Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

wrestling for control of his temper. “Circumstances are different now. My needs are strong, and my mind seizes on them. I can’t afford to lose my concentration.”
    “Very well. I’ll attempt to rise tomorrow night,” she lied.
    “Don’t attempt , goddess.” He caught her wrist, forcing her palm to his pulsing erection. “I’m a blooded male. I will have another relieve me of this ache. You or a stranger. Decide.”
    Saroya yanked back her hand, parting her lips to tell him to have at a stranger. But then she realized that securing a bedmate could take time
away from his search, and his dalliances with another would limit the
time he personally remained with this body.
    Which wouldn’t do. Not with Dorada in the picture.
    An idea arose. Why not let Elizabeth endure his primitive lusts? “You may sate yourself on Elizabeth.” At least, up to a point. Saroya didn’t want her favorite temple defiled by Lothaire’s offspring.
    “Sate myself with a human ,” he bit out with disgust. “With that human?”
    “I give you leave to use her at will. Just save the claiming for me—and don’t mar her skin further with your bites!”
    “You ask much of me, female.”
    Time to stroke his ego. “This is but temporary, my king. I only want to be yours in all ways, to rule the Horde by your side. You are a great and powerful male. You deserve a queen to match you, Lothaire.” She forced herself to smooth her hand down his chest. “Imagine an eternity of bloodletting together, hunting together, conquering together. . . .”
    She knew he’d too long dreamed of these things to go unmoved.
    Lothaire’s need to rule over his brethren wasn’t merely obsessive—it was pathological. Which fit into her plans. For the rest of time, she would strive for godhood, but for the present, she would accept ruling a kingdom of creatures who lived in the manner she had set forth. . . .
    Feeding on others, claiming the night as her own dominion.
    Of course, ultimately she would be the supreme ruler of these creatures, and Lothaire would be her fawning consort. “As your queen, I will lay your crown upon your fair head and rejoice as all night beings tremble before you.”
    His brows drew together, his yearning for this nigh palpable.
    “Soon, my king,” she murmured, just before another wave of dizziness washed over her. She moved to the edge of the bed, sinking down.
    He shook his head hard, commanding her, “Fight her now . Remain with me.”
    “The girl’s coming.” Saroya irritably kicked off her stilettos. “There’s nothing I can do, Lothaire. Just use her!”
    “ Blyad’! You don’t know what you’re saying. You rise tomorrow night, goddess, or suffer my wrath!”
    Her lids fluttered closed and blackness took her.

9
    E llie shot awake with a frantic inhalation.
    Each time she rose was like fighting her way along a black, soundless tunnel only to break through with a rush of momentum.
    Now she jerked her head around, finding herself in a dim room atop the softest sheets she’d ever imagined.
    Not in prison— Memories of the afternoon returned like a crashing wave.
    Lothaire’s hot mouth against her neck. His fangs raking over her skin for blood. His tongue snaking to the drops.
    She shivered. He’d tasted her blood. Oh, my Lord, vampires exist.
    A demon possession hadn’t been such a jump for a girl from Appalachia, home of serpent handlers, speaking in tongues, and the fabled Mothman.
    But the idea of a blood-drinking vampire had sent her entire world askew.
    And if that was true, then she had no reason not to believe Saroya was a deity.
    Ellie threw her arm over her face, groaning in misery, “Oh, God.”
    “I am not the god you’re referring to,” Lothaire intoned from a murky corner. “Although to you, I might as well be.”
    She shot upright in the bed, squinting into the dark. His red eyes glowed from the shadows like embers.
    “You!” Her nightmare continued. Fitting, since it was now night outside. The curtains were drawn back and a chill breeze blew between opened French doors. A skyline sparkled in the distance.
    Another day of lost time. But she supposed all time was borrowed
now.
    Then she assessed her body. No blood?
    She was dressed in a nearly indecent silk gown, with bracelets and rings adorning her. Long red nails tipped her fingers. No skin embedded beneath them? Saroya always left her with horrific scenes. So where were the corpses? “Did Saroya . . . did she kill while I