Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(59)
Author: Gena Showalter

Nicolai knew he was not too late, for the timepiece continued to tick. When the hands stopped, then and only then would it be too late. But the hands were moving more quickly than they should have, meaning time was running out.

He would return to Elden, kill the sorcerer and claim his rightful place on the throne. Nothing would stop him. Tomorrow, he added. Nothing would stop him tomorrow. He could not bring himself to leave Laila’s tent. Not yet. This was the last place he’d seen and held Jane.

Jane.

You aren’t supposed to think about her.

Beyond the tent, he could hear the rest of the camp rousing. Footsteps pounded closer and closer and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before someone ventured inside again. He pictured the Princess Laila, as he had done before, cloaking himself in her image.

Sure enough, the tent flap rose and two guards stepped inside, awaiting orders.

“Leave this place,” he found himself saying. “Gather everything and everyone else and return home.”

“What of you, princess?”

“I’m staying. Now go.”

They bowed and exited, used to her abruptness. He’d been casting illusions for years, and had once teased his brothers and sisters, pretending to be them—in front of them. They had laughed, and begged for more.

The memory had his chest constricting. He would have liked to tease Jane that way.

Jane, he thought again. Her blood flowed through his veins, heating him up, making him ache and tingle. How was he supposed to live without her?

He didn’t care what she’d done in the past. How could he? She had already confessed her past to him, when he’d been imprisoned, and she’d appeared to him in phantom form.

He knew she thought he blamed her and perhaps even hated her. Was that why she stayed away? Had he failed to convince her otherwise when they’d spoken in their minds?

There’d been no other way. He’d had to convince Laila he would kill her. So even though he’d wanted to hug and kiss her and tell her how much he loved her, how there was nothing she could ever do to earn his hatred, he had glared at her, snapped at her.

She’d returned to her own time. To save him. And now, enough time had passed that he feared she no longer possessed the ability to travel here. Or was the curse keeping her there? The curse he’d thought he’d overcome. Oh, yes, he realized. There was his answer.

He stalked to Jane’s bag and dug inside, withdrawing the book. He’d flipped through the blank pages a thousand times already. Each of those thousand times he’d imagined casting another spell, one to bring her back to him.

Yet, how could he make such a spell work? How could he circumvent the curse that separated them? So far he had not…thought of…

A way.

Heart galloping, Nicolai found a pen, sat on Laila’s lounge and started writing….

TWO WEEKS LATER, JANE returned from her midnight jog and found a box on her porch. The same box she’d found before. She knew what rested inside it and gulped.

Not a day had passed that she hadn’t thought about Nicolai, cried for him, prayed to see him again. She found herself racing up the porch steps, grabbing the box and shoving her way inside the cabin.

Every day she’d changed a little more. She still ate food, still needed it, but she also needed blood. Her midnight jogs, which she no longer needed to work the stiffness out of her muscles because her muscles didn’t get stiff anymore, had become snack time. The deer ran from her, but like a lion with a gazelle, she always caught one.

The biggest change of all? She was pregnant. She’d realized the truth only a few hours ago, and had been in a shocked daze ever since. She should have figured it out before now, having spent the past several mornings vomiting. More than that, Nicolai’s blood had healed her spine and legs, so why not her reproductive system, too?

She wanted to see Nicolai, needed to tell him. Had to make love with him, laugh with him, hold on to him and never let go.

The bookbinding creaked as she opened the front flap. There was a tattered pink ribbon—from one of her robes, she realized, her eyes filling with tears. Heart pounding against her ribs, she mentally read, her voice too wobbly to speak.

“My name is Nicolai, and I am the crown prince of Elden. I will become king the day I kill the Blood Sorcerer. And I will kill him. After I tell my female that I love her.”

She swiped at her burning eyes.

“I will always love my Jane, and I am miserable without her. She thinks I despise her, but for the first time in her life, my too-intelligent woman is wrong. I did and said what I had to only to save her life.”

“I know,” she managed to work past the knot.

“Her life is far more important to me than my own.”

The words swam. Again, she swiped at her eyes.

“But she is cursed. Cursed to lose the man she loves. And she has. She’s lost him. Absolutely. But now…now she can find him again. If not through magic or abilities, than with her mind.”

Jane wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, trembling, hopeful, joyous, excited and scared. Scared, because Nicolai was offering her the world, but she had no way to tell him.

“Come back to me, Jane. Please. Come back to me. I await you. I will await you forever.”

The rest of the pages were blank.

Oh, Nicolai. I want to. I want to so badly. She stood on her shaky legs and walked, trancelike, into her shower. She sat and let the water pour over her, clothes and all. Nicolai wanted to see her, but she couldn’t return. Every time she tried, she destroyed a little piece of her soul.

And yet, she gave it another try.

She closed her eyes and pictured the tent. Just like before, nothing happened. Just as she’d feared. She tried again. And again. And again. Only when the water was cold as ice did she emerge from the stall. Don’t give up hope. There’s another way. Yes. Yes. With her mind, he’d said.

Her mind.

The next evening, she gathered all the necessary tools for transfer. Crudely, quickly constructed, but hopefully adequate. She donned her robe and placed the sensors of the machine along her bedposts. Trembling, she stretched out on her mattress, flipped the switch and closed her eyes. If she died because of this, okay. If she hurt herself, whatever. She refused to allow fear or anything else to stop her from doing whatever was necessary to reach her man. Refused to deny her baby the chance to know a father’s love.

A slight buzzing in her ears. Sickness in her stomach. Her machine could work, she reminded herself, and had worked with plastic.