A hunger that was almost painful seized him as he watched the skin twitch with the torrent of blood pounding through her veins. Suddenly her hands dropped to his shoulders, her eyes closing as her face contorted with passion. The sweet muscles wrapped around his cock contracted, squeezing him until his own climax broke with a body shaking intensity that made him arch off the bed with a roar. Her cry mingled with his as their bodies frantically rode the waves of ecstasy. He lunged off the bed, pulling her against him and giving in to the urge to sink his fangs into her neck.
Blood rushed into his mouth, made all the more delicious by the spice of her desire. He drank and drank, filling his belly with her essence until he fairly buzzed with it. In the midst of his feast, he cut his own lip with his fang, letting his blood mix with hers. His power flowed into her, infusing her human blood with his, strengthening it. The knowledge that he was protecting her with his own blood filled him with
a new
warmth and he sighed against her skin. Irina held his face against her, moaning with each pull of his mouth. Finally he pulled away, falling back onto the bed and bringing her with him. He drifted off into sleep instead of death for the first time since his change, his bride-to-be held against his side.
“You did what?”
Irina allowed herself a moment to enjoy the shock on Kirill’s face. Sauntering around his “secret” room, she trailed a hand over the table with all of his scrolls containing possible political allies. She plucked the one with the goblin king on it off the table and carried it to the wall.
“I convinced the goblin king to ally himself with us.”
She kept her back to her husband, not needing to see him to know the skin between his brows was pinched with concentration. Satisfaction rolled over her like a warm wave as she hung the goblin king’s scroll on the wall with the rest of their allies—four of which they had because of her.
“How?”
Kirill demanded finally.
Lifting a shoulder in a casual shrug that she knew would make Kirill
squirm,
she pretended to admire her silver wedding band. “Oh, the usual way,” she said airily. “I just asked nicely and—”
“What did you promise them?”
Dropping her hand, Irina scowled at Kirill. “You always assume I promised them something. I didn’t need to promise the rusalki anything, did I?”
“The rusalki didn’t want anything from you,” Kirill pointed out. “They know full well a war wouldn’t affect them in the slightest, they’re just happy for the added challenge of only drowning men from one side.”
Irina let a little anger warm her voice. “Oh, so that’s what you think of my family? We just drown people for fun, we don’t care who they are?”
“Oh, no, you’re not drawing me into that discussion again.” Kirill raised a hand as if he could ward her off. “Your ancestors are lovely people, and I’m honored to have them as in-laws.”
“As well you should be,” Irina said with satisfaction. She turned to sweep out of the room only to stop when Kirill cleared his throat.
“Irina, my love, you wouldn’t be trying to distract me from finding out what you promised the goblins, would you?”
My love.
Oh, he wasn’t playing fair. Irina pasted an innocent smile on her face as she turned back to face her husband. “I didn’t promise them anything. It just so happens that, now that we’re friends, I’ve offered, out of the goodness of my heart, to help the goblin women out a bit.”
“Goblin women’s hunger for human flesh exceeds even their male counterparts’. What exactly did you agree to help them with?”
Kirill’s voice had that dangerous rasp to it that only seemed to come out when he was worried about her. As much as Irina loved the reminder of how much Kirill cared for her, it was usually a warning that he was about to be displeased with her. Bracing herself, Irina gave him a bright smile.
“Lullabies.”
That got him. Kirill took a moment to think about that. Now that he was better educated on her heritage, Irina knew he was thinking about all the creatures in her family tree that were gifted with song-related powers.
Sirins
,
rusalki
,
berehynia
…
The list was extensive. Finally he crossed his arms.
“You agreed to help them put their children to sleep?”
Irina canted her head in surprise. “Yes. I’m proud of you for figuring that out.” She shrugged. “I would have thought you’d go right for some dastardly agreement between me and the goblin king that would have me lulling his enemies into slumber so they could be eaten alive.”
“The goblins like their meals to scream as they’re eaten,” Kirill said absent-mindedly, waving a hand at the suggestion.
A swell of affection filled Irina’s breast. Her husband was so adorable when he was trying to figure something out. He would be like this until he figured out all the possible dangers the goblins could pose to her.
“My love,” she said softly, “please
don’t
worry. I’m only helping the women calm some of the more restless children. Even goblin women need sleep, you know, and goblin women don’t nurse for as long—for obvious reasons.”
The made Kirill wince.
Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t like you going into the goblin kingdom so often. They are unpredictable and I wouldn’t put it past them to change their minds and attack you.”
“They aren’t dead, Kirill, if they decided to attack me I could easily enchant them with my voice long enough to get away.”
“Only if you knew they were going to attack you. If they flew at you out of nowhere, they could easily—”
Kirill cut himself off, his throat constricting as he locked his gaze on her. His eyes got that red faraway look in them and Irina rushed across the room and insinuated herself into his arms. She held him against her, snuggling into his chest in silent reassurance. It happened less often as time went on, but every now and then Kirill still struggled with thoughts of horrible things that might befall her. He still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for the three attacks on her life in the first days they’d known one another. No matter how hard she tried, Irina couldn’t get him to believe that they had not been his fault. All she could do was hold him as he worked through it himself.
“You know,” she said softly, tilting her face to look into his eyes. “I think you just don’t want me around children. I think you’re afraid it will give me ideas about our own family.”
If possible, Kirill’s body stilled even more. If she hadn’t been holding on to him so tightly, Irina might have thought he’d vanished.
He cleared his throat.
“Our family?”
Irina nodded, encouraged that her distraction seemed to be working. “You are going to be king someday. You’ll no doubt want an heir?”
Kirill’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. He stared off into space, but this time there was nothing devastated in the empty stare he gave the room. Irina lowered her face and smiled against his chest.
That should keep his mind busy for awhile,
Irina thought happily. She paused
. At least until I tell him about the deal I made with the ogres…
“I cannot thank you enough,” Eurydice said, putting her hand over the leaves that covered her chest above her heart. The gargoyle bowed slightly and she couldn’t help the grateful smile that beamed from her face at the stone guardian. The gargoyle had exceeded her expectations. Never would she have imagined that Kirill would not only fall in love with Irina, but would allow the other princes into his confidence. Certainly she’d hoped that Kirill would eventually share his knowledge with the others, but she’d been certain it would take more time. Her plan was moving so smoothly…
The gargoyle shrugged, its weight making her branch bounce slightly. “It is Irina who deserves the thanks. She is a remarkable woman.”
“That she is, and that she will have to be if she is to keep up with her husband,” Eurydice agreed. “Kirill may have sworn an oath not to rule, but his mind is even sharper than his blades. He will not stop scheming so easily.” She tapped her chin with one finger.
“Although he did make quite an impression on Etienne.
If you had told me a fortnight ago that the werewolf would have a kind word to say about the vampire, I would have thought you mad. Still, I suppose—”
Suddenly a small ball of golden light seemed to appear from nowhere. Eurydice gasped, almost unconsciously reaching out her hand to touch the light. It danced just out of her reach, and she shook her head, shaking off the minor enchantment.
“Forgive me, I forgot myself for a moment,” she apologized.
The will o’ wisp bobbed in the air. A faint emotional aura beamed out from it in waves, making Eurydice feel its forgiveness without making a sound.
“It was kind of you to come to my call,” Eurydice said politely.
The ball of light remained silent, hovering in the air just in front of the hamadryad.
“I can’t help but warn you, if there is anyone who could charm a will o’ wisp, it is the demon,” Eurydice warned. “Adonis is not one to let a little thing like having no physical form
be
a deterrent.” She tried to find the right words, but finally settled for, “He is very charming.”
The light spun a bit. Eurydice felt something akin to interest and confidence.
“Getting him to the tower isn’t the problem,” Eurydice continued. “It’s getting him to stay.” Eurydice paused.
“Or getting the young woman to leave.”
The ball of light began to move off, appearing to tire of her explanations. Eurydice fought the urge to sigh at the fey’s impatience. She’d known what she was getting into when she’d summoned the will o’ wisp. If all went according to plan, it would be worth it though…
“Wait!” Eurydice called out, her memory finally providing her with the last warning. “Mind the sorceress!” She stretched her form as far from the tree that was her lower half as she could, straining to see the will o’ wisp and hoping to feel some sign that it had heard her. A flicker of desperation to follow the light seized her and again she had to shake herself of the enchantment that naturally surrounded the glowing fey.
By the time she felt in control of herself again, the light was gone.
“Sort of cheeky for a ball of light,” the gargoyle observed.
“Yes,” Eurydice agreed. She sighed. “And it’s about to get a taste of its own medicine.”
THE END
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Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream
The Revenge in Vein Series:
Revenge in Vein: The Complete Series
Coming Soon:
Blood Prince Series
Golden Stair
Chapter 1
“
Ack
, no!
Don’t pick
that
one.”
Ana paused with her hand over a strip of honeysuckle.
Darting her gaze around the herbalist’s small shop, she searched for the source of the unholy screeching that made the nerves in her arms shrivel in agony. Rows of drying herbs hung from a square patch of ceiling on her right, lavender, mistletoe, and slippery elm filling the air with their soft fragrances. Rows and rows of oils and candles lined the left wall, their simple glass jars and neatly labeled black lids the epitome of order.
Mrs. Downing, the shop’s owner, was still in the back filling her order. No other patrons were in sight. Ana narrowed her eyes and then turned her attention back to the display of honeysuckle that lined the glass case in front of her. Her foot resumed its nervous tapping and she clenched her teeth as she wondered once again what was taking Mrs. Downing so long.
“Are you daft? I said don’t pick that one!”
Stomping her foot in agitation, Ana jerked her head up just in time to get struck between the eyes with something small and pointy. She caught the projectile in her hand as it fell, looking down at what appeared to be a tiny piece of wood. She stared at the sliver in her hand before glaring up at the creature that had hurled it.
A little pixie glowered at her from inside a cage hanging over the cash register to her right, just over her head enough that she hadn’t noticed it when she looked around. His pale white skin looked strange amidst the warm earth tones of the shop. The soft grey fur of his clothing seemed to be stitched together from what she could only guess was mouse fur and he had on a pair of tiny brown boots as well. He would have been cute if not for the scowl on his face.
“What do you care what herbs I pick?”
“Don’t question me, woman, just listen,” he shouted. “Don’t pick that one! Don’t pick any of them!” He grabbed hold of the bars on either side of him and began to rock until the whole cage swung crazily from side to side. “
Every herb in this shop is POISON
!” he screamed.
“One more squeal out of you and it won’t just be the cage’s latch that’s forged of iron!”
Ana raised her eyebrows as Mrs. Downing came barreling out of the back room, shaking her fist at the imprisoned pixie as the curtain that blocked the doorway settled behind her. Dressed in casual black pants and a red shirt, with a black and red
Chilkat
blanket hanging down her back, the shopkeeper was a pleasant combination of tradition and modern comfort. As her long black braid flailed behind her, Ana couldn’t help but be impressed that a woman of Mrs. Downing’s generous size and age could move that quickly.
If only she’d move that fast filling my order
, Ana thought, annoyance prompting her to cross her arms.
I need these herbs NOW. I’m so close . . .
The old woman continued to glare at the pixie. “You think about that, you little thief! Surrounded by iron! Just the thought of it makes your puny flesh burn, doesn’t it?”
The pixie glared at the herbalist, but he kept his mouth shut. Mrs. Downing gave him one last scathing glance before turning to Ana, a smile instantly bursting to life as she focused her attention on one of her best customers.
“Please forgive the noise, my dear. I only leave him there as a warning to any other pests who might be thinking about stealing from me.”
“What did he steal from you?” Ana asked the question more to distract herself from her reason for coming to the shop than for any real desire to know the answer. The devastation waiting for her at home weighed like lead on her spirit, only a thin sliver of hope that this time, this spell, might be different saving her from complete despair.
“A lousy rose petal,” the pixie grumped. “I only wanted a soft leaf for my pillow.”
The herbalist’s gaze shot back to the cage. “It wasn’t one lousy rose petal, you little miscreant. You raided my roses every night for a month! Do you know how expensive roses are? They don’t exactly grow wild in the Alaskan wilderness, now do they?”
“Well they dry up!” the pixie screeched. “You want I should sleep on a scratchy dried up rose petal? Me, with the soft skin of a newborn—”
“Oh, shut up!” Mrs. Downing bellowed.
Ana rubbed her forehead between her eyes.
This
, she said to herself,
is why I should stay at home and order herbs over the internet. Shipping can’t possibly take as long at this exceptionally loud woman.
“Mrs. Downing, would you be
so
kind as to add some
St. John’s
wort to my order?”
The herbalist turned her attention back to Ana, a look of concern adding new creases to her aged brown skin.
“
St. John’s
wort?
Are you not feeling well?”
“Just a headache,” Ana growled.
“Probably from the smell of all these third rate herbs.”
“That’s it!” the old woman yelled, whirling around. She stomped toward the back room. “I’m getting the iron cage!”
Ana looked up at the almost comical look of horror on the little pixie’s face.
Without a second thought, she reached up and unlatched the iron slide bolt. She couldn’t seem to do anything about her own misery, but the pixie’s woes were easily assuaged.
“Get out of here before she comes back,” Ana said quietly. “And never treat your freedom so carelessly again.”
The pixie darted out of the cage, only pausing for a second to hover in front of her.
“My name is Nu.” He tilted his head. “What is your name?”
“Ana.”
“I won’t forget this, Ana,” he said seriously.
“You can’t help me.”
Nu raised his eyebrows. “No? Are you so sure?”
Ana’s eyes burned with the hint of tears. “I’m sure. A little ice fairy has no power over my problem.”
The pixie remained silent for a moment, eyeing her with eyes that looked too old for his young face.
“Fire or iron then?”
Ana’s throat constricted. She nodded, once.
The pixie furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “I’ll think of something.”
She nodded wearily and waved him away. It was a nice sentiment he offered her, but her parents had left her more money than she could spend in a lifetime and the one thing she truly wanted wasn’t something a little pixie could help her with. Nu gave her one last strange look and the next moment he was gone.
“Mrs. Downing, perhaps I’ll just cancel my order. I really am in an awful hurry,” Ana called loudly, knowing the woman would be distracted from her retrieval of the iron cage at the thought of losing money. She pressed her hands to her face, forcing the tears back. She had not time for that now.
“I’ll be with you in just a tick, dear!” Mrs. Downing called out in a sweet sing-song voice.
“Won’t be, but a moment.”
Ana gritted her teeth at the woman’s condescending cheer. The sooner she could get out of this miserable shop and back to her cabin the better. Just the thought of her secluded cabin, nestled away in the trees just a stone’s throw from the shore, eased some of the tension from her shoulders. It was so quaint, so comfortable—so isolated.
And when I finally get my hands on these herbs, I’ll have the means to try one more time. This spell just has to work.
Memories of all her past failures screeched at her from her mind and she bit her lip to muffle a whimper of frustration. She couldn’t keep doing this. If this spell didn’t work . . .
Blast you, Mrs. Downing, please, for the love of Perun, hurry!
The bells over the door to the shop jingled and Ana closed her eyes. Was getting her herbs without being exposed to a hundred people really so much to ask?
In
Haines
,
Alaska
?
Yes, yes it is
, she answered herself.
For what had to be the millionth time in just the past month, Ana rued the fact that while the population of Haines was what allowed her to have such a wonderfully isolated home, it was also the reason that her weekly venture into town for supplies was akin to attending a family dinner.
Which is to say, everyone felt obligated to greet her and inquire into her personal life while simultaneously sharing unwanted tidbits from their own.
Humans are so nosey. It’s no wonder they can’t go a decade without a war.
Vowing once again to move to a big city where no one knew her name, Ana opened her eyes to see what fresh hell was going to engage her in conversation now.
She froze.
Possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen had just stepped into the shop. Six foot six if he was an inch, with eyes so dark they could only be called black, and a shock of dark hair that just begged her to run her fingers through it. He wore a pair of stiff blue jeans and a fur-lined brown leather coat. She caught a glimpse of a soft green cotton shirt under the leather. He kicked the snow off his heavy boots, the dull thuds of the hard rubber soles against the floor sounding unnaturally loud in the silent shop.
By the time she dragged her gaze away from its perusal of his clothing, he’d noticed her stare. She kicked herself as she found him looking straight into her eyes, a bemused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She didn’t know what annoyed her more, the fact that she’d been staring at him like a starving fox watches a limping rabbit, or the fact that he seemed amused by it.
“Hello,” he said with a smile, sauntering over to her and reaching out a hand. “I’m Brec.”
Cursing Mrs. Downing and her wounded turtle-like speed, Ana dropped her gaze as she accepted his handshake. “Ana.”
His hand engulfed hers, her pale slender fingers looking more feminine and delicate against his tanned skin. He didn’t seem dark enough to be a full blood Native, but he looked as if someone in his family tree was. The warmth of his hand soothed Ana’s senses, reminding her of how long it’d been since she had any real contact with another person.
Even a simple handshake felt . . . personal.
Her heart beat a little faster and she mentally shook herself. She didn’t have time for this. She had too much to do, too much at stake. She pulled her hand away, opening her mouth to excuse herself. As his hand left hers, Ana’s downcast eyes spotted something that made her heart skip a beat and all other thoughts come crashing to a halt.
Webbed fingers.
She tore her gaze away, not wanting him to catch her staring at the little pieces of skin connecting his fingers at the base. Her mind raced with growing excitement.
Webbed fingers.
“Pleased to meet you, Ana.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she murmured back. She glanced at his eyes again.
Black as the deepest depths of the ocean.
She could almost imagine the whites fading away completely, leaving only that round blackness.
The eyes of his other form.
A seal’s eyes.
“That’s very nice eye contact you have there,” he said, his
voice deadpan
. “Are you by any chance reading my soul?”
His tone was joking, but the slight tension in his body and the steady gaze boring into her eyes suggested he’d interpreted her attentions as attraction—and he was interested. Confidence filled Ana’s spirit, building on her excitement. Like a professional fisherman working his line, Ana drew herself up to her full five foot nine. She fixed him with her most seductive smile and tossed her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” she purred. “It’s just, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were living proof that the old folks’ stories of the selkies are true.”
Brec’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, a mixture of surprise and something else flashing in his eyes.
“The seal people?”
He chuckled and she had to give him credit for not tensing at her mention of his race. He played as if he were surprised, but not uncomfortable. If it weren’t for the webbed fingers and watery black eyes, she’d have doubted her guess.
“The seal people,” she repeated softly, stepping a little closer. “If you’ve been around here long at all, you’ve heard the stories. Devastatingly handsome men coming out of the water, shedding their seal furs so that they can take human lovers?”