Dreams of a Dark Warrior

over Chase’s furious railings, Lothaire said, “Until we escape, I want you to
yield
your blood to me.”
    Submitting to my bite.
Nothing would humiliate a man like Chase more, nothing could bring him so low. Though Lothaire was calculating—choosing to serve the Endgame, rather than his emotions—he
was
a vindictive son of a bitch.
    ***
    “Never.”
The scent of flames and volatile aviation fuel oozed over Declan. “Just free me!” The nearing fire, the
frustration
. He was going to burn to death without reaching Regin. And if he died, who would get her off this island before the Order retaliated?
    The vampire said, “Someone will pay for the damage you did. Perhaps your woman? Yes, I should go pierce her bright flesh. If she lives yet.”
    “Don’t you
fuckin’ dare.
”
    “Poor Regin. She could be bleeding out, or about to burn like you. Ah, she looked so weak, too. She could actually perish.” He tsked. “A legendary being like that, her life force extinguished forever. Because you wouldn’t surrender mere drops of your blood. And possibly a memory or two.”
    “No, no!”
    Lothaire rose. “Her blood will be sublime.”
    “Don’t touch her!”
Touch what’s mine, and I’ll punish you.
    Lothaire knelt once more. “I want all the blood I can drink from you, Magister. Whenever and
however
I choose to drink it until we leave this island.”
    However?
Declan didn’t understand, couldn’t think. The metal frame of the plane was heating all around him, searing his skin. He would give his life to save hers, but surrendering his blood to a detrus … ?
    To have another one of these creatures feeding from his body?
    “Never mind. I’ll return with her head, so the two of you can fry together.” Lothaire turned once more.
    “I vow it.” Declan bit back a yell as pain racked him. “Now free me!”
    “Very well.” After several tries, the vampire hauled him loose in a rush. As Declan labored just to rise up on his battered knees, Lothaire snatched free two seat belts, using them to tie Declan’s hands behind his back.
    “What the hell is this, vampire?”
    Lothaire shoved one hand against the side of his face and clamped the other over his shoulder.
    “
No!
What the fuck are you doing?”
    “Exacting, no,
accepting
a payment from you. I promised you that you’d know when I wanted to drink you. Because my fangs would be shoved deep in your neck.” The vampire dipped down, murmuring, “They’re about to be. And with your invitation.”
    Declan flailed, roaring with fury.
Another detrus feeding on me!
Another one touching my skin!
    “It can be quite enjoyable if you relax.”
    But no matter how hard Declan struggled, he couldn’t get free. He felt the vampire’s breath against his neck right before the bastard pierced him. There wasn’t the pain he’d expected, just a disgusting fullness.
    The rage, the unspeakable humiliation . . .
    Lothaire drew deep, his tongue working as he lapped and sucked. When the vampire groaned, Declan shuddered with revulsion, dizziness washing over him with each greedy pull from his neck.
    Finally the vampire released him with another groan, sitting back on his haunches. “Your blood is
steeped
in power.” Running his tongue over a fang, hesaid, “Among other things. I believe I might be high. But I
like
it.”
    “You wanted my memories, leech? They’re all yours.” All the torture, misery, hate. Declan gave a crazed laugh. “You’ll fuckin’ choke on them!”

THIRTY-SEVEN

    T he magister’s blood was delicious and drugged. Yet what a bitter aftertaste!
    No matter. Lothaire couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted blood so powerful. His skin began regenerating in a rush, strength filling him.
    Out of his countless victims only a handful had ever fueled him as Chase had.
    Berserkers. Those rare creatures. Who knew?
    If he could have blood like this
and
lose the torque …
    “You filthy parasite—I will kill you for this!” Chase’s muscles began to swell, his eyes glowing, but he’d probably burned through his berserkrage surviving that plane crash.
    “Admit it, Magister, you liked it a little.” Lothaire hauled him to his feet.
    “One day I’ll cut off your fuckin’ head.”
    “Words hurt, Chase.”
    The man opened his mouth to say more, then gritted his teeth. “This isn’t finished.” Through the pouring rain, he lumbered in the Valkyrie’s direction, following the swath of the plane’s landing.
    Lothaire trailed him,