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Lord of the Vampires

Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(42)
Author: Gena Showalter

“How are you tugging me here?” she asked. “Why can’t you tug all of me?”

“I told you. Magic. And don’t forget, you first came to me like this.”

“As if I could forget. I closed my eyes and just…appeared. As if I’d been teleported, even though I never completed my teleportation research, never tested humans. And the plastic I sent over and back was solid and remained solid. I am not solid!”

“But you wake up at home, and you are always returned to your body.”

“Yes.” He didn’t like that he couldn’t touch her or drink from her, but no matter how many times she appeared—and she had, countless—her condition remained the same. Insubstantial. So, they would talk and she would entertain him.

She’d become something to look forward to, his only enjoyment. And he knew she enjoyed their time together, as well. Knew she liked him. She’d confided in him about her work; he’d told her about his frustration and anger that his memories had been destroyed.

But they couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t remain a prisoner forever. There had to be a way to bring her here—all of her. Had to be a way she could aid his escape. A way they could be together physically.

“Tell me the last thing you remember before coming here that first time,” he demanded.

“Nothing. I was sleeping! I just woke up, and poof, I was in the Delfina palace and headed straight for you.”

“Before that, then. Think. Maybe something was done or said about my world. Years could have passed since it happened, but you would remember.”

A heavy pause. “There is something.” Though she was spectral, her footsteps seemed to pound into the floor. “Once, I interviewed a vampire at my lab. I asked him question after question, but he refused to answer. I stood to leave. Suddenly he spoke up. He told me to let him go, to let him find his female before it was too late. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the authority. The next day, I returned.”

Urgency filled him. “And?”

“And my boss told me the vampire had screamed all night. I entered his room—he was quiet by then, but this time he spoke up instantly. He said one day I would meet a man, fall in love with him and lose him. Just as my lack of action had caused him to lose his female. Then he broke free of his restraints. I thought he would fly at me, but he merely lifted his hand and used his claw to slash his own throat. He died right in front of me.”

Nicolai’s stomach dropped. “He cursed you, then. A blood curse.” Unbreakable—for the most part.

“That was two years ago, and I thought he was just spouting off. Trying to make me feel guilty for his incarceration!”

“No. He gave his life force to the words, breathing them into existence, lending them his heartbeat. The curse waited for the perfect time to strike.”

“So I’m destined to only ever see you while in spirit form? No matter what we do?” She laughed bitterly. “If that’s the case, no wonder you end up leaving me. I mean, we can’t even touch each other!”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his chains rattling. He couldn’t answer her. Not without condemning them both. “What do you take pleasure in doing at home, Jane?”

“You want to discuss that now? Seriously?”

“Tell me.”

She stopped, tossed up her arms. “I exercise and I read. That’s all.”

“Then I’ll write you a book. I’ll bespell the words. You will come to me in body, as well as spirit.”

“Only to lose you later?”

He pursed his lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Which means my answer is no. I don’t want to come here, be with you, only to lose you forever.”

“You can save me.”

“And I want to save you, but what I won’t do is watch you die.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “I know how these things work, Nicolai. You’ve told me you care about me. And yeah, that could be your incarceration talking, but maybe not. If we take things to the next level and you lose me, you will wither.”

He would rather wither than remain enslaved. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“I’m not.”

“Then I will take your memory, Jane.”

Her mouth fell open. “You can do that? You would do that?”

“Yes, and yes. I would do that and a whole lot more.”

“You know the pain of having memories taken. How could you even think of doing that to me?”

Sound reasoning, which he ignored. “I will only take the memories of me.”

“So I’ll see you but won’t recognize you?” Suddenly she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving little wet tracks. “Will you recognize me?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps.”

“Don’t do this, Nicolai.”

“I must. I need you. Until your body joins your mind, you are useless to me.” Useless, but so necessary.

“But to take my memories…”

“You’ve forced my hand.” Flat, no room for compromise.

“And if we hate each other in this new beginning, as we did before?”

At first, she had watched him with those haunted amber eyes, her scent so sweet he could practically taste it. He’d wanted her, craved her, but she had kept her distance.

When at last she deigned to speak to him, he’d been worked into such a frenzy for her that he had lashed out and tried to bite her, only to waft right through her—as well as scare the Abyss out of her. She had vanished. Hadn’t returned for days. Frustration and anger had eaten him.

The next time, he forced himself to speak softly to her, to maintain his own distance, gentling her, even though such things went against the very fiber of his nature. After that, she’d come back again, and again, and camaraderie soon morphed into caring.

What he planned to do to her was a betrayal. He knew that.

He did it, anyway. He used his magic to create the book, the pen. Used his magic to write to Jane. Used his magic to send her away, back to her world, to her body. Used his magic to wipe her memories. Used his magic to bring her back to him.

And in the process, his own memories of her were taken. Not because of the witches, but because of him. He’d taken them on purpose. He’d known knowledge of his past with her would influence his future. Might even prevent him from using her.

Something was shaking him, dislodging the recollection. He tried to hold on, had to know what happened next, but the shaking continued, and he growled.

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