Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series) (9 page)

Oh, she’d completely forgotten about that little problem. “I’ll manage.”

He released a long sigh and rolled his eyes.
He actually rolled his eyes!
“I’ll teleport you back.”

“I said I’ll manage.”

“No, you won’t,” he grunted, striding back toward her. “You won’t be of any service to me dead or worse, deflowered by a drunk.”

“Mighty Soartas, you are such a crude animal!”

“Well, duchess, you should be more grateful, for this crude animal is your only safe ride home tonight.” He reached out to take her elbow.

“Do not touch me,” Talia shouted. “I’d rather be ravaged by rabies-infested werewolves than going anywhere with you!”

But he ignored her completely. Grabbing her upper arm, he pushed her against the wall. As her back hit the cold brick, butterflies suddenly flapped in her stomach, and a strange tingle emerged between her legs.

Before she could recover, Petran leaned forward, trapping her between the wall and his body.
Oh, dear.
Then he pulled his cloak over them both, isolating them from the outside world. Talia swallowed dry.

“Don’t fight, Natalia,” he murmured, his voice huskier than ever. “You can’t fight fate.”

All of a sudden, his green eyes turned bright red and a dark emerald cloud snaked up and around, enveloping them both in the strange mist. Talia held her breath, mesmerized by the magic she’d never seen before. His faint scent of wild mint got stronger in keeping with the sinking feeling of teleportation. Her mind was reeling at a million miles per second, her hands shook, her knees buckled.

Yes, she was free falling, and she had no idea how much so.

Closing her eyes, she forced her mind to calm down, and her heart to stop racing. When she opened them again, she yelped startled. Petran hadn’t teleported her by the conventional way, he was taking her as if with the wind.

And it was absolutely amazing!

She felt as light as an autumn leaf, as Petran took them up the narrow streets, and then whooshed through the woods. Talia was no stranger to flying of course, but this was different. They were flying and yet they weren’t, all at the same time. She couldn’t feel the wind blowing through her skin, or the pressure in her ears like she did when she flew as a dragon. No, this was such a different experience, so unique, so wonderful.

Petran was another element she had never experienced before. Even though his words and proposal had disgusted her not even minutes ago, he was holding her with a care and tenderness that surprised her. He had used his own body as support to lift them through the air. As if tied together, she could clearly feel him pressing against her.

“Can they see us?” she whispered, pointing at a group of farmers roving their cows in the pre-dawn routine.

“No, we’re but a cloud to them,” Petran replied, then a mischievous smile lifted his features. “Watch.”

Out of nowhere, he dived low and zipped past the horde.

Talia squealed in fear of the imminent crash, but nothing happened. Petran pulled out, just in time.

His light-hearted chuckle made her own chest tingle. “Don’t worry,” he murmured huskily, tightening his hold around her waist. “I won’t let you fall.”

Talia gazed back at him. A delicious crooked smile lifted his cheeks and his eyes glinted with wickedness. The rascal had done it on purpose but for some reason, she knew she could rely on him. She knew while in his arms, under his protection, no harm would come to her. The realization was as shocking as the desire growing in her gut. She felt his strong thigh brushing hers, and his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her close. His delicious scent of wild mint permeated the open space around them as if they were on a cloud, a cloud of wild mint. By Apa Dobrý, how could she feel so attracted and so revolted by the monster at the same time?

At once, her servant’s story took the forefront of her mind. Her servant had spent almost two quarters on an hour describing her day with the Vampire King—in intimate details. No matter how much Talia had tried to escape, her servant had followed her around, relaying her cheek-blushing narrative until she’d shared every movement, every kiss, every feeling. Every. Single. One. The way King Petran had disrobed her, how he had caressed her breasts while nipping on her sensitive skin, how his manhood was impossibly large yet it felt insanely good when he penetrated her. But the detail which had shocked Talia the most was how kind and gentle the king had been with her servant. The knowledge had driven her to being unable to stop thinking about him, and about how it would feel to be taken that way.

If only she could.

Chapter Ten

Petran released his arm from around Talia’s waist as he took full shape in the depths of the castle’s gardens. The night was dark and the southerly wind was chilly. Maybe that was the reason why Natalia trembled in his arms. Her cheeks were rosy though. Nonetheless, he held on to her for a bit longer to give her time to get her footing. Well, so he told himself. In truth, Talia’s warm, dragoness body felt much too perfect against his.

She unlocked herself from his embrace but Petran could still hear her heart thumping fast in her lovely chest. He had no doubt her nervousness was due to worry over possible discovery by her father’s seneschal. For certain, it was that.

“Thank you,” she murmured almost too low for anyone to hear, but his head down south in his trousers seemed not to have problems hearing her. Not at all.

“Natalia,” Petran called as she started walking to the castle. She paused and, after a moment of uncertainty, she turned back around to face him. “Why are you helping the rebels?”

Her accusatory countenance dissolved into confusion. “Why do you care?”

“I’m simply curious. Please humor me with an answer.”

Her chest lifted as she took a deep, tired breath. For a second, Petran thought she wouldn’t grant him the wish but then, she exhaled and said. “I left Moldavia almost three decades ago. It was beautiful, prosperous. Life was tough but dracos in our land were healthy and happy. When I got back though, I returned to a country devastated by repression. Kalaur’s kingdom neighbors my father’s and theoretically, his illogical laws shouldn’t apply to my people but his tyranny had pushed beyond official borders. My entire race is being wiped out by one of our own, and nobody was doing anything to stop him.” She paused and narrowed her eyes at Petran as if deciding how much more to reveal.

“And then you met Ivan Milek,” Petran said in an attempt to encourage her to go on. She did.

“He was the only one trying to stop Kalaur. He was doing what he could. He wasn’t sitting idly around waiting for a hero to come and rescue him.” Her words came out in a passionate rush as if the need to confess, to open up, and remove this burden from her chest had waited for this very moment. “At first, I thought what happened in Kalaur’s lands was their business but then, the Curse struck my lands and began claiming the lives of my people. When I started travelling through the countryside to take medicine or comfort to the villagers, I discovered that many were actually serfs from Kalaur’s lands who had crossed the mountains illegally in a desperate attempt to escape his tyranny, only to die a few months later from the Curse. I couldn’t simply sit by, and watch the terror unfold and pour over my country but I knew as a female draco, there was little I could effectively do.”

“Did you share your findings with your father?” Petran asked. Somenski was an old-fashioned draco but he was a protector of the truth, his title said it as much. He would never stand cruelty done to his people.

“Yes,” she replied. “I went to my father and begged him to raise the issue with the Draconian Senate. He first brushed me off but ended up giving in after I persisted, promising to take the matters to the Draconian Senate. But on the evening before the meeting, he was struck by the illness and was never able to make it.” She looked away, as if trying to hold off tears. “After that, my heart was torn between the love for my ailing father and the desire to protect my people. This insane violence must stop. Kalaur must be stopped.” Her stunning eyes locked on his for a fraction of a second. “But I do not expect you to understand our cause, King of Vampires. All I ask is for you not to interfere.”

Petran wanted the same, but he could not grant her that wish so simply. Life was much more complicated than she seemed to think. “Break your betrothal with Kalaur and I won’t.”

She glared at him, pure hatred poured out of them. Her lips pursed tightly, probably to refrain the curse in her head from escaping them. With a stiff bow, she turned on her heels and disappeared into the shadows toward the servants’ entrance.

With her scent of honey still lingering on him, Petran stared at the emptiness left by her departure. Lady Natalia was truly a force to be reckoned with, even though she still had a lot to learn with regard to sneaking around unseen. Underneath the china doll façade, there was a strong willed, mature woman who wasn’t afraid to fight for her people, or for what she believed was right. Very few men had surprised Petran the way Natalia just had, and something told him he hadn’t seen it all yet.

Her harsh words spoken in the alleyway came flooding into his mind like an avalanche.
By Apa Dobrý, you are cold…I know how to recognize a usurper when I see one.
He frowned at the realization how those accusations had actually stung. Why he had no idea for he’d been called worse, far worse, by much more important people, but none had affected him as deep as those grey eyes of hers glaring at him, full of disgust.

For a moment in that dreadful alleyway, he’d had the urge of explaining himself to her, making her see the reality of their world. In truth, he couldn’t have cared less for the godforsaken crown he wore but he cared for his kingdom. Keeping his people from harm was a king’s first priority, they had to come before anything else—friendships, love affairs, even before himself. But what was the point of trying to make her see that? And what had gone through his mind to even want to? No, it was best this way, she despising him and pushing him away. He just wished he could feel the same for her.

“Your majesty,” he heard a faint whisper.

“Arthur?”

“Oh, yes, it is you,” Arthur said with urgency as he came into view. “I felt the air change around here and rushed over. I thank Apa Dobrý for bringing you back in time.”

“In time for what?” Petran asked, already not liking the tone of his chamberlain’s voice. “Did I not tell you to go back to Wallachia and investigate Somenski’s disease?”

“I did go back, your majesty,” his servant replied quickly, “but Queen Hillia asked me to bring you an urgent message.” He handed a piece of parcel to Petran. It had his name on it in Hillia’s handwriting.

Petran broke the royal seal and read its contents.

“Come home at once. Your son has lost a small fortune on cards and is now being held captive by the Desert Daemons who demand immediate payment.”

“Bloody Tardieh,” he cursed.

That boy was never going to be fit enough to be king. Petran had wanted to stay one more evening, to ensure Lady Natalia kept to her word but now he had to drop everything to go fish his son out of trouble, as he’d done so many times before. No matter how much he punished Tardieh, took away his privileges, had many eye-opening conversations, his son refused to grow up. Damn the Soartas for making Petran pay the price for his wife’s mistakes. She was the one who had spoiled the boy rotten.

He dared to steal a glance up at Natalia’s room. The tall façade of Somenski’s castle towered upwards, seemly never to end. Its grey stone sparkled in the cold autumn moon. On the narrow window up above, candle light cast the shadow of a fine female figure from inside. She was watching him. Petran knew it, he felt it in his bones.

Cursing the Soartas again, he turned back to Arthur. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Eleven

Kalaur lay down in the natural pool and rested his head on a cushion. He loved the spoils of the modern world. Not even half a century ago, they’d had to endure life in the rough—sleeping on hard stone, unsheltered from the elements. Now, his chambers were full of soft mattresses from England, his poolside covered in silky cushions brought from China, and his pantry packed to the rafters with spices from India, meat from the west, and corn from the New World. Who would dare not approve of global trading? If only his father had lived to see this. Kalaur
humphed
. Were his father here, he would most certainly disapprove of Kalaur’s ways. But to Hiad with him, he was long dead, and Kalaur was the Lord, and soon he’d be the ultimate Lord of all Dragons. His secret meetings with the Desert Daemons had proved to be very fruitful. The only thorn in his side were those bloody rebels who insisted on disturbing his plans. He knew in his gut the rebels were being aided by someone, for they never could have survived without a good sponsor. The question was, who was that bloody traitor? Once he got an official hold on Somenski’s lands then he would be free to raid every single village in the entire territory, and find them.

Kalaur let out a small chuckle, his rotund belly shaking with the movement. Those stupid morons had no idea what was coming for them.

“Shall I continue, my lord?” the draco girl asked popping her head back up from between his legs.

“Don’t waste my time with stupid questions,” he replied without aggravating himself. “Unless you want your month’s wages to go to the next in line.”

She blinked a few times, then dived back into the water and carried on sucking his cock. It was far from getting hard. This girl was useless, just like the others before her. At least she had red hair, reminding him somewhat of an uglier version of Natalia.

He closed his eyes, leaning back on the edge of his warm pool, and let his mind wander. He imagined what he’d do to his virginal bride on their first night together, the many ways he’d break her, penetrate her, claim her purity, and then break her some more. He hoped she would put up a fight. It was so much more fun when they did. She played the part of tamed kitten well enough, but Kalaur had seen it in her eyes. The fire—it was there. Sucking it out of her inmã would be almost as much fun as forcing her to bend to his will. And bend she would.

“My lord,” his brother called from the door, bringing him back from his daydreaming.

“What?” Kalaur barked. “Can you not see I’m in the middle of my massage? Are you not only daft but blind as well?”

Balaur’s chubby face flushed slightly. “A thousand apologies, brother, but I’ve got important news from Somenski’s castle.”

What could be so important as to interrupt his daily session? “This better be good, Balaur, or I’ll send you to hunt natives in the New World.”

His brother bowed low. “I’d be glad to serve my lord in anyway it pleases him.”

“Your ludicrous adulation is utterly tiring, Balaur.” He reached down under the water and pinched the girl to stop. She squealed startled and lifted her head above water, coughing like a cat choked by a fur ball. He could not have cared less.

“Leave,” he ordered, already standing up.

The girl climbed out of the pool and dashed away. Her saggy breasts and arse flip-flopped as she moved. Apart from the long red locks, she had nothing in common with his soon-to-be bride. He was sure Natalia would be firm and soft in all the right places.

With a tired sigh, he decided to face the inevitable useless report of the day, and turned to his brother. “What did my neighbor do now? Is he dead yet?”

“No, my lord,” Balaur replied weakly.

“What? Speak up, you goose!”

“I said, no, my lord,” his brother repeated a bit louder. “He’s actually recovering.”

Kalaur paused. “What do you mean he’s recovering? He’s not supposed to recover, he’s supposed to die.”

“I—I know, brother, it’s just that, our contact was late with the delivery of the new batch.”

That was simply marvelous. His entire plan was about to go belly up because his useless brother could not even manage an even more useless supplier. “I don’t care what your, or his, excuse may be, Balaur, you’d better fix this before I truly lose my patience. And believe me, brother, no amount of family blood will save your head from my guillotine if this plan fails.”

“Yes, yes, my lord, I understand. I have received the new batch already. I’ve got it with me.”

“So what in Hiad are you waiting for, you moron?” Kalaur snarled. He could not believe the level of stupidity of his own sibling. How could his mother be so incompetent as to deliver such a dimwitted son?

“But how, my lord?”

“I don’t bloody care,” Kalaur bellowed, completely losing his patience. He breathed a gush of fire, letting his rage go free.

Balaur ducked for cover, barely in time to save the new Parisian outfit he loved showing off so much, the one paid with Kalaur’s fortune.
Dimwit.

“Find a solution in that thick head of yours, and find it fast. Somenski should have been dead by now.”

“Yes, yes, my lord.” Balaur bowed low for the tenth time, then turned on his pitiful heels and left the bathing room.

“Oh, and Balaur...”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Do not dare shift into dragon.”

His brother froze in place, eyes wide in surprise. “But how will I—?”

“The privilege of honoring the Order of the Dragons is reserved for those who have proven to be worthy of such title.”

Balaur’s double chin trembled then he blinked a few times before answering like a good vassal should. “Yes, yes my lord.”