Книга - The Vampire’s Bride

The Vampire's Bride
Gena Showalter


He is Layel, king of the vampires, a master seducer no woman can deny.But since a rogue horde of dragons killed his beloved over two centuries ago, Layel has existed only for vengeance…until he meets Delilah. Wary of love, the beautiful Amazon wants nothing to do with the tormented vampire. Yet there's no denying their consuming desire every time he nears her.Neither trusts the other—nor can they survive alone. For in an impossible game of the gods' devising, they've been trapped on an island, about to face the ultimate challenge: surrender to the passion that will bind them forever…or be doomed to an eternity apart.







Praise for the novels of New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Gena Showalter

Heart of the Dragon

“Lots of danger and sexy passion give lucky readers a spicy taste of adventure and romance.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Filled with steamy sex, adventure, and a sprinkle of humour…a fantastic book!”

—Myshelf.com

Jewel of Atlantis

“Showalter has created a ripe mythological world populated with fascinating creatures and dark lore…

For extraordinary escapism, read this book.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Shines like the purest gem…Rich in imagery and evocative detail, this book is a sterling example of what makes romance novels so worthwhile.”

—A Romance Review, 5 stars

The Nymph King

“A world of myth, mayhem and love under the sea!”

—New York Times bestselling author J.R. Ward

“I want to visit Atlantis! Deliciously evocative and filled with sexy men, The Nymph King is every woman’s fantasy come to sizzling life. A must read.”

—New York Times bestselling author P.C. Cast

“Gena Showalter’s stories hum with fast pacing and characters that leap off the page. Pick up one of Gena’s books! You won’t be disappointed!”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Julie Kenner


Atlans

New York Times bestselling author

GENA SHOWALTER

invites you to enter Atlantis, a world of dark seduction and powerful magic…



HEART OF THE DRAGON

JEWEL OF ATLANTIS

THE NYMPH KING

THE VAMPIRE’S BRIDE




The Vampire’s Bride

Gena Showalter











www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


New York Times and USA Today bestselling author GENA SHOWALTER has been praised for her “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories”. She is the author of more than seventeen novels and anthologies, including breathtaking paranormal and contemporary romances, cutting-edge young adult novels and stunning urban fantasy. Readers can’t get enough of her trademark wit and singular imagination.

To learn more about Gena and her books, please visit www.genashowalter.com and www.genashowalter blogspot.com.


Other sexy, steamy reads from Gena Showalter and MIRA Books

ATLANTIS

HEART OF THE DRAGON

JEWEL OF ATLANTIS

THE NYMPH KING

THE VAMPIRE’S BRIDE



LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD

THE DARKEST NIGHT

THE DARKEST KISS

THE DARKEST PLEASURE

THE DARKEST WHISPER

DARK BEGINNINGS

THE DARKEST PASSION

THE DARKEST LIE



More stunning tales from Gena Showalter are coming your way…

INTERTWINED UNRAVELLED


To Jill Monroe (the author, not the hard-hitting journalist of Author Talk) for loving vampires as much as I do.

To Sheila Fields, Donnell Epperson and Betty Sanders for saying, “What about a paranormal survivor?”



To Pennye Edwards for always taking care of me.



To Kresley Cole, Melissa Francis, Marley Gibson, Kristen Painter, Louisa Edwards, Maria Geraci, Pamela Harty, Elaine Spencer, Deidre Knight, Roxanne St. Claire and (again) Jill Monroe for making me laugh—and spit up blueberries.



Lastly, to Jill Monroe (the hard-hitting journalist of Author Talk, not the author) for asking the questions readers really want to know.




ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


To the two ladies who help and guide me every step of the way: Tracy Farrell and Margo Lipschultz.

I couldn’t do it without you!




Prologue


LAYEL, KING OF THE VAMPIRES, hated son of Atlantis, fought so fervently against his chains that the metal cut past skin and muscle, nearly slicing into bone. He did not care, continued to struggle. What use were his hands without his beloved to caress?

Susan. Inside his mind, the name was a prayer, a scream of desolation and a wail of sorrow, all twisted into an agonizing spiral of shame. How could he have allowed this to happen?

“Release him,” someone said. Layel would have looked at the speaker, but he could not pull his gaze from his woman. Or rather, what was left of her. “Let him see up close what he has wrought upon himself.”

Footsteps pounded. There was a tug on one wrist, then the other, and the chains gave way.

Weak, nearly drained of blood, Layel tried to step away from the iron fence that propped him up, but his knees gave out and he collapsed. With the impact, hot breath abandoned him and reality settled deep. I’m too late. They kept me chained long enough to ensure she could not be turned. I cannot save her. He gagged. Gods, oh, gods.

Susan lay a few feet away, her once vibrant, beautiful body now stripped, violated and burned. Around him, the dragons responsible laughed, their voices floating in and out of his consciousness.

“…deserved this and more.”

“…and look at him now.”

“…pathetic. He never should have been crowned king.”

Layel had left Susan in his palace, safe, happily drowsy and snuggled in bed, while he and a contingent of warriors doused a fire in the surrounding forest. He hadn’t known the fire had been started purposely until it was too late.

Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods. A choked cry escaped him, blood spraying from his mouth. What seemed an eternity ago but could only be hours, he’d returned to an ambush, Susan’s screams echoing in his ears. The anguish he’d heard as she’d shouted for his aid, the pain he’d seen contorting her features as she’d pleaded with the dragons for the life of their unborn child…both would haunt him into eternity.

Susan.

By the time he’d fought his way to her, she’d already gone silent, her expression frozen in misery. The silence had been ten thousand times worse than the screams and writhing physical agony.

Dead. She was dead. Layel had failed her in every possible way. And in his grief, the very dragons who killed her had managed to capture him. They’d torn him from Susan’s lifeless body and chained him to the gate in front of the palace. Then, oh, gods, then they had dragged her body in front of him, taunting him with her death.

His gagging became heaving, and he emptied the contents of his stomach. A meal Susan had prepared for him, eyes glimmering with amusement. And later, for dessert, she’d flicked her lovely dark hair aside and offered her vein, knowing just where the biting would lead.

Arm shaking uncontrollably, he reached for her. The tips of his fingers brushed the hollow of her neck. No pulse. Dirt mixed with blood, caking her charred, still-hot skin in clumps. “Susan,” he tried to whisper, but his voice no longer worked. His throat was raw from screaming, pleading and desperate bargaining. But nothing had helped. The dragons hadn’t disappeared and Susan hadn’t returned to life.

Though he was still surrounded by the enemy, he was unable to take his eyes off his mate. He knew, soul deep, that this was the last time he would ever see her. My love. My sweet love.

Stay in bed, she had beseeched only a few hours ago. Make love to me.

I cannot, love, but I will return quickly. That, I promise you.

She’d pouted a bit, pink lips dipping prettily. I can’t bear to be without you.

Nor I you. Sleep, and when I return, I’ll make you forget I was ever gone. How is that?

Promise?

Promise. He had kissed her softly and strolled from their chamber. Content, satisfied. Happy. Assured of a future together.

“Now you can suffer as we have suffered,” one of the dragons spat, tearing him from his cherished memories.

In the background, Layel could hear demonic laughter. His gaze lifted, and he saw several red, glowing eyes peeking from nearby bushes. An audience of demons, he realized. How long had they been there, watching? Could they have helped Susan? Probably. That laughter…They’d seen—and enjoyed—everything.

“Your people drained our loved ones, blood-drinker, and so we burned yours.”

Ignoring them, Layel gathered his remaining strength and crawled as close to Susan’s body as he could get, leaving a trail of crimson behind him, hot tears pouring down his face. The dragons didn’t try to stop him. His shaking intensified as he awkwardly gathered her in his arms. There was no smile of greeting, no whispered endearment.

Her once pretty face was swollen, bruised and smeared with soot. Her silky dark hair was gone, singed to the scalp. He had loved to wrap those strands around his palms, loved to hear her purr for his kiss.

Closing his eyes against the horror of what had been done to her, he hugged her close, so close, before gently laying her back down. He could not bear to sever all contact, however, and smoothed a fingertip over the seam of her lips. They were still hot, burning him as smoke rose from her parted teeth.

Susan. Eyes stinging, he crouched all the way down and placed his temple upon her rounded stomach. There was no movement inside of it. Not anymore. I love you. Oh, gods, I love you. I am sorry I left you. So sorry. Come back to me. Please. I am nothing without you. To the crystal dome above, he prayed, If you will not bring her back to me, let us bargain. Take me instead. Return her to life and take me. She is everything that is good. She is light. I am darkness and death.

No response.

“Enough sniveling. Now you will listen. We are going to allow you to live, king.” The words were sneered by the dragon leader, a towering hulk of muscle and rage. “And with every breath you take, you will remember this day and the consequences of allowing your people free rein.”

Layel barely heard him. Susan, sweet Susan. None had been as gentle, tender, loving or kind. Her greatest crime was—had been, he corrected with an inward roar—loving him.

She had been his everything. Yet his precious human had been slaughtered. For his lack of leadership, the dragon had said. She had been tortured because Layel had wanted nothing to do with the vampire throne and had refused to place restrictions upon the army under his command as his father had.

“I’ve awaited this moment for many months,” another of the hated beasts said, spraying him with a stream of fire.

The flames settled in Layel’s cheek, crackling, singeing deep. He gave no reaction, didn’t even open his eyes. Truly, he felt nothing except the razor-sharp edge of his grief. If the gods would not heed his cries, he wanted to remain in this spot forever, wanted to die with his woman and child. His family.

“Look at him. Look at the mighty Layel, reduced to this.”

All of the dragons laughed.

“I can see why you liked her, vampire. That tight little sheath took me all the way to the hilt.”

“I liked pumping into her mouth, feeling her throat close around me.”

“I think she liked what we did to her. You heard the way she whimpered…”

Finally Layel’s eyelids cracked open, tendrils of hatred and rage blooming, growing, consuming him. Overshadowing his grief, becoming all that he knew. He glanced at the surrounding forest. The demons were still there, still giggling like children. Most of the nearby trees were charred, offering little refuge. Next he glanced at the expanse of dragon warriors. There were eight of them, their stances cocky, assured. Their golden eyes blazed with triumph. Except…

Whatever they saw on his face caused them to lose their smiles. A few even backed away from him.

Perhaps they had forgotten that vampires could fly. Perhaps they thought a broken, bloody man could do no damage. They were wrong.

“SUSAN!” Layel leapt up and attacked, his war cry an echo of all the pain inside him.

The agonized screams that next cut through the forest far eclipsed any that had ever come before them.




Chapter One


Two hundred years later

JUST A LITTLE CLOSER, fire-bastards. Just a little bit closer.

Hidden by lush, dewy foliage, Layel watched as the dragon army marched through the detestably named Forest of Dragons. Where they were going, he didn’t know. Why they were going, he didn’t know, either. He only knew that he was going to relieve them of their burden. A young—human?—female was bound and gagged inside a portable prison. That prison was balanced by two wooden beams slung over several of the warriors’ shoulders, swaying with their movements.

Obviously, she was their enemy.

He didn’t know the girl, but a dragon’s enemy was his dearest friend. And he didn’t like his friends being bound.

The dragons continued to march forward, slowly, steadily. He motioned for his own army to hold…remain composed. They obeyed without hesitation. Since that dark day two hundred years ago, he had happily led his men with an iron fist—straight into a never-ending war. His will was not questioned. Ever. Not without severe consequences.

“…not going to end well,” Brand, second-in-command of the dragon soldiers, was saying. Golden light seeped from the crystal dome that surrounded all of Atlantis, forming a halo around his pale, braided hair and disgustingly handsome features.

Brand was strong, brave, loyal to his king, kind to his people. A pity he was a dragon. Had he been born even a demon, Layel thought perhaps he would have liked him. As it was, he wanted Brand alive long enough to take a mate. A mate Layel would then steal. Brand would suffer, for a little while at least, and then Layel would gut him.

Brand had not been one of the warriors present all those years ago—none of the warriors here had been present, for Layel had slaughtered them all. Remembering their deaths, he smiled. Not all of them had faded quickly. Some he had lingered over, enjoying their pain, taking his time with every slice and bite.

Still, killing those responsible hadn’t been enough. Not for the horrendous crimes that had been committed against Susan. Hadn’t he been blamed for the actions of others? It was only fair to use that same logic against the dragons.

Only when Layel had obliterated the entire race would Susan be avenged. And only then would Layel deserve to join her in the hereafter. Soon, my love. Soon.

“If her sisters see her like this, there will be a war,” a dragon called Renard said.

Renard was a dark-haired tyrant who, Layel knew, had studied how best to kill every race in Atlantis. The demons, the nymphs, the centaurs, the gorgons and all the other creatures the gods had deemed mistakes in their quest to create humans. Of them all, Renard hated vampires most and was always eager for a fight.

Eager himself, Layel ran his tongue over his elongated teeth.

“What else could we do?” an irritated voice proclaimed. Tagart. Untamed, almost feral, with black hair and an even blacker heart. He was loyal to no one and was even jealous of his own king. “One more word out of that girl’s mouth and I would have cut out her tongue. We had to gag her.”

All of the soldiers nodded. Each was taller and more muscled than the last, and each had a long, menacing sword strapped to his bare back, nestled between the slits that hid his wings. Layel collected those swords and hung them on his walls as trophies. He used their bones as furniture.

“Whatever our reasons for binding her, they won’t understand. Even though we’re taking her back to them. Kind of. If we can find their camp.” Brand again. “She’s their beloved, their future queen.”

Sisters…beloved…queen.

Amazons, Layel realized.

His lips curled in another slow grin. Fierce creatures, the Amazons. Devoted to each other, bloodthirsty, though they mostly kept to themselves unless provoked. Oh, yes. And vicious. Legend claimed that anyone who threatened an Amazon would soon find his deepest fear bearing down on him. A shadow, a determined phantom that would devour him whole.

Yes, the stories of their conquests were endless, though Layel himself had never fought one, never tasted one. He had no interest in doing so, either. Always before, they had been a nonentity to him, unworthy of his time or consideration, for he existed simply to torment the dragons. Nothing more.

But now his mind whirled with ways he might be able to use them. Perhaps he should not liberate this captive, after all. Perhaps he should find the Amazon camp, lie and tell them the dragons meant the girl harm, perhaps meant to kill her in front of them. The dragons would have their asses handed to them by little girls. Now wouldn’t that just be—

A loud, piercing war cry sounded.

What seemed like hundreds of warrior women but could only have been a handful suddenly burst from the trees. They were scantily dressed, breasts covered by thin strips of leather, waist and thighs covered by some type of frayed skirt. The vast expanse of skin visible was painted in blue, the color marking royalty.

“Big mistake, dragons,” a woman shouted.

“Your last mistake,” another called.

What a bright day this was turning out to be. Layel would not have to search for the Amazons, after all.

Blades were anchored to their muscular arms and legs, and death radiated from their fierce expressions. Most were as tall as the dragons, but a few were petite, almost…fragile looking.

In the span of a single heartbeat, a battle was raging between the two races.

Weapons were twirling, men and women grunting and blood splattering. The metallic scent wafted to Layel’s nostrils, sweet and tangy. He breathed it in deeply, felt it sweep through his entire body, fuse with sinew and bone and ignite a guttural hunger.

“Now!” Layel shouted to his men.

Together, they rushed forward. How he would have loved to simply materialize in the midst of battle, but he could not. None of them could. Well, not if they hoped to survive. A vampire could materialize anywhere he wanted with only a thought, but there were consequences. Once they reached their destination, they were drained. Exhausted. Unable to move for hours. Escape was the only time the ability proved useful, and he didn’t want to escape this.

As he reached the dragon masses, sword swinging, slicing, light from the upper dome warmed his sensitive skin, all the hotter as it blended with the dragons’ kiss of fire. He did not allow either to slow him, however. Sweat streaked down his chest and back. His wrist flicked left and right in constant motion, giving his blade a fluidity that cut through dragon flesh as smoothly as if it were cutting through water.

He reveled in every drop of crimson that he spilled, rejoiced with every body that fell. Every pain-entrenched shout brought a new smile to his lips. More than anything, he loved seeing his opponents’ golden eyes as their minds registered his blow. They always widened; horror always filled them. The light inside always died right along with them.

Later, when the fighting was done, he would have to stalk through the masses and remove their heads. Dragons, like vampires, healed quickly. He liked to eliminate any possibility of regeneration. But right now, with fire dancing in every direction, he could only cut their decayed hearts in half.

Two dragons rushed him from different angles.

Ducking low, he arced his sword forward with one hand, slashing through one warrior’s stomach while withdrawing a dagger from his waist with his other hand, then reaching out, leaning…stretching…and stabbing the second warrior in the groin. There was an unholy scream.

Both warriors collapsed.

Grinning, he leapt back into motion. Someone swept in front of him and managed to nick his side. He hissed, saw that one of his men, Zane, was already chopping his way forward to aid him. Layel didn’t go in for the kill himself but kicked the dragon in the stomach, sending him flying in Zane’s direction. Seeing this, the battle-hungry vampire spun, sword singing with lethal menace.

Seconds before the dragon’s head rolled, he unleashed a blistering stream of flames. As the body dropped, those flames found a target on Layel’s cheek. He wiped at the charred, sizzling skin. Felt a warm trail of dragon blood drip down his arm. Grinned again. He still held the dagger and the blade gleamed a vivid crimson.

“You are well, yes?” Zane asked him, breath sawing in and out.

He nodded. More. Need more. Needed to inflict more injury, more carnage. His focus landed on a nearby dragon already engaged in a fierce fight with a vampire. Layel stalked forward and swung, gutting the creature without warning. There was a grunt, a jerk. The body toppled. Did Layel mind striking from behind? Never. Fighting fairly would ensure nothing but failure.

Another dragon railed at him. Moving faster than the eye could see, he stabbed the bastard in the belly, pulled out, stabbed in the heart, pulled out again and stabbed in the neck. Only three seconds had passed. Too quick, too easy, he thought.

More.

Brand, ripping an Amazon off his chest and tossing her to the ground, came into view. Yes, Layel thought, tracing his tongue over his sharpened teeth in anticipation. That one. That one would die today. No more waiting. He would not simply incapacitate the bastard; he would kill.

Layel kicked and bit his way through the ranks, gaze locked on the dragon captain. Halfway there, he heard a growl behind him, pivoted to dispatch the threat swiftly and return his attention to Brand. But his sword slashed and clanged against another sword, jarring him. No easy, unprepared kill this time, apparently.

He blinked as an Amazon swirled in front of him, swinging at him a second time. Clink. Scowling, he blocked her third thrust. Clang.

“I do not wish to hurt you,” he gritted out.

“How admirable,” she replied drily—before swinging at him again.

He twisted to the side, barely escaping the sharp tip. Had she just mocked him?

Wind gusted past them, lifting her cerulean-colored hair off her face. Suddenly Layel was granted a full view of breathtaking, incomparable beauty. Beauty even the war paint couldn’t hide. Beauty that nearly felled him. Definitely rendered him dumb, for he ceased moving. Brand who?

Layel hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the beauty of a woman in two hundred years, yet he was helpless to do anything but drink this one in, this fantasy come to life. It was as though she exuded something…magical? Something that forced the eye to her. Something that would not release its hold. But Amazons weren’t able to weave spells. Only dragons could.

He continued his scrutiny of her, searching for signs of a dragon relative. Her eyes were so bright a violet they sparkled like freshly polished amethysts. Long black lashes. Slightly rounded cheeks. Flawless, bronzed skin where the paint had washed away. Unlike most of her hulking sisters, she was of the petite variety, barely reaching his shoulders. No, no dragon.

From her fluid grace to her perfect curves, she was sensual and exotic, ready for a bedding rather than a battle.

“You should not be here. I could have killed you, woman.” He didn’t mind killing females, had done so on many occasions, but it would have been a shame to destroy something so lovely. His jaw clenched as he realized exactly what he was thinking. Damn her. He did not regard women with any kind of desire. Not anymore.

One corner of her lush, red mouth kicked up, causing his stomach to tighten. “Please,” she said, voice sultry, like a dream. “You’ll need a few centuries’ more sword practice before you have the skill to eliminate me, vampire.” She swung at him yet again, this time aiming for his neck.

There were no creatures faster than the vampires, and he managed to arch backward with swift precision as the blade soared just over his nose. “And you fancy yourself my tutor? I think not.” But he admired her confidence.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Another swing.

Another block. “Helping you.”

A tinkling laugh escaped her, floating over his skin with the surety of a lover’s caress. His stomach tightened again. He scowled, mouth thinning over razor-sharp teeth. How was she affecting him like this?

He had not experienced even a single wisp of need since—do not think of Susan. You will lose focus.

Growling, he swung at the Amazon. She blocked the harder blow and frowned. Better. A frown was better than a laugh. And so he did it again. Slashed at her, using all of his might. When their swords next met, both of their bodies vibrated from the impact.

Her delicate nose twitched. In irritation? Amusement? Delight?

Surely not the latter two.

“This is how you help me?” she demanded.

“No. That was me, helping myself. Now this is me, helping you.” With a swift jerk of his arm, he tossed his dagger. The tip embedded in the neck of the dragon racing toward her from behind. “See the difference?”

She spun, surveyed the fallen, dying warrior. When she faced Layel again, there was no longer any question about what emotion she experienced. Irritation. “Well, we don’t need your help and will not grant you any type of boon for offering it.”

“Your gratitude is humbling. Fortunately, cutting out the hearts of my enemies is boon enough for me.”

The pink tip of her tongue emerged and traced over those lush lips, smearing war paint. All the while she eyed his lips. Had his words…excited her? Shock rooted him in place, staying his sword. Such depravity should have disgusted her. And her excitement should have disgusted him.

Should have.

He hissed at her, suddenly as desperate to get away from her as he was to dispatch the dragon army. “Get in my way again, Amazon, and I will take you down.” Perhaps he would not need to, he thought, before he could turn from her. Already another dragon closed in behind her.

Layel’s vehemence seemed to shake her out of her inactivity. She returned his hiss with one of her own. “Try, and you’ll die like the dragons.” As she spoke, she stabbed behind her, sinking the apex of her sword into the very dragon that had been sneaking up on her. She gave a twist of her wrist, digging her weapon deeper, causing even more pain for the injured man.

Her gaze never left Layel.

The warrior fell to the ground, a final gasp echoing from him.

Layel didn’t waste another moment. He moved around and behind the woman and her lethal beauty, knowing he was nothing more than a blur to her. She didn’t have time to turn when he kicked out his leg. Contact. Her ankles knocked together. She grunted and toppled to her knees. But she was back on her feet in the next instant, spinning around and glaring at him.

Except there was no anger in that glare. Only vulnerability. Raw vulnerability. It was the kind of look a woman gave a man she was considering taking to her bed—but knew she should resist. A look he had resisted from others, without hesitation, for what seemed an eternity. She’s dangerous.

Layel backed away from her, a spark of panic igniting.

“You knocked me down,” she said, breathless.

For years he’d assumed his heart was withered, dead. And yet, hearing the excitement in her voice, the foolish organ sped to life, nearly beating through his ribs. Keep moving away, damn you. “Yes,” he said, his legs suddenly heavy. “I did.”

“But…you knocked me down.”

And he would do more if she approached him again. He’d have to. Something about her…

He should not have to remind himself that desire was not something he wanted in his life. He would avenge Susan’s death, and then he would join her. Nothing and no one else mattered.

“Play nice with my vampires, little girl, and I might save a few dragons for you. If not, I’ll come for you. And when I find you, I will take your head and hang it beside my throne with all the others I have collected in my long life. Doubt me not.” With that, he flashed her a dark grin and pushed his way into the thick of battle, through the raging fires, Brand once more in his sights.




Chapter Two


THAT BASTARD! Delilah thought. That bloodsucking fiend. That black-hearted warrior. That…man! He had no conscience, no sense of fairness. And she…liked it. A sigh slipped from her, and she nearly melted to the ground in a boneless heap of feminine delight.

The warrior had dropped her to her knees. No one had ever dropped her before. No one. She was too strong, too fast, too menacing and too eager to exact revenge. And if she could not, her sisters were more than willing to see the task done, which every species in Atlantis knew.

But the vampire had acted against her without reservation or remorse. What was worse—better?—was that he could have done so much more. One moment he’d been in front of her, the next he’d been behind her. He could have sliced her throat as he’d done to so many of the dragons, and there would have been nothing she could’ve done about it.

Well, she could have died. But where was the fun in that?

She should have been wary of such skill. She wasn’t; she was excited. Which was foolish! Number eight of the ten Amazon commandments: never fight an opponent face-to-face if you couldn’t defeat him. Wait and stab him in the back later. The vampire could have defeated her. Utterly. Would have. Yet she’d practically begged for more.

The thought of his cunning made her pulse leap and her blood heat as if dragon fire had somehow seeped through the war paint, past her skin and straight into her veins. He’d tripped her, and she had wanted to kiss him for it.

Yes, all right, fine. She had spent many nights lying awake, wishing for what she couldn’t have and shouldn’t want: a man strong enough to risk her sisters’ ire and claim her. A man who didn’t think of her as too violent to enjoy for more than a few nights. A man who gave as intensely as she did, who would fight for her with the same ferocity she brought to every battle she joined. A man who would topple any barrier to reach her.

A man who would view her as the most important thing in his life. A prize to be won and cherished.

All of those desires embarrassed her, however, and were not something she would—or could—ever mention aloud. Not if she wanted the respect of her tribe. She was a warrior; they all were. Battle came first. Love, never.

Besides, she’d tried love. Or at least, had given herself to a man. He hadn’t been forced to accept her. Hadn’t been picked during the Ceremony of the Chosen, where Amazons decided which slaves to bed. No, she’d met him on the battlefield. She’d gone to stab him and he’d kissed her. Intrigued, flattered, she’d let him live, had even snuck out of camp later that night to see him. You’re the one for me, he’d told her. I knew it the first moment I saw you. But after the loving had finished, he’d walked away and had never looked back. She’d been nothing more than a passing fancy, an enemy to use, a woman to sate himself on and, later, a bad memory to bury.

Her fault, though. If she hadn’t secretly watched other races over the years, melting at the sight of men fighting for their women, doing anything and everything to protect them, the need for a love of her own wouldn’t have sprouted. A need that was a clear violation of the third commandment: if you begin to desire more than a bedding from a man, kill him or he’ll take you from your sisters, betray you.

A rage-drenched snarl resounded through the forest, claiming her attention. She thrust her sword forward, twisted the hilt, then slammed it backward. Both in front of and behind her, a dragon warrior dropped at her feet.

Another dragon sprinted toward her. Silly men. They were strong soldiers. She knew that, had fought a few of them before, but she was stronger. Despite her delicate appearance.

Delilah raised her dagger, ready to meet this new opponent. One of her sisters stepped in his path, however, and the two became locked in a fierce battle of clanging, sparking metal. All too soon, the weaker, still-in-training Nola fell against the brute’s powerful sword thrusts. The man threw his sword aside, ready to use his meaty hands.

The first commandment: always aid a sister in need.

Steps sure and quick, Delilah reached her sister’s side—only to realize proudly that she needn’t have bothered. The Amazon shot to her feet and met the dragon warrior’s fists with a high kick. He grunted, stumbled.

Nola is fine, and you have a mission. Delilah turned, eyeing the macabre scene before her. Blood, grunting, collapsing bodies. All necessary. She had come here for a specific reason: to find and rescue her sister by race, Lily.

Where are you now, sweet Lily? Before attacking the dragons, Delilah had seen her in the cage. Since then, there had been no sign of the girl. Come on. Show yourself. Lily had disappeared a week ago, and they’d tracked her to the dragon palace and followed the warriors into this forest. Better to ambush them there. Whether the dragons had taken her or she’d gone willingly was not important. They had bound her hands and mouth. They had imprisoned her.

For the first, they would suffer. For the second, they would die.

Lily was a child, an innocent, and their future queen. Delilah—and all Amazons—doted on the girl. At thirteen, she was charming, precious, amusing. Everything the rest of the Amazons were not.

Bring my baby home, the queen had instructed Delilah, her chin trembling. Seeing the usually staid Kreja near tears had been a torture all its own. You know what to do with those who harm her even in the slightest way.

Every warrioress fighting this battle would do anything, everything, to preserve Lily’s sweet innocence—if the dragons had not destroyed it already. If they had…Fury clouded Delilah’s vision, winking red and black.

Concentrate. Several warriors had already morphed into their animal form, flesh replaced with scales, serrated tails whipping back and forth, wings flapping and claws slashing. They would be harder to kill that way, but she relished the challenge.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of white hair and glowing crystalline eyes framed by long black lashes. Features almost too pretty to be male. Sensual, exotic. Her heart gave a strange leap. The vampire who’d knocked her to the ground. He could have been the god of wickedness and temptation, and she would not have been surprised.

What was his name? The question whispered through her mind before she could stop it. He doesn’t matter, remember? Why, then, could she not tear her gaze from him?

He disappeared in the midst of the crowd. Two enemy warriors clomped toward him, their bodies monstrous and scaled, faces elongated and teeth like sabers. Would the vampire be strong enough to fight them both?

As excited as she was by the thought of his success, a part of her was…scared? Her brow furrowed. No. That wasn’t possible. Nothing scared her. Not battle, not pain, not death. Yet she couldn’t deny the unsteady rhythm of her heart just then. What if the vampire was struck down? There were so many around him, all going for his neck.

Delilah’s attention again snagged on Nola, who still fought a few inches away and was not faring as well as Delilah had hoped. Nola was not one of her closest friends, was too solitary to have any friends, but the tribe came first. Always.

Shoving the vampire from her mind once and for all, Delilah leapt at the dragon engaging her sister, propelling him to the ground and allowing Nola to finally sink her blade into his chest.

He roared. “Damn it, woman!” He lay there, panting, intermittingly staring at his chest and Nola with fury, but he didn’t get up again. “That hurt.”

“Good.” Ninth commandment: never leave a fight without first injuring your opponent in some way. Delilah whipped around, ready to fell another. But once again, she found herself searching for the vampire. Not forgotten, after all. Surrounded by countless adversaries as he was, he would surely be cut down. Despite the prowess he’d demonstrated, he was only a man. A breathtaking, commanding man, but as fallible as all his brethren.

Panting, Nola followed the line of Delilah’s gaze. “Shall we cut out his heart?”

“Don’t even scratch him. The vampire is mine,” she said, the words tumbling from her before she could stop them. Fifth commandment: what’s yours is your sisters’. Nola had just as much right to him as she did.

There was a shocked pause. “The chaste Delilah finally chooses a male? I must meet him.” Nola rushed forward and inserted herself into the throng of Amazons, dragons and vampires. The latter two attempted to shoo her away while continuing to fight each other. Their lack of attention cost them, and they began falling like raindrops during a storm, her sword flashing like lightning.

Did Nola plan to win the vampire for herself? At first, Delilah stood unmoving in astonishment. Stoic Nola always kept to herself, had never fought for a male prisoner and only warred when commanded, despite her growing skill. By nature, she was a watcher, not a doer. She would not want the vampire. Would she?

Perhaps I am not the only one fascinated by his strength. Seething with sudden fury, Delilah stalked forward. What she would do when she reached the thick of the fray, she didn’t know. If only cleaving Nola’s head from her body were an option.

The illicit thought had her gasping. Were she to say something like that aloud, she would be sentenced to death.

Someone pushed her to the ground before she’d gotten halfway to her target. The vampire had done the same and it had excited her. This…didn’t. She rolled to her back. There was no time to rage, though, as this newest threat leapt on top of her and pinned her. She looked up and saw that it was the last dragon she’d stabbed. He’d already partially healed—and clearly wanted more. She wiggled her arm free to slice him.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, fingers clamping around her wrist.

“Oh, yes, I do.” She worked one of her legs between them and kicked him in the face. His body twisted to the side, lifting his weight, freeing her. She stood, kicked him once more, aiming for his oozing wound. He jerked, then stilled, eyes closed. Satisfied he wouldn’t come for her again, she marched away, catching sight of the vampire and watching him move with lethal grace and fluidity, his weapons extensions of his arms, as if he had been born with them in his hands.

Behind him, a dragon opened its mouth to spew a stream of fire.

“Nola!” she shouted, too far away to shove him out of the way herself. But the Amazon was distracted by the tail being swung at her, and didn’t hear her cry for help.

Swiftly, Delilah withdrew one of the daggers crisscrossed at her back and tossed it. The tip wheezed through the air before embedding in the dragon’s chest. There was a chilling howl, but thankfully no fire.

The vampire spun, and his gaze collided with hers. A sizzle of awareness swept through her, stronger than the one she’d experienced at their first encounter. He glanced at the dragon falling to his knees, then inclined his head in acknowledgment of Delilah’s action. Disappointment joined ranks with the awareness.

What did you expect? That he’d blow you a kiss? “Your gratitude is humbling,” she called, echoing his earlier words to her.

Without a word, he pivoted and attacked another of the fire-breathers, seeming unconcerned as flames danced over his skin, charring and blistering. The more steps she took toward him, the more opponents jumped in her way. And as Delilah fought her way to him—no, to her friend, damn it!—she saw Nola dive low, slide past a dragon that had just stabbed a vampire in the stomach and slice into its scaled ankles. There was another roar as the creature dropped, no longer able to stand.

Delilah reached her then. The white-haired vampire had vanished.

“Where’s Lily?” Nola asked her, panic layering her voice. Ribbons of black hair whipped across her delicate face as she searched left, then right. A loner she might be, but she loved Lily as much as the rest of them.

Delilah followed the direction of her gaze—and finally found the cage Lily had occupied. It was empty. No. No, no, no. “Surely one of the others freed her and carried her to safety.”

“That was not the plan. She was to be taken, cage and all to keep her safe and snug, out of harm’s way. Most likely she picked the lock herself. She knows how, we made sure of that at least.”

“True. All right. You sweep the north, and I’ll head south. We’ll find her.”

Nola nodded, and they were off.

Delilah raced through trees, twigs slapping her face and arms. Rocks dug past the soles of her boots. All the while, she kept her eyes to the ground, searching…searching…there! Three sets of footprints came into view. One was delicate and bare, two were large and booted. Male.

All three were headed toward the Amazon camp.

The dragons wouldn’t know the way, which meant Lily was being chased.

Enraged, Delilah increased the speed of her steps, her own haggard gasps ringing in her ears. For once, she regretted the fact that Lily had not been instructed in the art of battle like all the other Amazons.

Sweet Lily, the queen’s only child. She’d been a tiny infant, born too soon and constantly sick. She should have been killed at birth, or at least later as it became apparent she would never be strong enough for war. But no one had been able to do it. She’d captured their hearts from the first.

And so, sickly as she’d been, the girl had not been taken from her mother. Had not been thrust into combat training at the age of five. She hadn’t been beaten for revealing any hint of weakness, like tears and sadness. Hadn’t been slashed and hurt, then thrown into the elements to learn how to survive while her body screamed in pain and the world around her supplied nothing but bone-chilling ice or skin-melting heat.

On her own, Lily would die.

Violated, Lily would probably want to die.

I’m coming, sweet. I’m coming. Where are you? Where—

A terrified scream pierced the air, an answer to her prayers. Her nightmares.

Lily! Still sprinting, Delilah unsheathed the remaining daggers at her waist. She burst through an emerald thicket—and found Lily being held down, her ankles tied, her arms flailing as she tried to free herself from the men subduing her.

“Let me go!” she shouted.

“You brought war to our doorstep, girl. Now you’re going back to our king whether you want to or not.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks; she whimpered. “I just want to go home.”

With a leap, Delilah was there. She elbowed one man in the temple, spun and kicked the other in the neck. Both crashed to the ground with dazed grunts. She didn’t give them time to recover. Arms crossing, she tossed her remaining blades. They embedded in each target’s chest. There was a gurgle, there was a howl, then both men slumped over, every beat of their hearts edging them closer to death.

“Lilah,” Lily cried, removing the ties at her ankles. She scrambled up and threw herself into Delilah’s waiting arms. The girl was shaking, sobbing, those warm tears still trickling down her cheeks.

Delilah remained on guard as she stroked a hand through the girl’s silky hair. “I’m here now. Everything will be fine.”

“I didn’t mean…the blood…my fault…” Lily said between sobs. “I just wanted to be strong like you. Prove myself. Explore. When I stumbled upon the dragons, I decided to ambush them and bring home their claws as proof of my skill. I’ve been practicing on my own, but they wouldn’t fight me back. Just took me to their home and locked me up so I’d stop trying to hurt them and they could figure out what to do with me. I’m sorry. So sorry. I just…I’m not a child.”

“I know, sweet. I know.” Anything to calm her. Even a lie. Lily was dissatisfied with her life? Before disappearing, Lily had offered nothing but smiles and laughter. She’d been a radiant glimmer of light among otherwise dark, violent warrioresses. She’d been doted on, coddled, and she’d seemed to soak up the attention.

“If someone dies because of me…”

“You know better.” Delilah cupped her jaw and lifted until they were peering at each other. Watery green eyes stared up at her, branched with red, slightly swollen from her tears. “Your sisters will be fine. They are warriors to the core, and the fire-breathers will not defeat them.” And what of the vampires?

Her pulse gave another of those strange flutters, the blood instantly heating in her veins.

Lily shuddered. “Promise?” she asked weakly, hopefully.

“Your need for a promise is insulting.”

“I’m sorry. I would never insult you on purpose, but I’m also scared for the dragons. They didn’t hurt me, were actually kind.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Her voice hardened. “They should have let you go immediately. Instead, they kept you. Locked you up. Your mother has been wracked with worry.”

“But—”

“If we are lenient in this matter, other races will think such treatment of you will be tolerated. We will be seen as weaklings, and we will find ourselves under constant attack. Therefore we must fight now to prevent worse conflicts later.” The lesson had been beaten into her until it was as natural as breathing.

A sniffle, a nod.

“Now. It’s my turn to extract a promise from you.” As she spoke, she scanned the forest. So far, there had been no indication they were being watched or followed. That didn’t mean they were completely safe, however.

Lily nibbled on her bottom lip but nodded.

Oh, this girl, Delilah thought with a sigh. Tomorrow, she was going to issue a request to the queen asking that Lily be trained for combat. She didn’t want the girl fighting, but she did want her better able to protect herself. “Promise me that you will never leave our home without permission again.”

“Promise,” was the instant reply. No hesitation. “I’ve never been so frightened, Lilah. Men are not the frail, feeble beings I thought they were.”

No, they weren’t. The vampire…Delilah tightened her grip and tried to blank her mind. “If you break this promise, baby girl, dragons and vampires aren’t the only thing you’ll have to fear. Understand?”

Lily shuddered. “Yes.”

“Then let’s find the others and go home.”



WHILE THE BATTLE CONTINUED to rage, Layel searched the clearing for the blue-haired warrioress but saw no sign of her. He was surprisingly disappointed, which was completely unacceptable. First desire, now a craving to see her?

Hopefully she had been slain. Yes, hopefully, he thought, though some hidden part of him screamed no. Better she die in battle than torment Layel’s mind a second more. His thoughts belonged to Susan. Only Susan.

“I should have known you’d be nearby,” a voice snapped behind him.

Layel rotated and found himself facing both Brand and Tagart. Finally. Oh, finally. They were still in human form, more vulnerable to attack. He grinned slowly, raising one arm and pointing, blood dripping from his hand. He’d abandoned his blades a while ago, preferring to make the kills more personal with nails and teeth. “You.”

“Yes, me. It’s time to end this, Layel,” Brand said.

“Your friends tasted good,” he said, wiping his mouth and knowing he smeared more crimson across his face. “But I think the two of you will taste better.”

A black curtain of rage fell over Tagart’s blood-splattered features. The warrior’s stomach was sliced open and bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Killing you is going to be a pleasure, vampire.”

“A pity you think so, as you’ll never be granted the opportunity to see it through.”

A muscle ticked below Brand’s eye. “You’ll suffer for all you’ve done to our friends and all you plan to do to us, vampire. You know that, do you not?”

“I know nothing of the kind. It’s because I suffer that I’ve done all I have to your friends. And, yes, I have loved every moment of this.” Layel might have killed the dragons that raped and burned Susan, might have taken some of them to his dungeon and tortured them for weeks before delivering the final blow, but he didn’t think he would ever tire of hurting their brothers by race.

Truly, he lived for one purpose: to wipe out their entire lineage.

“You invite war!” Brand snapped.

“Funny, I thought I had invited it two hundred years ago. Did you just now receive your invitation?”

“I did. And here’s my acceptance.” Tagart stalked several steps forward before Brand grabbed his arm, holding him still. The dark warrior looked ready to shake off his commander’s grip and attack.

“Not yet,” Brand said. Then he roared loud and long, morphing into his dragon visage. His clothing ripped away, floating to the ground, and green scales overtook his skin. A snout lengthened his face, claws stretched from his fingers and his teeth sharpened to dripping points. Wings sprouted from his back, gossamer and clear, deceptively innocent as they spread toward the trees. Tagart’s transformation quickly followed.

“Come and get me, little hatchlings,” Layel told them.

A spew of fire, then Brand and Tagart were flying toward him. Layel sprang at them, ready, so ready. “Susan!” he shouted. His war cry. A constant reminder of what had been taken from him, of what he fought for, of what he would die for.

Except he never reached the warriors.

Midway, Layel’s entire world blackened and crumbled piece by piece into nothingness. Nothing around him, nothing in front of or behind him. The ground, his only solid anchor, opened up and swallowed him, his body suddenly careening down a long, dark void. Round and round he twirled. Grunting, he flailed for another anchor but discovered only capricious air.

Ignoring the panic sweeping through him, he forced his breathing to slow, his heart to cease its erratic patter. Transport. Now! He tried, but a moment passed and nothing happened; he continued to fall, his body a solid mass. Teeth grinding together, he spread his arms and attempted to fly. But the invisible chain tugged him down…down…down…never slowing, refusing to relinquish its hold on him.

Shock and rage joined the panic and sped through him with sickening intensity. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how it was happening. Only that he could not stop it.

His hand slapped into something hard. A man, he realized. A man’s chest. The male grappled for him, fingers clawing for purchase. Layel hissed, his arm soon ripped to shreds. Thankfully, he spun out of reach—and slammed into the softness of a woman’s body. She gasped, the sound low, frightened. How many? he wondered, even as he hit—a horse? There was a whinny.

Someone screamed. Someone else whimpered. All the while they continued to plummet, no landing in sight.



IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST, Delilah shoved Lily behind her back. Danger suddenly lurked nearby. She could sense it, almost smell it as a presence, a power, thickened the air.

“What’s wrong?” Lily whispered, her terror palpable.

“Stay behind me.” Delilah reclaimed the daggers she’d used to slay the dragons, her grip tight. Where are you? She scanned trees, leaves, shadows. There, to the right, something was rattling branches together. Her lids narrowed, eyes focusing, but she couldn’t make out a form. Just—

A gasp tore from her lips as that something sprang into view, as clear as the air she breathed but thicker, like water. She had no time to react, no way to attack. Then it was there, right in front of her, consuming her, sucking her into a black hole.

“Lily!” she screamed, daggers ripping from her hands as she thrashed her arms, desperate for some type of security. She found nothing. Only air. The more she tumbled, the more wave after wave of dizziness assaulted her, slamming with enough force to double her over. Shouts, grunts and groans pierced her ears, as discordant as the bells that tolled when an Amazon died.

“Lily!”

“Amazon,” a familiar male voice called, rising above the chaos.

“Vampire?” Her heartbeat should not have calmed. The sweat just beginning to bead over her skin shouldn’t have cooled, but it did. She shouldn’t have been relieved, but she was. As she grappled for him—a touch, she only needed a touch—her head slammed into what must be a jagged rock and she grunted, thrown from the vampire by the force.

Stars winked over her eyes, the white lights thickening, expanding, becoming all that she saw. Somehow that light was more terrifying than the darkness, a ray of hope dashed in the cruelest way.

“Reach for me,” the vampire commanded.

“Can’t,” she tried to say, but the word congealed in her throat.

In the end, she didn’t have to reach for him. She hit another wall and flew forward. Their bodies collided, knocking the air right out of her lungs. Instantly the terrible white faded into welcome darkness. All of Delilah’s muscles slackened and her head lolled against something hard. The vampire’s fingers latched around her arm, hot and strong and more necessary than breathing. She wrapped herself around him, wanting to cling to him forever.

Take what you want. It’s yours. The sixth commandment rang in her head. She knew beyond any doubt its Amazon creator had not meant snuggling against a male and placing her safety in his hands. Still she held on. Don’t let me go, she thought before slipping into the oblivion.




Chapter Three


LAYEL BLINKED open his eyes, murky light coming into focus, a combination of bright and dark, clarity and haziness. Fighting confusion, he groaned against a sharp ache in his temples. Where was he? What had happened? He’d been on a battlefield, yes?

Yes, he thought, absolutely sure. The scene flashed through his mind: him, rushing toward his enemy, blade raised. Brand and Tagart in dragon form, flying at him, death in their golden eyes. And then he’d been plucked into nothingness.

Now he was…lying down, he realized. Atop sand. Another ache, followed by a thickening fog, broke his stream of understanding apart. He squeezed his eyelids shut. One heartbeat passed, two. As he’d hoped, the fog thinned and his thoughts realigned. Had he been injured fatally before reaching Brand and Tagart and now rested in eternity?

Not yet, he nearly screamed. I am not ready. I have not avenged Susan.

Calm. Think. He had been injured, he remembered that. Cut in the chest, one arm shredded. If he was alive, those injuries would still be present. Shaking, he slid one hand under his shirt and rubbed up and down his chest and arm to be sure. Scabs greeted him, and his mouth curved into a half smile.

So…what had happened? he wondered again.

In and out he breathed, the scent of salt and coconut filling his nose. Familiar. The crash of turbulent waves resounded in his ears, washing against the shore. Again, familiar.

Once more he opened his eyes. Slowly this time, allowing the light to reach him gradually. At first he saw only white, puffy…things floating across a limitless expanse of blue. Not familiar. The half-smile mutated into a deep frown. Usually a crystal dome surrounded Atlantis, arching and jagged. Where was he?

Focus. Gingerly, he sat up.

Spots of gold and rose flickered before his vision. In, out, he continued to breathe. When the spots faded, lush palm trees in different shades of green and white, from the brightest emerald to the palest jade and ivory, came into view. He turned his head—and had to massage his temples to tame another sharp ache. Soft sand stretched into clear azure ocean, the water undulating into foam, misting, blushing under the stroking beams of a bright orange…ball.

A ball that burned his skin far worse than the dome ever had, he noted, frown intensifying.

His eyes watered so badly he had to cast his gaze back to the sand. That did not lessen the burn, but the burn soon became the least of his worries. Bodies were scattered throughout the sand. Unconscious. Dead?

Layel remained in place and studied the male closest to him. Zane, he realized, who was no longer cut and bruised. The warrior’s chest was rising and falling, proof he still lived. Thank the gods. Next he saw—he tensed. Several feet away, Brand lay sprawled on his back. Though he had morphed into a dragon during the battle, ripping away his clothing, he was now human and dressed. Beside him sprawled Tagart. Human and dressed, as well.

As though it had never left him, only ebbed to the back of his mind, rage tore through Layel. Rage that their fight had ended so abruptly, rage that the dragons were not dead.

Whatever had happened to bring them to this strange land, Layel suddenly didn’t care. The dragons had to die. Should be dead already. Scowling, he jumped to his feet. He swayed against a surge of dizziness, unsteady, but stumbled forward anyway. He reached for his daggers, every ounce of his determination pulsing from the tips of his fingers.

The blades were gone. A growl echoed in his throat, growing louder, fiercer, when a quick body-pat revealed every piece in his arsenal was gone.

He didn’t slow. Using his teeth to rip out their jugulars would work just as well. Still, a few weapons would have been nice. Just in case. No matter, though.

Almost upon them…almost…he slammed into an invisible barrier.

Every bone in his body vibrated from the impact, and that cursed dizziness again swept through him. He blinked in confusion, lifted his arms and pressed at the air. What in Hades? There was some sort of…shield?

Yes, yes, he realized. That’s exactly what it was. Clear, unseen, and yet solid, preventing him from moving another inch. He banged his fists against it, but it held steady. He clawed at it, but it did not crack. No, it snapped two of his nails from their beds, causing blood to flow down his hands. He rammed his shoulder into it, nearly dislocating the bone, but the shield did not even shake.

Damn this! He would not be denied. Would lose a limb if necessary. What did physical pain matter when faced with such a delightful outcome? As he threw his body against the barrier over and over again, he glared at his still-sleeping enemies. Never had a time been more ripe for vengeance. Soon…

Next to the dragons were two Amazons, one of whom happened to be his bloodthirsty, blue-haired wench. Not mine, he corrected instantly, fervently. But he couldn’t deny the sight of her caused his breath to heat and singe his lungs. Couldn’t deny his blood quickened.

As he’d fallen through that dark void, he’d heard her raspy voice and had grabbed on to her limp body. She’d been warm and soft, a torment to him. And yet, he’d been oddly protective of her, cradling her against him, marveling at her sea-kissed scent as he recalled the way she’d looked at him on the battlefield, as if he were a miracle and a devil wrapped in the same tempting package.

He didn’t recall letting go of her, yet they had clearly been parted. Now, he drank her in when he should have looked away.

She appeared rumpled, as if she’d fallen asleep after a vigorous hour of lovemaking and had only now awakened for more. Her eyes were slightly uptilted, the lids at half-mast and shadowed by long dark lashes. Her nose was small and dainty, her lips still red and lush. And her skin…more was revealed, smooth, amber-rich, each pulse point hammering deliciously. A large bruise covered the left side of her jaw. Her breasts—

Do not think of her like that, you disgusting pile of dragon droppings. Females were off-limits to him.

Layel tore his gaze from the Amazon and renewed his study of the other creatures, only then realizing he’d stopped pounding at the air shield. All were beginning to stir, sitting up and rubbing their faces. He might not be able to reach them—yet—but he could hear them. Moaning soon overshadowed the hum of the waves.

There were two nymphs, a male and a female, pushing to a stand and staring at the beach of creatures in confusion. Around them were one pair each of minotaurs, demons, centaurs, formorians and gorgons, the snakes atop the latter’s heads hissing and baring fangs much sharper than Layel’s. Two of each race. Why two?

What in Hades is going on? he wondered yet again.

The Amazon scrubbed a hand over her delicate face, barely painted now with the remnants of swirling blue designs. Those designs etched onto her temples didn’t smear. Were they tattoos? She was blinking, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

You’re looking at her again. He growled and returned his attention to the dragons, his rage intensifying. He shoved at the invisible wall. Still there, still unyielding. His fingers were bloodied and tattered now, nearly useless. His shoulder was completely out of its joint.

He needed to think, to plan. More than that, he needed to find shade. What skin was bared now felt as if it were blistered. Probably was. Hating the thought of retreat, hating himself, he edged backward, trying not to draw unwanted attention as he stopped beside Zane and crouched, gripping the vampire’s shoulders and shaking.

Zane’s eyelids popped open and he hissed, swinging a claw in reflex. Quick as a heartbeat, Layel bowed his back, managing to evade a fatal slice to the throat. “Calm,” he commanded quietly.

Seconds passed as the vampire oriented himself. “What happened?” Zane demanded roughly, on his feet a moment later. The consummate warrior, he braced his legs apart as his hands fisted at his sides, prepared to initiate battle. His eyes were dark, flat, and he looked hungry for blood. Like Layel’s, his skin was red, beginning to blister.

“I’m not sure.” Layel rose and motioned to the others with a tilt of his chin. “One moment we were fighting, the next we were not.”

“What is this place?” Zane’s gaze circled the surrounding area. “Why do I feel as though I’m on fire?” He patted himself down, snarled. “And where are my weapons?”

Something Susan had said long ago, after they’d made love out in the open, under Atlantis’s sparkling dome, suddenly drifted through Layel’s mind. His mouth fell open in astonishment. I wish we could travel to the world of my people. Just for a little while. With all the stories my family used to tell me, I think we would love it.

He’d held her tighter, afraid she’d somehow slip through his fingers. Tell me about it.

She had, in great detail, as if she’d already visited it in her dreams. A seemingly never-ending expanse of blue—sky. Fat, puffy white masses—clouds. A glowing orange ball—the sun.

“I think…I think we are on the surface world.” How? Why? “I know we could tolerate the daylight under the dome, but the sun’s light must be stronger. Harsher. And the weapons? Vanished.”

“Surface?” Zane’s mouth fell open in a mirror of Layel’s expression.

“We must find shade. Now.”

“Our battle—”

“Can wait.”

Together they backed up, neither willing to give the other creatures their backs, shield or not, and moved into the thicket of trees. Instantly Layel’s body cooled.

He sighed. “We will remain in the forest until we figure out what’s going on.” Even if that meant avoiding the dragons. Right now they seemed to have the advantage, the sun caressing them like lovers rather than hated foes.

“We should make new weapons,” Zane said.

“Yes.” But he didn’t move another inch. Could barely form a coherent thought. The blue-haired Amazon had just popped to a stand, her eyes wild. She reached for something at her waist—probably a blade—found nothing, and scowled. Like him, like Zane, she patted herself down. Also like the both of them, she found herself completely unarmed.

Someone had taken all their weapons.

He watched as she spun in a circle, studying, gaping. When she spotted the other Amazon, she rushed forward.

“Nola!” she cried, so loudly Layel had no trouble hearing her from his new sanctuary. She bent down, locks of silky hair tumbling over her shoulders, and shook her sister.

The dark-haired female moaned and rubbed at her forehead, eyelids cracking open. “Delilah?”

Delilah. The name played through his mind. Delilah…Delilah…soft, feminine, exotic. A name that bespoke midnight fantasies and insatiable passion. A name that could send the strongest of men to their knees. When the thought registered, Layel stiffened. I will never speak that name aloud, he vowed. Too…dangerous.

“I’m here,” the woman in question said. “Right here.”

The one called Nola massaged her temples, her lips pulled in a tight, pained frown. “What happened?”

No doubt it was a question everyone on the beach would ask.

“I wish I knew.” Delilah looked left and right, searching again, gauging, and then she was staring over at Layel, the shadows nothing to her.

The force of that violet gaze jolted him. Made his muscles jump. For a moment, he was light-headed again and there was a pain in his chest, exactly where his heart resided, as though it were once again healthy and whole. How was she doing this?

Apparently he wasn’t the only one suffering a strange response. The Amazon’s pulse pounded in her neck—he couldn’t see it, but he could sense it, hear it—every erratic beat like a summoning finger. His mouth watered, preparing to feast even though he had gorged himself during battle. When he sank his teeth into that woman he would…His jaw clenched painfully. What are you doing? You will never taste her. Since Susan’s death, the only blood he allowed himself was the blood of his enemies. And the supply was vast. He was never without, didn’t need to take from anyone else.

Who was this Amazon, that she was able to tempt him to forget? She was lovely, yes, but she wasn’t Susan. Would never be his sweet, gentle Susan. And he would not defile his love’s memory with fanciful thoughts of another.

Delilah pounded toward him. “Who did this to us? How were we brought here? Do you know?”

Layel ignored her. Her raspy voice was as seductive as her body and he’d already made the mistake of softening toward her several times. He would not do so again. Being polite to her would encourage familiarity between them when he craved only distance.

“Vampire.”

He turned his face away from her, wondering how she’d breached the invisible wall. Do not even think of her. All of the creatures had risen and were now pairing off, growling and hissing at their enemies, though none could seem to get within striking distance. Unlike Delilah, they were met with the same obstruction he had encountered.

“Demons,” Zane suddenly spat. He marched forward, his intent to slaughter evident with every step, their agreement to remain in the shade obviously forgotten. When he, too, hit the clear barrier, he paused and shook his head. Banged his fist against it once, twice. Paused again. Screeched an unholy sound of frustration. A second later, he attacked the air with a vengeance, screaming curses and promises of brutality all the while, oblivious to the cruel sun.

Layel didn’t even try to rein in the vampire’s rage. They had been together only a few months, and in that time he had learned that Zane could not be subdued until exhaustion gripped him. The male had spent centuries as a demon queen’s consort—willing or unwilling, Layel didn’t know. He only knew the experience had left the warrior wild, uncontrollable, and so volatile Layel only utilized him during battle.

There was no better killer than Zane.

Layel waited until the warrior’s actions slowed and his screams quieted. An eternity, surely. He strode to him, away from the Amazon, and placed a warning hand on one of Zane’s tense shoulders.

Panting, the vampire whipped to face him, fangs bared to bite. Zane stopped himself in time, and Layel withdrew his hand, his point made.

“For some reason, we cannot hurt them.” Yet. “You must remain calm.”

“I want those demons on a pike,” the warrior snarled.

“And I want the dragons’ heads to roll.”

Silence enveloped them as they stared at each other in understanding. Their enemies might be different, but their pain was not. Layel only wished he knew what had been done to the warrior.

Finally Zane nodded. But a muscle ticked below his left eye, contradicting the easy acceptance. “What should we do?”

“We shall learn the layout of this land.” Maybe they would find the perfect place to ambush the others. If the invisible wall did not stop them again. “Maybe as we do so, we will learn the reason we were brought here.”

“Where are my weapons?” Brand suddenly shouted, drawing Layel’s attention. The dragon soldier was searching the sand for his blades, grains flying in every direction. “Tell me or I will burn this—”

“Mine are missing, as well,” Tagart growled. His side no longer bled. Unfortunately, he’d already healed.

“Look!” someone said, their shock cutting through the commotion.

“Is that…Can it be…?”

Intrigued, Layel twisted. He found himself peering at a large crystal dome several miles away, which stretched above the rolling waves and momentarily blighted the luminous rainbow that glittered at the water’s edges.

Atlantis, he realized, dread curling his stomach. How was that possible? It lay far beneath the surface world. But he was looking right at it, standing on land he’d only ever heard stories about. Wasn’t he?

Could their hidden world be tiered, with layers he had not known about? Could he still be inside Atlantis, just in another part? If so, there would be a way home. He had only to find it. Perhaps the same way he’d gotten here—the tunnel that had tugged him down, down, down.

How had he stumbled upon the tunnel, though? A god? They were certainly powerful enough to create such a transport, moving more than a dozen creatures from one location to another in seconds, stealing their weapons and erecting a shield to prevent them from killing one another.

Could it be?

The gods were not something he usually considered. They had neglected the Atlanteans for thousands of years, only returning a few months ago. Or so he had heard. He himself had yet to encounter one. What possible reason could they have for whisking two of every race to this island?

Unable to stop himself, he stood helpless as his gaze once more sought the Amazon. She was still watching him, those inviting lips pursed as if she was lost in thought, trying to decide on the best course of action. A tendril of hair caressed her cheek, and he found himself wondering if her skin was as soft as he remembered. Found himself jealous that his fingers were not what caressed her.

Oh, no. No, no, no. There would be none of that, he reminded himself, determined to repeat the mantra as many times as necessary. His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits, and the spark of hatred he’d felt earlier grew. Intensified. Perhaps it was best that his weapons had been taken from him. He might have killed the Amazon right then for daring to claim desires that belonged only to Susan.

“Should we swim out?” one of the gorgons asked the crowd.

A debate arose.

“Come,” Layel told Zane. He ignored the sense of loss that assaulted him as he once again pivoted. Swimming, he was confident, would prove pointless. Someone powerful wanted them here, so here they would remain. “We have weapons to make.”

Sweat glistened on the other vampire’s face as he nodded. “I cannot relax until I have blades in my hands.”

They moved deeper into the thicket, the dewy foliage about to wrap around them completely. “We will—” Layel hit another invisible wall and cursed.

Snarling, Zane kicked out his leg. “No one should be able to hold us like this.”

“Trapped,” someone said behind them. “The forest is blocked.”

“What should we do?” another demanded. A female.

Layel twisted, saw the two nymphs had followed him, and scrubbed a hand down his face. Valerian, the nymph king, was his only true friend, the man’s followers his allies. These two were more beautiful than most, both boasting pale hair and vivid blue eyes. Features so pure and perfect they far surpassed the radiance of the sun.

“Broderick,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Why aren’t you trying to swim back to Atlantis?”

“Several reasons. The first is that I’m not convinced it will do us any good—and I’d just as soon stay warm and dry if that’s the case. The second is that I trust you more than I trust any of the other creatures here. Where you go, my sister and I will go. Have you any idea what’s going on?”

“All I know is that our way is being blocked, which must mean we are not to leave the beach. Perhaps if we return, whoever has done this to us will finally reveal himself.” Bastard.

“We can hope.” Walking back, side by side, Broderick said, “Word is you were battling dragons again.”

“Yes.”

“Win?”

“Not yet.” But he would.

“They are not bad men.” Valerian had recently allied himself with the dragons to save his mate. Layel had understood the need for such a union, even if he despised it with all of his being. He would have done no less for Susan. “They are respectful of our women, aid us in our defense of our palace, never strike at us in spite. They—”

“Are not up for discussion.” Having reached the edge of the trees, Layel was careful to remain in the shade. He studied the creatures anew. They were divided, whispering in their groups of two.

Or maybe not so divided after all. “There’s only one other avenue of escape. Who’s with me?” The proclamation came from Brand as he stalked toward the water. The others were quick to follow him.

A moment later, there was a splash, then another and another. Every creature save Layel, Zane and the two nymphs entered, swimming for the dome. Even Delilah. Her head bobbed up and down with the waves.

He gritted his teeth. You must stop seeking her out.

“Should we follow them?” Zane asked.

“They’ll return,” he replied confidently. “There are powers at work. Strange powers, strong powers. As I said, we are clearly wanted here. There will be no escaping.”

He watched as arms and legs peeked above the water, some scaled, some lined with horns, some humanlike. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty, thirty. No one gained any distance. No matter how hard they fought the ocean, they remained a few feet from the beach.

One by one, they gave up and crawled to shore, exhausted and panting. Delilah was the last to exit, which spoke volumes about her character. Strong, determined, unwilling to admit defeat.

He should not admire her for that.

She was scowling as her gaze latched on to his. She lumbered into a march, her expression darkening the closer she came. All of her war paint had washed away, revealing golden skin tattooed with intricate designs the same luscious shade as her cerulean locks, swirling around her face, upper arms, waist and thighs.

What little clothing she wore clung to her curves.

Soaked tendrils of hair were plastered to her, dripping liquid down her stomach and thighs. His gaze followed several droplets, and his blood heated as if he were baking in the sunlight again. Oh, to lick them up…

Zane tensed and stepped in front of him. “Enemy approaching.”

“Let her come.” If she could. Would the air shield stop her this time?

Curious, Layel kept his hands clenched at his sides. Part of him hoped she would be allowed to reach him. He had tried to ignore the sensual power she wielded, the awareness that sizzled every time he looked at her. He had tried, and he had failed. It was past time the madness ended. Susan deserved better from him. And there was only one way he could think of that would halt his new desires permanently. Death.

As he was not yet ready to die, that left one option. Killing the Amazon. He would not be upset about it, would not miss her. He didn’t even know her.

“Do not touch her. Do not even approach her, no matter what she does or says.”

The command surprised them both, but he did not rescind it. She belonged to him, her last breath his to deliver.

Eyes narrowed, Zane moved out of the way. He stared Delilah down as she stalked past him, still no hint of the air shield in evidence.

She tossed the man a withering glance before once again focusing all her fury on Layel. “A bodyguard,” she said, brows arched. “Afraid of a little girl, vampire? I don’t know why, but I expected better of you.”

That she was now inches from him, practically in his face, her sea-kissed scent tormenting his nose, electrified him. He’d just decided to kill her. Could he, though? he wondered now as his gaze locked with hers. All that violet…a man could get lost. His hands still rested at his sides, the muscles lax. Do it. Strike! Not even a twitch.

“I don’t care what you expected. Your opinion has no value to me.” Cruel, yes, but necessary. If he couldn’t hurt her physically—what’s stopping you? Simply act, move—he would have to hurt her emotionally. Anything to preserve the distance between them.

Her mouth fell open, pain shimmering in her eyes. Pain she quickly masked.

Has to be this way, he reminded himself, since he clearly wasn’t man enough to slay her. “Don’t come near me again, woman. Don’t look at me, don’t even breathe in my direction.”

As he spoke, she ran her tongue over her teeth. “As if I’m the only one doing the looking. But I’ll tell you what, vampire. I’ll stop looking at you, if you’ll stop looking at me.”

His jaw hardened—and he refused to admit what else hardened at the sight of that pink tongue. “Done.” He forced himself into motion, attempting to sidestep her.

She stiffened and jumped back in front of him. “Stay where you are. There are a few more things we need to work out.”

True to his word, he kept his eyes averted from her. “No. Now, out of my way, Amazon.” A mistake, letting her get close to him. Besides being too hot, his skin was suddenly too tight for his bones and his stomach was knotted.

“You’re being very rude,” she said. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“Do you want a prize?” he asked drily. Still, he managed to face the beach. Her sea-salt scent continued to tease him, strong, lovely. Hauntingly familiar.

“I’ll settle for your testicles in my trophy tent.”

That did not amuse him. “Perhaps later. At the moment, I need them.” He headed for Brand, who sat near the water’s edge, knees drawn to his chest. His back was to Layel, his braided blond hair as soaked as Delilah’s. Obviously the air shields were down, not just for Delilah but for everyone, creatures now touching one another.

As if sensing him, Brand hopped to his feet and spun. His lips curved into a grin, animosity flaring as if there had been no break between battles. “I expected you sooner.”

“I live to disappoint you. Ready to die?”

“Come and get me, bloodsucker.”

“My plea—” Layel hit the damned invisible wall again, knocking the breath right out of his lungs.

Brand’s grin became smug. “What’s the matter? Change your mind? Frightened?”

Calm. Do not show emotion.

“You’re the coward, dragon,” Delilah said, suddenly at Layel’s side. Brand’s smugness became fury.

“Can you move past this point?” Layel asked without facing her, trying to quash the pleasure that came with her defense of him.

She bristled at his harsh tone. “Can you?”

“Woman.”

“That is not my name.” She kept her gaze on Layel; he felt the heat of it. A quick glance at her proved he was right, and that her hands remained fisted, as if she expected Brand to attack her at any moment.

“Can you move past this godsdamn point, woman?”

Silence.

He waited. Even Brand waited. Still she did not speak. Had he hurt her again? Did tears swim in her lovely lavender irises? Why did the prospect not please him as much as it should?

“My name is Delilah.”

“I know.”

Her shoulder brushed his arm and he hissed. “Say my name,” she said, suddenly breathless, “and I’ll consider finding out.”

Something about her tone…pure challenge layered the wispy undercurrents, as if she wanted him to deny her. He was not sure what to make of that. “Why do you wish me to do this?”

“I want to hear my name on your tongue.”

“Again, why?”

“Because.” Stubborn as he’d come to realize she was, she said no more.

“Tell me why,” he demanded.

“Just say it!”

“No,” he said, while inside his mind he whispered Delilah, drawing out each syllable. The name was a prayer and a curse, both wonderful and evil. Unable to help himself, he looked down and studied her. So lovely, and yet so dangerous in a way she could not possibly comprehend.

A pause. A deep breath, as though she prayed for patience. “Have it your way, vampire. But if you won’t say my name, at least tell me yours.”

No reason to deny her. She would find out one way or another. “I am Layel.”

Her eyes widened. “The vampire king?”

He nodded curtly. Was that admiration now sparkling in her eyes? Surely not. “Try and step past me. Please,” he added reluctantly. It was easier to beg than to give her what she wanted.

Silent, trembling, she moved closer to Brand. Unhindered, unfettered. Irritation raced through Layel that she could do so and he could not. She did not remain there, however. She returned to Layel’s side.

“Want me to kill the dragon for you while I’m here?” she asked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

Brand snorted, not the least bit fearful. Foolish.

Layel gave a clipped shake of his head. “Why?” he demanded of the sky. But if the gods heard him, they gave no indication. As usual.

“Maybe I’ll do it for my own pleasure, then,” she said to Brand, ignoring Layel as her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t forgotten what was done to my sister.”

The dragon scrubbed two fingers along his jaw. “What little was done, she brought upon herself. And anyway, I have a feeling we aren’t meant to harm each other. Why else would our weapons have been taken?”

“I don’t need any weapons to take you down.” Layel stepped in front of Delilah. Not to protect her, he told himself, but to claim Brand’s attention. “Why don’t you try and breach the shield, dragon?”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Brand said. “I’m done with this conversation. Done with you, too, now that my anger has cooled. I’ll leave you at the…tender mercies of the Amazon.” Then he did the unthinkable. He walked away. Walked the hell away.

Layel’s fangs cut into his lower lip, drawing blood. He tried to follow. Couldn’t.

Delilah pivoted, in front of him again, blocking his view of the retreating dragon. “As I was saying, we have some things to discuss, you and I.”

He popped his jaw before forcing his expression to relax. She was still geared for a fight, still seemed to crave one. “Poor baby,” he said, unwilling to give her what she wanted. “Did I hurt your feelings when I abandoned you a moment ago?”

Her cheekbones pinkened, highlighting the freckles atop her dainty nose. Would she have a dimple when she smiled? If she ever smiled, that is. So far, the Amazon had only glared at him.

Susan had had two dimples, and she’d rarely been without a smile. One that had always entranced him. So why did Delilah’s glare affect him just as powerfully?

Layel almost beat himself in the temples to dislodge that torturous thought. He would not compare another woman to Susan. There was no comparison. She had no equal, then or now.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Delilah asked, now curious rather than upset. “In fact, why are you looking at me at all? You said you would not.”

Because I am a terrible husband. “How was I looking at you?” He stared past her, past the water to the crystal dome that was so close, yet so far away. Like I want to draw you close and push you away at the same time? Like I want to both taste you and kill you? Like you’re dangerous in a way you have no right to be?

“Like I’m a disgusting demon,” she said.

She wasn’t a demon; she was far worse. Admitting it would have given her power over him, though. “Why did you approach me, Amazon? What do you want from me? And understand that I will not fight with you, no matter what you say. Not now. You will stop trying to provoke me.”

“I wasn’t trying to provoke you,” she said, indignant.

“You succeeded nonetheless. I asked you a question. You will answer it.”

At first, she gave no reaction to his words. Then her lips pursed. Those lush, beautiful lips. What would they feel like against his skin? What would—

With a hiss, she kicked out her leg, knocking his ankles together as he’d done to hers in the forest. At the same time, she pushed his shoulders, propelling him backward and giving him no way to balance or catch himself. When he landed, he landed hard, breathing a thing of the past.

You knew better than to allow yourself to be distracted in the presence of an Amazon warrioress, he berated himself, trying to suck in a mouthful of air. Around any enemy, really, but especially one so volatile.

Delilah hopped on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the sand with her knees. There was now another layer to her already complex scent, he realized. Arousal. The discovery shocked him. Hot, erotic arousal, and his mouth dried, his tongue desperate to lave between her legs, where she would be wet. If he moved, raised his head even a little, he would be able to quench his sudden, desperate thirst.

No. No!

“This is better,” she said, practically humming with satisfaction. And disappointment? Did she want to be weaker than him? Surely not. To her, such a thing could bring only humiliation. “The king of the vampires, mine to command. Now you are going to answer my questions. Tell me why you didn’t try to swim home like the rest of us. You know something. You must.”

Fighting his need for her—just a touch, a taste—he snapped, “I will never be yours to command. Never be yours, period.”

“We shall see.” Baby-fine strands of her hair brushed his cheeks. A purr rumbled in the back of his throat, and he growled to mask it. “I have heard of your conquests, vampire king.”

“Have you?” Slowly he raised his hands to her waist, pretending he wanted to hold her, be closer to her. Hating that it was not as much a pretense as it should have been.

She didn’t protest. “Yes. They’re impressive. You killed the demon queen, sucking her dry. You have slaughtered more dragons than anyone else ever to live. Combined. You torture ruthlessly just to hear your opponent scream.”

“And yet you seem remarkably unfazed by such fearless feats.”

“Have you, perchance, heard of my conquests?” She sounded hopeful.

“No.” He hadn’t, but wished otherwise.

“Liar,” she said, unable to hide her dejection.

“About many things, yes, but not this.” When she opened her mouth, perhaps to list her own feats, he added, “I do not wish to hear about them, either.” Proof that he did, in fact, lie whenever he wanted.

Fire blazed in her eyes as she licked her lips, baring that pink tongue again. “All I want to know is wwhhyy—”

With a flick of his wrists, he tossed her overhead. She landed on her back and rolled, but he expected the motion and rolled backward himself, pinning her to the sand with his body’s weight. Behind them, a gasp sounded. Followed by a laugh, a cheer. No footsteps swished in the sand, however. Perhaps, like him, the others could not breach the shield. Or perhaps they were simply enjoying the show.

Delilah lay there a moment, stunned.

“You were saying?” he asked, one brow arched smugly.

“Release me, Layel. Now.”

Her breasts pushed into his chest, her nipples hard and wanting. He was tempted, so tempted, to palm them. Was shaking with the need, he realized. “What are you doing to me? How are you making me feel this way?”

She blinked up at him, truly confused. “What way?”

He would not admit his desires aloud. They were wrong, unacceptable. Oh, he knew that men and women constantly fell in and out of lust. Knew that many who lost their lover grieved for a time and then found someone else.

He could not, would not do so.

Susan had been killed in the most painful, brutal way imaginable. She had been humiliated, used, spat upon and finally burned. She had felt her baby die inside her, the kicking gradually slowing until it ceased altogether. She had begged and she had pleaded for Layel’s help, but he had not reached her soon enough. He had not saved her.

He did not deserve another chance at love.

He did not deserve another woman.

More than that, Susan did not deserve to have her memory overshadowed by another woman.

“What way?” Delilah insisted, reaching up.

What she meant to do, he might never know. He jolted to his feet with a roar. “Do not touch me. Ever. Just stay away from me, Amazon. Do you understand?”

He didn’t wait for her reply, but stalked away from her. Stalked away before he looked at her, saw hurt in her eyes and apologized. Before he begged her to ignore his words and touch him anyway. Before he threw himself at her, sobbing for a chance at something he was not worthy of.

Sand was flung against his calves and he knew she’d stood. “I only approached you to ask if you knew why we were brought here,” she called. There was no emotion in her tone. Merely a detachment he suddenly loathed nearly as much as he loathed the dragons.

Silent, he continued to stride away from her with a fierce determination he usually reserved for the battlefield. One amorous glance from a woman and a part of you longs to forget Susan. You promised her an eternity, yet you only gave her a few hundred years. Pathetic.

Cringing, he covered his ears with his hands. Dark, treacherous emotions were welling inside him, close to bubbling over. If they succeeded, Layel knew he would be lost to them forever. There would be no returning, no reclaiming his sanity. Vengeance would be forgotten, his own pain all he would be able to see.

“Do you know? Does anyone know?” Delilah shouted.

“I do,” a booming voice answered, relish in every syllable. “I know.”




Chapter Four


DELILAH FROZE. That voice…that power…In all her years, she’d never heard such a sound or felt such a presence. And yet, the shock of both failed to compare to the shock of having been face-to-face—body to body—with Layel, king of the vampires.

She had heard stories of the man’s prowess, of course, of his dark nature, his unquenchable thirst for blood and power. Delicious qualities, indeed, and she couldn’t help but desire all of his strength, all of his fervor, at her fingertips again. He was a warrior to the core and would not care what her sisters thought of him. He would fight for what he wanted, damn the consequences.

He was the kind of man she’d secretly wanted for years, the need solidifying every time she saw a couple, no matter their race, cooing over each other. The kind of man she’d once thought she’d had, only to lose because he hadn’t desired more than a night. But unlike the other, Vorik, who, at the height of passion, had claimed he would crave her forever, Layel said he wanted nothing to do with her. Should she believe him? His heated glances suggested otherwise.

She almost wished she’d spent more time with the male species. But with the exception of her ill-fated assignation, her tribe only consorted with them twice a year—mating season—when men were stolen from their homes, reduced to slaves, their bodies used repeatedly. When the Amazons finished with them, they were sent on their way. Because Vorik had not been one of those slaves, Delilah had foolishly hoped that, after all his tender promises and heated caresses, her man would fight to stay with her. Or, at the very least, fight to take her with him.

Not even a backward glance, she mused darkly.

So many times since then she’d wondered why none of the men—not just hers—had ever asked for more. After all, not one slave had even put up a fight when he’d first realized his destination and purpose. In fact, they’d seemed overjoyed. Willing and eager. And even though they were slaves, they were treated well, sex available anytime they wanted it.

But apparently, though Amazons were fun for a time, they just weren’t worthy of forever. Not that any other Amazon but her wanted forever. What’s wrong with me? Though her virginity was long gone, thanks to Vorik, she couldn’t even use the slaves casually, as the sexual vessels they were meant to be.

Since taking her lover, Delilah had never experienced the urge to give herself to another, only to toss him aside later—or be tossed aside herself, his old life more important than the new one he could build with her. But Layel…she desired him, she realized. Desired his tongue in her mouth, hot and insistent. Desired their sweat-soaked skin slipping and sliding together. Desired his body arching and straining over hers.

Foolish girl. She could desire such things, but she could never allow them. Already she wanted Layel too fiercely. How much more would she want him if she learned the reality of his touch? The true bliss? She would give herself to him, wholly and fully, yet he would walk away afterward. Once again, she would be forgotten. This time, though, she suspected she would not get over the loss. She’d been given a glimpse of the man behind the legend and she’d liked what she’d seen.

Someone stepped on her foot, drawing her from her troubling musings back to the equally troubling present. What in Hades was going on? Everyone was inching toward the beach.

“Reveal yourself,” the dragon with the braids was saying to the invisible being, his arms splayed wide as he turned in a circle in front of her. “If you have the courage.”

Someone gasped. Someone pointed.

Wonderful. Another surprise. Delilah followed the direction of that finger, and her eyes widened. There, above the water, the air had begun to crystallize and thicken. A force of good? Or evil? She settled one foot behind her, ready to leap and attack at a moment’s notice. The other creatures did the same, she noticed, each of them preparing for battle.

Unfortunately, the only weapons to be had were their own bodies.

Even Layel had stopped to face the swirling being. His expression was intent, though untamed, feral and savage, and somehow banked with undeniable sensuality.

“Oh, I have the courage. But do you, dragon? Do any of you? Only time will tell.” Wind billowed and wet droplets sprayed. “Citizens of Atlantis, welcome to Paradise, created for the gods yet happily relinquished to you, our faithful servants.”

Paradise? Servants?

The voice came from the water, but the air never coagulated completely. Just remained thick and dappled in the shape of a human—large, probably male. Three mermaids—a blonde, a brunette and a redhead—swam around the misty form, cooing their admiration of his power and glory.

“Be not afraid,” the being continued. “You have been chosen to participate in a monumental event. All we ask in return is that you show us your valor, strength and cunning, qualities you have amply displayed on the battlefields of your home.” He paused, probably awaiting nods and murmurs of encouragement.

He got neither. The others were no doubt as perplexed as Delilah.

A rumble of irritation sounded from the water.

“Why did you bring us here?” she demanded before the being could speak again. So far, he had offered no answers, only more confusion.

“There’s going to be trouble,” one of the mermaids sang happily.

“You will not speak to me in that tone,” the booming voice announced, the jelly-air rippling violently.

“And you can’t just—” Delilah began.

“Silence!”

A stream of water slammed into her, hitting with so much force she dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. Her mouth filled, and she gurgled and choked. Even if you are dying, show no fear. The second commandment. She might have broken most of the commandments this day, but she wouldn’t break that one.

Her gaze automatically sought Layel, the man who made her feel both protected and hated. His beautiful azure eyes were narrowed on her, his soft lips thinned. In displeasure? She hadn’t seen him move, but he seemed closer to her than before. She forced her expression to remain neutral.

“Next time, Amazon, you will be buried in water,” the being warned.

She didn’t respond, even when the water spray ceased and she managed to suck air back into her lungs. As a warrioress, she had been trained in combat since the age of five. Every time she had failed at a lesson, she had been punished severely. A whipping most often, until her flesh was torn to ribbons. Sometimes a stoning. Sometimes a parade through camp, her faults shouted for all to hear.

She understood the need for such training, and didn’t regret it. Her ancestors had been slaves to males of all races—just like the slaves they now took into their own camp those two months out of every year. Only their captivity had been eternal. Or had been meant for eternity. One day they’d risen up, attacked and escaped, determined never to suffer such a fate again. Determined no Amazon would. And so the commandments had been born.

Delilah bore both her internal and external scars proudly, for she had learned never to fail twice at the same thing. This god would not receive a second opportunity to best her.

“Impertinence will not be tolerated. We are Supreme Beings, your leaders, your creators. You will treat us with the respect we deserve, or you will suffer our wrath.”

We. There was only one being here, yet he spoke of others. Were they all here, simply invisible? The thought didn’t scare her; no, it infuriated her. An unseen, unknown enemy would be harder to defeat.

“Listen, all. You are our creations, meant for our amusement and protection, yet we have never made use of you. For too long, you were forgotten, our attention turned to the humans. But no longer must you endure our neglect. You have been remembered and now you shall know our favor.”

The voice paused again, as if everyone should exclaim with joy that they’d been remembered. When no one did, there was another irritated grumble.

“Our greatest wish is to learn all about you. For weeks we have been watching you, studying, wondering who among you is the strongest. Those touched by Apollo’s flame? Those gifted with Aphrodite’s beauty? Those with Ares’s thirst for war? And that is how you came to be here on this island, for after careful consideration, we plucked the most courageous, the most feared from the masses.” Once more the wind blustered. “Faithful servants, it is time you put an end to our wondering, once and for all.”

Delilah almost groaned. She could guess what the god—for what else could the force be but a god?—would say next. They were going to force the creatures here to fight one another. While she didn’t mind fighting, she didn’t like being jerked from her home, from Lily to—

Lily.

Damn this! What had happened to the girl after Delilah had disappeared? Had she made it home safely? Had she been captured again? Hurt? Delilah’s hands curled into fists, itching to pound something. Someone. The tenth and most important commandment was to always protect the queen and her family. Had she left Lily at the mercy of the dragons?

“This will not be an easy undertaking, nor will it be swift. Not for you, and not for us. Time is required to sift through sand and find the gold. That is why you will remain on this island,” the being continued, “where you will be divided into two teams. Every few days you will be tested, challenged, our way of dusting the sand from the gold. It will be up to you to prove your mettle and show us we were right to return to Atlantis.”

“Every few days” would translate into weeks, if not months. Her nails dug crescents into her palm. What did I do to deserve this? Courage should be rewarded, not punished.

“Before you proclaim your joy at this great honor we have bestowed upon you, you should know that we conferred many days before bringing you here, one truth very clear to us all—the weak should feel the sting of our disappointment.” There was another pause, laden with tension. “That is why the losing team will counsel with us. And why one member will be chosen…for execution.”

Shocked gasps circled the beach. Delilah’s jaw almost hit the ground. Executed? For losing a silly challenge? She could understand a beating—what Amazon wouldn’t—but death? Does it matter? You will win by whatever means necessary.

“We have no doubt that all of you will try your best. But in the end, there can be only one winner.”

“My lord,” Brand said, stepping forward. “We—”

“For now,” the god interjected, cutting the dragon off, “take this day for yourselves. You will find the elements no longer pain you.” That seemed to be addressed directly to Layel and the other vampire. Had they been hurt? “Restore your vigor, build what weapons you think you need to aid you in your path to victory. I prevented you from killing each other when you first awoke, but I won’t intervene any longer. Just know that to destroy another creature could very well be to destroy your own team—and so could bring you one step closer to facing execution. Welcome to Paradise, Atlanteans. Let the games begin.”

The thickened air began to break apart, thinning to raindrops…then mist. But that soon dissipated, as well, curling toward the brightening blue overhead. A blue as clear and fathomless as Layel’s eyes.

All three mermaids disappeared below the water’s surface. A second later, their iridescent tails lifted and wiggled. Then those, too, vanished. Still, no one on the beach spoke.

Perhaps, like Delilah, they were shaken to the core, throats unworkable.

Nola was the first to move. She crossed the distance, grabbed Delilah’s arm without slowing and tugged her into the surrounding palms. When they were far enough away that the others would not hear them, the warrioress stopped and whirled. “What are we going to do? Who was that?”

“I don’t know.” She massaged the back of her neck, hating the situation more with every second that passed. “I just don’t know. Poseidon most likely, for he is the water god.” She’d never interacted with a god before and hadn’t ever thought to do so. As the being had said, the heavenly sovereigns had not bothered the citizens of Atlantis for thousands of years—and that had been just fine.

“The voice kept saying we,” Delilah continued. “Others are involved.”

“Did he? I didn’t notice. All I could think about was the fact that I was looking at a creature comprised solely of water who wanted me to prove myself or die.” Nola shook her head, dark hair flying in every direction. “We have never been friends, Delilah, but you are the only person I trust in this so-called Paradise. What if we are separated? Placed on opposing teams? Our first commandment is to always aid a sister in need. How can I aid you if we are suddenly enemies?”

“Nola, I’m just as confused as you are.” Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Most days were the same. Wake up, train for war, eat, train for war, sleep. Repeat. The only difference was usually going to war, something they did at least twice a year, whether provoked or not, to prove their continued strength. “Let me think for a moment.”

Back and forth she paced, the trees blurring. Of the two of them, Nola was younger, less experienced. That meant the responsibility of keeping the girl alive fell on Delilah’s shoulders. “We cannot leave, that much we know. And if we cannot leave, that means we must compete in the god’s silly games or be killed.” If they were forced to compete against each other, Delilah knew she would not be able to hurt Nola. Even if it meant dying herself.

She had been raised to protect her sisters, no matter what. That was her purpose, her privilege. A game was not going to change that.

Win by whatever means necessary, she’d thought only a few moments ago. Now she snorted. “We may not be separated, so let’s not worry about that just yet. Right now we’re going to gather all the sticks we can carry, as well as every sharp rock that we see. I want us prepared for battle by nightfall. Just in case.”

Nola gave a stiff nod, but she didn’t move off immediately. “Tell me we’ll return home soon. Tell me, and I’ll believe it.” The vulnerability glowing from her expression was surprising.

“We’ll return home,” she replied without hesitation. Defeat was not something Delilah allowed. Ever. What about Layel? He shoved you down, could have hurt you and you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. “You have my word,” she forced past the sudden lump in her throat, her blood churning into liquid lightning. Damn that man, and damn the heavens! “Go. Before everyone else decides to make weapons, as well, and there’s nothing left for us.”

ENVELOPED BY SHADE, Layel had watched as each pair of creatures disappeared into the trees. To talk, he was sure. To plan. To arm themselves. At the moment, he was too furious to move. He’d been taken from his people and his war for the amusement of the gods. Intolerable!

“I will not stand for this,” Zane snapped at his side.

“Nor I.”

Zane blinked at him in surprise, as if he had expected Layel to chastise him rather than agree. “What can we do?”

“We can kill every creature the god brought to the island. That way, there are no players for his sadistic game and we can return home.”

“What of the nymphs you so favor?”

A sigh slipped from him. “They are our friends. They live.”

“What of the Amazons?”

Layel closed his eyes for a moment, drew in a shuddering breath. He’d thought to kill Delilah earlier, but had failed. Mistake. Now there was another reason to do so. A reason not so easily discarded. “They will not be so fortunate.”

A slow smile spread across Zane’s pale face. “The gods will regret bringing us here.”

“Yes.” A warm breeze slid against what little skin Layel had bared—the skin on his face, as well as a patch on his arm where one of the dragons had burned away his shirt. While he smelled salt and dew, flower blossoms, fruit and aroused female—damn, but he wanted to banish that scent!—this island lacked the scent of enchantment that Atlantis possessed.

In Atlantis, he could wander the halls of his palace, imagining Susan at his side, laughing up at him, green eyes sparkling. Here, he seemed to imagine nothing but the little Amazon. Even now, all he could picture was that blue hair fisted in his hands, that exotic face staring up at him in passion and need, those eyes hot, legs spread, feminine core wet and glistening, his tongue tracing those tattoos.

He craved her blood in his mouth.

His fangs sharpened, ready…so ready…

He would kill her first, he decided, hands compressing into fists. His nails were once again elongated into claws. They cut past skin and into the meat of his hands until warmth trickled and pooled in the creases of his fingers. Why are you so upset? Why are you hurting yourself? Any more blood loss and you’ll weaken. As the god said, you need your strength.

“We’ll wait for darkness to fall,” he told Zane, the words emerging on another of those broken sighs. Why the reluctance to see his plan through? He didn’t care about the Amazon. He hated her. Yes, hated. With nearly the same intensity he hated the dragons. “Then we’ll attack them, one by one.”

Delilah has done nothing wrong, his mind protested. She does not deserve death at your hands.

Logically, he knew that to be true. Yet logic meant nothing to him just then. He had to get that woman out of his head. She didn’t belong there and was disrupting the only sense of peace he knew. A peace he desperately needed, for any distraction could allow the dragons to best him.

This time, when she was within reach, he would not look at her, would not smell her sweet fragrance. He would simply act. “Come, we need distance from the gods,” he said, leading his charge deeper into the forest, not stopping until they reached a riverbank.

Zane bent down, palmed a stone and tossed it into the pristine water. “I wonder what happened to our brethren after we were taken.”

“If they assume we are dead and crown a new king, I will kill them all.”

Zane snorted in amusement, as Layel had meant for him to do. He valued his people; they were his greatest weapon against his enemy. And though he had been teasing, knowing well how loyal his men were, he would not tolerate a new king. It was funny, really, since he’d once abhorred his crown. “If they are the warriors I trained them to be,” he continued, “they finished slaughtering the dragons and are now celebrating the victory and planning a search for us.”

“A celebration we are missing.” A dark glaze spread over Zane’s eyes, making the irises as black as onyx. He grabbed and threw another stone. “I hate this place. The demons here…”

“Are yours.” When Layel had stormed the demon queen’s palace to pilfer her treasury after he’d killed her, he’d found Zane waiting in her bed, naked and oiled so that he would be ready for her pleasure. Clearly he hadn’t been forced by physical means to remain there, but his relief at her death had been palpable.

Layel didn’t know why he’d been there, seemingly willing; he only knew the warrior’s hate was as great as his own.

Zane’s wide shoulders relaxed slightly. Until both men caught a glimpse of blue hair several feet away. The owner of that hair never came into sight, limbs and shrubs hiding her as she searched for…weapons? A place to stay? No, his first supposition was right, he mused, his traitorous heart speeding up. He would stake his life on it. Did she know he was nearby? Probably.

“What of the little Amazon you nearly ate?” Zane whispered fiercely. “I would like to finish her, as well.”

Layel experienced a spark of anger. “She is mine. I will take care of her.”

“That, I know. But do you plan to bed her or kill her? You looked ready to do both when she straddled your chest.”

“What do you think?” he asked, because he did not wish to lie to a fellow vampire.

“I told you. I think you would like to do both.”

“And I think you are in danger of unleashing my wrath.” Truth.

“Nothing new there.” Unconcerned, Zane tossed another stone. Plop, plop. “Perhaps you can do both.”

Surely that had not been wistfulness seeping from his tone. “No.” Layel ran his tongue over his teeth. One of his fangs stabbed into the sensitive organ, the resulting bead of blood reminding him that he’d gorged himself earlier, while battling the dragons, yet that hadn’t stopped his cravings for Delilah. “No,” he repeated for his own benefit. “Too cruel.” For Delilah and himself.

“Have you ever tasted an Amazon?”

“No.” Every race possessed a unique flavor. The dragons—sulfur. The demons—rot. Centaurs—sweet, almost like honeyed hay. Minotaurs—strong, tangy. Nymphs—ambrosia. But Amazons? What would they—she—taste like?

You will never find out, he vowed. He would die before he placed any part of himself inside that woman. It was time to change the subject. “Come. Time grows short. We’ll make spears, daggers and arrows.”

“And which do you plan to use on the girl?”

“My bare hands,” he said. Even as he spoke, he longed to use his hands in a different way. For pleasure, not pain. Satisfaction, not death. Neither of which he would allow. The fact that he still wished to do such a thing told him beyond any doubt he needed to rid himself of her, just as he’d planned.

Zane gave another of those eerie smiles. “Until nightfall, then.”

Layel nodded grimly.




Chapter Five


POSEIDON, GOD OF THE SEA, towered inside the coral palace he’d built himself in the center of the ocean, staring into a large, mist-entrenched mirror. Beyond the mist, Paradise and its reluctant new inhabitants were visible, a feast for his gaze.

“They are confused,” he said. He’d left them a short while ago, had told them not to worry—hadn’t he?—yet their panic had only grown.

A murmur of “yes” arose, the timbres a mix of excitement, resolve and nonchalance.

Four other gods had journeyed through portals in Mount Olympus to join him here. Poseidon turned, studying them as intently as he’d studied the Atlanteans in the mirror. Ares, god of war, possessing a temper far worse even than Poseidon’s own. Hestia, plain yet somehow seductive, whose spell-casting abilities were eclipsed only by her determination to make a name for herself by any means possible, fair or foul. Apollo, smile brighter than the sun he controlled, fiercely loyal to those he loved. And finally, Artemis, twin sister to Apollo, as wild as the flowers growing on earth—and as cold as ice.

Upon their arrival, Poseidon had been forced to drain his palace to accommodate lungs not as superior as his own. Now ocean water churned outside rather than in, lapping at the outer walls, the roof. Every few seconds, a droplet fell from the bejeweled chandelier and splashed against the ebony floor.

Hestia eyed those droplets with disdain.

If she wasn’t careful, he would drown her.

For centuries, Poseidon had remained here in the water. King to his merpeople, forgotten by earthlings and utterly bored. Truly, nothing had entertained him. Not peace and prosperity. Not storms, famine and war. Then, a few months ago by the Atlantean calendar, two of his mermaids had told him of dissent in Atlantis. Atlantis, a place he’d forgotten completely over the years. A place they’d all forgotten.

A place that belonged to them.

He’d slipped inside, observed unnoticed for a bit, surprised to find the creatures thriving. Curious about their reaction to him, he’d finally announced himself. Still bored, he’d begun moving the citizens about like chess pieces, pitting the dragons against the nymphs and watching the strong, determined warriors resort to battle in their need to protect their females and homes. But in the end they hadn’t killed each other as he’d anticipated. Hadn’t really even argued. They’d reached a treaty, baffling him.

The unpredictability had been delightful. And just like that, all of his ennui had melted away.

Other gods, as bored with their routines as he had been, noticed the abrupt change in his mood. It wasn’t as though he could hide it. The churning waters had settled into calm serenity. His four unexpected guests soon had arrived here, wanting to know the source of his joy. I should have lied. Told them anything but Atlantis.

That fateful day of their arrival was burned inside his head.

You can’t just waltz inside, he’d said after his confession—and their subsequent desire to do as he’d done—wanting to keep his new favorite toy to himself.

Why not? Hestia had anchored her hands on her wonderfully flared hips. You did.

Yes, and we can’t toss another surprise at them. That would be cruel.

Ares had snorted. Like you’re all flowers and sunshine. We’re going in, and you can’t stop us.

His hands had fisted in frustration. What do you hope to gain with this visit? Just as we once forgot the Atlanteans, they have now forgotten us. You will not be worshipped in their realm, nor will you be thanked for your reappearance.

Apollo had shrugged, the dire warning of no concern to him. I want to know how my nymphs have fared without me. I should not have abandoned them as I did and wish to make amends.

His nymphs? His? They were made with equal measures of all of us, Poseidon had reminded him with irritation. But if he were honest, he would admit that some races tended to favor one god above the rest, as though a war had raged during their creation and certain characteristics had defeated all others. Besides, they have flourished despite your neglect. They are happy now and would despise any interference.

As they despised yours? Apollo splayed his arms. Doesn’t matter. They fared better than most, I’m sure.

What’s that supposed to mean? Artemis had asked. If a creature resembles you, it’s better than all those around it?

Thus had begun a spirited hour-long debate about the strengths of each race, the weaknesses of each race and whom each race took after, finally culminating in an annoyed yet excited announcement from Ares. Enough! Arguing solves nothing. Let’s put them on trial, shall we?

What do you propose? Hestia had asked hesitantly.

Simply that we put our opinions to the ultimate test with a little wager. We’ll take two of every race—unmated, of course, or there’ll be an uprising—and pit the creatures against each other. If your choice wins, you can enter and leave Atlantis unfettered. However, if your choice loses, you can never set foot in the dome again.

Poseidon had tilted his head as he considered the pros and cons. If he lost, his fun ended. If he ensured his creatures won, he could have Atlantis all to himself, just as he wanted.

A sound idea, but…Apollo frowned. Why two?

One powerful warrior could be an anomaly, Ares said. Two powerful warriors will prove the race’s superior strength and intelligence.

And how will we choose the competitors? Artemis had asked, arching a brow.

Just the way our friend Poseidon chose the pawns in his little game, of course. Observation. We’ll watch them and decide on the strongest, the bravest, the most resilient together. Then, we’ll design challenges that will test their fortitude, wits and determination.

What will happen to the creatures who fail us? Artemis asked.

I think we should dispose of the losers, Poseidon had suggested. That way they cannot sing tales of our actions to the people of Atlantis. And he, the winner, would not have to deal with the backlash. Besides, I’m sure the lot of you will be angry and looking for vengeance when your choice loses to mine. Killing the creatures who brought about your loss will surely be cathartic.

Hestia’s eyes had narrowed. We’ll see who wins, won’t we?

Two Atlantean weeks later, and here they were.

“The vampire will win,” Ares said confidently now. “He has murder in his eyes. A look I know well.”

Hestia peered out at the creatures moving through the forest, creatures who couldn’t see them. “The vampire king or his warrior?”

“Does it matter? We were to pick a race, not an individual.”

“I was merely curious.” She shook her head, dark hair tumbling down her back. “But you’re right. It does not matter, for the Amazons will win, no question. They are resilient, determined, unafraid to fight for what they know they deserve. A lot like me. The young one has been betrayed by everyone she has ever loved. There’s bitterness inside her. Bitterness and hate. She’ll unleash a storm of fury unlike anything you have ever seen.”

“Please.” Apollo laughed, the carefree sound at odds with the combatant he was. “She might be a smoldering cauldron of dark emotion, but she possesses the heart of an innocent. More than that, the nymphs carry my light inside them. Why do you think all creatures, male and female, are drawn to them? Your Amazon will be no exception and will end up bowing to them.”

“The nymphs are indeed seducers,” Artemis said, “but their beauty cannot compete with the fair-means-or-foul mentality of the demons. They would eat their own young to win a battle.”

“Well, I say the dragons will eat everyone before the first game ends,” Poseidon replied. “Their strength and hunger are legendary. Even the people of earth exalt them.”

Ares rubbed his hands together. He was so tall, even Poseidon had to look up to him. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes, and radiated such intense wickedness he could have passed for Hades’s twin. “We’ve all made our choices. It’s past time to begin.”

Another murmur of “yes” arose, this one dripping with exhilaration.

“The other creatures,” Poseidon said. “Those we did not vote for. The minotaurs, centaurs, gorgons and formorians.”

“If one of the unfavored wins, the contest is—What am I saying?” Ares chuckled. “The unfavored will not win.”

“Well, I am ready to see who will. There can be no interfering from this moment on,” Artemis said, eyeing each god until she received a nod of agreement. “What happens will happen. Whoever wins will win, and we will accept the outcome and the consequences with graciousness befitting our stations.”

“Of course.” Poseidon waved his hand in the air, hoping he appeared convincing. He would ensure the dragons won by any means necessary. He had no doubt his fellow gods would come to respect his actions in time. Hadn’t Artemis praised the demons for just such ruthlessness, and Hestia admired the Amazons for a similar unyielding drive?

When the dragons won, Poseidon would win, and Atlantis would once again be his and his alone.



NIGHT HAD LONG SINCE FALLEN.

The air was warm, fragrant and fraught with danger. The insects were eerily silent, not a chirp or whistle to be heard. Only the wind seemed impervious to the surrounding menace, swishing leaves and clicking branches together.

Delilah’s every self-protective instinct remained on high alert. No telling where the other creatures were. She’d spied a few here and there as she’d gathered stones and sticks. And then they had disappeared, hiding amongst the shadows. She could have hunted them down, could have challenged them to prove her strength, as was the way of the Amazons, but she hadn’t.

The god’s warning refused to leave her mind. What if she killed one of her own team members? To begin at a disadvantage would be the epitome of foolish. And she’d been foolish a little too often lately.

She and Nola had opted to sleep in the trees, making them harder to find, harder to reach. Right now she was strewn atop a thick branch, legs swinging over the side, handmade spear clutched tightly in her palms. Wooden daggers were strapped to her legs, waist and back. Thankfully, she’d been trained in the art of weaponry, learning how to create the deadliest of tools out of anything and everything she could find in the forest.

Sharp bark dug into her ribs, helping keep her awake, alert. What were the other creatures doing just then?

What was Layel doing?

Layel…beautiful Layel. She’d hardly interacted with him, yet their brief exchanges had been enough to utterly, foolishly fascinate her. There, an admission. He was like no one she had ever encountered. Constantly she found herself wondering what his body looked like underneath his clothes, what his face would look like lost in passion, what he would feel like, pumping and sliding inside of her.

He despises you. He’s best forgotten.

Forget that his skin was pale and as smooth as silk? Forget that his eyes were blue like sapphires and fringed by black lashes that were a striking contrast to his snow-white hair? Forget that he was tall with wide shoulders and radiated a dark sensuality women probably salivated over? Impossible.

What kind of females did he enjoy? What type of females had he allowed into his bed? In all the stories she’d heard of him, not a word had been uttered about his preferred bed partners. That didn’t mean he’d remained alone all these years.

Sparks of something sinister flickered in her chest. Jealousy, perhaps. She wanted to deny the emotion, but couldn’t. Mine, she thought. He might want nothing more to do with her, but no way in Hades would he be allowed to have another woman. Not while they inhabited this island.

What’s come over you? Men were no longer something she treasured, dreaming of love and laughter in the darkest of nights. To her, they were merely something for her sisters to use twice a year, something to destroy if ever they threatened her loved ones. Since her mating had ended so disastrously, she had not thought to ever again find herself possessive of a male.

How many times had she watched her sisters fight over a particular slave, as if he were a pretty trinket they meant to wear? He’s mine, they would shout, commandments conveniently forgotten. It’s my bed he will warm this night. A clash of daggers always followed, as well as cut and bleeding warrioresses. How many times had she watched those “prized” men leave when the loving was over? Without a backward glance at the females they were leaving behind? Not that her sisters had cared. But she had watched and wondered. How could they not want more from each other?

After Vorik, Delilah had thought herself immune to men, her secret longings buried. Until now. She’d straddled the vampire’s shoulders and he’d looked between her legs with undiluted heat. The thought of giving herself to him had not been abhorrent. She’d wanted to command his hands on her, his mouth, something, anything. She’d wanted him to command her.

A shiver followed the thought, drowning her in another wave of that deep and inexorable desire. What would it be like to be bedded by him? Would he be gentle, taking her slowly? Or would his passion be as ferocious as his wild blue eyes promised? Perhaps even a little wicked?

“You’re aroused, Amazon. Why?”

Layel’s voice was so close, so husky, like a whispered entreaty, she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. She stiffened, fingers tight on the spear as she searched the darkness for him. Only treetops and night birds came into focus. Not even where thin slivers from the golden ball high above seeped through the canopy of leaves did she make out the form of a man. Slowly she relaxed.

Why am I aroused? Because of you, she wished she could tell this fantasy.

“Well?” Chilled breath caressed her ear.

She gasped. Too real, too real, too real…

Before she had time to react, however, a hard hand settled over her mouth while another shoved her to her back. A heavy, muscled weight slammed into her body. She lost her breath, barely managing to remain on the branch.

In seconds, Layel had her stretched out, her legs restrained. Her eyes widened as her spear was torn from her grip and thrown to the ground. A mocking thump echoed in her ears. She balled her hand and moved to strike him, but he released her mouth to check the action. Next he caged her arms between their bodies.

“You will not hurt me,” he said.

“And yet you feel free to hurt me. Besides, I’ll do anything I want.”

“Try.”

One word, but it was so smug she longed to slap him. Sadly, below the urge for violence was also the need to kiss him. She didn’t panic. Yet. Nola was nearby. Probably sneaking up on Layel…now. But no. A moment ticked by, then another.

Nola never arrived.

Delilah’s heart began to drum erratically in her chest, a dazzling realization settling deep inside her. Her blood rushed through her veins with dizzying speed, and need quivered in her belly. Here was her secret fantasy, in the flesh. Hers for the taking. Part of it, anyway. There’d be no happily-ever-after with this man, but there could be pleasure, a moment of giving and sharing and taking between a man and a woman.

You’re an Amazon. Act like one. Forcing herself into action, she raised her head and sank her teeth into his neck until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. He hissed in her ear, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain. You’re biting him to escape, yes? So why are you writhing?

Mmm, so good…her tongue flicked against his racing pulse.

His hands now free, he fisted her hair and jerked her away. He was panting, anger and arousal bright in his eyes. “Think yourself a vampire, do you? Or are you half vampire? I know your kind consorts with all creatures and you could have been fathered by any of the many races.”

She opened her mouth to respond but he shook his head, stopping her. “Scream and you’ll regret it.”

“As if I would scream,” she muttered, offended that he thought so little of her abilities. You did allow him to sneak up on you.

Oh, shut up.

He blinked in surprise, as if he’d expected her to scream despite his threat.

Her irritation intensified, and she glared at him. “How did you get up here? Did you hurt my sister?”

“She was gone when I reached you. I did not touch her.”

Where had Nola gone, then? “I suppose I will allow you to live. For now. But very soon I’m going to grow tired of letting you overpower me.”

He snorted.

“I mean it. Be thankful I haven’t already killed you.”

“Do not fool yourself, Amazon. You would be dead right now had I not stayed my hand.”

There was fury in his voice and hate in his expression. Stayed his hand? So he had come here to kill her? Bastard! Except, despite everything he had said, despite the genuine loathing directed at her, his legs were between hers and she could feel the length of his shaft hardening, growing, filling.

Just like that, her blood sizzled another degree. Blistered her veins. How did he do that to her? I am callous, and I care for no one but my sisters. If they were in Atlantis, she might agree to take him as her slave. If only for the two months males were allowed inside the Amazon camp. But here on this island with a competition in the works, they might very well be enemies.

A tremor slid down her spine.

“Afraid, Delilah?” he asked silkily, then muttered a curse she barely processed.

Then she realized why. Finally, he’d said her name. She wanted to grin. Spoken from those bloodstained lips…a hot ache bloomed between her legs, moisture pooling there. Earlier today, he hadn’t wanted to say her name, but she’d needed to hear it and had tried to force his hand. Still he’d resisted. And every time he’d called her “Amazon,” disgust had been evident in his voice. That alone should have caused her to lump him in the same forgettable group as every other man she’d ever encountered. But even then, underneath the disgust, there’d been a hint of husky satisfaction, as if he were already inside her, and she had only craved more of him.

“Of what?” The words emerged breathless. She wanted to point out what he’d done, what he’d said, but was afraid he would never do so again if she did.

“Dying. Pain.”

“No,” she answered honestly. Dying didn’t scare her. Pain didn’t scare her. But her reaction to this man petrified her. He made her feel vulnerable, as if she couldn’t rely on herself. As if she needed him to survive. He’d already overtaken her thoughts.

“You should be very afraid,” he said.

She stared up at him. His eyes were narrowed yet aglow with inner fire, drawing her in, mesmerizing her. Do not let him best you. Again. “My patience grows thin. Why are you here?”

“I thought I made that clear. I came to kill you.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, she was surprised by the statement. She should have fought him at that point. Damned should. She should have bucked him off, at the least. Dove for the ground or demanded…an apology? Reparation?

Instead, she remained still. Hating herself. But gods, she enjoyed having him on top of her. “So why didn’t you?” Not that she thought he would have succeeded, even if he’d tried. Some part of her had to have known he was nearby. Some part of her had to have known he would not hurt her, and that’s why she’d permitted him to get so close.

“You wield some kind of magic power over me, and I want to know what it is,” he growled. That growl…it rolled along her spine, white lightning in a summer storm.

“Magic? Power?” she asked, wishing she sounded indignant rather than intrigued. “Me?”

“Do not pretend ignorance.” He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing, shaking. “Tell me what you’ve done to me, curse you! I demand an answer.”

“And I demand you take your hands off me before you lose them.” The warning escaped automatically, but her mind screamed a denial: Don’t let go. Hold me. Want me the way I want you.

“I will hurt you if I must, Delilah.”

Once again, her name on those sensual lips was wholly erotic, somehow a curse, as well as a caress. Again she shivered. Her nipples pearled, reaching for him, abrading the leather top she wore. “Do it, then. Hurt me.” She tilted her chin, knowing she was the picture of stubbornness.

What would he do, this warrior who had managed to sneak up on her? How would he react to her challenge?

His nostrils flared. The light in his eyes grew in intensity, casting an azure shadow over his wickedly eerie face. He stared at her mouth. For a moment, she thought he meant to kiss her. A bruising, punishing kiss. Please…But a minute ticked by, and he did nothing but glare.

Tired of waiting, she yanked one of her hands free, reached up and sifted strands of his hair through her fingers. “Soft,” she whispered.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Let go!”

“Make me.”

With another growl, he snapped away from her hold. Away from her, severing any hint of connection. He perched at the end of the branch, his gaze tracing her tattoos with…longing?

No, he wasn’t perched, she realized. He hovered, floating in place. When he realized he was perusing the war designs her commander had gifted her with each time she had proved invaluable in battle, his focus rose to her face, hatred once again gleaming in his eyes, a piercing red lance aimed directly at her.

Strange that it seemed to cut all the way to her soul.

“Do not touch me again.”

“Then do not lie on top of me.” Slowly she sat up, her gaze never leaving him. “Next time, I might not be so gentle with you.”

“Next time, you’ll be dead before you realize I’m nearby.”

She tsked under her tongue, though his words struck deep. “I’m prepared now. You won’t get this close again.”

“We shall see.”

Gods, his arrogance aroused her. Nothing he said was an idle boast. Anything he claimed he could do, well, she knew he possessed the power to do it. She admired that about him. Unfortunately, he admired nothing about her.

What about her upset him so? From the stories she’d heard, he treated only the dragons and their allies with anger. To everyone else, he was polite if distant. No, not true, she thought, playing some of those stories through her head. He loved the nymph king, Valerian, as a brother and had fought beside him on many occasions.

If she gave herself to Layel—don’t think like that, dangerous, you can’t, it’d be the same as before—would his face soften? Would he look at her with admiration? Mirth?

“Why do you hate me?” she asked him curiously.

His head tilted to the side as he studied her. “Why do you care?”

Argh. “Why don’t you fly away and leave me alone?”

“Why don’t you run from me?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me?” The last escaped unbidden, but once said, she did not want to take the words back.

His fangs elongated as he glared at her, vibrant eyes following her tongue as she ran it over her lips, then dipping to her neck.

“Thinking about biting me?” she taunted, unsure why she did so. She had been bitten by a vampire before, a rogue who’d been starving and had ambushed her while she’d been training a group of younger Amazons, and it had not been pleasant. But the thought of Layel’s teeth inside her vein…She shivered at the deliciousness.

His pupils dilated, his gaze dropping again and remaining on her chest. “Your nipples are hard.”

Were they still? She didn’t want to look away from him and was afraid to touch them. They tingled, they ached. For him, only him. “Thank you for noticing.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Incorrigible wench.” He sighed. “A friend of mine taught me the power of bargaining,” he said, “and now I will bargain with you. While we are here, I will stay away from you and, in turn, you will stay away from me. Agreed?”

She tamped down a wave of disappointment. “Decided not to try and kill me after all, then?”

“For now.”

“Can’t stand the thought of being without me?”

“Do you agree?” he insisted, ignoring her question.

“No.” She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I never bargain.”

One of his brows arched. “Never?”

“Never. Not for anything.” Bargaining meant that she wasn’t strong enough to take what she really wanted, and Delilah refused to show weakness. Well, she refused to show any more. “Now, I’m done playing. Leave, and I won’t hurt you.”

He was in her face in the next instant. “That sounds like a bargain to me.”

His breath was warm, sweetly scented. His parted lips were close to hers…so wonderfully close. His pale skin glowed, nearly translucent in the light of those electric blues.

All of her body tingled, just like her nipples. Her stomach fluttered with a drugging, almost agonizing heat. She hadn’t ever felt like this, not even with Vorik. She ran her tongue along the seam of her mouth again, this time imagining Layel’s tongue in its place. Gods, she craved a taste of him. Just a small taste. Perhaps then her obsession would end. Curiosity only kept him centered in her mind.

Slowly, she leaned toward him. He didn’t meet her halfway, but he didn’t pull away, either. Anticipation swirled through her. Would he allow the touch? “Your lips,” she said.

“What about them?”

“I want them.”

His shoulders straightened with a jolt. “No?” He’d probably meant the denial as a statement, but it emerged as a question.

Closer…a little closer…Still he remained in place. His breath hitched in his throat; she caught the slight sound and reveled in it. Closer…Just before their lips met, however, a harsh male curse echoed through the night—and it wasn’t Layel’s.

Whoever had shouted snapped him from her…spell, he would probably have said. Magic, indeed. How she wished she were capable of wielding enchantments. She would bind this man to the tree, keeping him in place until she at last knew the taste of him.

Layel straightened, fury once again falling over his mesmerizing features, overshadowing any hint of heat. “I let you distract me from my purpose this time. It will not happen again.” And then he was in the air, flying away from her as hastily as if she were a gorgon, able to turn him to stone with a glance.

Delilah sat there a moment, shaken to the core. She would have believed she’d dreamed the entire encounter if not for the fire raging in her blood, infusing all her limbs.

What was she going to do about that man?



LAYEL SOARED through the trees, dewy branches slapping him in the face. He was glad for the sharp sting, for it helped calm his riotous, traitorous body. He was a bastard. Wicked, evil, wanting someone he should not.

Gods, that female…

She was a menace. Yes, a menace. Damn her! Why did she have to smell like rainflowers and look like a goddess? Why did her skin have to appear as smooth as golden velvet? Why did her eyes have to glow so vibrant a violet? She was violent, harsh, as bloodthirsty as any vampire. Unworthy, his mind shouted.

Yet he could not stop thinking of her. Could not stop picturing her, naked and straining against him. Wet, hot, tight. Eager. For him. For his possession.

He should have killed her.

But once again he hadn’t been able to do that. Only the sound of Zane’s curse had stopped him from kissing her, which would have been certain ruination. I am sorry, Susan. So sorry. Not only did I fail you once, I seem to be failing you yet again.

“—only because the gods might place us on the same team,” a woman was snapping. “Otherwise I would slit your throat here and now.”

“Try it and see what happens.” There was fury in Zane’s voice. But also…No, surely not. Surely not confusion. Zane usually revealed only two emotions: desire to kill and desire to maim. There was no uncertainty in his black-and-white world.

“As if you could hurt me,” the female said. “You have only to look at your cage to see what happens when you attempt something so foolish.”

“You will pay for this, woman.”

The woman in question laughed, a sound of true glee. “Poor baby. All muscle and no brain.”

Layel burst through a thicket and stopped abruptly, taking in the scene. Zane was trapped inside a makeshift cage, hanging from a tree. The second Amazon woman—Nola, he recalled—balanced on a branch, facing him and grinning.

When she sensed Layel’s arrival, she lost her smile and whipped to face him. Her lips parted, and her hands fisted at her sides in preparation for battle. “Come to try and kill me, too?”

Though he concentrated on the female, Layel kept Zane in his peripheral vision. The warrior’s cheeks were bright red, stained with mortification. He’d been defeated by a woman. Layel would have laughed if not for the fact that Delilah had knocked him on his ass earlier.

“Well?” Nola prompted.

A moment later, Delilah appeared at Layel’s side. He stiffened as her rain-kissed scent once more assailed him, as her body heat wafted to him. Could he never escape them?

This close to her again, he remembered the worst part of his encounter with her. She had desired him, had hungered for his kiss. Her nipples had begged for his touch. And he’d almost given her both. Teeth cutting into his cheeks, he stepped away from her, not even trying to hide the action. He hated that he was forced to act so cowardly, hated the weakness she caused in him. But he simply could not be near her.

She aimed a furious glare at him just as a moonbeam hit her directly, revealing dirt smudges all over her body. Sadly, they did not lessen her appeal. “So. You thought to kill me and your friend thought to kill mine,” she said.

“Do not pretend surprise.”

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, the top and bottom of her lashes fusing together. “Surprise? Ha! I’m merely thanking the gods you are both incompetent.”

He had failed at so many things these last few years, her words struck all the way to the bone. He’d failed to destroy all of the dragons. He’d failed to numb himself to the pain of Susan’s death. He’d failed to render the death-blow to Delilah, a woman who threatened the memory of his one and only love.





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/gena-showalter/the-vampire-s-bride-42421362/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.