Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

into his chest.
    At the last moment—she turned it on herself.
    “No!” he bellowed. Then somehow he was between her and the sword tip, wedged against her body.
    The blade slid into his lower back until it met bone.
    She gasped, feeling his muscles tensing against her, sensing his escalating rage. The red of his irises bled over the whites of his eyes completely. He bared those fangs down at her. “This makes twice that you’ve defied me, súka . You’ve erred for ill.”
    With a snap of his wrist, he sent her flying to the floor.
    Stunned. Flat on her back. Hysterical tears threatening.
    She heard him removing the sword from his body, then tossing it away. Won’t cry in front of him. Won’t surrender to his bitch.
    For courage, she recalled the years spent staring at cinder-block walls. Counting the blocks, the grout lines, seeing patterns and shapes. She’d called it the Cinder-Block Channel.
    All block, all day. No interruptions. Ever.
    Gritting her teeth, she twisted to her side, working to rise. Her hair had come loose, spilling over her face. She shoved a lock from her eyes.
    “Stay—down,” he ordered, towering over her. He was a fiend, an animal, still had blood sprayed on his face. How many had he murdered today?
    “Go back to hell, asshole.” Then she spat on his boots.

4
    L othaire snatched her upper arms, yanking her against him, ignoring the pain from his new wound. She tried to end herself again. Almost succeeded . . .
    “Let me go!” She thrashed against his hold.
    Elizabeth had nearly robbed him of his coveted Bride, had disobeyed his orders—twice—and had stabbed him.
    Yet she was furious with him ?
    When she continued to flail, his grip tightened until a cry was wrenched from her lips, and she stilled.
    Control yourself. He inhaled deeply. Else forfeit your Bride. He was far too strong to lose control when she was near. The rage . . . madness . . .
    Inhale. Exhale. Saroya was in his keeping, safe for now. Disaster averted.
    After long moments, he found his wrath ebbing, the haze dissipating somewhat. He eased his grip but kept her close to him. “Are you done?” he snapped.
    Expression mulish, she muttered, “For a spell.”
    Challenging me still? Lothaire knew he balanced on the very brink of insanity; now he realized this human might already be there.
    But in the wake of his anger, the pain of his injuries lessened, drownedout by an excruciating awareness of her. He gazed down into her striking eyes with bemusement.
    The feeling was almost . . . hypnotic.
    She permeated all his senses. His Bride’s body was giving off an unbearable heat as it trembled against him. Her rapid heartbeat was a siren’s call to him, flaunting its coursing rush. A vein in her neck pulsed invitingly.
    Pain? He felt none.
    His gaze fell on the silky spill of her hair flowing loose past her shoulders. Dark brown waves made the color of those eyes stand out: smoky gray, framed with thick black lashes.
    She’d grown prettier in the intervening years. Curvier. Her hips rounded enticingly, her high breasts straining against that threadbare top.
    He rubbed his tongue over a fang as he recalled the first night he’d seen Saroya. She’d been in the woods at a makeshift altar, covered in blood beneath the light of the full moon.
    One look at her, and his heart had awakened from its long slumber. Breath had filled his lungs. His shaft had stiffened with a swift heat, demanding its first release in millennia.
    He hardened now, remembering how he’d licked her victim’s blood from her sweet skin as he’d stroked himself. She’d stood passive against him—a giving female, the softness to his strength—as he’d shuddered and spilled his seed upon the leaves. . . .
    Whatever Elizabeth saw in his expression made her suck in a breath, her cheeks pinkening. “What do you want from me?”
    His gaze fell on her neck, his fangs throbbing for that tender flesh. To touch you. To drink you and make you grow wet from it. . . .
    No, not her ! Lust rode him hard, but he would never act on it. Though Lothaire killed so readily, though he unfailingly acted without honor, he wouldn’t betray his queen.
    Especially not with a worthless mortal, a female normally beneath his notice.
    He released Elizabeth, shoving her away from him. Lothaire would slake himself with his Bride alone.
    When would she rise?
    Saroya had explained much of how the possession worked with Elizabeth. Neither female knew what the other was