In the Service of the King (4 page)

“Damnaigh sé go léir don diabhal!” Kael’s damning curse roared through the empty chamber.

Fucking hell, he’d lost his goddamned mind. Lost all control. Fed from her.

The knick of his fang against her sweet tongue hadn’t been intentional, at least he didn’t think so, but once he’d tasted her luscious blood, there was no going back. Each pull had warmed his chest, flooded him with power, and reverberated directly to his cock, driving him to get in her. He’d imagined the tight velvet clenching of her pussy around every inch of his length, unleashing the urge to thrust against her, seek out her wet entrance. Her allure was like a siren spinning dark promises in the night. Promises of paradise in the slick heat of her womanhood. Promises that, just maybe, forever existed in the cradle of her thighs.

And then she had come. If he’d thought her beautiful before, it was nothing compared to her magnificence at the peak of ecstasy.

But as he watched her ride out her high, his mind came back to him in starts and stops. He’d kissed her. She’d embraced him. He’d
drunk
from her. And he’d been about to fuck her standing right there in the center of the room as he devoured her lifeblood down his throat.

Kael paced and tugged at his hair, spitting out a stream of expletives and plaintive pleas for guidance and assistance in his native tongue. “Cén bhrí atá ann? Cad é cuspóir an Céilí Dia ann?” If only the gods would answer him and explain his purpose—and why he felt so lonely fulfilling it.

Ancient grief joined the raging river flowing through him and filled him with the need to destroy. He glared at the offending goblet of Shayla’s blood, but couldn’t bring himself to waste something so precious. Kael whirled, nearly upsetting a long mahogany console table, and unthinkingly cleared it in one violent swipe of his arms. Candlesticks and a vase of flowers clanged and crashed against the floor.

The ornate door exploded open and a trio of massive bodies filled the entryway, guns and blades drawn.

“My lord?” Liam rasped, his eyes wild as he surveyed the room. Braeden and Daire followed suit, braced for a fight.

Kael shared a blood connection with the highest-ranking warriors that gave them the ability to sense his emotions, so he wasn’t particularly surprised by their appearance, though the last thing he wanted was an audience for his stupidity.

He glared at the bewildered men. The scene was almost comical. Liam, still in his full regalia associated with the feeding ritual, Braeden and Daire dressed only in boxing shorts, their taped fists revealing they’d come directly from a sparring match in the compound’s massive training facility.

“Jesus, smell that,” Daire whispered to Braeden as he lowered his weapon.

Kael leveled his narrowed gaze at the young warrior. Braeden placed a warning hand on his mouthy brethren’s chest.

Liam watched the exchange and turned to his men. “All is well. Leave us.”

Braeden bowed his head and stepped back through the door first. “Come on, Daire,” he bit out.

Daire inhaled deeply, taking the myriad scents still so thick and fragrant in the room into himself. Finally realizing everyone was waiting for him, he shook his head, bowed it and retreated.

Liam secured the door before nailing Kael with a questioning stare.

The king turned away and resumed pacing and ranting under his breath.

“My lord, how may I be of service?” came Liam’s voice after a while.

“You can leave.”

“I cannot.”

Kael flashed in front of him. “You can very well fucking leave.” His fangs elongated as he lashed out.

“I will not!” Liam stepped forward, apparently refusing to be cowed. “You really want to do this?”

They hadn’t come to blows in ages, but it had happened before. The king bored his gaze into Liam’s, but finally stepped back.

Liam eased his stance. “Where is she?”

“Gone,” Kael said as he looked down at the ground. His shoulders sagged as some of the fight went out of him. Everything just felt so…wrong.

“Did you—?”

Kael rolled his eyes at Liam. There was no way he didn’t smell that goblet of blood. “What do you think?”

“And, why—?”

“Christ, what are you? The Inquisition?” He drilled his angry stare into his brother in arms. Guilt flooded him. Minutes passed. “I hurt her.”

Liam frowned. “What happened, Kael?”

The thought of recounting all the ways in which he’d failed her exhausted him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Liam sheathed the silver dagger and holstered his weapon. “I’ve known you my whole life. You would never hurt a female. Not intentionally.”

“What do you want from me, Liam?”

“I want to know why you sent her away. Why her lifeblood sits there wasting. Why you are more distressed than I can remember seeing you in aeons.” He held out his arms.

“Oh, for the love… Fine. Her eyes were mismatched…one green, one blue. I covered them, because they were too damned fascinating. And then the hypnotism didn’t work. And she felt the cut of my blade, endured it without complaint. And I…I didn’t even fucking notice her pain. Then, as if she hadn’t proven herself worthy, she implored me to partake of her blood anyway, despite the way I’d failed her. I kissed her, Liam. And I drank from her. And then…”

It had felt so damn right.

But now she was gone. Her absence weighed on his shoulders, depressing him, squeezing his chest. Oh, the way he’d dismissed her… He groaned and scrubbed at his face with rough palms.

Liam gaped at Kael’s rush of words. “You drank from her?”

“Did I not just say that?”

“Kael, did you claim her? Is she—?”

His heart clenched. “Of course I didn’t. I cannot.” He met Liam’s questioning gaze. A dark realization rose up from his psyche, demanded to be voiced. “Liam,” he finally whispered, “I did not have to claim her. Somehow, I could tell…” He shook his head.

Liam sucked in a breath and his eyes went wide.

Though the righteousness of the admission nearly drove him to his knees, Kael resisted the truth of it. He sighed, a sound full of defeat and resignation. “Like I said, it does not matter. She’s gone. And it is better for her that she is.”

“Do not be a fool, brother.”

“Watch your tongue, Liam.”

The warrior ran his hand through his brown hair, then grasped Kael’s shoulder. “Don’t assume you know what’s best for her. Bring her back. Let her choose.” Kael shook his head and dropped his gaze. “You must, Kael, you cannot continue this way.”

Kael shoved the hand away and stepped back. “I do not see you seeking out a mate. Or most of the others.”

Liam scoffed. “I have not found her. But I
look.
As for the others,
you
are their role model. They follow your lead.”

Kael’s gaze cut to Liam’s. “What?”

Liam heaved a breath. “It is time. Meara has been gone for three hundred years.” Outrage erupted in Kael’s gut, but Liam pushed on. “She would want you to be happy. She would want you to have comfort. You know damn right well she would kick your ass if she knew how you denied yourself.”

Kael braced his hands on his hips and hung his head. Well, that was true. Meara had been a fierce woman, full of life and laughter and aggressively loyal. And she’d believed in love. Kael would go as far as to say she’d taught him what love meant, why it should be valued.

“Jesus, Kael, if you’ve possibly found your mate, how can you even think of letting her go?”

Kael inhaled a shuddering breath and rubbed his lips with his hand.
Fuck. I let her go. No. I sent her
away.

And now she was out there, somewhere. Unprotected. Vulnerable. The Soul Eaters had found his clan’s stronghold once. Though that particular band of evil had been eradicated, nothing said it couldn’t happen again. Meara hadn’t been his fault, he knew that in his heart of hearts. But if trouble befell Shayla after he’d thrown her out, that would lie at his feet. And it would crush him.

Icy cold panic sloshed in his gut, seized his spine. “Shit, Liam. I was horrible to her.”

Liam stabbed him in the chest with his pointer finger. “Then make it right.”

Kael nodded, massaged his forehead. Wanting her wasn’t the question. Impossibly, he did, in every way and soul deep. But could he allow himself to be so vulnerable again? His heart panged and his hand dropped to his chest, applied counterpressure to ease the awful tightness there. Who was he kidding? Her loss already pained him. Resolve filled his gut and straightened his spine. “Get her,” he whispered, his tone urgent and strained.

A smile full of boyish mischief and fraternal affection transformed Liam’s face. “Right away, my lord, right away.”

Kael glared and Liam straightened his face as he sprinted from the room, but he moved with so much enthusiasm Kael couldn’t resist the buoyancy of good humor that inflated his chest.

It constricted just as quickly. He needed to know she was safe. He needed to look into that mystical gaze. Anxiety tossed his stomach as he anticipated seeing her again. He couldn’t imagine what she must think of him, how she must be feeling. Christ, she wasn’t even down from the high of her orgasm when he threw her out.

Kael braced himself. Every likelihood existed she wouldn’t want to return. And though that decision would level him, he wouldn’t blame her one bit.

If Shayla never saw a blindfold again, it would be too soon.

With her eyes covered to keep secret the rural location of the vampires’ compound, she reclined against the leather of the luxury sedan’s backseat. Having asked her trainer for some space, she rode alone. It was the middle of the night, just hours into the twentieth anniversary of her birth.

Happy freaking birthday to me
.

She shifted and pulled her legs up under her on the seat. Unthinkingly, she rubbed her left hand, massaged her palm. At some point it had started aching, but she couldn’t remember hurting herself. The gentle hum of road noise was soothing, at least. Anything to distract her from her thoughts.

The previous evening, the trip from Belfast had taken a little over an hour, so she knew it wouldn’t be long until she was back at her hotel near the airport. She’d be returning to London tomorrow, and she could definitely get into the idea of losing an afternoon browsing the shelves of the Waterstone’s at Piccadilly Circus. Anything normal would be nice right about now.

The car slowed and veered to the left, and gravel crunched beneath the tires. Then they were still, only the soft purr of the idling engine filling her ears. The driver was separated from her by a privacy screen.

Shayla threw her hands out to brace herself as the car eased into what had to be a U-turn.

“Um, hello?” She reached forward until her hands found the facing seat and then shifted her body to reach the dividing window. She knocked. Nothing. “Oh, come on. Hello?” she called louder. She flopped back against the seat.

What is going on?
Maybe her trainer, a man she called Master Simon, needed to ride back with her after all. That must be it.

In the quiet lull of the resumed ride, all she could think about was how different the night had gone from what she’d expected. Yesterday, she’d been so excited, nearly giddy, as she imagined what the evening might hold for her. How meeting the king could very well be the answer to a variety of prayers. Now, she was just depressed…and, frankly, a little annoyed. Kael might be gorgeous and fascinating and sexy, able to make her come by kissing her alone, but he was just a
guy
.
For God’s sake.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Kael was everything she’d ever fantasized, and so much more. Powerful and magnificent in his otherworldliness. Gentle and kind, at least when he wanted to be. So damn hot her novice body and mind could barely process it. Her best shot at getting justice for Dana, vengeance against the Soul Eaters.

Shayla hugged herself and laid her head back against the seat. She’d find another way. Somehow. As for Kael, well, the Proffered never had more than a few hours with him, did they? Her rational mind knew that, expected it. Any hopes she held out otherwise were just the last hangings-on of teenage fantasies. Now she could put her daydreaming aside and focus on a realistic path to fighting the evil in her world. If nothing else, there was her future role on the Electorate Council. Surely there were also other contributions she could make she didn’t yet know enough to conceive. That thought eased the tension from her neck and shoulders.

The car stopped again, drawing her attention. She’d been so distracted she couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Her door clicked open. From somewhere outside, voices bit back and forth at one another. She slid her blindfold off and set it on the seat beside her.

Shayla’s eyes blinked and watered as they adjusted to the fluorescent lights of the cavernous garage—she’d guessed right, then, they’d returned. Through a squint, she was finally able to make out the shape of her trainer, a tall, thin man in his mid-forties, and—she was certain from his size and long braid—a vampire warrior. Chills raised the hair on her arms as she stepped out of the car. Why was the warrior here if the point of her return was to collect Master Simon?

The men’s conversation halted, and both turned to look at her. Their expressions were studies in opposites. Master Simon’s entire face was frowning—it was his “concerned” expression, rather than his “angry” one, and she was a little relieved at that.

The big warrior, on the other hand, wore the most welcoming smile. He nodded once. “Hello.”

His manner was open, friendly. It put her at ease. “Hey.” She glanced at Master Simon, who was watching them, wary.

The vampire stepped forward and offered his hand. “I am Liam.”

She looked at him for a minute, then placed her hand in his engulfing grip. “I’m Shayla.”

He grinned as he shook her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Shayla.”