Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

vampires would ramp up once more. The Forbearers would likely make a play for the throne, led by the natural-born Kristoff—for whom Lothaire held a particularly lethal animosity, and who’d rebelled against the Horde in the past.
    But Kristoff had forbidden his army to drink blood straight from the flesh—to forbear. Which violated one of the Horde’s two sacred tenets: the Thirst.
    Aside from Kristoff there was one other contender, unlikely though she might be.
    Much to analyze, moves to predict . . .
    “I rolled to find Dorada, but she’s far removed from us at present,” Hag said.
    “Very good,” he answered absently, only now remembering that he hadn’t predicted Tymur’s movements, hadn’t slain the vampire with his customary detachment. In defending Elizabeth, Lothaire had thrown away his greatest weapon, had relied on searing instinct.
    She is mine.
    Reading him so well, Hag said, “You know it’s Elizabeth now, do you not? Perhaps you won’t slit my throat to my spine if I speak of this?”
    He’d been so arrogant during that conversation with Hag, dismissing the idea of a mortal Bride as absurd. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Hag exactly how ensnared he was with Saroya.
    “How will you get Elizabeth to forget all you’ve done to her?” Hag asked. “She won’t be able to easily, if at all. Trust me on this.”
    “Doesn’t matter if she’s my Bride. I can’t keep her. My plans must remain unchanged.”
    Hag blinked at him. “You don’t intend . . . ? Lothaire, if you go through with this, it will destroy you.”
    “I’ll be destroyed if I don’t fulfill these vows.”
    “Your mother wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
    “You assume I speak of the vows I made to Ivana? Perhaps I foolishly made others—”
    Elizabeth sauntered in. Tanned, barefoot, grinning in her short cutoffs.
    So sexy his thoughts blanked for a long moment.
    “Hey, Lothaire. Thad’s been telling us all about you. How heroic you are.” She sidled up to him with a hip-swinging gait that quickened his pulse. “And you went and got ash vines for me?”
    Hag chose that moment to turn her stove to simmer and swerve out of the kitchen onto the deck.
    Before he ever decided to reach for Elizabeth, Lothaire found his hands circling her waist. “So certain I did it for you?” he asked, lifting her to the counter.
    “Uh-huh. You only needed to keep my body healthy. Not my mind.”
    He eased his hips between her knees. “Perhaps you shouldn’t attribute characteristics to me that aren’t there.”
    “And you should stop with the Lothaire-speak.” She raised her hand to his chest, making lazy swirls with her forefinger.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You ask questions to get around lying. Or you say things like”—she imitated his accent—“ ‘perhaps you’ or ‘I’d surmise that you.’ Yeah, that’s right, vampire, I got your number.”
    It disconcerted him how quickly she’d learned his tells, but he made his face impassive. “Did you worry for me today? In between tequila shots?”
    She sighed. “And you also abruptly change the subject. In any case, I did worry about you, Leo.”
    “What did you call me?”
    “Your initials. Lothaire the Enemy of Old? Sounds like Lothaire the Wizard of Oz. Leo suits you better.”
    His fingers dug into the counter on either side of her hips. “Enemy of Old is not just a name, it’s a designation. It takes bold strokes to survive in the Lore; I’ve earned the right to be called that.”
    “Well, right now you’ve earned your nickname, too.”
    “Why now?”
    “I’m buzzed and you’re looking gorgeous and kissable. You needed a nickname.”
    In all his life, no one had ever called him by one. Nor felt the casual ease to do so. “Why this . . . affection? Last night you were crying. Aren’t you angry that I took you to Helvita?”
    “I grabbed you,” she admitted. “You started to disappear, so I tried to shake you awake.”
    “Concern for me?” His spike of pleasure was overrun by irritation. “And yet I’d ordered you not to touch me. Why would you disobey me?”
    “You called for me, repeatedly yelling my name.”
    Then some part of him had known Elizabeth was his.
    “And you’d told me that you could be killed if you traced in your sleep! After seeing the creatures awaitin’ you, I believe it.”
    His shoulder muscles knotted. “What do you remember?”
    “Jumbled bits up to a point, then nothing. Anyhow, I’m past