Royal House of Shadows Box Set: Lord of the Vampires\Lord of Rage\Lord of the Wolfyn\Lord of the Abyss (15 page)

“Are we showing our claws now,
darling?
Because I promise you, mine are sharper.”

Pride filled him. No one would doubt she was Odette now. Not even the queen herself. She wore confidence as snugly as a cloak.

“I will ask you one more time,” Laila gritted out.

“Or what?”

“Where. Is. He?”

“Dead.” A casual shrug. “He’s dead.”

Laila’s mouth dropped open, a strangling sound emerging. “You killed him?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Jane threw her legs over the
mattress, and winced. They must be paining her, he thought, wishing he were there to ease her hurts. She straightened. “Now, let’s go home. I’m eager to sleep in my own bed.”

Laila remained in place and crossed her arms over her middle. “Where’s his body?”

“I fed it to the ogres, of course,” she replied blithely. “What’s with all the questions, anyway? Nicolai did not belong to you.”

She was giving him what he’d told her he wanted, he thought. A chance to destroy Laila, undetected. Time to reach Elden, to kill the new king. And yes, the urgency was still there, simmering inside him, stronger with every minute that passed, but he still couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave her.

Relief bathed Laila, bleeding into him, but the emotion was as quickly schooled as the hatred. “I found the ogre cave. Nicolai’s body was not there. Others’ were, which has to mean he killed them and escaped.”

Jane didn’t miss a beat. “Wrong.
I
massacred the ogres. After they finished with him.”

The shock returned. “How?”

A buff of her nails. “A girl never reveals her fighting secrets. She might need them later on.”

A heartbeat of silence. A low growl.

“How dare you!” Laila shouted, no longer able to contain her emotions. She jumped to her feet, stomped her foot. “He was mine.”

Jane got in her face, putting them nose-to-nose. “Actually, you spoiled brat, he’s mine. Was mine.”

Tension thickened the air, practically vibrating between them. Long moments passed, the only sound
that of their breathing. Finally Laila backed down. She stepped away, widening the distance.

“Of course. You’re right.” Grudgingly offered. “So tell me.
Why
did you kill him?”

“I no longer desired him.”

Even though Nicolai knew why she said what she said, his inner beast did not like hearing those words. Later, he would have to be soothed. Later, he would have to explain his past with her and apologize for what he’d done.

Would her claim then become true?

“Now, then. Let’s return to the palace,” Jane said. “Guards. Move out.”

They hesitated.

“Now!” she screamed, her patience clearly gone.

This time, they scrambled to obey. Jane followed them, forcing Laila to trail after her. Nicolai could feel the princess’s desire to stab her sister in the back. But she didn’t, and as they marched out of the town, he skulked after them.

Soon…

E
ven though, as a princess of Delfina, she was carried on a plush velvet lounge, the sun blocked by a canopy of dark netting, Jane much preferred traveling with Nicolai. Where was he? Close, she thought. She could almost scent him, a hint of magic, a pinch of seductive spice. She prayed he’d opted not to follow her.

Laila thought he was dead. So, in a way, he was finally free of the bitch. He could travel to Elden, and do what needed doing. And Jane could deliver his vengeance—a special care package of lethal—for him.

The princess had killed an innocent woman for no damn reason. No wonder the people in town had been afraid of Odette. The royal family abused their power, and Jane wasn’t going to let them do so anymore.

Then
she and Nicolai could be together again.

When Laila finally decided to stop for the evening, Jane’s legs were stiff from disuse. Not as stiff as they
could have been, at least. In fact, not even close to what she was used to dealing with. No throbbing pain, no bone crushing aches. However, a walk would have been nice.

Sadly, a walk wasn’t in the forecast for some time to come. She had to continue to lounge as the guards erected her tent. And decorated the inside. And carted in her trunks. Trunks Laila had brought with her, perhaps hoping to bribe her for a night with Nicolai.

When they finished, bowing before her and awaiting dismissal, Laila climbed down from her own raised lounge, stepping on their backs to reach the ground.

“There will be a celebration of your return,” the princess announced with a clap of her hands. “We will dine in my tent. My slaves will dance for us, and you may chose whichever you desire to warm your furs.”

Gee. Thanks. “Sorry, but I’m tired.” Jane climbed down, too, feeling guilty the entire time. Although the guards blinked with surprise at her slighter weight and that sparked a kernel of fear. “I wish only to bathe and sleep. And eat. I haven’t been fed properly in days.”

“Bathe, yes. Then join me. I will feed you. Since your return from the grave, there has been too much friction between us. I do not like it, and long for the ease of our former relationship.”

A lie, Jane knew. Laila hated Odette with the same passion she had craved Nicolai in her bed, but to protest was to, perhaps, act against the real Odette’s character. “Very well,” she said on a sigh. “I’ll join you in an hour.” A small reprieve, but a reprieve all the same. She made her way to her own tent.

A long soak in the portable tub did much to appease
her aches and pains. A tub Rhoslyn had filled. The girl was a surprisingly welcome sight.

Jane scrubbed from head to toe, using the floral-scented soap that had rested on the rim. “Did Laila demand that you come on this journey or did you volunteer?”

Frizzy red hair bobbed. “I volunteered, princess.” She unfolded a vivid green robe from a trunk. “Just in case we found you, and you had need of me.”

I should have been nicer to this girl
. “I didn’t see you until you entered my tent. Where were you in the procession?”

“Behind the third line of defense, with the rest of the servants and slaves.”

“I wished I’d known. You could have ridden in the carriage with me.” Jane emerged from the water and grabbed the towel resting on a nearby bench.

“I will help you,” Rhoslyn said, rushing over. The robe dangled from her arms.

“No, thanks.” There were some things she was now capable of doing herself—things she hadn’t been able to do while practically chained to a hospital bed—and she would never again allow anyone to do them for her.

Dried, she pinched one corner of the robe and lifted. Her lips curved down in distaste. Though finely made, the material was too wide for her, and far too thick. She’d melt from the heat. And, where the robe gaped, she’d fry like battered shrimp when in the sun.

“I am sorry if the cloth is not to your liking.” Free of her burden, Rhoslyn bowed her head. “You may beat me if you wish.”

Jane caught the layer of fear in her voice. “Beat you? Rhoslyn, I’m not going to beat you. Ever.”

The girl continued as if she hadn’t heard a word Jane had said. “I thought you would prefer something durable, rather than enticing. And your sister was quite eager to reach you, so I did not have much time to pack your things. I am not complaining,” she rushed to add. “I simply wished to explain why there are not many robes to choose from, and why I did not bring your very best.”

“You did great, I swear. I love the gown. Love it. See?” She dressed and twirled. “I’ve never felt lovelier.”

Rhoslyn offered her a genuine smile. “I am glad, princess. Oh. And I am happy to tell you that I brought your book.”

Jane paused, her heart suddenly thumping. “Really? Where is it?”

The girl crossed to the other side of the tent. Slowly, Jane realized, and with care. “Hey. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself carrying those buckets?” Great. Something else to feel guilty about.

Rhoslyn stiffened, stumbling over her own feet, before continuing on. “I am fine, princess.” She hunched over another trunk, dug inside and lifted the leather bound tome.

Jane gasped with horror. As the girl had bent over, her hair had fallen forward and Jane had caught sight of bruising on her neck. Black and blue and clearly spreading farther down. “What happened to your back?” This time, her tone was firm, unyielding, demanding an answer.

Rhoslyn’s thin arm shook as she held out the book. “I allowed you to be abducted by the slave. I was punished. As I deserved.”

Whipped, then. Laila hadn’t given the girl time to
pack properly, but she’d damn sure made time to use the cat-o’-nine-tails. Jane claimed the offered item, hating Laila a little more. “That wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped him. Hell, you weren’t even there.”

No reply was forthcoming.

She sighed. “I’m headed to my sister’s tent. While I’m gone, I want you to soak in the tub. If you want. If you don’t, don’t. Then, I want you to rest. Do not wait up for me. And that’s an order.”

Eyes wide with surprise, Rhoslyn gave another nod.

Jane stepped outside. Overhead, the sun was setting, muted and a deep purple. And yet, it still managed to burn her newly sensitive skin, making her itch all over again. Now wasn’t the time to consider what that meant, either.

Laila’s tent was a mere ten steps away. At the entrance, Jane stopped and squared her shoulders.
You can do this.
The sound of laughter and music wafted toward her as she brushed past the flap. She scouted her new surroundings, trying to take everything in at once. To the right, Laila was perched on a hastily constructed dais. Lounging, of course, and eating pastries. There was an empty seat beside her.

Six naked men slow danced in the center. They were tall, leanly muscled and oiled to a glossy shine. Two blondes, two redheads and two with dark hair. Math at its finest. Hands roamed, and bodies bumped and grinded. Each man had an erection, but Jane doubted they liked what they were doing. Their eyes were glazed and lifeless. Were they bespelled?

To the left was a band. Well, the Delfina version of a band. A naked harpist, a naked violinist and a naked vocalist. Jane was sensing a theme. And, well, shit. This
had the makings of an orgy. Participation had better not be mandatory. Her body belonged to Nicolai, and no one else.

“Odette,” Laila called, catching sight of her. “Thank you for coming.”

What ulterior motive do you have?
Jane wondered as she closed the distance between them. No way the princess had thrown this little shindig together out of the goodness of her heart. Fact: she didn’t have a heart.

Jane eased into her chair and stretched out. “My…pleasure.” Something about the princess was off, she immediately realized. No, not off. Different. Yes, that was a better word. She pulsed with power, stronger than before. Had she cast some sort of spell on herself? Could witches even do that?

Wasn’t like Jane could ask. She was supposed to be a witch herself.

Laila waved her hand over the tray of pastries. “Have anything you like.”

Hmm, sugar. Her stomach twisted with hunger. How many hours had passed since she’d had that delicious chicken salad? The same number of hours that had passed since the princess had killed that innocent woman. Goodbye, appetite. “I’m fine.”

“You must drink.” Laila clapped. “Fix my sister a goblet of wine.”

The servant behind their chairs jumped to obey, and seconds later, Jane was holding a bejeweled, golden goblet. Rather than refuse it, she held on. Drinking the wine was out of the question, though. She needed her wits. All of her wits.

If an opportunity presented itself, she was going to deliver her care package tonight. Poison? A stabbing?
Whatever method she picked, she would have to be careful. She couldn’t win against the princess’s magical abilities. Especially since she had no idea what the girl could do.

“Now,” Laila purred. “Enjoy.”

For over an hour, the men danced and Laila watched, eating and drinking. Jane watched
her,
studying her like a lab rat. Soon the princess was giggling and throwing grapes at the men. When the giggles subsided, she became aroused. Unabashedly, she moved her hand underneath her robe and rubbed herself between her legs.

“Touch his chest,” the princess called huskily. “Yes, like that. Now lick his nipples. Oh, good boy. That’s the way.” With her free hands, she cupped one of her breasts.

Jane blushed. She’d nailed the happenings of the night like most of these slaves were probably going to nail Laila. Any minute now, and every single one of them would be orgying.

Oh, gross. She’d just turned the word
orgy
into a verb.

She was just about to excuse herself when the tent flap lifted. A new man, a slave, entered, and he was as naked as the others. He, too, was tall and oiled, though he was lean and lanky. Jane didn’t recognize him, and yet, her eyes ate him up. Her heart sped up, her blood heated. Her skin tingled deliciously.

He had hair so pale it was like falling snow. His eyes were as black as a stormy night, and thickly lined with kohl. He was probably five-ten, his shoulders a little narrow, and his belly flat, almost concave. His skin was bronzed to a mochalike shimmer.

There was an almost feminine sense of gentleness
about him. A gentleness that didn’t seem to fit the hard gleam of his eyes, as if it were a winter coat that belonged to someone else.

Like Jane had done, he paused in the doorway to take everything in. Anger flared his nostrils. Hate wafted from him, then desire. True desire, overshadowing everything else. He sniffed, gaze panning, then locking on her. He was striding forward a second later. Then he stilled, catching himself.

Breath caught in Jane’s throat. She might not recognize that face and body, but she recognized that purposeful, powerful stride. Nicolai. He was projecting someone else’s image, she knew it.

He was here. He was alive, healthy and whole, she thought, giddy with the knowledge. She should have been upset. He was ruining her plan, putting himself in danger. And yet, she reacted to his nearness…needed him. His body, his blood.

Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d just contemplated. She wanted to drink…his blood?

Oh, yes, she thought, her gaze zeroing in on his vein. She could see the slight fluttering there and wanted to sink her teeth in. Teeth. Was she…? She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. They felt the same, no fangs having sprouted unexpectedly. A wave of disappointment hit her.

She hadn’t allowed herself to contemplate such an idea because she hadn’t wanted to face that very sense of disappointment.

Vampires were not able to turn humans into blood drinkers. She knew because testing their blood, mixing it with human blood, had been one of her experiments. Nothing had happened, nothing had changed.

Hope did not abandon her completely. Nicolai was a little more…
everything
than any other vampire she’d known, so if anyone could change her, it was him. And she wanted to change. Wanted to live as long as he would.

“Oh, there he is,” Laila said. “My special slave. Come here, darling boy. Let me show you off to my sister.”

At first, Nicolai did not obey. Jane was glad. She didn’t want him anywhere near the princess and her slutty hands. And if the princess
dared
to put those hands on him, Jane couldn’t be held responsible for her actions. Actions that would involve the removal of the offending appendages.

Nicolai kicked into gear, and all too soon he stood between the lounges. He bowed his head, subservient.

“So pretty,” Laila cooed. “Isn’t he pretty, Odette?”

“Yes,” she managed to choke out.

Laila sat up and petted his chest.

You are going to die, bitch.
Jane fisted her hands on her thighs, her nails cutting, drawing blood.

“I found him days ago, as I was scouring Delfina to save you. He did not wish to travel with me. At first. He had another love, you know, and wished to remain with him. But I quickly changed your mind, didn’t I, precious?”

His eyes narrowed, but he offered no reply. Not so subservient, after all.

Petting, petting, the bitch was still petting him. Jane was reaching out before she could stop herself, wrapping her fingers around Laila’s wrist and squeezing. “I want him.”

Triumph filled those green eyes. “Well, you can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“Laila—”

“No. Do you recall when I wanted
your
slave, and you would not share?”

So. That’s what this night was about. Tempting Jane, then denying her. “Let me explain something to you, Laila. I am older than you. Which means I am the future queen.
Your
future queen. What I want, I get. Even if that ‘what’ belongs to you.” She might not know Delfina law, but she knew the construction of a matriarchal culture, as well as social hierarchy.

In the end, top dog always won. Right now, Jane was top dog.

“You—you—”

“Can do anything I want, yes.” Jane tossed the girl’s hand into her lap. “So don’t you dare touch him. I’ve claimed rights. Do you understand?”