Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(94)
Author: Gena Showalter

What did I do to deserve this?

Demon whore.

“I’m strong,” his owner said now, drawing his attention, “so of course he desires me. I mean, look at what I did to my competitors! Eighteen against one, yet I owned that arena. But he’s too weak to be claimed. That’s the problem here. Surely.”

“You’re right. Clearly he needs blood,” another said.

“Yes, but if he’s given blood, he’ll be able to raise his head and bite me.”

Both of the females shuddered.

Did these Amazons—who abhorred the biting of flesh and the drinking of blood and who thought to rape him to steal a child from him—not realize the child of a vampire would not be trainable, as the Amazon queen had said? A vampire needed blood. Blood was nourishment. Life. That was not something that could be “trained” away.

And so, any child of his would be killed. That’s what the foolish queen had implied.

His baby. Killed. Even through the haze of weakness, rage sparked inside his chest. He would kill them first, he thought, once again struggling against his bonds.

They expected him to leave his child behind, to be raised by them. Abused by them. Something he would never do. What was his, was his. He did not share. He did not abandon.

“Weak, but still fighting,” the pink-haired Amazon said with awe.

“Yet still no hardened shaft,” the other tsked.

Calm. Or they will stop feeding you altogether. Though every bone in his body screamed for him to do otherwise, he relaxed against his pallet.

“You’re going to have to feed him.”

“I know. But even now, I think he would bite me if I got too close. What is to happen when he’s stronger?”

Before his last escape attempt, they’d kept him nourished by allowing him three small cups of blood a day. Who had donated the blood, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He didn’t like to take from a living source, only from those he’d slain. So he’d pretended the blood came from one of his victims.

“Let’s think this through, then. Perhaps there is another way. Did you try manipulating his rod?”

“Of course. He’s not my first slave, you know.”

“Well, give him blood, then…bind his mouth. Yes, that might work. That way, he’ll be strong enough to bed but unable to nibble on you.”

“Oh, excellent idea! Grab a goblet.” The pink-haired woman—he hadn’t cared to remember her name—palmed one of her daggers, sliced a groove in her wrist and held the wound over the offered cup.

His mouth watered at the sight and smell of that crimson nectar; his fangs elongated. She was not dead, he couldn’t pretend otherwise, but he would still take from her. Sacrifices must be made in times of adversity.

She approached him and held the cup to his lips. Thankfully, her skin did not brush his. “Drink.”

As though in a trance, he obeyed, swallowing three precious mouthfuls. Instantly, warmth spread through him, followed on its heels by strength. So good…

“It’s working. His color is returning.” The goblet was removed from his mouth, and he found his gaze locked with that of his captor. She was pretty, if he cared for such things. He didn’t. He only cared that she had pink hair rather than black, brown eyes rather than turquoise, and she did not smell like Nola. Like sea and storms and flowers.

There was a pause, then a purr of agreement. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Don’t forget he’s mine,” was the snapped reply.

“Well, his c**k is still flaccid, so you won’t be claiming him any time soon,” the other Amazon lashed back.

As the blood continued to work through him, the lethargy that had plagued him all these many days dissolved, leaving energy in his muscles, a sizzle in his bones. Escape, he thought, a growl working its way past his throat.

Both Amazons jumped away from him with a yelp.

“Hurry! Let’s bind his mouth.”

“Don’t touch me!” Growls intensifying, Zane jerked at the chains circling his wrists and ankles. He hissed and snapped, kicking as much as he was able as the Amazons maneuvered around him. “No touching! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you.”

Metal cut past his flesh, hitting those sizzling bones. Still he fought, imagining his blade slicing through both of these women. More blood would spill. He would lap it up. Strengthen even more. He would tear through their camp. No mercy.

Suddenly a golden ray of light spilled inside the tent, and he would have sworn he caught a glimpse of…no, surely not. Couldn’t be. Yet…there she was. His Nola.

“No—” He stilled, his heart slamming against his ribs. Couldn’t be, he thought again. Unless…was she a hallucination? He’d had them before, yet they never ceased to shock him.

His captor moved, reaching for his neck, blocking the vision.

“Out of my way!” he shouted, bumping his hip against hers and sending her toppling to her face. He’d imagined Nola before, there in the battle tent. Sadly, that glimpse had lasted only a few heart-stopping seconds. How long would this one last?

Had his captor already dispelled it?

If she had…

No. There Nola was again, a shimmering outline of long black hair, a glow of turquoise eyes. She was trying—ineffectually—to tug his captor away from him. He lost his breath. So lovely. His shaft hardened quickly and painfully. Nola. His sweetest tormentor.

Then the vision wavered, the air dabbled…gone. She was gone.

He wanted to scream and hurt and maim. To kill and be killed. The desire came too late, though, his stunned immobility costing him. The Amazon was able to leap to her feet and easily hook a thick strap of material around his useless mouth.

“Finally.” Sighing with satisfaction, she leaned away from him, crouching on her haunches and smiling smugly. “And just as I suspected, your rod is—” Her words halted and her smile faded as his c**k withered before her eyes. “But…you were…why…”

He had only imagined Nola; he knew that, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from searching for another glimpse of her. To his dismay, he saw only furs, carved furniture and weapons.

Even as his captor and her friend attempted to arouse him once more, stripping for him, caressing him, he did not stop searching.

Finally, exasperated with him, the Amazons dressed and stormed from the tent, leaving him alone with his insanity.

CHAPTER THREE

AS MANY TIMES AS NOLA had been chained and used in her life, she knew the humiliation, frustration and helplessness Zane was now feeling. He must want to kill Amelia, his new owner. She did.