Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

all ways— a queen even Ivana would bow down to.
    Blyad’! How could his Bride expect him to use Elizabeth? Maybe Saroya didn’t see the dichotomy between the two females, but it was plain to Lothaire.
    It would be like taking an entirely different woman.
    Once Saroya understood their circumstances better, she would not be so keen for Lothaire to enjoy another. He imagined how he’d feel if the situation were reversed.
    Homicidal.
    Though he’d scorned Elizabeth in her teens, even he had been misguidedly protective of her. When he’d seen her kissing that male, Lothaire had tossed his truck into a valley. The male had run out of the water to investigate, so Lothaire had dropped him down as well. . . .
    Maybe Saroya feels no jealousy because she feels nothing for you, a part of his mind whispered.
    Yes, Lothaire prided himself on predicting others’ actions; did he truly anticipate Saroya rising for him tomorrow night?
    Though he could hardly believe it, the goddess remained unconvinced of his charms. An absurdity, he knew, but who could fathom the minds of females?
    Lothaire resolved to spoil her further and demonstrate to her his prowess in bed—to ensure she needed him for other things.
    He exhaled. It’d been so long since he’d had sex that he might not have retained any prowess. He smirked, thinking, Maybe I should practice on Elizabeth.
    A sudden jolt of lust took him like a punch, wiping away his smirk. He sliced his gaze to her. Studying gray eyes met his.
    The idea was sound.
    Or maybe I’m grasping at straws, rationalizing why I want to touch a human.
    No, his Bride’s shared body was confusing his suffering mind. That was the only reason he’d desire her.
    Unless I’m more like my father than I care to admit?

11
    I have work to do,” the vampire said as he traced Ellie back to her bedroom, leaving her wobbling on her feet. Would she ever get used to teleporting? “You’ll stay in here until I return for you.”
    “Work? Getting back your thrones?”
    “Do you always ask so many questions?”
    “Do you always answer so few of them?” she countered, earning another scowl. “Just tell me this. If Saroya is so all-fired important to you, then why’d you leave her in prison?”
    “I was assured you’d be physically safe there.”
    “And mentally?”
    “I couldn’t care less. I’m only concerned with your body.”
    Typical male. “What did I need to be protected from?”
    “I’m the Enemy of Old. There are many who would harm Saroya to strike back at me.”
    “Harm her. In my body.”
    He grasped her jaw, his skin surprisingly warm. “As I’ve told you—you’re protected here, girl. The only one you need fear is me.”
    Which meant this was the last place she needed to be. Ellie could pick a lock, but what about busting out of an invisible jail? If there weremystical locks, were there mystical picks? “What about my belongings? Toothbrush, underwear, et cetera?”
    “Anything you need is in the bathroom. Any clothing”—he opened a door in the hallway—“is in here.” He’d revealed a closet as big as her old trailer.
    Her thoughts blanked when she entered. Dresses, coats, purses, slacks—everywhere. There must be several dozen pairs of shoes, even more sweaters and blouses.
    Eyes wide, she spun in place. “These are the finest clothes I’ve ever seen!”
    Lothaire leaned his shoulder against the doorway. “They would be. Appalachian couture is reputedly lacking.”
    She knew he was pointedly insulting her but chose to act as if he were jesting. She’d fought toe-to-toe with him and lost. Now she’d try another tack.
    Mama had always said, “You get more with honey than you do with vinegar. And when you run out of both, you reach for the buckshot.”
    Ellie had concluded she might’ve reached for the buckshot pretty early.
    Now she said, “ Appalachian and couture ? Put a quarter in the oxymoron jar.” She meandered toward the back, browsing rack after rack.
    At home, she’d had few clothes—a couple pairs of worn jeans, some cutoffs for summer, a few T-shirts, guide gear. Then in prison, four alternating uniforms.
    This selection was overwhelming. “Did you get all this for Saroya?”
    He seemed more relaxed than he’d been in the dining room, maybe gazing at her with a bit less hostility. “I did.”
    Ellie tried to imagine the reaction of a goddess. “She must’ve gone nuts.”
    “She desired every last garment and bauble,” he said, his Russian