Fail. The word Laila had used. Go ahead. Try. Fail. She had used her magic on him as promised, he realized. But what spell had she used? Unless he figured it out, he could not fight its power. Even as the question and answer formed in his mind, a sharp lance of pain jetted through him. He gnashed his teeth.
At least the guards never caught his trail. Even when the magical shield around him evaporated in a puff of smoke. Magic he wasn’t sure how he’d wielded. He knew only that the queen had constructed a shield of her own, and he had instantly known how to do the same.
Now, though, he could not reconstruct it; the ability was gone as if it had never been. And its absence infuriated him. At all costs, he must protect Jane.
Mine. The possessive claim was now so much a part of him, he wasn’t sure how he’d survived without her. So, yes, he would protect her. Even from himself. His hunger was completely sated, he’d drained so many guards to reach her, and yet, he could still scent her. His female. So sweet. He still wanted to taste her. So damn badly.
She was injured, though, and needed to rest. Not that she had complained. She had not spoken a word since they’d left the palace courtyard. She had remained behind him the entire time, accepting his every dictate, following his directives. Limping, he thought, and sometimes using his arm as a crutch.
He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her, knowing he would have stopped long before now if she appeared fatigued in any way. He wanted her as far from the palace as possible. As far away from Laila and the queen—who should be dead right now, already rotting in a grave.
That they lived…
Worth it. Jane lived, too.
His ankles throbbed as he led her to a cave he’d noticed each time he’d unintentionally backtracked. “Here,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. “We’ll be safe here.” He was sure of it.
“Oh, good. You’re back to your normal self.”
Normal self? What did that mean? “Rest.” Once they were strengthened, he could return to the palace, sneak inside, kill Laila and her mother and find the healer, as planned. Before he left, he would erect defenses so that Jane could stay here, safe.
Once his memories had been returned, his powers restored, he would come back for her. They would travel to Elden together.
His hands tightened into fists. Elden. What awaited him in Elden, besides his desire to kill a king he had never met? At least, not to his knowledge. All he knew was that the man had slaughtered the former sovereigns, claiming the crown by brute force.
Nicolai had heard palace servants gossiping about the royal change. Yesterday, or a hundred years ago, he wasn’t sure. Whatever time spell the witches had cast over the palace caused minutes to eke by for everyone inside, the days blending together, a blur you could never count.
Nicolai wondered if he’d ever met the former sovereigns. Perhaps even guarded them. While he could not picture them, he could visualize their palace without problem. A towering monstrosity built more for withstanding attack than aesthetics. A lush green forest surrounded a lake, and that lake surrounded the structure. There was no discernable entryway other than the guard walkway—a walkway he knew better than he knew the angles of his own face. He longed for that palace, that lake, that forest. Knew the land would smell of sea salt and pine. Thought he could hear the echo of his booted footsteps as he ran to…do something, hug someone, perhaps. Thought he could hear a woman’s deep-throated chuckle and a man’s gruff grunt of approval. A pang of love and homesickness, followed by a wave of hate, swept through him.
Love? Homesickness? Hate? Why? He must learn the answers. He must kill the new king.
A dull ache bloomed in his temples, and he ceased that line of thought. For now.
Jane hobbled in front of him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. At the moment of contact, his fangs lengthened and his gums ached. Just a little taste…
No! Not yet. He soaked in her presence instead, distracting his unnecessary hunger with her electrifying beauty. Electrifying, because she had somehow brought him back to life.
That fall of honey-colored hair, framing a face as pure and unique as a snowflake, begged for a man’s fingers. Her ocher eyes were no longer haunted, but determined. Her cheeks were rosy—with desire, despite her weakened, abused condition—a sheen of perspiration from the sultry night air making her glow. She’d tied the fabric of her robe together and the knots on her shoulders teased him. With only a tug, they would unwind and he could—
No, he thought again. He would not entertain such lustful thoughts until she was healed. Then… Oh, yes, then.
Seeing her whipped for his actions had not only broken something inside him, it had awoken something inside him. Not to mention that smile of hers… She shouldn’t have smiled at him.
“The key,” he said. “Free my neck.” He used his tongue to move that key from the side of his mouth to between his teeth.
“My pleasure.” She unlocked the ring. The heavy binding tumbled to the ground with a thump. “We should probably get going. The sun will come out soon.” Though she’d hobbled, her voice was firm, strong. “If you guys have a sun. And if time has kicked back into gear for us. Someone mentioned Delfina is ageless.”
“Not ageless. Those who reside in the palace age much slower. And yes, out here there is a sun, a day and a night.”
“We have to hide you, then. We don’t want you bursting into flames.”
His brow furrowed. “I am not a nightwalker.” How had she known about nightwalkers and the way they burst into flames?
“Oh, well…” She paled, swallowed. “Well, in my world, vampires are considered a myth. In books and movies, you guys always burst into flames—or glitter—when you step into sunlight.”
Glitter? “I am, perhaps, more sensitive to the sun’s rays than others in this realm, but I am nothing like the nightwalkers. At worst, I will burn and blister.”
“Oh. Good.” Her relief was palpable.
Such a strong reaction, when she’d had no cause to worry. And yet, that worry pleased him. He liked her concern. Liked what it meant. Already she cared.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip.
His stomach clenched at the sight of her teeth, doing what he wanted to do. “Something you enjoy.” He placed his throbbing hands over hers, preventing her from drawing away.
“Yes, well.” Her tongue emerged, swiping where she’d bitten. “We’ve been going in circles, which means Laila the harpy told the truth. You are cursed to remain in Delfina.”
The sight of her tongue did far more damage to his control than the sight of her teeth. How easy it would be to lean down, lick, sample, savor. Not until she heals. Another reminder. Also, not until she begs. You promised. “I know,” he said more harshly than he’d intended.
“Oh.” Her nose scrunched adorably, easing the sting of his self-directed anger. “Well, you could have told me. I’ve worried, expecting you to argue and trying to formulate my own argument for whichever direction you could have taken. Anyway, you might have been bespelled to think the most dangerous places are the safest, and the safest places the most dangerous. Actually, cancel that ‘you might.’ You were. You bypassed the water six times!”
River? “You saw a river?” The kingdom of Elden was surrounded by the lake, a lake that connected its northern shore to Delfina. That had always been a point of contention for him while rotting inside his cell. So close to his goal, yet so far away. Now, he was glad.
“No,” Jane said. “I didn’t see. I heard the water.”