Immortals After Dark 01 - The Warlord Wants Forever

friends and family and wouldn’t let her see hers either. He’d explained that he wanted her undivided attention for these two weeks.

    She suspected he was waiting until their relationship was cemented, which he believed would be in three days—the end of what she called the two-week vampire demo. Had it resulted in a sale? She knew it would mean pariah-hood in the Lore and having to give up her family. She could just imagine bringing Wroth to the coven. Her sisters would thank her for the surprise then pounce on him, swords and claws flying with glee.

    As twin sister to Furie, Cara alone would fight him to the death simply for what he was. And though Wroth was incredibly powerful, Cara was quick, with thousands of years more experience and the boiling hatred of a separated twin. The two of them together would be like Godzilla versus Mothra, or some serious epic shite.

    Her second concern was her worry for him. He often traced to Oblak, and each time she wondered if he would face some faction of the Lore intent on killing him just for being a vampire. She believed him when he told her of Kristoff’s agenda and saw no conflict of interest with her covens, so call her an awful person, but she’d turned informant, teaching him how to protect himself.

    Her third beef was that each sunset when they woke he was unbearably surly and curt with her. She feared he’d seen memories of her flirting or even making love—though Nïx had once told her that recipients of visions never saw things they couldn’t recover from and usually only witnessed major, life-changing events. He’d assured her again and again that it was nothing, but Myst had suspicions. Yet she could tolerate his moods because he spent the rest of the night treating her like a queen.

    Just when her toenails had dried, he returned with the slayed dragon and its attendant games and set them at her feet. He looked at her with his brows drawn like he’d missed her, and her heart did funky twisty things in her chest. The impulse came to jump him, so she did.

    Only after he’d squeezed her up in his arms did she realize she’d run to get within them.

Chapter Ten
    W roth shot up in bed, feeling nauseated, physically ill from his nightmares.

    He’d been lashed by the usual dreams of her gloating at a gravesite, then the Roman stroking himself as she slowly dragged her skirt up her thighs. “I’ll possess Myst the Coveted….”

    But details of the memories became more evident each time. This time he’d heard Myst’s amused thoughts at his words—No one possesses me, but in their fantasies. I’ll kill you as easily as kiss you…. “And I’ll be yours, only yours,” she purred, though she detested him.

    Now he’d seen something new. A different, more recent memory. Myst was smoothing on hose, her foot daintily placed on his bed, as she made a decision to…trick him? To act as though she’d capitulated easily in order to get her chain back.

    Play at love and act at surrender.

    He gripped his forehead in his hand. Irrationally, he waited for the soft touch of her hand on his back. She was his Bride, his wife, and she offered him no comfort.

    Even had she truly had that urge, she couldn’t, since he was still secretly commanding her to sleep throughout the day. So she wouldn’t run away from him and leave him in torment again.

    Kill you as easily as kiss you…

    He’d thought they’d had a place to start from, to move forward from, but he’d been fooled by her beauty and abandon. She’d seduced him, made sure he “caught” her working her body that same night, knowing he would lose his mind at the sight.

    He was as much a fool as the Roman, besotted with a fantasy that didn’t exist. At least that long-dead Roman had suffered no delusions that she could care for him. He’d known that she was incapable of feeling and had wanted possession only.

    Wroth had been falling for a fantasy, one that easily manipulated him.

    She desired her freedom and she would use whatever means she had available to get it, leaving him as soon as she’d succeeded.

    Fool.

    When Myst woke, she burrowed down into the covers, feeling relaxed and content to her toes.

    Today was D-day—delivery day for the chain—the end of the demo that she realized had resulted in a sale.

    She snuggled into his pillow, loving his scent, and considered her new feelings. She’d feared her life as she’d known it had ended the minute he’d vowed to give her the