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Lord of the Vampires

Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(50)
Author: Gena Showalter

Triumph filled those green eyes. “Well, you can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“Laila—”

“No. Do you recall when I wanted your slave, and you would not share?”

So. That’s what this night was about. Tempting Jane, then denying her. “Let me explain something to you, Laila. I am older than you. Which means I am the future queen. Your future queen. What I want, I get. Even if that ‘what’ belongs to you.” She might not know Delfina law, but she knew the construction of a matriarchal culture, as well as social hierarchy.

In the end, top dog always won. Right now, Jane was top dog.

“You—you—”

“Can do anything I want, yes.” Jane tossed the girl’s hand into her lap. “So don’t you dare touch him. I’ve claimed rights. Do you understand?”

Bright red spots of color bloomed on Laila’s cheeks. “Mother will have something to say about this.”

“Yes, and I’m sure it will be ‘job well done.’” Jane pushed to her feet, standing beside Nicolai. She curbed the urge to link their hands, to bury her head in the hollow of his neck, and simply breathe him in. “Bottom line. She’s not here. Is she?”

“No.” The color spread to Laila’s nape.

“And that means…”

“Your word is law,” Laila gritted out. “Very well. I will let you have him without a fight. If he wishes to belong to you. Darling,” she said, standing and peering deep into his eyes.

Magic crackled between them.

Jane experienced a momentary wave of nervousness. Could Nicolai be entranced, or whatever Laila was doing to him? “That’s enough,” she barked.

Laila ignored her. “Tell my sister how much you desire me, precious. Tell her whose body you crave.”

His lips compressed into a thin line.

“Tell her! Now.”

Even the harp and violin drowned out, overshadowed by the thud of Jane’s heartbeat. Then Nicolai shook his head and said, “I desire the princess Odette,” and the world outside their circle reentered her awareness.

A shocked gasp. An angry growl. “No. No, you lie.”

“Why would he lie?” Jane demanded.

Laila’s narrowed gaze swung to her. “What did you do to him? How did you steal his affections from me? What did you do?” she screeched.

“She did nothing. I simply want her.” There was enough truth in Nicolai’s voice to prove his claim.

“I will—” Laila raised her hand, either to hit Nicolai or cast a spell.

Either way, Jane didn’t care. She grabbed on to the bitch’s wrist a second time. “You haven’t yet learned the concept of the phrase my property. Touch him, and you’ll regret it.”

Several seconds passed before Laila schooled her features and dropped her arm to her side. She released a shuddering breath. “You’re different, Odette. You never treated me this shabbily before.”

Jane shrugged, as if unconcerned, but deep inside she trembled. “Near-death experiences have a way of leaving their mark. Good night, sister dear.” Finally she claimed Nicolai’s hand and ushered him out of the tent, hurrying to hers.

Rhoslyn had taken her at her word, and had not remained to see to her needs. Jane and Nicolai were alone.

She whirled to face him. He’d dropped the mask, and she could see his dark, shaggy hair, his bright silver eyes. His towering height, wide shoulders and rock-solid strength. Her desire intensified, burning through her.

“We have much to discuss,” he said. He cupped her cheeks, his grip strong and sure. “But first, I need you. I missed you more than I can say.” And then he wasn’t saying anything at all. He was kissing her hungrily, and she was kissing him back.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NICOLAI WRAPPED JANE in his arms, taking her passion and returning it with equal measure. He’d nearly dropped to his knees the moment he’d spotted her, perched beside his enemy, in danger but alive. Relief, yes, he’d experienced that emotion. Fury, that, too. Laila had been within his reach, his to kill.

Fear had accompanied the fury, however. He’d felt the magical spell protecting the bitch from physical injury, and returning whatever violence was dished to the one doing the attacking.

If he’d gone for her throat…if Jane had…

They would have died.

Didn’t happen. Jane’s safe now.

Laila must know Nicolai was coming for her, or she would not have cast the spell. A spell most witches avoided. No one could hurt her, it was true, but no one could help her, either. If she injured herself accidentally, the spell would turn on her, seeing her as the threat. She would not only suffer with her injury, she would suffer a hundredfold with the magic.

“Nicolai,” Jane rasped.

He’d feared she would not recognize him, that he would have to steal Laila’s ability to hypnotize to force her to leave with him. Something he hadn’t known he could succeed in doing, not with Laila’s spell waiting to strike. He should have had more faith in his woman. Jane was as aware of him as he was of her. The face he wore didn’t matter.

“Yes, sweetheart.” The sweetness of her scent infused with his cells. Her decadent taste filled his mouth. His blood heated, and every muscle in his body hardened, anticipating her touch.

“What did you…do with the…real slave?” Her tongue licked at his each time she paused to breathe.

“Set him free.” In more ways than one. Laila had scrambled the poor man’s brain, until he hadn’t known up from down, left from right, making herself the only tangible thing in his world, forcing him to cling to her.

Nicolai could have simply chained the poor man for the night and hidden him, but he’d thought, That could have been me. He’d used his own abilities to break through and remind the man of who he was and who he loved, removing Laila from the equation.

“Nice.” Jane’s hold tightened on him, nearly breaking his ribs. Worth it, he thought. “Shouldn’t we…escape, while we…have the chance?”

“No. When the princess sleeps, I can invade her dreams, force her to hurt herself.” Another ability he possessed. “Then we’ll leave. Return to Elden.” Each sentence was punctuated with a deep, wet kiss that rocked him to his soul.

“So we need to do something to pass the time, huh?” Jane returned her full attention to his tongue, sucking and rolling it with her own. Her hands slid through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp and leaving their mark.

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