Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(35)
Author: Gena Showalter

“That’s the way. Let it out. I’ve got you,” he said soothingly.

“I was so scared.”

“Never again. Never again,” he vowed. “Unless…were you afraid of me?”

She shook her head.

“Good, that’s good. I would never hurt you. Even lost in a temper, I couldn’t hurt you.”

Soon her tears dried. The physical damage, as well as the pain of the healing, had taken their toll, and she sagged against him, sighing and shuddering. “What were you chanting when you gave me your blood?”

“More of my vampire magic. I cast a healing spell to aid the powers of my blood.”

She sniffled, her nose stuffy. “It was better than Vicodin.”

“Vicodin?”

“A painkiller from my world.”

“A killer of pain. Did you love him?” The words were growled.

A burst of unexpected humor gave her strength. “No. In fact, he was hard to shake. He, uh, stalked me, that kind of thing. I had to pretend he didn’t exist.”

Nicolai kissed her temple and relaxed against her. “Shall I hunt and destroy him for you, sweetheart? It would be my pleasure, believe me.”

“You have enough enemies. Besides, I destroyed him a while back.”

Another kiss. “Because you are strong.”

Lovely praise, but she was completely undeserving of it and couldn’t pretend otherwise. “I wasn’t strong enough to save myself today.” The tears returned. She brushed them away with a shaky hand. “I took self-defense lessons for a while, but they didn’t help. Not really. He would have…he was going to…”

“Never again,” Nicolai repeated, tightening his hold. “I will train you further. And when I’m done with you, not even I will be able to defeat you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Your safety is a personal mission of mine. A mission I will not fail.”

Maybe the turmoil of the day had made her emotional, but she got teary eyed all over again. That was the sweetest thing a guy had ever said to her. Even better than what he’d said to Laila. “Enough about me. I was afraid the giants had killed you.”

“I doubt even death would have kept me away from you.”

Okay. She was wrong. That was the sweetest. She kissed the pulse at the base of his neck. “What—what were those things?”

“Ogres.”

A yawn snuck up on her, her eyelids dipping heavily. “The king seemed to know you.”

He stiffened. “Yes.”

And he didn’t want to discuss it. She changed the subject, suddenly too tired to reason out why or press for answers. “You found me because you’d marked me, right?”

“Yes,” he said again. He traced his fingertips along her spine. “And I have never been gladder for something.”

“Have you marked other women?” Oh, God. She shouldn’t have asked. She wasn’t ready for the answer. Not here, not like this. Not after what had happened. He clearly did not have to be wed or engaged to mark a woman, so there could be a thousand out there. She should have….

“Not to my knowledge,” he said cautiously.

She sighed with relief. She would be willing to bet “marking” was more than a memory, that marking was an instinct, biology at its finest, a knowledge that went bone-deep. After all, dogs did it. Of course, they peed on what they wanted, leaving their scent behind. And they didn’t need to remember doing it; they simply needed to smell and catch a hint of the desired aroma.

Nicolai had not honed in on any other woman. As easily as he’d found Jane, he would have found any others, without difficulty. If they were out there. So, logically, she had to believe she was the only one.

Yes, logically. He was free.

Maybe you’re the one who’s as dumb as a box of rocks. A good scientist studies both sides of the coin. Fine. She’d argue in favor of the other side. Nicolai could very well be engaged, as he’d feared, as she’d tried to deny. And maybe he hadn’t marked the woman yet, wanting to wait for the actual ceremony to complete the connection.

Or, like the ogres, he could have had a harem of women. Perhaps one woman had not satisfied him for long, so he’d plowed through them like he had a cold and they were tissues. Perhaps there’d been too many to mark. Or perhaps he’d simply never cared enough to do it.

That certainly fit the image of a pampered prince. Was he a prince, though? Had he been pampered? A man given everything he wanted, never really satisfied?

Sometimes she hated her brain. And coin flipping.

The man she knew was volatile and possessive. He didn’t play nice with others, and he didn’t know how to share. Yet he was as far from pampered as a man could be. And he’s mine, she thought, burrowing her head deeper into the hard line of his body. His strong, warm body.

He knew her, and wasn’t bothered by her verbal and mental tangents. He’d cared enough about her to come back for her—twice—saving her life. That had to count for something.

“Stop thinking and sleep, Jane,” he said.

“All right.” Nothing would happen to her while they were together. She knew it. He would guard her with his life. “Hold me and don’t let go.”

“Always,” he vowed.

Oh, yes. He cared. She drifted off to sleep with a smile.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHEN JANE AWOKE, SHE was still in the cave. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that she’d never felt so rested. She stretched like a contented kitten, warm despite her nakedness, her muscles liquid, and gazed around.

Startled by what she saw, she sat up. Enough time had passed for Nicolai to clean every speck of blood from the floor and walls. He’d also removed the bodies and subsequent body parts. If not for the lingering taint of evil, this could have been some kind of underground resort.

There was no reason for Nicolai to have done such a thing. They weren’t going to live here. Weren’t even going to spend the day. Unless he’d hoped to spare her any upset. Her eyes widened. That was exactly why he’d done it, she realized. The sweet, darling man.

Hello again, emotional roller coaster. She sniffled, her chin trembling.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” He was perched beside her, looking away from her, and holding out a bundle of wrinkled material. And God, his profile was gorgeous. Still streaked with blood, though some had been washed away, his cheeks were sharp, his lips lush and his expression relaxed. No ill effects from the fighting. “It kills me inside.”