Dante Dellacourt shrugged elegantly. “If I’m going to lie, I’m going big. There is no use in doing something halfway.”
Beck shook his head and turned back. “Take care of her, cos.”
The vampire smiled down at her and gallantly offered his arm. “Well, we have our orders, my lady. Come along. Let’s find a good seat and pray Beck doesn’t get himself killed.”
Meg let the vampire—the flipping, freaking vampire—escort her into the arena. Her heart was pounding, but she put one foot in front of the other. She knew that whatever happened in here would change her life forever.
Chapter Three
Meg found herself watched by every eye in the arena. Only Fae like Beck and vampires like Dante had come to view her in the tent, but now all manner of creatures stared at her as she forced herself to climb the stone steps to the chaise Rhys and Cara had motioned her toward. She found herself staring openly at what had to be an enormous troll. It was six feet tall, and it was sitting. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like standing up. It was also extremely hairy. Behind him looked to be a group of what she could only term goblins. They were small and muscular with leathery skin and wild tufts of hair in odd places. Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear the cantina music from Star Wars playing.
“Never been off the Earth plane, huh?” Dante had a dumbass smile on his face.
“Do those fangs ever go away?” Meg heard herself ask irritably.
The vampire seemed to take it all in stride. “Certainly not when I am in the company of a half-naked female with a heart-shaped ass. Sorry, they pop out when I’m hungry or horny. Can’t help it. And as I recently dined on a first-grade meal pill, courtesy of Dellacorp, I think we have to assume it’s your fault. What do you say we ditch His Highness, go somewhere private, and make some baby fangs?”
“Pay him no heed, miss.” Cara looked at the vampire, shaking her head. The chaise was plush and covered with tent of ornate fabric that kept the fierce late-afternoon sun off her skin. “Vampires are not known for their manners.”
“Is that blood?” Meg looked at the pockets of red that dotted the sand of the arena floor. Groups of gnomes were hurriedly shoveling out the offending sand.
“Damn.” Dante sank down beside her. “They already got rid of the chopped-off limbs. That’s my favorite part.”
“They’re really going to fight?” Meg was suddenly horrified at the thought of Beck being out there. It was ridiculous, but she felt such a strong connection to him that she couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt, much less dying. It must be Stockholm syndrome. Or maybe it was because he had given her the first honest-to-goodness, real live, no-double-A-batteries-involved orgasm she’d ever had. Whether she turned out to be Patty Hearst or just some desperate girl, she didn’t want Beck’s blood staining the arena.
“Yes, miss,” Rhys answered, taking a seat next to his wife. “Your tournament is the last of the day. It is also the largest. The rest of these females are just simple mates. You are very rare.”
Meg let out a sigh of frustration. The whole thing was terribly confusing to her. She looked to the vampire. He didn’t seem to have a problem telling her the painful truth. “Why? Why do all these men want me?”
His sunglasses receded, and he looked her in the eyes. His green eyes sparkled in the shade. “The vamps or the Fae?”
“Both.”
His manner took on a distinctly academic tone. “The Fae are interested in you as a bondmate. Certain Fae have psychic abilities that are greatly enhanced in the presence of a female whose brain is tuned to theirs. In Beck’s case, it’s a little more urgent. Beck was born with a symbiotic twin, Cian. Think of them as halves of a whole. Beck is the practical half. He is the warrior. Cian is the intellectual half. When symbiotic twins turn twenty-five years old, a bondmate is found for them, if they aren’t already contracted. The female forms a triad with the males. She bridges their minds through hers, and they are able to function together. It makes all three stronger. When Beck’s uncle took over Tir na nÒg, he closed the plane. He did this for several reasons, but no doubt one was to cut off his nephews from a bondmate. They have been forced to look elsewhere.”
“So Beck is twenty-five.” Meg was a little surprised. He seemed older, but perhaps it was his regal authority that made him seem that way.
“My cousin turned thirty nearly three months ago,” Dante replied, all teasing gone from his attitude. “Cian is fading. The intellectual half is in desperate need of the bond. It is killing him to go without. If Cian fades, all that will be left is the warrior with nothing to balance him. Beck will likely go mad. If that happens, he’ll have to be put down.”
“That’s horrible,” Meg replied. “But how can he be sure I’m this bond thingy?”
Now a slow smile curled the vampire’s lips. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Tell me, sister, was it good for you?”
Meg felt her whole body flush with embarrassment. The scene in the tent had been Beck’s way of telling if she was compatible. He’d even told her that was what he was doing, but the thought of everyone knowing what he’d done made her skin turn red. The vampire threw back his head and laughed.
“You are so rude,” Meg complained. She received sympathetic looks from the gnomes.
Dante shrugged, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “I don’t see what’s rude about it. It’s a simple fact of life. We all like to get fucked, sweetheart, and from what I’ve heard, old Beck there knows how to do it right. Of course, it would be slightly different with a bondmate. Even without the full bond, during sex, you would have a connection with him.”
“I would feel what he felt.” Meg remembered that odd, erotic moment when she could feel his hard-on, feel her own pussy gripping his fingers as she came.
“Congratulations,” Dante said almost sweetly. “You’re a bondmate. I’ve heard it’s the most intimate connection a being can have.”
Meg swallowed nervously, not wanting to think about it. She wasn’t here to fall in love. She shouldn’t be here at all. She would suffer through this. When she had the chance, she was going to get away, and no intimate bond was going to stop her. She decided to slightly change the subject. “And the vampires?”
Dante leaned in, his fangs showing beneath his wide smirk. “Darling, the vampires are here because you taste really fucking good.”
Cara leaned over Meg’s lap and slapped the vampire. Dante took it with good grace, merely leaning back as though he was slapped by females on a regular basis. “Stop teasing the girl. Miss, the vampires are looking for what they call a consort. You have to understand there are two types of vampires, the peasant and those of royal blood.”
“Don’t call them peasants,” Dante whistled under his breath. “Them’s fighting words. One day you call them peasants, and the next day they unionize.”
Cara ignored him. “The royals are the vampires with ancient blood. They are pure vampire. If they can find a proper consort, their lives are greatly elongated by taking his or her blood. The consort also receives a much longer life by taking the vampire’s blood into his or her body. The consort’s blood makes the vampire stronger than he or she would normally be. I heard your sister recently married her consort, Mr. Dellacourt.”
Dante’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Yes, now our house is filled with love and roses every day. I’m not having any of it. What’s the point in an extra couple of hundred years if you can’t party? Susie and Colin. What idiots! They walk around like love-struck teens. It’s disgusting. See, the bad part about finding a superhot piece of tail like you is the inevitable, long decline into idiocy.”