snatching off her hat and tossing his cloak to the ground, he gripped her tightly to him and dropped to his knees. Victoria folded eagerly with him, her back flat against his chest. Dorian inhaled her flowery scent and growled with primal satisfaction as she rubbed her hips against him. His fingers quickly freed the buttons of her shirt and delved inside to explore her heated flesh. Victoria quivered as the cool air, rain, and the warmth of Dorian’s hand caressed her. He nipped playfully at her neck and shoulder, from behind. His hands slowly, lovingly, caressed their way down to her breeches. He had to have her. He had to take her here and now. Nothing in the world could stop him. It was amazing how easily she could spark his lust. Her rain-soaked clothing had left nothing to the imagination and with just one touch she had gone from tantrum to writhing goddess. Dorian shoved her breeches down as he frantically worked at the band of his. Kissing her throat, flicking his tongue over her raging pulse, he thrust into her sleek, hot passage. Victoria’s cry echoed through the forest. He was so hot inside her. She reached up; wrapping her arms about his neck as she tunneled her fingers through his thick, wet hair. Her legs shook as her breast quivered; exquisite pleasure coursed through her veins and rang in her ears. She blindly moved with him, leaning against him. Her breasts bounced as he pumped into her, impaling her, driving to the hilt. She tugged at his wet hair as her smooth, inner muscles clenched him. She was taut, on the brink, and with one more thrust she exploded. His name had never sounded so good or so right. Her body shuddered all around him, fueling his animalistic need. He drove into her with a feverish frenzy, cupping and kneading her breasts, until she cried out in excruciating pleasure again, this time taking him over the edge with her. They both kneeled panting, desperately clutching each other as they breathlessly returned to earth. Dorian tilted her chin up. Their lips met with hunger and desperation. The rain still poured, soaking them through. Dorian helped Victoria fix her

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drenched clothing before he struggled with his own. He stood, hands on hips, studying the forest as if he had forgotten they were in the open. Victoria remained kneeling, the ground quickly turning to mud all around her. Her limbs were weak and she feared she would fall if she tried to stand. Dorian’s complete possession of her had left her dazed and limp. “We really need to get out of the rain,” he stated. “There are no towns until we reach the border.” “Perhaps, we can find a cave.” Turning his stormy sea gaze upon her, he smiled and nodded. “I think we can manage to find one. I will start a fire and we can dry our clothes.” Kneeling back down, he cupped her heart-shaped face and added, “And we can warm each other.” “I would like that.”

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

The flames jumped and crackled in the silence of the warm cave. The rain pounded outside. “Mean beast,” Victoria grumbled under her breath as the mare tauntingly tossed its tail at her. Dorian chuckled, “I told you she would find us.” “Are the blankets dry yet?” she asked, not wanting to talk about the animal that had given her a sore backside. “Everything is still soaked.” Victoria gave a disappointed groan as she wrapped her arms about her knees and drew them to her chest. Dorian sat by her side, drawing her against him. She rested her head upon his shoulder. Heat spread through her, making her fingers and toes tingle, and it was not because of the fire. It was because of her husband. He could drive every thought from her head with nothing more than a smile. Never in her most feral dreams did she imagine she would be wed to a man like him, gorgeous, unnaturally intelligent, a vampire. No, she would never have thought he would be a vampire, but it did not matter. Her heart had been captured. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” Victoria sighed, her breath tickling Dorian’s ear. “As do I, my kitten.” But Kal and the Red Order would not allow it. Word of his departure from London must have reached the traitor by now. Kal would no doubt have hunters searching the land and setting up watch posts. He was surprised they had made it this far into his territory without being seen. He had been a fool to let his guard down in the woods and fall victim to his desire. He had no reason where Victoria was concerned. He had acted no better than a stallion in heat. Anyone could have stabbed him in the heart or shot an arrow through him and he never would have known what hit him. His death would leave Victoria alone and helpless. She had not yet fully transformed nor did 213

she have any knowledge of weapons that could protect her. That thought chilled him to his very core. She could easily die. “My sweet,” he said, pressing his lips to her temple. “I know of a game we could play while we wait for the blankets and clothing to dry.” Dorian stood, bringing her up with him. “What is it?” “Target practice,” he answered, reaching down and pulling a dagger from his boot. “You see that tree just outside? I'm going to carve a target on it. Don't worry, you won’t have to go out there, I'll fetch the dagger every time.” Victoria nodded. She was not about to go back out in the bellowing storm. She had just managed to get mostly dry and warm. She watched Dorian stride to the tree, her eyes devouring him. Hearing her sinful thoughts, he glanced over his shoulder and winked. Victoria blushed and hurried to her bags to fetch the gift Sonya had given her just before they left. “It's not perfect but it will do.” Dorian shook his head and droplets of rain sprinkled the cave floor. “All right, here is–” He stopped cold. His voice turned hard, “Where did you get that?” “Sonya gave it to me.” “Of course, that was a dumb question,” he chided himself. “Did she tell you anything about it?” “She said that it would keep me safe.” “Oh yes, it will keep you safe.” He slowly approached her, his eyes focused on the dagger in her hand. “Its a Shaw warrior's blade.” “I thought they were peaceful witches.” “Yes, but they are also the most deadly clan in existence. No one dares cross them and that, my kitten, is a very dangerous weapon.” “It's just a knife, Dorian. All knives are dangerous.” Wrapping his fingers about her wrist, he turned her and pulled her back up against him. “True,” his voice began to lighten, “but that one you hold is poisonous. Normally, you must pierce a vampire's heart or decapitate them in order to kill them, but with this weapon all you have to do is prick a little finger and they will crumble. Shaw magic is not a plaything. However, we are going to use it for target practice, since this is what you will be using for protection.”

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Dorian refused to touch her dagger and displayed everything with his own. He let his fly and smiled when it hit the bulls-eye. Victoria sent hers cascading through the air and missed the tree altogether. “Go fetch.” “Yes, Your Majesty,” Dorian chuckled, kissing her cheek before running out into the rain. He effortlessly pulled his weapon from the tree then removed his coat, wrapping it about his hand and fished her dagger from the bushes, before hurrying back. He did it six times before Victoria's knife hit home, embedding itself next to Dorian's dagger in the tree. Clapping, Victoria beamed with excitement. Dorian, unable to resist her charm, yanked her to him, and kissed her soundly. Passion raged between them by the time he pulled away. Bringing his breathing under control, he reluctantly went back out into the cold rain. Victoria stood dazed for a moment, her lips tingling, her body on fire. Did he have any idea what he did to her? Of course he did, he was a seductive devil. A smile tickled her lips. He was her seductive devil. “Let's try it a couple more times to make sure you have it down,” he said, holding her dagger out for her to take. “Only if I get a kiss every time I make it.” “My kitten, I would be more than happy to oblige.” Turning, she threw her dagger. “Looks like I hit it again." Dorian tilted her chin up, his eyes capturing hers. “Brava, but let's see if you can do it twice.” Giving her his weapon, he stepped back. She fired it off and turned back to him. “Now, I get two kisses.” “Why don't you try it three more times and win more than kisses?” Her heart skipped a beat as she nodded in agreement. He quickly returned and, much to her pleasure, she won more than she could have imagined. Dorian had her in his arms, stripped, and moaning in seconds. “Thank the heavens that the blankets are dry,” she sighed curling up against his side. She rested her chin on his chest as he pulled the cover up over her shoulders. “With you I don't think I would need 215

them to stay warm.” “Unlike popular myth we are extremely warm creatures.” “Why is that? I thought vampires were the living dead.” She pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the strong thump of his beating heart. “We aren’t exactly dead,” he said. “We don’t need food or water to survive, though we can eat and drink. We do feed off humans, but the need for blood diminishes over time until we require nothing to survive.” “How is that possible?” He shrugged, her head bobbed with his shoulder. “Magic.” “Truly?” “That was the only answer Dimitri every gave me.” She ran a playful finger down his abdomen. “Do you remember the conversation we had when you told me you were a vampire?” “I could never forget.” “You refused to tell me about your childhood.” He took in a beep breath. “Yes.” “Will you tell me now?” Dorian stroked her smooth hair. He hated those memories of his past and for years he had suppressed them. “I know you said that it was unpleasant, but maybe if we talk about them—We are married and are now going to spend eternity together.” Those last words of hers warmed his heart. She was to be at his side until the end of time. She was his wife, his mate. His life. She deserved to know all about him, she deserved to know him. “I will tell you everything you wish to know, my kitten.” He took in another sharp breath then began, “My father was a great, Mycenaean warlord. He was wealthy, handsome, and favored by the king. Unfortunately, he was not favored by the woman he married. My mother had her heart set on another warrior, but her father thought it best she marry someone with great wealth. She was fifteen and my father was thirty-six. She loathed him and was relieved when he went 216

off to fight invaders. But her relief didn’t last long. Not wanting to do anything that would please her husband, she was furious when she gave birth to his heir.” “You?” He nodded. “My mother was a spiteful young woman. She named me after a group of forgein competitors from the North, enemies that my father had fought, the Dorians. When my father returned some years later, he was furious and he hated me. I received the worst kind of treatment during training and was severely beaten when I displeased him. It didn't take long before I no longer felt the lashes of the whip. My heart quickly turned to stone and instead of breaking me, he made me stronger. I became the best warrior in his army. I was flawless in battle and men trembled when they heard my name.” “What of your mother? How did she treat you?” “Better than my father,” he said. “She acted as if I didn’t exist. She rarely look my way, or spoke to me.” “I'm so sorry,” Victoria whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She wrapped her arms about him and laid her head down on his chest, hoping to give him comfort. “When I was twenty-seven, I was sent off to fight,” he paused and kissed the top of her head, “you know the rest of the story.” She nodded. Her heart ached for him, for the little boy who was hated by both of his parents. Beaten by his father and shunned by his mother. “It may interest you to know that when my mother received word that I had been slain in battle, depression took hold of her. She wept constantly and refused to eat, slowly starving herself to death.” “What of your father?” “He died from fever when I was twenty-two.” “I understand why you do not wish to talk about your past.” “Sharing it with you has lifted a heavy weight from my heart, my sweet kitten.” He massaged her back. “Thank you.” Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he added, “Now, it is your turn. I'm sure it will be a pleasant story.” “My mother and father met at a country ball and it was love at first sight. However, my mother was poor and her family had no title attached to their name. My father was the opposite. They were not 217

permitted to marry, but that did not keep them apart. Their loving soon put them in a difficult predicament, my mother quickly became with child. They were thrilled, but my father's grandmother was not. She stripped him of his title and just about all his inheritance, leaving him with an old manor house and sevenhundred pounds a year, which was barely enough to live off of. “They married and gave me all their love and when I was thirteen, they had little Margaret. My mother always said she wished she had more children, but they had problems conceiving.” Victoria's voice became low as she continued, “My mother became ill and passed on, leaving my father heartbroken. He would lock himself in his study for days at a time and refused to see me, for I resemble my mother too much. The only one that was allowed in his office was Margaret.” She swallowed hard trying to get rid of the knot that had formed in her throat. “One day, my father decided he could no longer handle his grief and he hung himself. Margaret was the one to find him in his study.” “Then you came to London to live with your aunt?” “My father had many debts and when he died, they fell upon me. I had to sell everything we owned including the house. Having no way to support Margaret, I decided we should come to London. I knew my aunt would not want me there, but I had hoped for the best. We should have stayed in the country. I probably could have found work as a governess.” “I'm glad you came to London.” That brought a smile to her lips. “I have no doubt.” “Good. And now that we have spilled our hearts out for each other. I say we get some sleep.” But sleep would not come easily or quickly for either of them. Questions still plagued Victoria's mind. She wondered what his life had been like once he was a vampire. Had he ever found a woman to love? Had a woman ever loved him back? Jealousy gnawed at her insides. She forced the images of him laying like this and telling another woman about his tortured past from her mind. Her jealousy unnerved her for it came along with an emotion that she did not want to acknowledge. She had admitted to herself once before that she loved him and all it did was bring her pain. What would happen if she shared her feelings with Dorian? Did he love her in return? Victoria sighed and pressed herself even more tightly against him. These questions were too tiresome and she needed to get some rest. 218

Dorian knew the instant Victoria drifted off to sleep. He pulled her closer, placing her head on his shoulder. Their pulses throbbed together. He inhaled the loving, caring, womanly scent of her. He had never trusted anyone enough to share his life story. He had kept those secrets locked away for thousands of years. His memories had done nothing but cause him pain, except this time. Victoria had shown compassion and his heart swelled. This small woman had laid siege to his heart whether she knew it or not.

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Dorian inhaled the fresh cool air. The rain-soaked grass and trees were the most refreshing scent. Home, he thought. He glanced back at Victoria. They had been traveling at a daring speed for almost two days, taking very few and very short breaks. Now, they were less than a day from his keep. He needed to be on his guard and that meant he had to stop thinking about his beautiful and sexy wife. But no matter how he tried, it did not make a difference. He constantly found his mind wandering back to the cave. He had not slept that night. He had lain there holding her to him, wanting to absorb her warmth, her affection. He had never revealed so much of himself to anyone before. In fact, he had never trusted anyone enough to lay bare his injured heart. But it had felt so right making love to Victoria, holding her in his arms, sharing with her. She had not pitied him, as he thought she might. Instead she wished to comfort him and he wanted to be cuddled. People had always feared him. They cowered from him every time he entered a room. His father had turned him into an unrelenting warrior, one who would fight to the death, one who would sacrifice all for victory. For many years he lived that way. Women never looked upon him with any feeling, all they wanted was his body or his money, both he had been willing to share. Dorian was not one to entangle himself in strings of love. He had scoffed whenever anyone mentioned the idiotic word. “Love is not a weakness, Dorian, but a strength. It can give you more pleasure, more sorrow, more power, and more pain than anything on this earth.” Dimitri’s words vibrated through his thoughts. The ancient vampire had seen right into his heart, he had seen the loneliness, the despair, and the desperate need for acceptance. Deep in his soul, he knew he had found what he yearned for. Victoria was his beacon of hope. She could wash all his worries away 221

with just one look. Her voice was like a silken caress, setting him on fire. His lust knew no bounds. He would take her anywhere and at any time. He turned his gaze from his lovely wife to scan the horizon. The Mylonas fortress was in sight, the tall towers stood proud in the dusk, the sun making the stone glimmer with brilliant shades of pink. “Is that it?” Victoria asked, her mare bumping into his charger. “Cassius’ Fortress,” he answered. “The Father of my Clan built this keep.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Your new home,” he whispered. “It is impressive and very intimidating.” She swallowed hard. The castle was full of vampires and she prayed they were nothing like the terrifying folk tales. “I want you to keep your eyes and your ears open. This next part of our journey is going to be tricky,” he said, his voice stern. “We are going to be traveling on the roads now. Remember we are supposed to be messengers from Sonya, so keep her crest visible at all times, and let me do all the talking if we are stopped.” “I won’t say a word,” she assured him. He flipped the hood of his cloak up over his head and she followed suit. Sonya's crest was large and embroidered in gold on the back of their deep green mantles. “Dorian, what do we do if we are discovered?” He kissed her again and squeezed her shoulder. “I will protect you.” She blinked back the tears that clouded her eyes. Since they had left the shelter of the cave a few days before, her mind had been plagued with horrible thoughts of his death. Bile rose to her throat as she pictured him lying in a pool of blood, a dagger through his heart, or worse, his head severed. Her heart clenched at the possibility that she would never again see him, hear his voice, or feel his arms about her. Victoria had been reluctant to admit to herself that she had fallen in love with Dorian. She had tried to ignore her feelings for him, but when she had awoken that morning in the cave to find Dorian gone, she felt lonely, empty. He only went to collect their knives, since he had not done that the night before, but she could not help but feel consumed by abandonment. It was foolish that she should feel sorrow 222

when he was just outside, but her joy when he returned was so overwhelming that she could not resist the laughter that bubbled inside her. Dorian had thought her mad for laughing at nothing. Now, their mission was growing more dangerous. The risk they took was high, but she preferred to be here beside him than back at Sonya’s keep. She would have gone crazy waiting for him to send for her or hear word of his death. She had made the right choice by forcing him to take her. She did miss Margaret terribly, but her little sister was in good hands. Falcon and Sonya would see to her care and if she and Dorian did not survive she knew that Margaret would be safe. “We need to get moving if we hope to reach town before midnight.” Victoria said no more as she trotted along side her strong, proud husband. Everything about him bespoke of his station among his people. He sat tall and straight in his saddle and moved effortlessly with his mount. The title of king certainly suited him and she longed to see him sitting atop his throne. He would be a fierce sight to behold, and he would be beautiful. He was a noble and just ruler. Sonya and Falcon both gave him the highest praise. He was beloved and trusted by his people and that was the reason why Kal had not been able to claim the throne, as of yet. His accusations of Dorian running away, of abandoning his Clan were not believed. Sonya had told her that as long as Dorian still lived, the Clan would not give Kal the crown. Knowing this made her proud of her husband, but it also worried her. She knew that Kal would do anything to gain the throne and that meant they were now entering into dangerous severely territory. They passed very few travelers as they made their way down the road; no one paid them much notice. When they reached the small town, Victoria let a sigh of relief escape her lips, even though she knew it was too early to think they were safe. Dorian climbed down from his mount and Victoria mimicked his every move. She tossed her reins to the stable boy and took long strides to remain at Dorian’s side as they entered the lodge where they would be passing the night. Walking straight to the desk, directly opposite the door, Dorian pulled a sack of coins from his pocket. “I would like a room,” he stated, setting the purse on the desk.

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Victoria gave little attention to Dorian or the innkeeper as they spoke. Instead, she was busy taking in all that decorated the common room. To the right of the desk was a dozen or so tables, where a handful of people sat either drinking ale or waiting for food. She was shocked to find that she could hear a difference between the heartbeats of those that were human and those that were vampire. Dorian had warned her that her hearing would improve but she had never thought that it would be this sharp. Changing her focus, she glanced over to the left where a small stage and dance area was deserted. “Would you like two rooms?” the vampire asked, as he looked the new comers over. He guessed the finely dressed gentleman before him must be a knight, power dripped from his solid frame. “No need, he is only my attendant,” Dorian answered. That comment snatched Victoria’s attention back to him. He shot her a warning look and she kept her mouth shut. “All right, room seven,” the innkeeper said, handing the key to Dorian. He glanced over to the humans sitting at the tables. Need to keep up pretenses he added, “Food will be served in another half-hour if you are interested, sir.” “Thank you.” Dorian turned on his heel and did not wait to see if Victoria would follow. He mounted the stairs, Victoria right behind him. Once in their room, he removed her cloak. “I am your serving boy?” she asked with a raised brow. “Only a Black Knight would carry a missive from one monarch to another. I am the knight and you are my squire.” She nodded and moved past him to the bed. Squealing with delight, she fell arms and legs spread wide, on to the mattress. A bed had never felt so soft. They had been traveling for weeks, sleeping on the cold hard ground. “I never knew how much I liked pillows before now.” She hugged a fluffy pillow to her breasts as she sat up. “Do you want to go down for dinner or do you want me to have it brought up here?” “Don’t you think that it will look a little odd if we spend the rest of the night in the room?” “What are you trying to say?” 224

Victoria’s cheeks blushed as she realized how her statement could have sounded. “I did not mean that you are interested in your squire.” He smiled. “I will have a bath ordered, after we eat.” “Oh, yes, that would be heavenly. Bathing in nothing but freezing-cold rivers leaves much to be desired.” Dorian removed his cloak, and donned a hat. The brim cast shadows across his face, hiding his eyes, and making it hard to recognize him. Victoria put on a clean shirt, tucked her hair up under a cap, and used some dust from the tops of her boots to smudge on her cheeks, hoping to cover up some of her femininity. “You are one young, pretty boy, my little squire,” Dorian said with a chuckle. “You look twelve. No monarch would be interested in a child. We need a story, just in case anyone asks why a human boy is traveling with me.” “All right.” “You are orphaned and the Shaw witches took you in, they are known for that. You also have an illness that will claim your life if you are not changed. The Shaw’s assured Sonya that, despite your sickness, you will be strong and brave, so she has decided to train you to be a knight and when you come of age you will be transformed.” “But if there are vampires down stairs won’t they be able to tell by my scent that I’m a woman?” He smiled. “I already thought of that and no, wouldn’t. My scent is a great deal stronger than yours. If you stay close to me they may not even pick up your weak, mortal odor.” “Are you saying that humans stink?” she asked, playfully hitting his arm. “No,” he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her throat, “you smell very sweet.” She shivered from the feel of his breath against her flesh. Clearing his throat, Dorian backed away and said, “Now, let us go below to eat. I could use some wine.” More people were gathered in the common room when they descended the stairs. There was only one table open in the back corner and they claimed it. The buzzing sound of voices was pleasant to hear,

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Victoria missed being in society. She had enjoyed their trek through the wilderness but was happy to be in civilization once again. Dorian, on the other hand, was not so pleased. Since he and Victoria had entered the dinning area they had the undivided attention of three vampires in the opposite corner. He knew they would be trouble even before one of them stood and came to their table. “Who are you, friend?” the man asked. “I am Kiron of Voidukas.” The curious man looked him over. “You a Black Knight?” Dorian nodded. “And this is my squire. We are on our way to Cassius’ Fortress.” The intruding vampire shifted his gaze to Victoria who kept her eyes down. She did not want to risk someone discovering that she was a woman and not a young boy. “Well,” he said after giving them both another studied look. “I hope you bring good news to Kal. He needs it.” “I know naught of what Queen Sonya has written in her missive, but I am certain that it bears good tidings.” The vampire nodded and rejoined his group. They mumbled to themselves and repeatedly looked over their shoulders at the couple in the corner. Victoria waited until the serving girl was finished ladling stew into their bowls before she asked, “Do you think we will have trouble with them?” Dorian shrugged and said nothing. He kept his eyes on the trio. They were planning something and he would be ready for them.

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Chapter Thirty-One

The hot bath had been wonderful, better than anything she could have imagined. Her hair was washed and braided, her skin pink and warm. Victoria lay under the coverlet basking in the pleasure of its softness. She loved beds, blankets, pillows, and most of all she loved the man laying next to her. She scooted over and pressed herself up against his side before she slipped into a sleep that would not last long. Bang! Victoria woke with a start, her heart pounding. The room was dark. She reached for Dorian but he was not beside her. Shoving back the blankets, she came to her feet. “Dorian?” she whispered. No answer. Her throat grew tight as horrible images flashed before her eyes. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. Victoria frantically sought out her clothes, her hands quickly found her over sized shirt and did up the buttons, next she yanked her breeches on, slipping her bare feet into her boots and shoving her hair under a cap. Dropping to her knees, she fumbled through her bags in search of her dagger. Another crash sounded; it was louder, closer than the first. Pressing her ear against the wood panel door, she tried to hear what was happening. A few grunts and groans along with the sound of ripping fabric and steel clashing, greeted her ears. Her instincts told her that Dorian was out there in the fight and she should join him. Before she could reach for the knob, the door splintered. She jumped back just in time to escape being crushed by its weight and the two men that came along with it. They both regained their feet and, without a glance to her, they started back to the fight. They were sent to the floor again, this time with a third man, who lay unconscious and sprawled across them.

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Victoria darted from the room and slammed full speed into a man’s chest. Blind panic gripped her as she swung, her fist connecting with her captor’s jaw. He imprisoned her wrists, twisted her arms back, bringing her tightly to him. Her heart pounding wildly, she struggled, trying with all her might to break free. “Stop your fussing.” Dorian’s whisper was raw and animalistic and it filled Victoria with joy. She sagged against him ecstatic he was holding her. Growling, he violently shoved her behind him. Victoria slipped, grabbing hold of Dorian’s shoulder to stop her fall. Looking down, her eyes grew wide. Blood! Blood was everywhere. Her eyes shot up and her breath caught. She could not move, could not speak, and could not breathe as she gazed upon Dorian’s back, his shirt in shreds. Slashes covered his shoulders and deep gouges adorned his sides, blood flowing without a care. Dorian jabbed his blade into the hunter’s gut and wrenched it up, laying the witch open. The body collapsed to the floor. He turned. Grabbing Victoria by the arm, he dragged her to the stairs. “Go down to the stables,” he demanded, giving her the push she needed to move. Terror hit her like a blow. He was a beast. His eyes devil black, his fangs long, and his hair wild. This was the vampire. He was to be obeyed. She sprinted down the stairs, Dorian right behind her. Her heart thundered as the sound of heavy footsteps followed them. “Hurry,” he urged before he turned and met the witch’s attack. Snarling and roaring like a lion, he lashed out with his dagger, the foul scent of witch blood wafting in the air. Victoria did not look back. She flung the door open, and plunged into the cold night. She ran as fast as she could toward the stables. A scream ripped from her throat as an arm wrapped about her waist and hoisted her up. She kicked back, her heel slamming into the man’s shin. He fell to his knees, his grip loosened, but she was trapped beneath him. Bringing her knife forward, she sliced open his arm. The hunter cursed and his body seized. Victoria scrambled to her feet, losing her cap. Her braid was caught and she was yanked back. “I’m glad to see that you are no young lad. We can have some fun with you,” he hissed in her ear. 228

Bile rose to her mouth. Thrashing, she tried to break free but his hold on her was tight. He laughed at her struggles. A deadly roar brought her captor’s giggles to an abrupt halt. Turning, keeping her in front of him, he faced Dorian. Blood dripped from his claw like nails, his black eyes burned with fury, promising eternal suffering. The vampire tightened his arm about her waist, his putrid breath coming faster with fear. “You want her?” he baited Dorian. “She is pretty.” She almost heaved when his tongue touched her neck. “She must be delicious.” An unearthly howl split the night as Dorian attacked like a starved wolf. The vampire shoved Victoria aside, pain shot up her arms as she used them to break her fall. Rolling away from the men, she jumped to her feet. Another vampire came at her. She dodged his open arms, slicing his shoulder. The vampire stiffened and crashed to the earth. She sprinted to the stables and threw the doors open. Victoria turned, hoping to find her husband right behind her. Her heart stopped and her breath froze, sharp shards of ice coating her throat and lungs. Dorian was an animal, a wild, insane beast from the depths of hell. His fangs glistened in the moonlight as blood fell like rain. He was now fighting four witches. The vampire that had grabbed her hair lay motionless, his life’s fluid darkening the soil. A cold hand slithered around her throat. She tried to call out, but found it impossible as she collided with the wall of the stable. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. The fingers tightened, cutting off her breath. Kicking frantically, she clawed at the hand. “King Vlakhos!” the man called. Victoria’s eyes darted to her husband. He was just coming to his feet, crimson saturated and dripped from his once white, crisp shirt. “I’ve got your little whore.” Flames jumped in Dorian’s dead eyes. “Kal.” The voice that once caressed her ears was now hoarse, evil. “That’s right. It’s nice to see you again.” He loosened his hold on Victoria. She desperately gasped for air. “And with such a lovely wench, but then again, you always had a way with the ladies. Or maybe it was your money that they liked. I guess I’ll find out once you’re gone.” “Cocky bastard,” Victoria spat.

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“Sharp tongue, we’ll see what we can do about that.” Dorian stepped forward and Kal pressed his fingers into her flesh again. “Careful,” he warned. “I’m going to kill you.” “I think it will be the other way around.” In a flash, Dorian was next to her and Kal’s cheek was laid open. Rage tore at Kal as he lashed out at his foe, forgetting about Victoria, he dropped her. She scooted away and cursed. She had lost her knife. Confound it! Where is it? Glancing about, she spotted its steel blade sparkling in the moon’s glow. She pushed herself to her feet. Her legs shook from lack of oxygen. She cried out with relief as her finger slipped around the hilt, but it quickly turned to pain as she was once again yanked back by her hair. With her hand raised, she swung around, the blade high. Kal clasped her wrist and wrenching the dagger away. He threw her to the ground and rounded on Dorian. “No!” Victoria’s scream was all that could be heard in the still night as Dorian fell to his knees. His eyes slowly faded to their tempest sea green as his fangs vanished. His hand clasped the handle of the dagger buried in his chest. “Dorian!” Her name was a silent whisper on his lips as his large body collapsed to the ground. He lay drenched in blood, his own soaking the earth. Tears slipped unnoticed from her eyes, her heart screaming in agony, her mouth dry as she voicelessly chanted, “I love you.” “Thanks for the weapon, my dear. Without it, I would be like the others, cut up and bleeding.” She did not hear his words and could not hear her screams. She did not smell the stench of the witch blood pooled about the yard, she could not feel the soft bite of the breeze, and she could not see the carnage about her. All she could hear was Dorian’s silence, all she could smell was his rich blood, all she could feel was the coldness of death, and all she could see was her lifeless husband. “Enough of that crying,” Kal snarled, yanking her to her feet.

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Victoria attacked with the only weapons left to her. She scratched, bit, and kicked as Kal struggled to keep a hold of her before he finally struck, and her world turned black.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

The great hall was cold and silent. No one dared to speak, their eyes down cast, all terrified to meet Kal's gaze. “I look around and all I see are idiots. Honestly, what good are any of you? Dorian was just an hour outside our walls!” Kal's voice shook with rage, his fangs bared and glistening in the light of the fire, which cracked and snapped in the hearth. Its blaze matched the storm of emotions that coursed through him. He was furious with his men. They had been useless. He had ordered patrols set and guards posted at every town, but Dorian had slipped past them all. A traitor must be among his company, which was the only explanation for Dorian’s successful invasion. Kal scanned the faces of the men, his eyes moving down the length of the table to his left then skipping over the woman he had dumped at the end of the table and back up the right side. Each man hung his head, none making eye contact with him, except for the witch who sat closest to the woman. Spinle’s black eyes met his, unwavering as if challenging him. But the hunter was no threat to his power. Spinle no longer held sway over the witches and we would never go against the Red Order. Still, his gut twisted with the thought of sabotage. Many within the walls of the keep knew his plans, therefore everyone was a suspect as far as he was concerned. Growling low in his throat, he bit out, “I should let the witches burn you all.” 3 The long table moaned in pain as Kal slammed his fist down. He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with cool air. He needed to calm down; he needed to think clearly if he was going to discover the traitor’s identity. His temper was going to get him nowhere, just like it had all those years ago when the crown had been passed to Dorian. It was supposed to be his. He had been a loyal and obedient servant to King Viktor; he did everything that was ever asked of him. But his foul rage had robbed him of the throne. Kal was not about to let it happen again. Not when he was so close. 233

Opening his eyes, he cleared his throat, and spoke with the smoothest voice he could manage. “The moment the sun sets I will ride out to fetch Vlakhos’s body. The sun will do it no harm. Spinle,” he shouted down the table. “You and whatever men that you pick will accompany me.” The witch nodded. “As for the rest of you, you are dismissed.” A collective sigh of relief echoed in the hall as the vampires stood and shuffled off to their chambers. The sun hung high in the sky and sleep clouded their minds. Kal slowly walked to the end of the table. Spinle had not moved; he still sat nonchalantly next to the body of the young woman. “Once I bring in Vlakhos and lay him here on the table for all to see, no one will be able to protest my rule. Vlakhos is dead and I shall be the new king of the Clan, as is my duty and right as his second.” “What of the girl?” Spinle asked, waving his hand toward the still sleeping woman. “Why did you bring her here? Who is she?” “She was with Vlakhos last night. She is covered with his foul stench.” Glancing about the hall, he wanted to be sure that there was no one to hear his next words. Dropping his voice low, he rasped, “I know you and I have our differences. I know you are here to make sure your witches don’t trigger a full-scale war, the Red Order is strong but they would never be able to stand against all the vampire clans. But I have reason to believe that there is a traitor among us and it could possibly be one of the witches.” “Or one of your own vampires.” Kal shrugged. “This girl may know who the traitor is.” “Vlakhos is, or I should say was, very cunning. He could have snuck in right under our noses on his own.” Kal shook his head. “He was smart, but not that smart.” He finally allowed his eyes to fall to the slumbering woman. He had given her a good knock to the head and at first he feared he might have killed her. A blow like that was normally fatal to humans. Kal studied her for the first time in the light of the hall. Her features were delicate, her dark hair soft, skin as smooth as silk. But there was something about this woman that was different. He leaned down and sniffed at her like a curious dog. She

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smelt human yet there was something else, something vampiric in aroma. “She will be the first of my line,” he declared. “Vlakhos’s female.” He fingered the collar of the woman’s shirt. “You should have seen the way he fought for her. He was like a crazed beast. She must have meant something to him and she will be my last instrument of revenge.” Dusting some dirt from her cheek he continued, “I want you to take her up to Vlakhos’s chamber and make sure she stays there.” “You want a guard at the door or a spell?” “Both.” “I will need supplies.” “Go scavenge the forest for whatever herbs you require. Just do what I commanded. She is to go nowhere. The crowning ceremony will take place in three nights, when the moon is full and high in the black sky. I have been waiting for Dorian’s death for far too long and now that it is here I’m not going to allow anything or anyone to stop me from being king.” With that vow, Kal turned to the stairs. He would sleep well this day. He was finally getting what he deserved. Jacque Spinle watched Kal disappear up the left staircase. He looked Dorian’s queen over before scooping her up. Her limp limbs dangled and swayed as he walked and mounted the right stairwell that led to the master’s chambers. Kal had refused to move into Dorian’s room. He claimed that he wanted nothing to do with anything that belonged to Dorian personally. However, that resolve seemed to end where Victoria was concerned. She was a beautiful woman, and in her case, beauty was a curse. Jacque’s stomach had churned with dread when Kal stomped into the great hall, Victoria slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. His heart stopped when he dumped her almost lifeless body on the table. In that moment, he knew that Dorian had been killed. He now had to come up with some way to get rid of Kal himself. The only problem was that if he killed Kal, a civil war would break out, since there would be no clear successor to the Mylonas throne. He could not allow anyone to learn that Victoria was Dorian’s mate, for Kal’s men would surely kill her. Shoving the heavy door open, he entered the almost bare room. He went to the large canopy bed that stood on a raised dais directly across from the door and gently laid Victoria down.

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At least she was not dead. All he could do was thank the stars that she was already beginning to change. It would not be completed until the next full moon, in three days. He would need to drug her through the pain, if possible. He had seen a few humans transform into vampires, their cries of pain had nearly made him sick. She would wake up in a few hours. That would give him time to retrieve Dorian’s body and take it to Raphael; he had been staying at Hadrian’s castle. The vampire was not yet fully recovered but this unfortunate event would force Raphael out of hiding and into action. Raphael would have to challenge Kal for the throne. Kal had been declared Dorian’s second years ago, but Jacque had learned from Horace, that Raphael possessed the letter written by Dorian transferring the title to him. Jacque chanted a protective spell over the queen to insure her safety, nothing mattered more. Now, more than ever, Spinle knew exactly what he needed to do. Squaring his shoulders and firming his jaw, he gave a determined nod to his reflection in the full-length mirror that stood on the opposite side of the massive, kingly bed. Slipping from the room, he silently closed the door, not wanting to rudely awaken the poor woman. She would be frightened enough when she finally woke on her own, he did not need to add to her alarm. He was relieved to find only Kal’s squire, Henry, in the great hall. With no one of consequence about, he would be able to slide from the keep unnoticed. He was fortunate that the sun was high in the clear sky. Most vampires found this time of day very taxing and sought the comfort of their beds. As a matter of fact, poor Henry looked exhausted. But, even though it was noon, he still had very little time to waste. He had a few precious hours before the sun set to plant the seeds of Kal’s destruction. “Henry!” he called to the boy. “Will you please inform Kal that I went out to collect supplies for my spells? Also, notify George and Roy that they will be accompanying Kal and me to retrieve Vlakhos’s body once the sun has gone to rest.” Henry nodded and yawned. Spinle dismissed the young, naïve vampire before he escaped through the back door of the kitchen. He slowly made his way across the open training yard to the stables. Before entering the large enclosure he took up a bucket and a pair of gloves. He needed to make 236

it look as if he was going out hunting for berries and herbs and not to take Vlakhos’s body to Raphael and the Mylonas allies. Glancing about the stables, his nostrils filling with the scent of hay and horse piss, Jacque made sure he was alone before saddling Dorian’s prized mount, Alexander. Jacque had not been shocked when he learned the stallion was named after the Macedonian, Alexander the Great. The animal was charged with pent up energy for it had been neglected since Dorian had left. Once Jacque took the reins, the beast shot out of the stable like a cannon ball leaving the witch to hold on for dear life. Nothing but smoke and the stench of burnt vampire flesh greeted Jacque when he came to the once thriving town. He dismounted and walked amongst the charred ruins of homes and businesses. Kal and his men must have set the town on fire before they left. Ashes crunched under his feet, some floated above his head on the sweet breeze. Flames devoured the remaining homes. Jacque’s stomach turned upside down when his eyes found Dorian on the ground. The earth around him was black, soaked with blood. Unable to bear the sight of the noble king, Jacque removed his cloak and draped it over the body. With trembling hands, he lifted Dorian’s lifeless frame. His voice shook from his grief as he called the horse to him. The animal cautiously trotted over and nudged the limp man with his nose. “I know how you feel,” Jacque whispered to the mount as he rested the dead king across its back. “At least we’ll take him to friends who can give him a proper burial, one deserving of a great vampire like your master.” Jacque spared a glance up at the sky calculating the time of day and cursed as he turned the warhorse toward the Validus strong hold. He was glad that the border was not far for he needed to return to the keep before sunset.

“Someone approaches the gate.” Raphael straightened. He and three of Hadrian’s best generals had been hunched over the large map of Mylonas land for hours trying to decide where they should invade and how they would attack the 237

fortress. He was in no shape to fight, his wounds from Kal’s ambush had not quite finished healing, but there was no time to wait for such trivial things. “Who is it?” Horace, the general Falcon had left in charge, demanded, his hand resting on his sword hilt. “It’s a witch waving a white handkerchief,” the mortal look out announced from his perch in the rafters. “Should I tell the others to allow him entry?” “Is he alone?” Raphael asked. “As far as I can tell.” Horace looked to his men then Raphael. “What do you think?” “If he is alone, he can’t mean to do much damage,” Raphael answered. “Open the gates and have him escorted to the keep,” he called up to the look out. “Be prepared men. We don’t know what this witch wants.” The warriors held their weapons, ready, waiting for an attack. They hugged the walls hiding from the rays of the sun that would gain entry when the large doors were opened. The witch entered with a vampire’s body tossed over his shoulder. “I am Jacque Spinle,” he announced his name, his voice echoing through the hall. Recognizing the name, Raphael waved for the soldiers to put down their weapons. Horace sheathed his sword and stepped forward, he had been receiving reports from this particular witch, but he had not expected him to cross the border. “What brings you here?” Horace asked. “King DorianVlakhos,” the witch answered, as he crossed to the table. Wiping the maps a side, he laid his burden down. Raphael was the first to step forward. With shaking hands, he pulled back the cloak to reveal his master's bloodied face. Tears gathered in his eyes as he gazed upon his friend. His fists curled by his sides, anger and despair whirled in his heart like a tornado. He wanted to howl but his mouth was dry, his throat tight. “Oh, god.” Horace whispered. 238

“Was it Kal?” Raphael demanded. “Yes.” “He'll pay.” “Dorian's woman is safe.” Spinle was not surprised when every face turned to him and every voice asked, “Woman?” “Yes, Dorian got a bit friendly with a beautiful English debutante, married her, and brought her back with him,” he explained. “His mate?” Raphael pressed. Could it be? Could Dorian actually be the first king to ever find his match? Many vampires believed the story to be a myth; something the Fathers had cooked up to give their successors hope. It was a story told around the fire and was never believed. Every king before had fallen ill and met their end. It seemed that peace would never come to their world. If Dorian had found her, then all was not lost. “Yes.” “He finally found his queen,” Horace sighed, shaking his head. “She is safe? Where?” Raphael asked, turning his back on the body. He could not look at it anymore. “She is at the keep, locked in Dorian's chambers. Kal took a fancy to the poor girl and plans on making her the first of his line. He still refuses to admit that he isn't strong enough to change humans.” “Has Dorian bonded with her yet?” Everyone knew the legend but none knew how it worked. There was a belief that once the vampire mated with his woman and took her blood the two would become connected. Spinle nodded. “I know not how, but yes, it has happened. I can sense the change upon her. It won't be finished until the next full moon, when the vampire within her awakens.” “That's in three more nights,” Horace announced. “It is also the day that Kal will be conducting his ceremony,” Raphael added. “He obviously won't be doing it the traditional way since every member of the four vampire royal families will not give their consent and the few shifter clans we are allied with won't be present.” “No, but every remaining clansman will be there.” 239

“Do you know if he plans on finishing them off?” “He has not confided in me,” Spinle said. “I am a witch after all. He trusts me to an extent. He is wise in that regard, I’ll give him that.” Raphael rubbed his temples. His head was pounding from all the stress, worry, and grief filling his thoughts. Vampires do not handle emotions well. He sighed heavily as he fought to keep his control. He would deal with his feelings later. Right now, he needed to make a plan and arrange his friend’s burial. Turning back to Dorian, he removed the cloak. His eyes fixed on the dagger buried in the king's chest as what little color he had in his face vanished. “Spinle, did you look at this?” he asked, his voice a scant whisper. The witch stepped forward, his sharp black eyes studying the intricate carvings on the hilt of the blade. “It is Shaw.” “How would Kal get a Shaw dagger?” Raphael pressed. “The letter we received last night from Queen Sonya mentioned that King Dorian and Lord Falcon had sailed to Shaw country,” Horace declared. “The Shaw would never give a blade to a vampire,” Spinle pointed out. “The only way an outsider would get their hands on one is if it were given as a gift. Maybe it was given to the queen!” Raphael's eyes were wide, his face alight with hope. “Spinle, are you positive that Kal killed Dorian?” “I have no reason to believe that Dorian's own wife would want to do him harm,” he answered. “And Kal seemed mighty pleased with himself when he announced Dorian’s death.” “We should clean him up. Get all the blood off him.” “Especially the witch blood, that smell is absolutely repulsive,” Horace added, with a chuckle he turned to Spinle, “I meant no offense.” “None taken,” the witch smiled. “I must be heading back, my presence will be missed. I will keep a close eye on the queen and will personally guard her. Kal will not lay one finger on her. You have my word.”

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“Thank you, Spinle. You do not know how comforting it is to hear you say that,” Raphael clapped the witch on the shoulder. “You are a good man.” “I'm only doing what is right.” “I'm positive that I speak for everyone here when I say that we are glad you are on our side,” Horace admitted. “For now,” Raphael added. “He is still a Red Order witch.” “Indeed,” Spinle agreed, “you must never forget that.” Horace nodded before turning his back on their temporary ally. He slowly removed the dagger from the king’s chest. “I will tend to Dorian,” Raphael stated as he took up the king’s body. “Please return this to the queen. She may need it,” Horace said. Spinle nodded. “And your plan for Kal?” “We’ll take care of him. He will see his last full moon in three nights.”

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Chapter Thirty-Three

Victoria’s head screamed with pain as she pushed herself up. Her eyes slowly opened to a spinning room. Nausea gripped her as she sat up and tried to scoot to the edge of the bed. “Dorian?” Her voice scratched her sore throat. He did not answer. She called to him again and again but silence was all she received. Her mind began to clear as death scraped its cold razor like claws down her back. He was dead. Images of the night before sliced through her. She heard her own screams echo in her mind. He had lain in a pool of blood while she cried. She had begged him to come back to her and shouted her love for him as loud as her little lungs would allow. But nothing had helped. Nothing had made a difference. Tears ran down her face and dripped from her chin, a steady stream of agony. Her heart stopped beating and she knew that it would never beat again. Dorian was gone. She threw herself back down and buried her face in the pillows. The warm scent of Dorian washed over her as she breathed in deep, trying in vain to control the sobs that shook her body. His scent covered the linens. Victoria let out a broken sigh then froze at the sound just outside the door. For the first time she became aware of her surroundings. Where was she? And who was outside the door? Wiping the tears from her eyes, she struggled to bring into focus the man standing in the doorway of the room. “I'm relieved to see you awake, my lady,” the man said as he closed the door. “You took quite a blow to the head. If the change was not upon you, I fear you would have died.” Victoria scrambled from the bed and darted across the room, placing as much distance as she could between herself and the stranger.

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“You needn’t fear me, my lady,” he said, crossing the room. His face was creased with lines of concern as she stumbled and had to grab hold of an armchair for balance. “Who are you?” she demanded, surprised at how regal her voice sounded. She did not want this man to know she was injured. Her vision was blurred and she swayed on her feet but she refused to acknowledge the pain that swelled in her head and sprinted down her spine. The intruder chuckled. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Jacque Spinle.” “You’re a witch.” It was not a question but a statement of fact. She was not completely sure how she knew to which race he belonged. Perhaps it was the odd aroma that seemed to ooze from his every pore or was it his swirling, black eyes? “Yes, I am a general of the Red Order, but I mean you no harm.” He stood next to the bed with his back to her. “Why should I believe you,” she challenged. Her vision cleared, she looked the witch over and noted the sun-bleached bucket he carried. “I am not sure how I can answer that question,” he said, dumping the contents of the bucket on the bed, herbs, tiny flowers, and berries tumbled out. “I suppose I will have to earn your trust.” He gently sifted through his collection, spreading it across the bed. Jacque turned to the queen. She stood behind the chair now, her arms crossed over her chest, her emerald eyes watching, studying his every move. “I have something that belongs to you.” Reaching inside his coat, he removed a dagger, its blade wrapped in a deep, blue cloth. “Where did you get that?” She was feeling faint once more. It was her weapon. It was the tool of Dorian's death. Just a few moments ago, she had thought she never wanted to see that piece of metal ever again but now she fought the urge to run to it. She could use a weapon of any kind at the moment. The witch laid it on the bed. For all she knew, it was a trick. He could be using the dagger to lure her closer to him so he could grab her. “What I am about to say to you must never be repeated. If Kal learned that I helped Raphael and his allies, he would have my head. Do you understand?” 244

She nodded. “Kal planned on retrieving your husband's body and putting it on display in the great hall.” She inwardly flinched as she imagined Dorian's bloody body lying like a slaughtered beast on the hall table for all to see. “He can't claim the throne until he has hard, undeniable evidence of King Dorian's death. However, you may be glad to know that this afternoon I rode out on my own, retrieved your husband, and delivered him to his allies.” “Do you mean Raphael?” she asked Dorian had shared with her the bloody details of the feud as they traveled. Raphael had followed him to London with suspicions of Kal’s betrayal. Appreciating the loyalty and honesty that Raphael had given him, Dorian decided to make him his heir. Unfortunately, Raphael was attacked and nearly killed before he reached the Mylonas strong hold. Hadrian’s Clan rescued the noble vampire before the sun could take him. “Yes, my lady, your husband will be provided for.” Victoria could only assume that he meant his body would be cleaned and given a proper burial; she only wished she could have said goodbye to him. “Why do you care about what happens to my husband? He's a vampire.” “Because I am a witch I must loathe all vampires?” He shook his head and sighed. “It is the natural thing to assume, but it's not always the case. For example, the Shaw witches and the Voidukas Clan lives side by side under Queen Sonya's rule. I won't lie to you, my lady, I do hate vampires but there are a few whom I respect and Kal is not one of them. He is a dirty, swindling, liar who is hungry for power.” “Is that why you are helping Raphael and his allies? You despise Kal?” “Yes, but I also have great respect for your husband. Dorian has tried his hardest to protect his clan and the mortals that live within his territory. He is a most humane ruler. Kal, however, is the very opposite.” It was clear to Victoria what the witch meant by opposite. Kal had made a pact with the enemy, the Red Order. He betrayed his Clan, the very subjects whom he had sworn to protect. Victoria cringed when

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she thought of what he would do to the humans in the surrounding areas. “I will die before I see Kal become king. That is why I have decided to help.” Victoria had slowly begun to inch from behind the chair. The witch spoke with such conviction that she found it hard not to believe him, but what worried her was the fact that she wanted to believe him. She greatly needed an ally. Perhaps he could help her escape. She had no doubt that Kal had brought her to the keep or that he had something very special in store for her. “What about your loyalties?” she pressed. “You are a member of the Red Order and yet you would go against your people?” “It may surprise you to learn that the councilors of the Red Order, the men in charge, never declared war upon the Mylonas Clan. As a matter of fact, they frown upon what is going on. However, this fake feud works to their advantage.” “Vampires are being slaughtered.” “Correct. You see, Kal knew that the Council of the Red Order would never agree to his plan. Witches and vampires never do anything together, let alone fight together. So Kal approached Wright. The two of you have met?” Victoria nodded and Jacque continued, “The witch had recently fallen out of favor with the Council for betraying his oath to protect humans; he had brutally murdered a group of women and is suspected of killing his own father.” “Why would he kill his father?” “His father was a general of the Red Order, like me. The way the Order is formed is much like England was during the Middle Ages. Each general is like a lord with his own private army that the king, or in this case the Council, can call upon at any time. Sometimes, the leadership of the small army is passed down from father to son and sometimes, the general names an heir. Wright's father had made it clear to all that he had no intention of giving his men to his son but he died before he could name a successor.” “So, the army automatically went to Wright.” “Very good,” he praised her. “Kal approached Wright and talked the young witch into helping him.” “I don't understand why Wright would do such a thing. What did he stand to gain from helping Kal?” 246

“Money and a harem of young, beautiful women from all over the world, a mixture of vampires, shape-shifters, and humans,” he answered. “Wright had always had a weakness for lovely women.” “I know.” Her flesh crawled up her cheeks as she recalled the times she had the unfortunate experience of running into him. “However, since Wright is dead, Kal is having trouble keeping the witches in line. They are deserting and joining other armies.” “He is losing support?” Jacque nodded; Victoria caught on quick. It amazed him how fast she processed and accepted this new world in which she found herself. She was adjusting well. “Have I earned your trust, my lady?” She gave him a cold appraisal with her eyes. As if measuring her steps, she slowly made her way to the bed. Never taking her eyes off him, she picked up her dagger and hugged the weapon to her chest. “Some,” she conceded. “I will take what I can get.” He went back to his herbs and flowers, this time he was separating them into piles. “Now, allow me to enlighten you on your position that you are in. This is Dorian's bedchamber. You may have noticed that his scent is on everything. This is your cell. Kal has asked me to place a spell on this room. No one is to come in or go out. A guard will also be posted outside the door.” “I thought there would be a guard. Do you know what Kal has planned for me?” “As a matter of fact, I do.” She swallowed hard and sat on the edge of the bed. “What is it?” “He plans on making you his first fledgling." “But he can't, I'm already changed.” “You have begun the change, it won't be complete until the next full moon, which is in three days.” He paused, rubbing his index finger absently along his chin. “I suppose I will need to make you a tonic for the pain.” “Pain?” Her eyes narrowed on the witch. “What pain?”

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“The pain you will experience during the transition. It is excruciating. I’ve also had the unfortunate privilege to witness a transformation take place.” He shuddered from the memory. He had taken pity on the man who had once been his brother-in-law, and killed him. It had been his duty, his obligation. His sister should have never married a human and Jacque knew he should have never allowed the man to come hunting with him. He shook his head, shattering the memories, and cleared his throat, “But I can make a sweet-tasting tonic that will dull the pain while your body goes through the changes. I may also need to arrange for a bleeder.” “A bleeder? You mean the helpless slaves whom the vampires keep and use for feeding purposes?” Her face twisted with disgust. Dorian had explained to her that human slavery had been a fact of vampire life in the early days, before Dimitri made it illegal. Since his death, some elitist vampires had taken up the practice again. Dorian tried to maintain the law to the best of his ability, as did the other rulers. However, bleeders were necessary to a vampire’s survival and so groups of willing humans were allowed to live within the walls of all the castles. But Victoria could only imagine what Kal had done to those poor people and she had no doubt that he was the type to keep slaves. “You will need to feed in order to survive the transition.” Victoria’s eyes dropped to the ornate rug, a fresh set of tears ready to fall. “I know, but I assumed Dorian would be the one to get me through all this.” “Yes,” Jacque said, his heart tight, “I’m sure that was what he intended.” Not wishing to cry in the presence of the witch, she pinched herself. With a wince, her thoughts turned back to the present. “So what does Kal plan to do with me until the ceremony?’ “You are to remain in here.” “That's all?” “For your sake, I hope that’s all.” “What do you mean?” “Kal detests everything that once belonged to Dorian, the Clan, the castle, even this very room, hence the reason he has refused to 248

move into His Majesty’s quarters. However, his hate seems to end where you're concerned. Kal never once even imagined touching a woman who had been with Dorian. But you,” he shook his head, “might be a different story. My lady, no one can deny that you have been blessed with great beauty, but I fear in this situation your beauty is a curse. I admit that I was absolutely shocked when Kal entered the hall with you slung over his shoulder.” “Are you saying that he might…” She could not finish the sentence as bile burned her throat. Just the thought of that evil creature touching her was enough to make her retch. “Yes, I strongly doubt he will try anything but one never knows what a man will do when his passions are raging.” Jacque now began to pluck every petal from his pile of flowers. “I must warn you, he does believe you are a whore whom Dorian brought back with him from England.” “A whore!” “Hush!” he snapped. “You don't need to wake the entire keep.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “But I do suggest that you play along, we can’t allow Kal to discover your true relationship with Dorian, for it would mean your immediate death. You would be a threat to his power. As Dorian's wife, you have the right to rule the Clan. Do you understand? Kal can never know.” He paused just long enough for her to give a stiff nod. “Good. Now there is only one more thing about which I must warn you about. Kal will want to know how you and Dorian managed to get so deep into enemy territory with no one knowing. He will question you.” “I will tell him nothing,” she snapped. She would say and do nothing to help the bastard that murdered her husband. Her fingers lightly traced the hilt of her dagger as she imagined slicing his throat. “I have a better plan. I'm sure that you're aware of your husband's talents of mind control.” Victoria slowly nodded as she remembered the night on the ship when Dorian had reached into her dreams. He had drawn her to him and if it had not been for Falcon she would not be sitting in this very room. Dorian had been set on making a meal out of her. “I will tell Kal that I had to release you from a trance into which Dorian had put you. That will explain why you remember nothing of your voyage or your journey across the land, and why you were so distressed by Dorian's death.” 249

“You think of everything,” Victoria said. “When you have been around as long as I have, my lady, you learn how to lie quite convincingly. It's not a talent I'm proud of but it will keep you alive.” “I am not as great of a liar as you. He will surely know–” “Kal is not as strong as your husband. Yes, Dorian can detect even the smallest of lies. He can smell them. Kal cannot. All he can do is listen to your breathing and your heart. So if he presses you for answers, just stay calm, keep your breathing even, and your heart steady. He will never know the difference.” “Thank you, Mr. Spinle.” “I will not accept thanks.” “Someone is coming,” Victoria whispered, her eyes on the door, her ears buzzing with the sound of footsteps. She took in a deep breath, she needed to stay calm just in case it was Kal. Her fear would prick his interest since she wasn't supposed to have memories of Dorian—and that included last night. “You’re hearing is improving,” Jacque commented as he headed for the door. “Hide the dagger.” Victoria gasped. She had forgotten about the weapon. She quickly tucked it under a pillow. She had just straightened her back when Jacque opened the door. “Don’t worry, I will send up some food,” Jacque called over his shoulder before closing the door. “Hello, Kal.” “She is awake?” “Yes, and she’s starving.” Spinle shook his head. “The poor girl.” “Has she asked for Vlakhos?” “I have bad news,” Spinle sighed. “The girl remembers nothing.” “What?” Kal’s hands fisted at his sides. “Dorian had her under some kind of mind control.” “No! He’s dead.” Jacque faked a convincing confused expression. “What do you mean?” 250

“Once a vampire dies, his mental hold vanishes.” “Yes,” Jacque nodded. “She should remember.” “Well,” Jacque shrugged, “Vlakhos was very old. His powers could have been limitless.” Kal’s eyes burned with hatred. “He’s dead!” Slamming a fist against the stone wall, he growled between clenched teeth, “And that whore is useless to me, unless you’re lying, witch.” “Question her yourself.” “I intend to,” he snapped, “but first we will go and collect that bastards body. I hope the sun scorched it. I want the thing to be so repulsive the Clan demands it be tossed in the fire.” Kal’s angry stomps echoed through the corridor. Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed as she listened to the two men retreat. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her hands shook in her lap, and she cursed her now more-than-perfect ears, for she heard every acidic word that dripped from Kal’s lips.

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Chapter Thirty-Four

Kal’s roar was heard for miles, animals started in fear as humans took refuge in their homes. A demon was enraged somewhere and that could only mean death was near. “Where the hell is the corpse?” Kal demanded of the blood soaked earth where Dorian’s body had lain. “He’s dead! He couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away.” Snarling he turned his crazed, red eyes to Jacque. “Where is it?” The witch gave a lazy shrug. “I stabbed him. He fell here.” Kal’s nails lengthened into deadly claws. “He was here!” Sinking to the ground, he ripped at the ash-covered soil. “George, what is your report?” Jacque asked the vampire as he rejoined the party. Nervously glancing at Kal, who still slashed and cursed at the earth, he cleared his throat and prayed that the crazed vampire would not turn on him. “I searched the surrounding area and found nothing.” “How far did you go?” Jacque pressed. The witch knew how to cover his tracks, so it came as no surprise to him that nothing was found. “A mile.” “Could it be possible for the king to just turn to ash and dust like the rest of us when exposed to sunlight?” Roy inquired. “That may explain why he is gone.” “You fool!” Kal snarled, pushing himself to his feet. His eyes burned red, his fangs drawn, and claws ready to tear flesh from bone. The naïve vampire stepped back, bumping shoulders with Jacque. “Dorian is an ancient, he could walk for hours in the sunlight and not be harmed, even though he is dead, his body would decay just like a human’s,” Jacque explained. 253

“Someone has him,” Kal’s voice was a low growl. “Someone must have picked him up. There has to be a traitor in our keep.” His eyes shifted from George to Roy. “And I’ll rip their head off with my bare hands when I find him.” “We need to regroup,” Jacque suggested. “Perhaps send search parties out. If a vampire took the body, they would have had to wait until dark, they couldn’t have gotten far.” Those words seemed to calm Kal a bit, his claws retracted and his eyes faded back to light brown, but his fangs still stood proud. “You two,” pointing at the two vampire soldiers he commanded, “put together four search teams and send them out in each direction. I want the entire territory combed.” Shifting his eyes to the witch, he snarled, “I want to talk to the whore.”

Victoria sat in the armchair by the hearth, her feet tucked under her. She slowly recited her lie again in her head; she did not dare speak it aloud for she feared the guard, posted outside her door, would hear. She prayed over and over that no one had heard Jacque’s plan, but then again, it had been day and not many vampires were strong enough to be awake while the sun ruled the sky. She needed her story to be solid. She needed to believe it. She could not afford Kal smelling her lie. He had to think she was just some whore Dorian had taken a fancy to. Most importantly, Kal had to believe that she remembered absolutely nothing of her travels. Victoria jumped when the hall doors slammed open down stairs. The entire fortress shook. Kal must be back. The great hall fell silent. She closed her eyes and focused her senses; angry footsteps quickly crossed the stone floor and mounted the stairs. Not a breath, later her door flew open. Teeth bared, eyes sizzling with rage, Kal took hold of her arm and yanked her to her feet. Victoria did not have to feign fright; she felt it to her core. This creature was ready to rip her throat out. “Where is he?” Kal hissed. “Where is who?” she gasped. Her heart thundered in her ears. His grip tightened, she winced as his claws dug into her flesh. 254

“Don’t play with me, woman! Where is your lover?” “I–I’ve had many lovers.” Her mouth was dry, her body shaking. “Dorian Vlakhos!” he raged. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I have had too many lovers to know them all by name.” Roaring, Kal shoved her away. Victoria tumbled, taking the armchair down with her. Landing on her back, her head smacking the floor with a loud crack, the world spun before her as Kal took hold of her once more, his fingers wrapped about her throat, drawing her up off the ground. “The rich foreigner you met.” Jacque’s voice kissed her ears. She wanted to sigh, ‘oh, thank god’ but thought better of it. “He’s tall, dark―” “Yes, yes,” she squeaked, “the Russian prince.” “Kal, let the girl go so she can speak, you’re choking her,” Jacque implored. Kal’s growl was deep and deadly as he released her abruptly. Victoria collapsed to the hard floor, her knees stinging from the impact. “The prince,” Kal snapped. “Where is he?” “I don’t know, sir,” she answered. She tensed waiting for Kal to strike; instead Jacque grabbed hold of the vampire’s wrist, steadying the hand that was about to slice her cheek open. “I spent one night with him. That’s all, just one night. He paid me handsomely. I’ll give you all the money if you like. You can have it all,” her voice shook as she forced the words out and was surprised how true they sounded. She had practiced all night. “We don’t want your money. It’s yours, I have no doubt you earned it,” Spinle said in what seemed to be a forced civil tone. Victoria had to give him credit. He was quite the actor. “Is that all you remember of him?” “Yes, when we were done, he paid me and had his driver take me home in his carriage.” “You were on a ship?”

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“I have never been on a ship in my life. I may be a whore, but I won’t lower myself to sharing a seaman’s bed. They are filthy bastards. I only deal with those who have money.” Kal’s eyes scorched her, she knew he watched her every move. She willed herself to stay calm and keep to her story. “Very well,” Spinle sighed. He lowered and shook his head. “I told you that she remembers nothing. She was under a spell, Kal.” Victoria gasped. “Of what witchery do you speak?” “Nothing, dear,” Spinle assured her. “Have you eaten?” “Not since you left this room earlier.” “I’ll send something up to you.” Kal thundered from the room, slamming his fist against the wall on his way out. The girl was a dead end just like the witch had said. He smelled no lie from her. He wanted to rip her pretty, little head from her slender neck. It didn’t matter if she remembered anything about Vlakhos or not, she had still meant something to him in order for him to bring her along on his journey. He had to possess some feelings for her. A man like Vlakhos could find sex anywhere. Why would he need to carry a whore around? Grumbling, he descended the stairs to the hall and ordered his men to gather. He had a traitor to find. “Do you think he suspects anything?” she whispered. “No, I think we’re safe, but he’ll be on a witch hunt now,” Jacque said with a chuckle. “Why?” she asked, ignoring the pun. “He wants to find a traitor among his men. The problem is that no traitor exists.” Victoria nodded as she put it together. Kal’s men were loyal. It was Jacque who was causing all the problems. “Is he angry because he couldn’t find…” her voice trailed off, she didn’t want to voice her question, someone may hear, but she had to know the answer. Jacque turned and headed for the door. “Mr. Spinle wait,” she insisted, her eyes filled with tears waiting to spill over.

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“Yes, the body wasn’t there.” Relief flooded through her. Her husband may be dead but at least his body would not be desecrated. She now knew that Jacque could be trusted. He said he would take the body to Dorian’s allies but she had not fully believed his words. Kal’s anger proved the witch was trustworthy. “Your husband is safe to recover.” Victoria’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breath. Safe to recover, the words echoed in her mind. Could he be alive? Was it possible? She had watched Kal drive the dagger into Dorian’s heart. She had seen the agony on her husband’s face as he fell to the ground. His blood pooling and soaking into the earth beneath him. “Do you think he could be…” She stopped. No, she could not say it even though the question burned her tongue. She would not fill her heart with false hope. Jacque said nothing as he stepped out into the passage, closing the door behind him.

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Chapter Thirty-Five

“What do you think?” Raphael asked the old woman. “It’s hard to say,” Edwina said. “He’s lost a lot of blood and his heart has been pierced. He’s got cuts and bruises all over him and many internal injuries.” She wiped the sweat from her brow. She had been working on the king for some time now, hours continued to pass as she bathed and dressed all his wounds. “Will he survive?” “Oh, yes,” she assured the vampire. “Your king will make a full recovery, he is an ancient after all, and his powers are great. I assume he’ll be up and ready for all out battle in a few more hours.” Raphael’s shoulders slumped with relief. Dorian would pull through and they would save their people. “I suggest you go and share the news with your colleagues, they are just as concerned as you are about the man.” Edwina smiled, her wrinkles growing deeper. Raphael kissed her forehead and headed down stairs. As the door to the bedroom closed, Dorian woke with a start. His fighting instincts flaring, he shot up and almost knocked the old healer to the floor. “Calm yourself,” she commanded. “I don’t want you ripping open any of your new flesh.” Dorian relaxed at the familiar voice. “I’m sorry, old woman,” he chuckled. “The last thing I seem to remember is fighting for my mate’s life.” “Understandable,” she conceded with a shrug as she continued to wrap the bandage about his bicep. Looking about the room, he noticed something or rather someone missing. “Where is Victoria?” “You must mean your queen? Is that her name? A beautiful name and I’m

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sure she is equally beautiful.” Dorian’s body tensed, the way Edwina spoke it was as if she had yet to meet Victoria. “Where is she?” “I’m not sure I should be the one telling you this, in your current condition, but…” The door swung open, its hinges screeching in protest. Raphael froze, his eyes wide. Amazement swept over him in a wave of happiness. “You’re awake!” Ignoring his second’s shock, he demanded, “Where is Victoria?” Raphael’s face went from complete surprise to total stone in an instant. He shook his head and gathered himself. “Kal has her.” Dorian was up and dressed in a blink, Raphael hadn’t seen him move, and all Edwina could do was gasp. “I’m going to get her.” Raphael stood firm in the doorway. “You’re not fully healed yet.” “If I were on my death bed, I could still wipe the floor with Kal. Now step aside.” “I can’t do that, my lord.” “You don’t have to,” Dorian shoved his second aside with a flick of his wrist, “I just did it for you.” “She is safe for the time being.” “She isn’t safe unless she is with me,” Dorian snapped. “My King,” Raphael called as he jogged to catch up with Dorian, who was already down the hall and half way down the stairs, “we must plan.” “Damn, Dorian, you sure heal quickly. We thought we had lost you.” Horace beamed at the bottom of the stairs, clapping the king on the back as he passed. Raphael glared at the general before grabbing Dorian’s arm and swinging him around.

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“We need to talk. There is much to discuss and plan. The full moon isn’t even two days away.” Dorian growled. His mate was in danger, his enemy had her captive, and her change was on the way. She would be in so much pain, writhing and crying as her body mutated, he wouldn’t be there to soothe her or feed her. She would need his strong blood in order to survive, too many women died during transformation. It was why males dominated the vampire race. He could not just leave her there alone. His heart slammed in his chest, his limbs shaking. He needed Victoria, here, now, in his arms. He needed to hold her, smell her soft scent. He needed her blood. He prayed that Kal did not find out that she was his mate. It was a death sentence. His little kitten must be so frightened in the den of that treacherous scum. “I have to get her.” “You will have her, Dorian, but first we must decide what to do with Kal and his followers,” Raphael insisted. “He plans on hosting his coronation ceremony the night after next. He’s going to gather the remaining clansmen in the courtyard of the fortress and we are positive that he plans on killing every last member who has not fled your land.” Dorian took in a deep breath. He had to listen to reason. He knew he was in no shape to fight, even with all the rage and loathing he had inside him. He needed at least a few more hours. He just hoped that Victoria could last a few more hours. “Jacque Spinle has vowed to protect her,” Horace added. “He’s a Red Order witch,” Dorian snapped. “And he’s the one who brought you to us. He could have let Kal take you, he could have tossed your ass in the fire. He did not have to rescue you,” Raphael pointed out. Dorian scrubbed his face with his hands. He had to calm down. He had to tap down the urge to run, to beat down the fortress doors, to kill every soldier there, especially Kal, and to take Victoria up in his arms. He must wait. He had always been a sensible, calculating man, but where Victoria was concerned, his instincts took over. “Fine,” he sighed. He slowly walked to the table the men were gathered around. Maps of his land and fortress covered the large surface. He studied the notes Raphael and the generals had made. 261

“We were thinking of attacking from the south east corner,” Raphael began, keeping a close eye on the king. Dorian looked like a corpse. His skin was translucent; he could clearly see every artery and vein in Dorian’s hands, neck, and face. The deep scratches were gone, the bruises had vanished already, Raphael marveled at the speed of Dorian’s recovery. His own had taken weeks, however, Dorian hadn’t been shot with multiple poisonous arrows and was much older. Despite the fact he had been stabbed in the heart, the Shaw’s magic protected him. “How many men do you plan on taking?” the king asked. “We estimate that Kal’s vampire followers number in the two hundreds. He still has a small group of witches with him; however, most have deserted his cause to seek the employment of other Red Order generals. Spinle has informed us that you took the pleasure of killing Wright yourself.” “Indeed, I did.” “We were going to take three hundred to lay siege,” Horace continued. “It’s odd that we are still making war as if in the Middle Ages, but I suppose as isolated as we are in this back country, we are still in the Middle Ages.” “It keeps large numbers of people away,” a soldier added. “We don’t need that many men,” Dorian announced. “There is more than one way into Cassius’ Fortress. You say that Spinle is currently in the castle? Do you have a way to contact him? He can leave the west gate in the flower garden unlocked. Ivy conceals its existence. There is also a way that I’ll take but I will not share that with you. This passage is for Mylonas’ kings only.” “Spinle normally rides the border every day just before dusk. I’m sure we can find him,” Raphael confirmed. “Great. Horace, I want you to assemble your strongest soldiers. We will take only forty.” “Forty!” Shock echoed in the high, vaulted hall. “If we get in undetected then there is no need for more men. Once I have re-established control, no one will challenge me.” “What will you do with those who betrayed you for Kal?” Raphael questioned.

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“Those who willingly followed Kal will be put to death. I will not risk this kind of madness happening again. But there are many that did Kal’s bidding by force. I will hold court once everything is settled.” “Yes, sir.” “Good. Horace, get your men prepared. I would like them to run some drills. I assume you have a training station.” “Yes, it is down stairs.” Horace went off to collect his soldiers while Dorian rubbed his chest. The knife wound was healing painfully. A Shaw blade was the most deadly of weapons, but the owner of the weapon wished him no harm, therefore the blade had not killed him. He had just been paralyzed. He could hear Victoria’s screams and sobs in the recesses of his mind. His heart ached for her. “Dorian, would you like to sit down?” Raphael asked, his voice low as he moved to his leader’s side. “You are terribly pale. Would you like a bleeder?” Dorian’s upper lip curled with disgust at the question. He could not bear for his mouth to touch another’s wrist or throat. He needed his woman. She was the only one he would feed from ever again. He would make love to her as he pierced her smooth flesh with his fangs. “No.” “Edwina said you lost a lot of blood. You will heal faster and better if you feed.” “I said, no!” Dorian roared. His second stepped back, bracing himself for a blow that was not delivered. “I apologize, Raph, I’m not myself right now. All I can think about is Victoria.” Raphael nodded. He knew what his king was going through. He had loved his wife when he was human and when she was taken from him during childbirth, he knew true pain and suffering. He shook his past away; there was no reason to dwell on things that could not be changed. She and his son had died and he was changed into a vampire. Fate played some cruel games at times. “You will get her back, my lord.” Dorian’s body screamed for nourishment. Healing was taking most of his energy and he wasn’t sure how long he could go before he started to lose his sanity and this time Victoria wasn’t here to save him.

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“I just need to make it one more night,” he whispered. “Raphael, will you please find some chains and place them in my room. If the madness comes upon me before the full moon…” “I will see to it that your mate and your Clan are saved,” his second assured him. “And you will restrain me?” “Yes.” Dorian’s fangs elongated as he clenched his jaw against the searing pain in his chest. His body cried out for blood, his head swam with need. The madness was beginning to claw at him.

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Chapter Thirty-Six

Another wave of agony gripped her as she curled into a ball under the fur pelts of Dorian’s bed. The pain had begun the instant the sun slipped below the horizon. A cold sweat beaded her brow as shivers shook her body. The change was upon her. The chamber door opened, but she did not lift her head to see who had entered. “My lady, I have something for you.” Jacque’s voice floated through the air and stung her sensitive ears. A venomous hiss escaped through her teeth as he pulled the coverlets back, exposing her to the cool air. He rolled her onto her back and pulled her up to a sitting position. He could feel the fever of her flesh radiating through the sleeves of her night grown. The heat seared his hands. “Take this,” he said as he handed her a small chalice, “it will help with the pain.” Victoria took his offering with shaking hands. The deep, blue concoction sloshed as she raised it to her trembling lips. “Good?” She nodded. “I have something else for you.” She followed his gaze. There, hanging over the back of the armchair, was a red dress. “What’s that for?” she asked, her teeth chattering. “Kal’s coronation,” he answered. She groaned, only this time it was not from pain but from disgust.

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“Are you feeling better?” He studied her pale face. Her shivers had vanished but the fever still clung to her. “The medicine should work quickly to quell the vampire poison in your blood.” “How long does it last?” “Two hours.” He patted his coat pocket. The clinking of glass was faint but Victoria heard it. “I have more, so don’t fret.” She smiled and stood. Every muscle in her body ached. She had lain in bed, twisting in pain for what seemed like eternity. She was relieved to be free of her shivers and her fever was slowly fading. “Do you think Raphael will come tonight?” her voice was weak and low, her heart beat slowly in her chest. “I am positive that he has come up with a plan,” he stated. “Trust him.” “It’s difficult to place my trust in a man whom I have never met.” Her eyes dropped to her hands that lay folded in her lap. “But if Dorian trusted him then I shall too.” “Raphael is a good vampire, as vampires go,” he said with a firm nod before turning toward the door. “I must be off. I have a gate to find and unlock. I will return within the hour to escort you to the ceremony.” She ignored his peculiar words and crossed the room to stand before the dress. Heaving a heavy sigh, she rubbed the nape of her neck and studied the garment she would wear to what felt like her execution.

The moon slowly crept higher as the soldiers left their horses, concealed by the darkness of the forest. Silently, they jogged across the meadow and up the steep hill to the fortress wall. Hugging the shadows, Dorian motioned for the men to get down low. “The gate is just behind that hedge,” he whispered, pointing to the tall, leafy guardian. The gate was the only weakness the fortress possessed and Dorian would rectify that as soon as possible. “How long will it take for you to reach the inside?” Raphael asked.

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“Just a few minutes. Do you all remember the plan? Once you enter the keep, try to blend in with the crowd as best you can and take up your posts. Conceal your weapons and form a perimeter around the assembly.” Turning to Horace, he asked, “Spinle did tell you he would unlock the gate?” “Yes. He could not provide me with a specific time, but assured me that it would be done before the ceremony began. The witch also informed me that the last of the witches left this morning. Since Wright is dead and they no allegiance to Spinle, they’ve gone off to seek employment amongst the Red Order generals. Spinle is the only hunter to remain in attendance and Kal has quickly grown suspicious.” “That’s one less worry,” Raphael sighed. “I feared we were walking into a witch infestation. Did he tell you anything else?” “He told me that a group of nobles were to arrive tonight, just before the coronation, and the chieftain of the Volkov Clan is among them.” Dorian’s eyes darkened to a deadly black. “Ven.” His voice rumbled with hatred. “It is no surprise he would come to support Kal,” Raphael sneered. “Two traitorous pigs working together.” “Spinle did give me some good news. Falcon is here and Gwendolyn accompanied him. The Shaw transported them here for this very special night.” “That is good news indeed,” Dorian agreed, his eyes fading to their natural color. “At least one member of every royal house must be present to witness the coronation in order for the passing of the crown to be legal.” “I wonder why Sonya sent Gwendolyn in her stead,” Raphael mused. Dorian assumed that Sonya had decided to stay behind with Margaret. The girl needed protection and affection from someone trustworthy. “Gwendolyn is Sonya’s heir, is she not?” a soldier questioned. “Yes,” Horace clarified. “The reason as to why Sonya isn’t here herself is of no importance,” Dorian declared. “All that matters is we have two powerful allies waiting for us inside. Now, the moon is almost in position, the ceremony will start soon. Go, find the gate and do exactly what I told you.” 267

“You heard him, men. Move!” Horace commanded. Dorian departed. Keeping to the shadows, he ran along the wall and darted around the south corner. He knew they would be fine on their own. The men were seasoned warriors who had been members of various armies before their transformation. He had confidence that they would complete their mission. He quickly crossed the daisy-filled meadow and headed into the thick woods. A small smile caressed his lips as he skillfully made his way through the trees. This had been the very forest to which he had taken Victoria to in her dream. He came to a halt before the wide mouth of a cave. His heart beat steadily and his breathing was easy, despite the long span of land he had covered. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. He would be seeing his lovely mate soon and he did not want to look like a wild beast. The simple thought of Victoria sparked his hunger and sent a thrill through his body. He would have her in his arms soon enough. Stepping into the cave, he was engulfed by darkness. His eyes quickly adjusted. He slowly made his way through the cavern. The temperature gradually dropped, as he grew closer to what appeared to be a dead end. Whispering the secret words, known only to the kings of his bloodline, the stone evaporated, revealing a hidden staircase. The Shaw witches had cast the concealing spell on the passage hundreds of years before. Once he began to mount the stairs, the entrance sealed and once again, stone stood in its place. Dorian started down the tunnel that led back under the forest and the field of daisies, but most importantly, it passed beneath the walls of the fortress and led directly to the master’s chambers. His steps continued to quicken until he broke out into a full run. His heart began to thud in his ears as he came closer and closer to the winding staircase that would bring him to Victoria. Her sweet scent tickled his nose as he climbed the steps. She was there. He was about to burst through the secret door when Spinle’s voice sounded in the room. He glided to a stop, taking in deep calming breaths. He had to get his excitement under control. Placing a hand on the wooden portal, he silently inched it open, and peeked through the tiny crack. Victoria stood before the fire, draped in a lovely, red grown. Her shoulders were bare, her slender neck completely exposed. Dorian’s fangs tickled his tongue as his eyes dropped lower and noticed how well the bodice enhanced her bosom and small waist. She was a vision and every

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cell in his body screamed for her. “My lady, it’s time,” Spinle said. She turned her gaze from the flames and hesitantly took his arm. Dorian saw the uncertainty on her face. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her worries away. “Don’t fret, everything will work out. You’ll see. Don’t give up hope.” She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She did not know what to expect. Jacque had told her Kal planned on making her his first fledgling. Would he try that tonight? Would he taste the vampire essence that already laced her blood? Would he be able to sense that the transformation was upon her? She silently prayed that someone would save her. Victoria allowed Jacque to lead her down the stairs and out the front entrance of the keep to the courtyard. The brilliant full moon battled the angry clouds to give light to the night. A great rumbling of voices mixed with the wind as the assembly grew by the minute. Rumors had spread like fire through the crowd. The hushed whispers stung her sensitive ears. “Has anyone heard of King Dorian?” one vampire asked the group he had just joined. “I heard he was killed by hunters on his way home,” another answered. Victoria bit her lip as Jacque led her past the men. She wanted to scream at them. Kal was the reason her husband was dead. He was the one who had killed their king. He was a traitor and he was bent on destroying the Clan. “I was told that Kal hired the hunters, just like Ven.” “That’s the woman the king had with him. Kal rescued her from the brink of death.” Every muscle in her body tensed. Jacque patted her arm and continued to weave with her through the throng of vampires. “Don’t pay any attention to them. Kal has filled their heads with lies and they can no longer see the truth.” Jacque guided her up the steps and on to the stage. Kal stood directly in the center of the wooden platform, clothed completely in black with a long, jewel-embedded sword at his hip, as was the 269

tradition for inaugurations. Other vampires dressed in finery stood along side him. “Who are they?” she dropped her voice as low as she possibly could, though she was positive they could hear her. “They are nobles from the other clans and are here at Kal’s request. Their presence will make his transition legal. The one standing closest to Kal is Ven, the chieftain of the Volkov Clan.” Victoria’s eyes narrowed, as she looked Ven over. He was a handsome man, blond hair fell to his shoulders and sable eyes sparkled as he laughed with Kal. This was the vampire Dorian believed to be responsible for Dimitri’s death. He had hired Red Order witches to slaughter the last pure blood of their race. It would seem that Kal was following in the vampire’s shadow. He too had enlisted the aid of the Red Order hunters and he was responsible for Dorian’s death. She tried to keep her rage locked away. These vampires were certainly old and possessed unimaginable powers. For all she knew, they could read her every thought. “This is her,” Kal announced, his arms spreading wide. “This is the woman of whom I telling you.” “She is a beauty,” Ven agreed. He licked his lips as his eyes traveled over her frame. Victoria’s hand itched with the urge to slap the aroused look off his face. “She’s a good choice,” he added. “Shall we begin?” a woman asked. Her voice was soft, it complemented her small frame and angelic, porcelain face. “Let’s get this over with, I don’t wish to be hear a second longer than what is absolutely necessary.” Victoria gasped at the sound of the familiar voice. Falcon stood behind the small woman. Hope blossomed in her bosom. He would save her. Turning to the large crowd, who swarmed around the stage, Ven began, “Good people. I welcome you to the coronation ceremony.” A loud roar of protest shook the night. “Where is King Dorian?” numerous voices shouted. “Dorian Vlakhos is no longer with us,” Ven announced. “I have seen proof of his death.” His lie quelled the masses. “Leadership now rests upon the shoulders of Marcus Kal. Tonight, beneath the full moon, he will pledge his devotion to his clan.” 270

There were no cheers, no claps. Silence lay like thick fog over the crowd as they tried to process Ven’s words. King Dorian was dead. Victoria shifted uneasily beside Jacque. Falcon and the woman whispered amongst themselves before she turned to Ven. “Perhaps we should see a demonstration of Kal’s strength before we continue. Every king is required to possess the power to change humans and Kal is a bit on the young side.” “As is your queen,” Kal remarked. Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed and she took a threatening step forward. “My queen has proven herself capable of ruling a thousand times over.” “You’re right.” Ven’s eyes moved back to Victoria. “We must see proof of your abilities. If you’re blood is found to be too weak to transform a human then you must forfeit your right as heir and the Council of Kings will choose a suitable replacement.” Kal’s eyes danced with anger. He had not expected the nobles to demand a demonstration of his abilities. He could only assume the Clan’s lack of enthusiasm and Falcon’s dislike was the cause. It was obvious people were not pleased to hear Kal was to be their new king. The nobles were unknowingly giving the serfs a chance at survival. If he failed to change Dorian’s woman, his dreams would be shattered. Pointing a crooked finger at Victoria, he demanded, “Bring her here.” Jacque gave Victoria a shove and she stumbled forward. Kal caught her arm and slammed her back against his chest. She struggled, twisting and kicking. His vile breath hissed in her ear as her elbow found his ribs. A cold, rough hand wrapped about her throat, the fingers bruising her flesh. His free arm slipped around her waist, holding her steady. Her heart raced in her chest and her nostrils flared from her rapid breathing. She prayed Falcon would save her, that he would rip her from Kal’s revolting grasp. Kal opened his mouth wide, his fangs elongating. His hot breath burned her flesh. Her scream lodged in her throat as she was brutally torn from the vampire’s arms, his fangs scratching her skin. She was shoved toward Falcon, who caught her and quickly passed her off to the woman as an arrow grazed Kal’s head. Blood trickled down from his temple. 271

Snarling, Kal whirled around to find Dorian’s violent eyes latched upon him. All the color fled from Kal’s face. The crowd was deathly silent; no one dared to breath. Victoria stood wide-eyed and catatonic. Her husband was alive. It was not possible. She had seen him die. She had watched as Kal buried the dagger in his chest. Dorian’s heavy body had collapsed, his blood seeping into the soil. But there he stood, not ten feet from her. Tears stung her eyes. She had never been so happy in her life. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was alive. Her love, her life, her mate, was alive. She suppressed the overwhelming desire to run to him. Now, certainly, was not the time to throw herself in his arms and rain kisses upon his face. “You are supposed to be–” “Dead,” Dorian finished. “You did try very hard to make that wish of yours a reality but in the end you failed, as always.” His lips curled into an evil smile as his eyes faded to raven black. “The crown belongs to me,” Kal sneered. “And now, I will take what is mine.” Kal drew the sword from his belt and charged. The steel shimmered in the moonlight as it sang and slashed through the air. Dorian skillfully avoided the blade. He waited for Kal to leave his body open; he did not have to wait long. Dorian ducked, the sword swung above his head. Lunging, he tackled Kal and they went tumbling from the stage and fell to the hard earth below. As they rolled, Dorian wrestled the sword from Kal’s strong grip and kicked the vampire away. Springing to his feet, he tossed the sword up to Falcon, who readily caught the weapon. This was going to be a fair, even fight. No one would be able to contest his victory. The peasant vampires gasped and scattered, seeking refuge in the castle, stables, and huts. Two extremely powerful vampires were doing battle and no one dared get in their way. Kal roared, his nails lengthening to claws, his eyes raging with fury as he scrambled to his feet. Dorian’s fangs were bared, his eyes deep pools of black. He stood ready for Kal’s attack, his own lethal claws released. Kal slashed the air like a mad man as Dorian danced around him, landing blow after blow, enraging Kal even more. Lightening flashed and thunder shook the ground as thick rain poured from the sky. The warriors did not notice as they continued to slash at each other, neither acknowledging the pain nor the rain 272

washing away their blood. Their clothing hung from their bodies in tatters. Dorian’s white shirt was now stained red jut as Kal’s black attire clung to his body in great wet patches. Panic gripped Victoria as she stood watching the fight. It was happening all over again. She could not bear to see Dorian fall a second time. She had just gotten him back. Breaking free of the woman’s grasp, she ran to Falcon. “Why aren’t you helping him?” she demanded. Ignoring her, he said, “Gwendolyn, keep the queen back. We do not need her distracting Dorian while he fights.” “You, bastard,” Victoria cursed, “you should be helping him.” “This is not my fight, nor my Clan” Falcon stated, his voice too cool and too calm for her liking. She was just about to let him know it when her stomach twisted and fire scorched her blood. Doubling over in pain, the world slowly faded to black before her eyes. Gwendolyn caught her before she hit the hard stage. “The effect of Spinle’s potion is waning,” she warned. Falcon nodded in acknowledgment. The queen needed attention but he could not leave his friend. If this fight turned in Kal’s favor, he would join in, no matter what the law said. He was a knight, he had taken an oath to protect the nobility, though in matters such as these, he had no say, and he had no right to interfere. Raphael intently watched his king from the sidelines and anxiously waited for Kal’s allies to close in of them. He would follow his orders and wait for the right moment; fortunately he did not have to wait long. Dorian howled and fell to his knees in the mud, he had been struck from behind. He wheeled around in time to block the next blow of the sword with his arm. Blood flowed in waves from the wound. Kal, taking advantage of Dorian’s distraction, pulled a dagger from his boot, and buried it to the hilt in the king’s side. Falcon jumped from the stage, taking Kal down to the rain-soaked ground. With a snarl, Dorian yanked the dagger from his side and let it fall from his fingers. Falcon stood and backed away, giving Dorian access to the traitor and allowing Kal to regain his footing as his supporters charged forward. With a loud cry, Raphael and his men rushed in, swords drawn. The battle grew chaotic. The sound of metal clashing and clanking together rang in the night and was carried away on the wind. Lightning 273

cracked, thunder roared, and the rain teemed down with a fury. Mud and blood mixed together on the battlefield until there was no telling them apart. Falcon returned to the women. Gwendolyn cradled Victoria’s head in her lap and whispered soft words in her ear. Falcon watched the battle before him in silence, the royal jewel-encrusted sword resting by his feet. Dorian and Kal fought in the center of the pack of vampires, their allies battling around them. Cries of pain and the stench of death wafted on the breeze. Crimson sparkled in the moonlight as it sprinkled down adding to the mixture of mud and blood. Dorian lashed out, his claws laying Kal’s cheek open. Ignoring the pain, Kal continued to fight as blood dripped from his chest and down his torso. With an ear splitting growl, Dorian lunged, taking his opponent to the ground. The two fought like crazed demons straight from hell, scratching, slicing, and biting at each other as they rolled through the mud. Kal snarled and violently kicked Dorian off him. He scrambled in the mud, his hands frantically searching for a weapon. His eyes jumped with hellish delight as his fingers wrapped around a fallen vampire’s sword. He turned and stood, sword raised for an attack. Metal kissed metal, to Kal’s surprise as Dorian wielded the ceremonial sword Falcon had thrown to him. They danced, stepping over bodies as their swords clashed in sequence with the lightning. Victoria’s cry of pain pierced the lethal, red haze clouding Dorian’s mind. He spared a glance toward the stage. Steam floated up from her feverish body as the rain relentlessly cascaded down. Twisting to the side, he barely avoided a deadly blow and his sword was knocked from his hand. Needing a weapon, he glanced around, mud hindering his search. Kal struck again, the blade slicing open his shoulder. Dorian roared, took hold of Kal’s wrist and roughly pulled the vampire forward, his feet dragging in the mud. He wrapped his long fingers around Kal’s throat, kicked the sword away, and buried his fangs deep in his neck. Kal hissed as pain coursed through his body like waves of fire. He struggled to free himself, clawing at Dorian’s hand, face, and arms. He kicked the king repeatedly in the shins, but Dorian’s grip did not loosen until Kal was on the brink of death. Kal staggered back after Dorian shoved him away, his knees giving way from exhaustion, his hand over his neck. Dorian knelt down and took up Kal’s sword. 274

“Bastard,” Kal screamed as Dorian came to loom over him. “The crown is mine,” Dorian declared slowly, emphasizing every word before he drove the sword home. With a twist of his wrist, Dorian laid Kal’s torso open, his innards on display. With one last growl, Dorian swung his arm wide, and sent Kal’s head rolling through the mud. Raphael pulled his own weapon free from the last vampire. Kal’s allies all lay with their leader, slain on the battlefield, waiting for the rise of the sun, which would turn their bodies to ash. Dorian gave him a curt nodded as Raphael bowed and sheathed his sword. Dorian’s breath was rough, deep, and rapid. Blood dripped from his hair and clothing as his eyes, ever so slowly, faded to their natural color. “Dorian,” Ven’s voice was like jagged glass being drawn against his skin, “I had no idea Kal wanted you dead.” “You claimed to have seen proof of my death.” Ven opened his mouth to protest. “Save your lies for someone who will believe them,” Dorian snapped. “Get off my land, you are no longer welcome here.” Turning from the carnage, his eyes sought out his mate. Jumping to the stage, Dorian scooped his wife up in his arms. Her flesh was pale and burning. He glanced up at the sky, the moon hung directly above him. Midnight. It was time.

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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Darkness consumed Victoria as shivers racked her body. Her blood was on fire and with every beat of her heart, a new wave of searing pain washed over her. Her breathing was rapid and shallow; the cool night air stung her throat and spread like ice through her lungs. Her cries split the night as her body shook and contorted uncontrollably. “Should we try giving her more medicine for the pain?” Spinle asked. Dorian shook his head. “It won’t work now, she’s too far into the transformation.” The witch nodded. Dorian had been standing watch over his wife for the past two hours, not moving, not speaking, and at times, it appeared as if he was not breathing. His eyes were fixed on Victoria as she twisted and convulsed in pain on the bed. Spinle knew the vampire needed to feed. His healing had taken a toll on his strength and the fight with Kal should have drained his power but he stood, like a stone guardian, watching over his wife. “You intend to feed her?” he asked. “Of course,” Dorian answered as he sat in the armchair beside the bed. “Is that wise?” Spinle knew Dorian was weak. He had lost a lot of blood and had refused to feed from anyone but his wife. He would not have much blood to give. “Will you go below and make sure Raphael has rounded up the remaining traitors?” Spinle nodded and took his leave. Dorian breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. Spinle had been the only one to follow him up stairs. Raphael and Falcon took it

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upon themselves to find the remaining traitors, who had not fled. He would deal with them later. His mate demanded his attention now. She looked so small in his bed. Her sweat soaked the sheets and pillows as her thrashing legs kicked the fur pelts off the edge. His heart beat low in his chest as he sat beside her. He wanted to touch her, to hold her close, but he knew his touch would only add to her agony. His fingers would feel like frost against her burning flesh. “Victoria, can you hear me?” He asked, his voice low and soft. “Probably not,” he sighed. “The transformation steals your senses and all you are left with is pain. It will end soon.” He brought his elbows to rest atop his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I wish I could make it all go away.” A moan was all that came from her lips as another violent spasm shook the bed. He felt useless. For the first time in his life, he was completely powerless. Here he sat, an ancient warlord, a vampire chieftain, tears in his eyes and helplessness tightening his throat. There was nothing he could do. The pain would pass once her body finished its mutation and then she would need to feed. He only prayed that he had enough blood to give. His muscles tensed as he thought of the possibility of someone else feeding her. He could not bear to watch her mouth latch onto another wrist and draw on another’s flesh. He had to do it. He had to be the one to give her nourishment. He was her husband, her mate. It was his duty, his privilege, and his right. Her scream pierced his ears and echoed through the castle. He knew the pain got worse just before the end. Her breathing came faster and faster. Her heart pounded frantically. The last jolt seized her body then all was quiet and still as death. Her face was peaceful and serene. He lightly swept the tendrils of damp hair away from her face, careful to not touch her flesh. Heat still radiated from her and the coolness of his hand would only make her shake once more. He held his breath as he waited for her to open her eyes. This was the time in the transition when most women died. For an unknown reason, their bodies would refuse to absorb the vampire venom in their blood. Or their bodies gave out from the stress of the mutation. He sat unflinching, unblinking, as he waited. He could not lose her. Eternity would be nothing without her. She had to open her eyes. Not able to resist the urge any longer, Dorian snatched Victoria to him. Cradling her limp body in his arms, he buried his face against her neck and the mass of moist curls. Tears slipped from his eyes and fell upon her exposed shoulder. He could not go on without her. She 278

was his everything. “Please,” his voice shook, “open your eyes.” Her heart remained silent. His grip tightened as sobs shook his large frame. “No,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “No,” his voice grew louder. Still nothing changed. The heat from her body was fading. “No!” the walls quaked from the impact of Dorian’s tormented roar. All within the keep heard their master’s anguish. Falcon’s heart ached for his friend. He turned from the group of traitors he had been interrogating; he could no longer look at them. Raphael did the same and closed his eyes as the memories of his wife’s passing rushed through him. Dorian kissed her ear. His lips trembled as he whispered the love he had for her. An unbearable coldness settled deep within his bones as splinters of ice crept into his heart. Tears ran like a stream down his cheeks as he continued to rock her in his arms. His lips moved to her temple, then her brow before he pressed her head to his chest. A startled yelp escaped his lips as a sharp, intense pain cut through him. Victoria’s fangs sank deep into the column of his throat. Her tongue stroked him as her mouth greedily drew on him. His vision began to blur. He tried to pull away, but her arms wrapped around him, pressing him even tighter to her. Dorian tried again to free himself and again he failed. She had to stop. If she sucked him dry, he would die. “Victoria.” His voice was gruff. “You need to stop.” She shook her head, her teeth slicing his skin, releasing more of this blood to flow into her ravenous mouth. His survival instincts took control; he gathered the few remaining shreds of his strength and shoved her back. She hissed as he pressed her down into the bed, his larger frame settling over her. His eyes swirled black as the beast within him raised its head. He was starving. Razor like canines extended and Victoria tilted her head back, exposing her throat. Dorian gladly accepted her invitation. Victoria’s sigh of pleasure kissed his ears as he drank deeply. She fisted his shirt in her hands as her body arched against his. With a satisfied groan, Dorian pulled away and licked her wound closed. 279

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, as he brushed his thumb across her chapped lips. “I thought I had lost you,” she whispered back. “Don’t you ever die on me again, Dorian.” “As long as you promise never to do the same,” he replied. “You are so handsome when you smile.” She ran her fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes and inhaled his masculine scent. She allowed it to settle deep in her lungs. “I love you, my little kitten, and I will never allow death to separate us again.” She smiled and cupped his face. “And I love you. I wish I had shared my feelings with you sooner.” “As do I, kitten, but we have an eternity to share our love.” He sealed his vow with a long, deep kiss. Victoria sighed her love for him over and over as their bodies mingled and a blazing passion consumed them both.

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Epilogue

1901, Ireland

The sea air tickled his nose as he walked along the busy waterfront. People scurried around. Freightliners stood proudly in a row, their crews carefully lowering their cargoes. A single ocean liner rested at the end of the dock. Folks on the ship waved and shouted their goodbyes to their loved ones as more people clamored to board. It was a beautiful sight to behold and he knew America would be even busier. He had heard stories of a modern world across the ocean and it was there that he would make a new start and learn the ways of present society. The world had changed so much in the past three hundred years and he wished to experience life before he searched for his clan. His musings were interrupted by a pat on his lower back. He slowly turned, his eyes dropping to the small boy. “Excuse me, sir, but…” the boy’s little voice trembled with fear and his wide, brown eyes gathered with tears, he couldn’t finish. “You needn’t say more, lad,” the man said, reaching into his pocket. He kneeled down, he was still a head taller than the boy but at least this way the child would not be as intimidated by his unusually large size. “Hold out your hands. Put them together.” The boy followed his direction. “Here you are.” The child gasped as the man filled his hands with coins. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to buy a flower,” he exclaimed. “Where are your flowers?” “My mother, she has ‘em.” The man stood and scanned the crowd, his eyes quickly finding the woman. She carried a large basket filled with wild flowers. Reading her thoughts, he allowed the boy to lead him to her. She was worried her son had wandered off too far. “Look, mama, look!” “Dillon, don’t you ever run away like that again. You scared your mama.” 281

“I’m sorry, mama, but look.” Her mouth dropped open as her son dumped the coins into her bag, which was slung across her shoulder and rested against her hip. “Child, where did you get this?” she asked in awe. “I gave it to him.” For the first time, her eyes turned to the tall, richly dressed, blond man. “Sir, you needn’t do such a thing,” she protested as she began to dig through her bag for the coins. “It’s of no matter,” he assured her with a smile that had made many a woman’s heart melt. He pulled a few more pounds from his pocket and handed them to her. “I would like to buy the basket.” “Yes, of course.” Taking the basket, he tilted his hat to her and the boy. It was time for him to board the ship. “May I have your name, sir? I would like to be able to say a prayer for you in church tomorrow morning.” “Certainly, madam,” he said with another smile, “I am Dimitri Arsov.”

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