The Vampire's Bride

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

“What of the nymphs you so favor?”

A sigh slipped from him. “They are our friends. They live.”

“What of the Amazons?”

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

A slow smile spread across Zane’s pale face. “The gods will regret bringing us here.”

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

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

He craved her blood in his mouth.

His fangs sharpened, ready…so ready…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Layel didn’t know why he’d been there, seemingly willing; he only knew the warrior’s hate was as great as his own.

Zane’s wide shoulders relaxed slightly. Until both men caught a glimpse of blue hair several feet away. The owner of that hair never came into sight, limbs and shrubs hiding her as she searched for…weapons? A place to stay? No, his first supposition was right, he mused, his traitorous heart speeding up. He would stake his life on it. Did she know he was nearby? Probably.

“What of the little Amazon you nearly ate?” Zane whispered fiercely. “I would like to finish her, as well.”

Layel experienced a spark of anger. “She is mine. I will take care of her.”

“That, I know. But do you plan to bed her or kill her? You looked ready to do both when she straddled your chest.”

“What do you think?” he asked, because he did not wish to lie to a fellow vampire.

“I told you. I think you would like to do both.”

“And I think you are in danger of unleashing my wrath.” Truth.

“Nothing new there.” Unconcerned, Zane tossed another stone. Plop, plop. “Perhaps you can do both.”

Surely that had not been wistfulness seeping from his tone. “No.” Layel ran his tongue over his teeth. One of his fangs stabbed into the sensitive organ, the resulting bead of blood reminding him that he’d gorged himself earlier, while battling the dragons, yet that hadn’t stopped his cravings for Delilah. “No,” he repeated for his own benefit. “Too cruel.” For Delilah and himself.

“Have you ever tasted an Amazon?”

“No.” Every race possessed a unique flavor. The dragons—sulfur. The demons—rot. Centaurs—sweet, almost like honeyed hay. Minotaurs—strong, tangy. Nymphs—ambrosia. But Amazons? What would they—she—taste like?

You will never find out, he vowed. He would die before he placed any part of himself inside that woman. It was time to change the subject. “Come. Time grows short. We’ll make spears, daggers and arrows.”

“And which do you plan to use on the girl?”

“My bare hands,” he said. Even as he spoke, he longed to use his hands in a different way. For pleasure, not pain. Satisfaction, not death. Neither of which he would allow. The fact that he still wished to do such a thing told him beyond any doubt he needed to rid himself of her, just as he’d planned.

Zane gave another of those eerie smiles. “Until nightfall, then.”

Layel nodded grimly.

Chapter Five

POSEIDON, GOD OF THE SEA, towered inside the coral palace he’d built himself in the center of the ocean, staring into a large, mist-entrenched mirror. Beyond the mist, Paradise and its reluctant new inhabitants were visible, a feast for his gaze.

“They are confused,” he said. He’d left them a short while ago, had told them not to worry—hadn’t he?—yet their panic had only grown.

A murmur of “yes” arose, the timbres a mix of excitement, resolve and nonchalance.

Four other gods had journeyed through portals in Mount Olympus to join him here. Poseidon turned, studying them as intently as he’d studied the Atlanteans in the mirror. Ares, god of war, possessing a temper far worse even than Poseidon’s own. Hestia, plain yet somehow seductive, whose spell-casting abilities were eclipsed only by her determination to make a name for herself by any means possible, fair or foul. Apollo, smile brighter than the sun he controlled, fiercely loyal to those he loved. And finally, Artemis, twin sister to Apollo, as wild as the flowers growing on earth—and as cold as ice.

Upon their arrival, Poseidon had been forced to drain his palace to accommodate lungs not as superior as his own. Now ocean water churned outside rather than in, lapping at the outer walls, the roof. Every few seconds, a droplet fell from the bejeweled chandelier and splashed against the ebony floor.

Hestia eyed those droplets with disdain.

If she wasn’t careful, he would drown her.

For centuries, Poseidon had remained here in the water. King to his merpeople, forgotten by earthlings and utterly bored. Truly, nothing had entertained him. Not peace and prosperity. Not storms, famine and war. Then, a few months ago by the Atlantean calendar, two of his mermaids had told him of dissent in Atlantis. Atlantis, a place he’d forgotten completely over the years. A place they’d all forgotten.

A place that belonged to them.

He’d slipped inside, observed unnoticed for a bit, surprised to find the creatures thriving. Curious about their reaction to him, he’d finally announced himself. Still bored, he’d begun moving the citizens about like chess pieces, pitting the dragons against the nymphs and watching the strong, determined warriors resort to battle in their need to protect their females and homes. But in the end they hadn’t killed each other as he’d anticipated. Hadn’t really even argued. They’d reached a treaty, baffling him.

The unpredictability had been delightful. And just like that, all of his ennui had melted away.

Other gods, as bored with their routines as he had been, noticed the abrupt change in his mood. It wasn’t as though he could hide it. The churning waters had settled into calm serenity. His four unexpected guests soon had arrived here, wanting to know the source of his joy. I should have lied. Told them anything but Atlantis.