Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

“What do you want?” Ashe asked, pleased that the words came out sounding normal. “Not to sound rude, but the whole nightie/vampire/graveyard-at-midnight thing is best when it’s kept brief. Especially since I was, y’know, busy.”

“This seemed the safest way of speaking to you. You and your guardsman friend destroyed my emissary Frederick Lloyd.” He blew on the light he held, and it floated to the ground, still glowing like pale, fey campfire.

“You’re Belenos, King of the East.”

“Correct.”

“And all this time I thought you were just a series of anxiety dreams.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

He bowed, raising his fist to his heart in a gesture she guessed was as old as the Caesars. She wasn’t reassured by the courtesy. Vampire monarchs weren’t the kind of people you wanted to notice you, no matter how nice they were pretending to be. He rose, the ornaments in his long hair making a gentle clatter that made Ashe think of bones.

“What do you want?” she asked, then added, “Your Majesty.”

He looked amused. “Good manners from Ashe Carver, the famed huntress?”

“That was a freebie. You have to earn anything more than that.”

“Very well.”

“What’s with the graveyard?”

“I thought you would be at home here.”

“In a cemetery?”

“You deal out death to my kind. I am a king of the once-dead. Your thoughts dwell with your dead more than with the living around you. It seemed appropriate.”

Ashe shuddered, partly from the cold, partly from the truth in his words. “People around me tend to die.” Like Reynard will, if I don’t get that urn back. A new and profound pain hit her in the belly. He had mattered before. Now he was vital to everything she hoped for.

Belenos tilted his head, watching her as if she were an interesting worm. “Then you understand a little of what it is like to be of my kind. The living inevitably wither away, and the only thing we can do to save them is to share our dark gift.”

The world rocked slightly, as if she’d had too much to drink. She felt the sadness in his words, as tantalizing as a delicious scent. They shared the same melancholy. Before she knew what she was doing, she took a step closer, responding to the too-human sorrow in his eyes. He put a hand on her arm, lightly touching her skin. The cold seemed to fall away, allowing her muscles to relax.

Her gaze lingered on his mouth, almost feeling the curve of his lips against hers. They covered fangs, soft sensuality over a killing hunger. Erotic.

What had she been doing before the graveyard? Her mind struggled to remember, but it was like running through an ocean of thick, golden honey.

Belenos was suddenly even closer, his fingers pulling the elastic from her hair. It tumbled from her ponytail, sweeping like pale wings against her cheeks. She wore it down like that only when she was with a man. When she was seducing or seduced.

No, not with this one. Not with a vampire.

He ran the tips of his fingers down her cheek.

Reynard.

“You’re hypnotizing me.” With all her will, she managed to raise her hand, pushing his touch from her face. She stumbled back, away from him. Cold flooded in, as if she’d stepped outside of a protective bubble. Her heart hammered, pulse pounding in her throat.

“I’m just making you more comfortable.” He closed the gap between them, making all her struggles useless. She was frozen, unable to move away one more time. He cupped her face in one hand, running his thumb over her lips as gently as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. “The man you’re with is all but dead. How am I any different?”

Ashe couldn’t answer. Despair seemed to seep out of the grave dirt, crawling up her limbs like a foul tide.

Brushing his lips against her forehead, Belenos breathed in her scent. “That’s why you kill us, isn’t it? I’ve shared your nightmares. I know your secrets. You’re already half in love with death. It’s a magnet to you. Safer to snuff out temptation before you join those who’ve already crossed over.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Ashe said through gritted teeth, wanting her strength back, wanting weapons to rend Belenos’s dead flesh. “Why have you been in my dreams?”

“I want your attention.”

“Well, you’ve got it. What do you want?”

“You. I can promise you freedom. No more guilt. No more shouldering the weight of a losing battle. You can’t protect everyone, Ashe. Let it go. Let yourself go.”

“And what? Die? Suck blood for a living?” She felt dizzy, as if the ground were slowly falling away under her feet. The feeling was spiked with terror that he understood her all too well.

Belenos’s lips brushed the fine hairs by her ear as he leaned close to whisper, “Think of the risks you take. Think of how you dance on the edge of death, greedy for that rush of adrenaline to make you feel alive. You’re already in the darkness, Ashe. Give in to it. Thrive on it.”

He bent down and kissed her forehead. She cringed, even though his lips were warmer than she expected, the kiss tender. He brushed her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, and then took her in a full-on embrace.

“Get off me,” she muttered. She couldn’t pull away. Her strength had fallen to dust, staked in its turn. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Not yet,” he said, the words sinking down to her bones.

And yet, there was nothing lewd in his kiss. It was careful, the merest suggestion of fang and tongue. A promise. Forgiveness. Almost a benediction.

As if he knew just how she would have wanted a first kiss from her king.

He released her, holding her face in his hands. The topaz eyes trapped hers. “If you accept my dark gift, I’d be happy to keep you by my side. Or I could offer you ultimate peace.” His gaze traveled to her parents’ graves. “Or I could simply let you go. Any of these outcomes are acceptable, as long as you give me what I want.”

Ah, here comes the punch line. Cynicism sliced through whatever mojo held her still. She shook him off, and he let her go. He had already made the point that she could wander only as far as he allowed.

“Your minion said you wanted an heir.” She said it bluntly, maybe to shock herself awake. It didn’t work. “Save your efforts; I’m on the pill. Oh, wait—vampires can’t have babies. Looks like there are some logistics to work out.”

He looked away, laughing almost shyly. “Perhaps, but the birth of your sister’s child opened a realm of possibility none of the Undead had ever dreamed of. The Carver witches are indeed remarkable.”

Ashe folded her arms. “Fuck you. Holly is taken.”

Belenos gave a slight shake of his head. The gold ornaments clattered softly. “Of course. Caravelli is a formidable warrior and a favorite of Queen Omara, for all that he is a headstrong subject. Even I hesitate before taking his woman, which is why I have come to you. You have no one.”

I have someone. I’m sleeping beside him right now. But how long would that last? Never mind that. Five minutes with Reynard is worth eternity with this loser. “You’re out of luck. My powers were destroyed years ago. I can’t do what she did.”

His eyes flared a moment. Was that news to him? If so, he shifted gears like a pro. “And yet you are still of the Carver bloodline. Genetics count, and what magic you lack, I can provide. I planned for contingencies.”

Ashe scoffed. “How? Sure, you’re a vampire king and all, but you’re not a witch. In fact, you’re dead.”

“There are ways.” Belenos gave a derisive smile, a dangerous look on that warrior face.

Ashe didn’t understand, but she summoned enough will to fall back another step. “Can’t you just adopt?”