One Bite (5 page)

“Why do I get the feeling I won’t like where this is going?”

Hunger tightened his stomach and he took an almost involuntary step forward. Her hand tightened on the dagger still in her grasp. He halted.

“Oh, but I think you will like it,” he said smoothly. “I have had quite a long time to perfect my technique.”

The beginning of realization dawned on her face and her jaw dropped slightly. “You aren’t thinking of biting me, are you?”

“Eventually, yes,” Kirill agreed. He fixed her with the full intensity of his gaze, stopping just short of pushing his powers on her. Irina had so much spirit, so much fire. How much sweeter would his victory be if she succumbed to him willingly? He stepped forward again, keeping his movements calm and slow, maintaining her dagger in his peripheral vision. “But first, I would like to kiss you again. You have a most exquisite taste, you know.” He stared at her mouth. “Such tender red lips to speak such blasphemous words. And surely we could find a better use for that wicked tongue of yours?”

Murder glowed in her eyes like an ethereal light, but the unmistakable scent of arousal filled the air. Her heart pounded and just the hint of a blush colored her delicate cheeks. Oh, she wanted him. But she was going to fight it.
How delightful.

“You—you—you,” she sputtered.

“Irina, you stormed up to my castle and demanded entry. I don’t know how you charmed the guards, but you made your way into my chambers easily enough. You stood here, in my personal space, and challenged me, got my blood…rather hot.” He let his voice grow deeper with each word, measuring her increased heart rate, the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He took another step forward, slowly. “I have been very agreeable, Irina, and I look forward to our…arrangement.” Dragging his gaze up and down her body, he took extra time admiring the soft swell of her hips and breasts before fixing on her face again. Her lips had parted slightly and her chest rose and fell more rapidly than before. “Irina,” he whispered, taking another step. “I am so very hungry…”

The first brush of her hips against his palms sent a thrill down Kirill’s spine. His control slipped and he dug his fingers into her curves, jerking her lower body against the aching hardness of his own. A gasp fell from Irina’s lips and her dagger hit the floor. Her gaze locked on his and her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“So soft,” Kirill murmured, sliding his hands up her hips to trail across her ribs. He pulled her tighter against him and bit by bit she folded into his embrace, tilting her head up. For a second, he hesitated, wondering if he’d hypnotized her by mistake. But the way her heart continued to race assured him that she was still very much in the moment, every sense sharp. Slowly, he leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on her shoulder, just above the line of her gown.

The scent of her skin invaded his senses and he dragged his cheek over her flesh before trailing a heated path of open-mouthed kisses up her neck. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, a wild and intoxicating sensation that called to the depths of his being. She tasted new and familiar all at once and he desperately searched his memory, his brain, for some reason he found her so…tempting.

Her skin under his tongue set fire to every nerve ending in his body. Licking a short, blazing trail over the curve of her neck nearly undid him. Every muscle ached to throw her to the ground and bury
himself
inside her in every way possible. He dragged a fang over her neck…

A crash shattered the silence as one of the giant panes of glass from one of his windows exploded in a shower of glittering dust. Kirill jerked his head up, curling his body around Irina, instinctively shielding her from the danger. His gaze darted around the window, searching for the person or thing that had dared try to break into his chambers. There was nothing, and no new scent reached his nostrils. He strode to the window, cautiously looking all around before leaning out to look up and down. Nothing but a line of stone gargoyles met his eyes. He gritted his teeth and whirled around.

“Someone is going to—”

Pain erupted along his cheek and he swore as he jerked backward. Fury sizzled along his nerves as he found Irina standing before him, her trusty dagger clasped in her hand. His blood trickled down the blade. He raised his gaze to Irina and the bellow of rage died on his tongue. She stood before him, her cheeks flushed with arousal, her eyes almost glowing with her own ire. For a moment he would have sworn the goddess of battle herself had landed in his chambers.

“Remember this the next time you think about drawing someone’s blood without their permission,” Irina hissed.

And with that she whirled around and swept out of the room.

Kirill put a hand to his face, drawing his fingers through the blood. Slowly, the ends of his mouth curled up into a smile.

“A week is not long enough for a vampire to calm down. Irina, I’m begging you, don’t go.”

Irina stared at her reflection, frowning as she smoothed her hands down the velvet bodice of her dress. The blood red color may have been a poor choice—all things considered.

“Irina? Are you listening to me?” Ivan demanded.

“Read me the invitation again,” Irina said, offering a small prayer of thanks to the Goddess when her voice came out calm.

“‘Irina, King
Risi
has invited us to attend his people’s
Uppsala
celebration on the eve of the full moon. Be ready at sunset.
Prince Kirill of
Dacia
.’”

“There, you see? No mention of killing me or offering me any bodily harm. I challenge you to find one word in that invitation that even hints at our little incident of last week.”

“You slashed him across the face with a dagger,” Pasha observed, his little face creased with worry. “No one does that to a vampire.
Or a prince.
Especially not a vampire prince.”

“Well, when a vampire prince tries to take liberties, it’s important to set boundaries.” Even as the brave words left her lips, Irina’s heart pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer against her chest. All week, she’d waited, certain Kirill was going to show up and make her pay for her audacity. The fact that he hadn’t gave her some hope that he had more use for her alive.

“Irina, please,” Ludmil spoke up, wringing his red hat in his hands.
“We care about you. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I am so very hungry…”

Prince Kirill’s voice whispered through Irina’s mind and she couldn’t suppress a shiver.
The sound of his voice caused things low in her body to tighten even as they chilled the blood in her veins.
He had intended to drink her blood, to cloud her mind with the express purpose of sinking his fangs into her flesh. The thought angered her, frightened her. But his voice…his voice slid over her senses, teasing her with her own aroused reaction. His voice had filled her head with erotic images she had no business entertaining.

“Vampire tricks.”

“What?” Ivan asked.

Irina shook her head and offered Ivan a half-hearted smile.
“Nothing.
Just…reminding
myself
what reality looks like.”

“And what does reality look like, pray tell?”

Irina
shrieked,
her hand flying to her chest. Around her, the dwarves scurried out of the way, darting to the furniture, or fleeing the room entirely. Prince Kirill stood in the middle of the modest room, his reddish gaze boring a hole through her body as he dragged it from her head to her toes and back.

“Your Highness, you startled me,” Irina said, cursing the breathy tone of her voice.

“Oh?”

Kirill stepped forward. His black velvet tunic didn’t make a sound as he moved, the soft leather boots on his feet not daring to creak. It was no wonder none of them had heard him come in. Irina tried to keep her gaze on him as he approached, trying to fill her eyes with all the confidence she didn’t quite feel and hoping against hope that the keenness of vampiric senses were highly exaggerated.

A brief flicker of annoyance stole over her as the prince stood there, slowly dragging his gaze up and down her body like she was a piece of artwork hung on the wall for his viewing pleasure. Her annoyance helped distract her from her nerves and she gathered the courage to tap her foot and cross her arms.

“I hope my attire meets your requirements?” she asked pointedly.

Blue eyes met hers and the ice in his visage made her chest tighten.

“A week ago, you dragged your dagger across my face,” Kirill said softly, continuing to bore holes through her with his gaze. “I spent the next evening deciding the exact manner of your impending death. These things should never be rushed, you understand. Death, especially the death of someone who has so gravely wronged you, must be carefully considered so that it sends the appropriate message. It’s a lesson my brute of a father never learned and it is one of the many reasons I will be a better ruler.” He tilted his head. “Do you want to know what manner of death I decided on for you?”

Every word he said twisted Irina’s
guts,
filled her head with ghastly images. For a moment she felt as if she were back in the forest, watching the huntsman holding that gruesome box and imagining what Serafina had ordered him to do. She never wanted to feel that way again. If Kirill was going to kill her then so be it. But she would not spend her last moments of life cowering in fear.

“I imagine,” she said finally, proud that her voice only wavered slightly, “that you would slash my face in the same manner and then drain my body of every drop of blood.”

Kirill’s eyebrows met his hairline. His surprise took some of the edge off Irina’s fear and she drew in a deep, steadying breath. At least he wasn’t staring at her with those dead eyes anymore.

“A good guess, but no.
Pray tell, how did you arrive at your…guess?”

Irina plunged on, refusing to give her fear time to silence her. “I…cut your face when you tried to feed on me without my permission. Cutting my face in the same manner and taking what you tried to take in the first place just seems…poetic?” She choked slightly on the last word, the conversation having become almost too surreal to think about.

“Indeed,” Kirill mused.

For several long seconds he just stared at her, letting her stew in the silence, wondering what he was thinking. Part of her waited for a blow, for some offer of violence. Her nerves wound tighter and tighter until she almost attacked him herself, just to provoke some sort of action.

“I spoke to some of the trolls in my kingdom,” Kirill said finally. “You will no doubt be pleased to hear that they speak very highly of you.” He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, as highly as trolls speak of anyone who is not a
troll.
Let us just say that I was right to invite you to be my companion for this evening’s festivities.”

Irina bit the inside of her cheek to keep in the sigh of relief that tried to escape. She winced when a sharp pain alerted her that she’d bitten too hard and pierced the sensitive skin.

“Well, I suppose we’d better get going. I’d hate to keep King
Risi
waiting.”

She stepped toward the door, but Prince Kirill didn’t move, his large frame blocking her path. Unease slithered up her spine as she met his eyes again.

“Is there something else you’d like to discuss first?” she’d asked lightly.

“The last time we met, you denied me your blood—something I am within my rights as your prince to demand. If we are to continue in a civilized manner, we need to rectify the situation.” He leaned in, one eyebrow rising slightly. “I’m telling you this so that I don’t catch you off guard and frighten you into doing something…foolish.”

Irina’s throat constricted and she took an involuntary step back. Her traitorous mind flashed back to the first time he’d tried to bite her, the delicious sensations he caused just by looking at her, coming close to her, talking to her… What would it have been like if he’d succeeded? How much stronger would his pull over her be? Where would it end? An intoxicating combination of fear and arousal swamped her senses and she cursed Kirill and every other vampire who’d ever used sexual desire to lure their prey closer. Bad enough to lose her blood, but to lose her dignity was adding insult to injury.

She didn’t need to see the smile quirking the corner of his mouth to know he could scent her reaction. Nervously, she dropped her hand to her side, tensing just enough to press her fist against the dagger that lay strapped to her thigh.
The slit resting less than two inches from her fingers.

“I will give you a moment to make your decision,” Kirill whispered. “I do hope you make the right one.”

Oh, Goddess, his voice has no business outside the bedroom,
she thought miserably.
It shouldn’t be possible to be attracted to someone threatening to end your life.

“If I don’t let you drink my blood…are you going to kill me?”

Kirill
tsked
at her. “Now, Irina, I would not dream of influencing your decision. No, I simply cannot answer that question until after we have…resolved this issue.”

“You bastard,” she said before she could stop herself. Anger burned away her fear and she glared at him with every fiber of her being.

“I’m not sure I understand your answer?”

Her rage notched higher. “Fine,” she spat. “Take my blood, just stop leering at me.”

“I’m waiting, whenever you’re ready, my lady.”

Her mouth opened and closed, a red haze blocking her vision as she realized what he wanted.
Why not just ask me to crawl to him?
she
seethed. She dug her nails into her palms until a sting told her she’d pierced her own flesh. She clung to the pain, used it to steel herself against drawing the blade and having at the vampire, her own life be damned. Instead she stomped over to him, stopping only when her breasts brushed his chest. He smirked down at her, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, she grabbed the back of his head and thrust his mouth down to where her shoulder met her neck.

“Take my blood, you miserable—”

The profanity died on her lips and his mouth opened against her skin and his fangs sank into her flesh. Unbelievable pleasure followed on the heels of the sharp pain, bubbling up from deep inside her and spilling through her veins until her entire body buzzed with the most delicious sensations she’d ever experienced. She grasped his shoulders, holding on as her head tipped back and a moan spilled from her mouth. Kirill wrapped an arm around her waist, jerking her closer to his body and she inhaled sharply when she felt the hard length of him pressed against her.

Whimpering and not even caring, she closed her eyes, floating on the glorious waves that continued to wash over her. Her skin heated, feeling as if she was melting against him with every pull of his mouth. He thrust against her and she cried out, the sound muffled when he pulled his fangs free of her neck and covered her mouth with a kiss.

Irina’s head spun and she would have fallen over if not for his strong embrace holding her up. He plunged his tongue past her lips, drawing it over the silky lining of her cheeks. He touched on the wound she’d inflicted on herself earlier and a strangled sound rose to be muffled by the kiss. He thrust against her again, making every one of her senses scream at her to get closer, to give him more. Her dress tightened and some small part of her brain still worked enough to realize he’d grabbed a handful of her skirt as if preparing to pull it up.

Before she could decide what to do, a throat cleared behind them. A growl rose from Kirill, vibrating his chest against her. He tore his mouth away from her and snarled over his shoulder.

“You dare to—”

Irina raised her hands and pressed them against his chest, feebly trying to free herself from his arms. Kirill spared her a look, his eyebrows down, his blue eyes gone under a shine of red. Her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes widened. The prince stared at her for a long, silent moment before releasing her. He gave her his back, turning to address Ivan who stood trembling in front of him.

“Ivan, isn’t it?” Kirill
asked,
his voice low and sharp enough to cut flesh.

“Y—y—y—” sputtered Ivan. He pressed his lips together and straightened his spine. The trembling slowed. “I w-won’t allow you to take a-advantage of her,” he snapped, his voice breaking a little at the end. He glared at Kirill and Irina covered her mouth with her hand, touched at the dwarf’s show of bravery on her behalf. “She’s in our home, under your own orders, Y-Your Highness,” he continued, doggedly ignoring how his voice wavered.

Pasha and
Ludmill
crept up behind him, their legs shaking, but their expressions fixed with determination.

Irina stepped away from Kirill enough to see his face. He contemplated the dwarves with a mixture of anger and amusement.

“I have an engagement this evening that I must attend for political reasons,” he said finally. “Do you imagine I was going to miss it?”

Ivan hesitated, furtively darting a glance at Irina then Kirill. “No?”