Page 122 of Dhampira

“Took you long enough,” Vander said in a lazy tone.

Lorcan’s expression was cool. “As always, your perception of time is unusual. Almost childlike.”

Vander grinned. “Nothing about me is childlike, sweetheart.”

Lorcan frowned, but the expression wasn’t for Vander. “The ward is broken,” he said, pointing to a piece of feygeld. The crystal sat apart from the others on the carpet.

Vander turned, his gaze falling on the chalky white rock. “You must have kicked it out of place.”

“Or you did,” Lorcan said. “Your feet are the size of serving platters.” Vander’s eyes brightened, and Lorcan held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Vander smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Scowling, Lorcan started toward the crystal—

My chamber door opened, and a knight in full armor filled the doorway. His crimson cloak swayed as he took us in before looking over the dead roses and the circle of feygeld on the floor.

“Treason,” he rasped, moving his hand to his sword.

Lorcan stepped in front of me. “You are mistaken.”

Disgust descended over the knight’s features. “I have eyes. You plot against the king.” He whirled, his cloak flaring as he reentered the corridor.

To raise the alarm.

The monster under my skin shot to the surface. The room blurred as I flew to the door, my slippers barely touching the ground. Looping an arm around the knight’s neck, I stabbed my fangs into his throat and dragged him back into the room.

Blood hit my tongue. The bouquet bloomed rich and dark, a river of it pouring down my throat. The monster threw its head back and howled. I sank my fangs deeper, Vander and Lorcan indistinct shapes around me. Lorcan shut the door. Vander dropped another, larger circle of feygeld.

The knight staggered against me. He clawed at my arm, but only for a moment before his hand flopped to his side. Memories flooded my head like sunlight winking between clouds on a windy day. Prisoners wept in the corners of cells. Men screamed under the lash. Blood dripped from a fairy’s wrist. The marching of boots pounded in my ears. Satisfaction hummed in my chest as vampires shoved the corpses of centaurs into a yawning pit. The emotion wasn’t mine, but it didn’t matter. Others took its place, each one accompanied by fleeting glimpses of the knight’s past. A woman with pearlescent horns sobbing for mercy. Werewolves in human form fleeing from a hail of arrows.

Dark memories twisted before me like the roots of a blackened tree. Blood surged, and I followed, sliding deeper under the soil. Too deep. I had to stop. But the lash cracked, and the horses whinnied. The rasp of a sword being drawn from its scabbard rang in my ears. More weeping. More blood. Down and down it went, cruel and unending.

Strong hands gripped my shoulders and wrenched me backward. Blood dribbled down my chin, and the scent of rain and forest flooded my lungs as a thick arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me against something big and solid.

“Enough,” Vander growled in my ear, his chest rumbling against my back. Then he bit me.

I jerked. For a second, the monster hissed. Then desire struck, a thousand bolts of lightning piercing my skin and setting me on fire. Arousal gushed between my legs. My nipples tightened under my gown. My hips jerked, and a gasp swelled my throat. Pleasure wrapped around pain, and both sensations wrapped around me, tightening and tightening until I thought I’d snap in two.

“Gods!” I moaned, my hips lifting. I swayed on my feet, and I would have fallen if not for Vander’s arm holding me up. His ward glowed around us. Lorcan appeared in front of me, blue light from the feygeld dancing in his eyes. His hair hung over his shoulder like a dark waterfall. One flat nipple peeked between the strands, and moonlight played over his rippling abs like the beams couldn’t help themselves. Like they ached to be there.

I ached, too. I ached everywhere, my body soaked in need. Vander withdrew his fangs. He swiped his tongue over my vein, and a wave of desire crashed through me, tearing a cry from my throat.

Lorcan surged forward and pressed a palm over my mouth. His face inches from mine, he spoke in a low, urgent voice.

“You have to be quiet, Corinthe. No ward is perfect, and your magic is unpredictable. If you break the wall, every man in the Drakhold will come through that door.”

Somewhere in my lust-addled brain, I knew he was right. We had to be quiet. We had to be careful. But what good was caution when I was burning to the ground?

I gasped against Lorcan’s palm as the flames roared higher. They licked everywhere, dancing over my nipples and between my legs. More waves pummeled me, sucking me down as swiftly as the dead blood Vander had siphoned. The chamber swam as need put tears in my eyes.

“Please,” I begged, clawing at Lorcan’s hand. At Vander’s arm around my waist. I scratched and writhed, my arousal pumping so hard and fast I couldn’t catch my breath. My knees buckled.

Vander caught me, then cursed softly as he lowered me to the floor. Lorcan crouched with us, and I sensed rather than saw them exchange a look. The air shifted, and suddenly Lorcan was seated on the floor behind me and Vander knelt at my feet.

“Come on,” Lorcan said firmly, gripping my waist and yanking me backward so I sprawled against his chest. “Good girl.” Cool air hit my flushed skin as he drew my hair away from my neck. “You have to ask,” he said in my ear. “Nothing happens unless you ask.”

Blood pounded in my ears. Between my legs. Desire drove my hips off the ground. Lorcan gripped them and held me still, his fingers hot through my layers of clothing.