Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(26)
Author: Gena Showalter

All four were eyeing her up and down like a barbecued slab of ribs—and they were starving vegetarians.

One by one, they confirmed her thoughts.

“Ugly,” the tallest said, the g prolonged.

“Hideous.”

“Fat.”

“Woman,” the shortest said. He was probably six-five.

The rest of them shrugged, the universal sign for I guess she’ll do. Apparently Odette and Laila looked a lot alike, but sex was sex. They might find her repellant, but they’d still do her. Their gazes dipped and glued to her ni**les, saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths.

Vegetarians now converted into carnivores.

Jane shuddered. The best thing about her robe, she decided then, was the ease of donning it. She grabbed the material still hanging from the limb where she’d draped it and jerked it over her head. Boom, done. She was dressed and ready to face the newest hazard in her life.

She’d expected to battle Laila’s guards at some point, but as she snatched up two of her wooden daggers, she realized the giants weren’t as humanoid as the guards had been. Their eyes were bright red, like twin crimson suns rising from the pits of hell. Sharp, fanglike teeth, bared now, still dripping, dripping, forked tongues flicking out and swiping over reptile-thin lips. Wide shoulders, with black wings arching above them. Rather than nails, they possessed claws.

Somehow, she recognized them as she’d recognized the forest. They were straight out of her darkest nightmares and deep down she knew these creatures were savage, mindless. And Nicolai was going to fight them? He drank from you. He’s strong enough.

Please be strong enough.

He snarled a sound of pure menace, his scary animal nature racing back to the forefront. “Mine.” He stopped just in front of them, daring them to act.

He was weaponless, his torso bare. His poor back was as scarred as her front. Not from a whip or an accident, she didn’t think. There was a wide circular mass of scar tissue, raised and puckered, in the center of his back, as if someone had carved out the patch of skin.

He was a survivor. Like her. He could take these men—and win.

“We want woman,” the tallest said. He was clearly the leader. Also, he was as dumb as a box of rocks, because he added, “You give. Now,” and expected Nicolai to rush to obey.

“No,” she and Nicolai said in unison.

“You leave,” another said with a frown, just as clearly not understanding why Jane wasn’t being given to him.

“She please us. You live.”

“No,” Jane told them with a shake of her head. “You leave.” Simple words they might understand. “And you will live.”

They ignored her.

“Leave,” one said to Nicolai. “Last chance.”

Another said, “You look like someone. Who?” He shook his head, already losing interest in the question. “No matter. Give woman. We keep.”

So. Her will meant nothing. Rape was on their menu du jour. “Rip them to shreds,” she told Nicolai.

He didn’t reply. He simply leaped forward and raked his claws—claws, longer and sharper than theirs!—along the face of the tallest, the biggest threat, sending the giant stumbling backward.

The grunt of pain that followed was like the starting bell to a UFC match. No rules, just pain.

The five males swarmed together in a tangle of limbs, fangs, blood and adrenaline. The blood, well, that sent Nicolai into an animalistic frenzy. He snarled like a panther, bit like a shark and held on to whatever he clamped his teeth into like a pit bull.

Jane knew better than to interfere. When she’d switched the focus of her work to the human body, hoping to find a cure for her mother, she’d learned quite a bit about physical reactions. A man worked into a rage was completely unaware of his surroundings. The chemicals shooting through his bloodstream would keep Nicolai on a short leash, the end of that leash bound to these giants, where only killing mattered.

So she stood there, and she watched, silently cheering for her man.

Not yours, she forced herself to add. Not completely, and not yet. She could share her body with him, her mind, but her heart and soul? No. Not when there was a chance the magic would fade and she would return home. Worse, if he fell in love with her, he would wither and die if she left him.

Oh…damn. She’d forgotten about that. Such a terrible fate had befallen several of the vampires brought to her lab. She couldn’t let that happen to Nicolai.

She brushed the depressing, worrisome thoughts aside. No distractions, not now. The fight escalated quickly, the violence seemingly unparalleled. Someone’s arm flew past her head—and it wasn’t attached to a body.

Just then, Nicolai was walking death. His expression, what few times she glimpsed it, considering how quickly he was moving, was cold. He lacked mercy, never once pulling his punches. He went for the throat, vital organs and groin. Had the giants been human, they would have fallen to his superior power within seconds. But each time he dropped one to the ground, or tore off a limb, the bastard got up for more.

That only revved Nicolai’s engine. The lethal grace of him…Jane was riveted, even shocked. Oh, she’d known he was capable of this. There, inside the palace, hatred and determination had radiated from him. And guts had spilled across the floor. Had he not rescued her, he would have stayed until every living being had died by his hand. Or teeth. That, she’d known.

But this man, this warrior, had also given her sizzling pleasure. He’d feasted between her legs, and he’d loved doing it. She thought he might have enjoyed it as much as she had. And, oh, he’d set her blood on fire, thrilled her to her very soul, ensuring both of them existed only for passion. That had happened minutes ago. Mere minutes ago. Now he was a being capable of rendering pain, only pain.

And all too soon the giants learned to anticipate his moves. They bit at him with their too-sharp saber teeth. They swiped their claws at him, cutting him deep. They spun around him, above him, using their wings to slice at him. Nicolai was forced to jump between them and use his momentum to kick at them. They stumbled, but again, they always rose.

She would have to do something, after all. Nicolai would tire soon, surely. He was losing blood, crimson streaking down his chest where he’d been scratched. How should she—?

In less than a heartbeat of time, strong, trunklike arms banded around her, one just above her br**sts, the other around her waist, and jerked her into a thick body. Fear bombarded her, nearly paralyzing her. Then fight-or-flight kicked in—as did a reminder that she held two daggers. Fight won.