Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

“Most vampires were born into a feudal world. They understand dynasty, clan, and rule through the right of blood. I can give them a prince. I can give them new hope and a future.”

“Just by having a kid of your own?”

“I can give them a living heir. A prince who is theirs but who can still walk in the sun. A blood ruler who will ultimately sacrifice himself to take his place as my equal and their lord. Such a triumph has never been dreamed of. The vampire species will recognize our right to rule all.”

“All?”

Belenos smiled, and for the first time she saw the long, strong eyeteeth of a male vampire. She felt a tightening in her gut, fascination and terror. This guy would Turn his own kid.

“You know yourself the cruelties of the humans,” he said. “They execute us for the slightest cause; they deny us the vote; in many places they still dictate where we can live. We are stronger, faster, better. Why should we not be at least equal? Why not more than equal?”

“You get all this from having a kid?”

Ashe didn’t understand. Maybe she couldn’t. She was modern and mortal. All she knew was that he scared her down to her bones.

He cupped her cheek again. “My son will grow to be as great a warrior as me. No one will stand in our way.”

“Well, someone wants to! There was an assassin. . . .”

“Yes. There are those that oppose my plan. The demon, for one, double-crossed me and kept the urn. He thinks he is clever enough to escape my wrath.”

Thunderstruck, Ashe stared. “You hired the thief? Why?”

“The urn holds life. I can use that to live, for a time. Long enough to sire a child.”

For a moment, Ashe relived thrusting the stake into the assassin’s soft heart, only this time it was Belenos she exterminated. “You sick bastard!”

“I would have called it inventive, but there you are.”

“That’s someone else’s life. That’s Reynard’s life!”

He opened his hands in a shrug. “Was he putting it to good use?”

Ashe lunged forward, forgetting everything in a need to rip and tear his flesh.

Belenos caught her by both wrists, holding her in a grip like granite. “Let me protect you. Let me seduce you. I want you to come to me of your free will, just as your sister came to love Caravelli.”

“I hate you!”

“Hate is love’s cousin. You’re mourning Reynard. So be it. He will be gone soon enough.”

Hot rage dried the tears in Ashe’s eyes. “You can’t force me to want you.”

He laughed, a deep, confidential sound that resonated deep in her flesh. “I can strip you of your pride, imprison you, even torture you to do my will, but what sort of legacy is that for my child? You would be no better than a venom slave. My son’s mother must be a warrior, like you. I won’t harm you, Ashe.”

He kept holding her, his grip bruising as she struggled. “I don’t expect you to desire me simply because I ask. Persuasion is a complex art. Conquest is the interesting part of the game. And it’s a game I play very, very well.”

“I’m shaking in my slippers.”

“So you should be. Death always wins.”

“Screw you.”

Sunday, April 5, 8:00 a.m.

Ashe’s apartment

Reynard woke to the sound of the phone ringing. He couldn’t figure out what it was until Ashe moaned and grabbed the handset from the bedside table.

He sat up, feeling long- forgotten muscles. The room looked like a herd of trolls had stampeded through. Bedclothes everywhere. Clothes nowhere. Sun was filtering through the curtains, giving a muffled brightness to the room that his eyes finally seemed to take in stride. His stomach was raging for food. He was alive.

“Hello?” she said to the phone.

Ashe’s scent lingered on his skin, awakening his need for her all over again.

He looked down at Ashe, who had one arm over her face, blocking out the light while she talked. Pride and wonder rushed through him. He had bedded the Amazon queen, and lived to tell the tale. More than that, he had found her softer instincts, the generous and gentle woman she guarded inside. The one who would give up hunting and take a humble job to see that her child had a home. He could see that part of her now in the shape of her mouth, the grace of her hands.

The better man inside him had fallen on his knees to that hidden goddess, but the rough-and-tumble adventure of finding her had been everything he’d dreamed. Ashe was not the kind of woman who would ever be dull or predictable. She was the princess and the dragon both.

Just looking at her made his heart speed.

“Yeah, okay.” Ashe grabbed a paper and pencil off the table, pulling them onto the mattress so that she could write. “Go ahead.”

He watched the sleek muscles in her back move as she scribbled notes. The night had changed everything for Reynard. He had been grateful for one night of life and love, but now that wasn’t nearly enough.

He had bedded an army of women in his day, from courtesans to countesses, but he had felt like this only once before.

Elizabeth. Back then, he’d been no more than one and twenty, but the possessive hunger had been the same. This need to keep Ashe beside him wasn’t going to fade. His first love had stayed with him for centuries. This one would burn even hotter, because he wasn’t going to let her slip away.

Somehow.

There had to be an option besides imprisonment or death, because that wasn’t a choice at all. Not when returning to the Castle meant eternal nothingness. No food, no drink, no love—nothing but slaughter. That is why Killion and the rest went mad. They saw their future and could not bear the sorrow.

Long ago, he made a sacrifice for all the right reasons, but hadn’t he paid long enough? There had to be a way of slipping the chains that bound him. Loving and dying or loving and leaving Ashe behind—neither was an acceptable outcome.

The urn’s absence was a hollow in his gut. Before long, he guessed, his strength would start to ebb. Fear niggled at the edges of his mind, but he forced it to stay there.

“Sure,” said Ashe. “I know that place.”

Her gaze traveled to him, her eyes wide-open now. “Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and fell back to the pillow, pulling the blanket up around her. “That was Lore. He gave me the address where he’ll be this morning. I guess he left a message on my cell phone late last night but called back when he didn’t hear from me.” She sounded sheepish.

“When can we see him?”

“Anytime.” She put a hand over her eyes. “I just had the worst dream.”

He lay back down beside her, resting on his elbow. He put a hand to her cheek, turning her to face him. “What was the dream?”

“The King of the East paid me a visit.” Her eyes said there was more than just a social call involved.

“Then it wasn’t a dream.”

“No. Belenos hired the demon to steal your urn, but his thief double-crossed him.”

“Belenos.” Reynard gave a bitter smile that hid his mounting anger. “A vainglorious Undead monarch. It’s fitting that he was duped. Still, it’s nice to know my life essence is in high demand by the very best people.”

“He wants to use it as part of his plot to sire a child.”

A vampire would use his soul to hurt Ashe? Fury blazed through him, twitching in his muscles. It was a struggle to think, to put the facts together. “I would have guessed as much. The transfer of life essence is very old black magic.”

She sat up, looking down at him. “But why you in particular?”

Reynard thought long and hard about answering that one. “Perhaps because I was the last of the guardsmen. I was the newest and, in some ways, the strongest.”