The Vampire's Bride

Her fault, though. If she hadn’t secretly watched other races over the years, melting at the sight of men fighting for their women, doing anything and everything to protect them, the need for a love of her own wouldn’t have sprouted. A need that was a clear violation of the third commandment: if you begin to desire more than a bedding from a man, kill him or he’ll take you from your sisters, betray you.

A rage-drenched snarl resounded through the forest, claiming her attention. She thrust her sword forward, twisted the hilt, then slammed it backward. Both in front of and behind her, a dragon warrior dropped at her feet.

Another dragon sprinted toward her. Silly men. They were strong soldiers. She knew that, had fought a few of them before, but she was stronger. Despite her delicate appearance.

Delilah raised her dagger, ready to meet this new opponent. One of her sisters stepped in his path, however, and the two became locked in a fierce battle of clanging, sparking metal. All too soon, the weaker, still-in-training Nola fell against the brute’s powerful sword thrusts. The man threw his sword aside, ready to use his meaty hands.

The first commandment: always aid a sister in need.

Steps sure and quick, Delilah reached her sister’s side—only to realize proudly that she needn’t have bothered. The Amazon shot to her feet and met the dragon warrior’s fists with a high kick. He grunted, stumbled.

Nola is fine, and you have a mission. Delilah turned, eyeing the macabre scene before her. Blood, grunting, collapsing bodies. All necessary. She had come here for a specific reason: to find and rescue her sister by race, Lily.

Where are you now, sweet Lily? Before attacking the dragons, Delilah had seen her in the cage. Since then, there had been no sign of the girl. Come on. Show yourself. Lily had disappeared a week ago, and they’d tracked her to the dragon palace and followed the warriors into this forest. Better to ambush them there. Whether the dragons had taken her or she’d gone willingly was not important. They had bound her hands and mouth. They had imprisoned her.

For the first, they would suffer. For the second, they would die.

Lily was a child, an innocent, and their future queen. Delilah—and all Amazons—doted on the girl. At thirteen, she was charming, precious, amusing. Everything the rest of the Amazons were not.

Bring my baby home, the queen had instructed Delilah, her chin trembling. Seeing the usually staid Kreja near tears had been a torture all its own. You know what to do with those who harm her even in the slightest way.

Every warrioress fighting this battle would do anything, everything, to preserve Lily’s sweet innocence—if the dragons had not destroyed it already. If they had…Fury clouded Delilah’s vision, winking red and black.

Concentrate. Several warriors had already morphed into their animal form, flesh replaced with scales, serrated tails whipping back and forth, wings flapping and claws slashing. They would be harder to kill that way, but she relished the challenge.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of white hair and glowing crystalline eyes framed by long black lashes. Features almost too pretty to be male. Sensual, exotic. Her heart gave a strange leap. The vampire who’d knocked her to the ground. He could have been the god of wickedness and temptation, and she would not have been surprised.

What was his name? The question whispered through her mind before she could stop it. He doesn’t matter, remember? Why, then, could she not tear her gaze from him?

He disappeared in the midst of the crowd. Two enemy warriors clomped toward him, their bodies monstrous and scaled, faces elongated and teeth like sabers. Would the vampire be strong enough to fight them both?

As excited as she was by the thought of his success, a part of her was…scared? Her brow furrowed. No. That wasn’t possible. Nothing scared her. Not battle, not pain, not death. Yet she couldn’t deny the unsteady rhythm of her heart just then. What if the vampire was struck down? There were so many around him, all going for his neck.

Delilah’s attention again snagged on Nola, who still fought a few inches away and was not faring as well as Delilah had hoped. Nola was not one of her closest friends, was too solitary to have any friends, but the tribe came first. Always.

Shoving the vampire from her mind once and for all, Delilah leapt at the dragon engaging her sister, propelling him to the ground and allowing Nola to finally sink her blade into his chest.

He roared. “Damn it, woman!” He lay there, panting, intermittingly staring at his chest and Nola with fury, but he didn’t get up again. “That hurt.”

“Good.” Ninth commandment: never leave a fight without first injuring your opponent in some way. Delilah whipped around, ready to fell another. But once again, she found herself searching for the vampire. Not forgotten, after all. Surrounded by countless adversaries as he was, he would surely be cut down. Despite the prowess he’d demonstrated, he was only a man. A breathtaking, commanding man, but as fallible as all his brethren.

Panting, Nola followed the line of Delilah’s gaze. “Shall we cut out his heart?”

“Don’t even scratch him. The vampire is mine,” she said, the words tumbling from her before she could stop them. Fifth commandment: what’s yours is your sisters’. Nola had just as much right to him as she did.

There was a shocked pause. “The chaste Delilah finally chooses a male? I must meet him.” Nola rushed forward and inserted herself into the throng of Amazons, dragons and vampires. The latter two attempted to shoo her away while continuing to fight each other. Their lack of attention cost them, and they began falling like raindrops during a storm, her sword flashing like lightning.

Did Nola plan to win the vampire for herself? At first, Delilah stood unmoving in astonishment. Stoic Nola always kept to herself, had never fought for a male prisoner and only warred when commanded, despite her growing skill. By nature, she was a watcher, not a doer. She would not want the vampire. Would she?

Perhaps I am not the only one fascinated by his strength. Seething with sudden fury, Delilah stalked forward. What she would do when she reached the thick of the fray, she didn’t know. If only cleaving Nola’s head from her body were an option.

The illicit thought had her gasping. Were she to say something like that aloud, she would be sentenced to death.

Someone pushed her to the ground before she’d gotten halfway to her target. The vampire had done the same and it had excited her. This…didn’t. She rolled to her back. There was no time to rage, though, as this newest threat leapt on top of her and pinned her. She looked up and saw that it was the last dragon she’d stabbed. He’d already partially healed—and clearly wanted more. She wiggled her arm free to slice him.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, fingers clamping around her wrist.

“Oh, yes, I do.” She worked one of her legs between them and kicked him in the face. His body twisted to the side, lifting his weight, freeing her. She stood, kicked him once more, aiming for his oozing wound. He jerked, then stilled, eyes closed. Satisfied he wouldn’t come for her again, she marched away, catching sight of the vampire and watching him move with lethal grace and fluidity, his weapons extensions of his arms, as if he had been born with them in his hands.

Behind him, a dragon opened its mouth to spew a stream of fire.

“Nola!” she shouted, too far away to shove him out of the way herself. But the Amazon was distracted by the tail being swung at her, and didn’t hear her cry for help.

Swiftly, Delilah withdrew one of the daggers crisscrossed at her back and tossed it. The tip wheezed through the air before embedding in the dragon’s chest. There was a chilling howl, but thankfully no fire.

The vampire spun, and his gaze collided with hers. A sizzle of awareness swept through her, stronger than the one she’d experienced at their first encounter. He glanced at the dragon falling to his knees, then inclined his head in acknowledgment of Delilah’s action. Disappointment joined ranks with the awareness.

What did you expect? That he’d blow you a kiss? “Your gratitude is humbling,” she called, echoing his earlier words to her.

Without a word, he pivoted and attacked another of the fire-breathers, seeming unconcerned as flames danced over his skin, charring and blistering. The more steps she took toward him, the more opponents jumped in her way. And as Delilah fought her way to him—no, to her friend, damn it!—she saw Nola dive low, slide past a dragon that had just stabbed a vampire in the stomach and slice into its scaled ankles. There was another roar as the creature dropped, no longer able to stand.

Delilah reached her then. The white-haired vampire had vanished.

“Where’s Lily?” Nola asked her, panic layering her voice. Ribbons of black hair whipped across her delicate face as she searched left, then right. A loner she might be, but she loved Lily as much as the rest of them.

Delilah followed the direction of her gaze—and finally found the cage Lily had occupied. It was empty. No. No, no, no. “Surely one of the others freed her and carried her to safety.”

“That was not the plan. She was to be taken, cage and all to keep her safe and snug, out of harm’s way. Most likely she picked the lock herself. She knows how, we made sure of that at least.”

“True. All right. You sweep the north, and I’ll head south. We’ll find her.”

Nola nodded, and they were off.

Delilah raced through trees, twigs slapping her face and arms. Rocks dug past the soles of her boots. All the while, she kept her eyes to the ground, searching…searching…there! Three sets of footprints came into view. One was delicate and bare, two were large and booted. Male.

All three were headed toward the Amazon camp.

The dragons wouldn’t know the way, which meant Lily was being chased.

Enraged, Delilah increased the speed of her steps, her own haggard gasps ringing in her ears. For once, she regretted the fact that Lily had not been instructed in the art of battle like all the other Amazons.

Sweet Lily, the queen’s only child. She’d been a tiny infant, born too soon and constantly sick. She should have been killed at birth, or at least later as it became apparent she would never be strong enough for war. But no one had been able to do it. She’d captured their hearts from the first.

And so, sickly as she’d been, the girl had not been taken from her mother. Had not been thrust into combat training at the age of five. She hadn’t been beaten for revealing any hint of weakness, like tears and sadness. Hadn’t been slashed and hurt, then thrown into the elements to learn how to survive while her body screamed in pain and the world around her supplied nothing but bone-chilling ice or skin-melting heat.

On her own, Lily would die.

Violated, Lily would probably want to die.