Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

with her. Or had he simply been staggered by his blooding? “The first night I found you, we talked for hours. Why is this like pulling teeth now?”
    “I’m confused, Lothaire. It sounds like you’re auditioning me for a role I’ve already won. One that is mine beyond any rectification. Has the mortal somehow sown discord between us?”
    He made his expression neutral. The mortal has. He’d never thought past the getting of the thrones and the completion of his goals until a human girl had challenged him.
    Now he was forced to wonder what eternity would be like with the female before him.
    No, no, most immortals had difficulties with their mates in the beginning. Especially if they were from different factions or cultures. Lothaire was to be no different. At least in this.
    As other Lorean males did every day, Lothaire would win over his female. He could be charming, if he chose to be. He could coax her to respond to him. “If not talk, then what shall we do this eve, flower?”
    “Hunt. Kill. Spill the blood of innocents.”
    Lothaire didn’t understand this need of Saroya’s to kill. If she wasn’t harvesting blood, then what was the point? He understood murdering his enemies and political obstacles. Reveled in it.
    But Saroya slaughtered her prey for no reason. And Lothaire had vowed not to let her kill. “No hunting. You’re completely hidden from my enemies only here and at my oracle’s,” he told her honestly, though he could have taken her out, half-tracing with her to keep her invisible to others.
    And there was a druidic tattoo she could wear that would render her untrackable. He could acquire the ink from one of his debtors. But I’ll keep that information close for now.
    “Regrettably, Saroya, there’s a bounty on your head—”
    “A bounty!” she exclaimed. “Return my godhood, and I shall smite all your foes, afflict them with madness and plague until they boil and fester, groveling at your feet for mercy!”
    His lips curled. “I do enjoy when you get like this.”
    “I will make a fearsome queen for you, as soon as you find the ring for us.” She studied his face, couldn’t mistake his interest—
    “Until then, enjoy Elizabeth,” she said. “You seem to be rubbing along well with your mortal toy.”
    “Rubbing along?” When she writhed as he’d ejaculated over her? “Yes, I suppose we do that quite well. It’s a good thing you’re not jealous—because the two of us were debauched together.”
    Show displeasure, female. Give enough of a damn that this bothers you.
    Instead, she was incredulous. “The two of you? You didn’t have to force her to slake you?”
    Mildly offended, he grated, “Look at me, Saroya. She can barely keep her hands off me.”
    “But she just went along with it? Even knowing you’re pledged to another?”
    “How pledged am I when you direct me to use a substitute for you?” Saroya was clearly feeling none of the vampiric bond that he did. Only oneway to kindle that. In bed. “Besides, Elizabeth has taken it into her head that she can win me from you.”
    “That amuses me immensely.”
    “Does it? I couldn’t tell. Why don’t you smile, then?” No expression. “Come, you have a pretty smile.”
    “You mean Elizabeth does. Does she grin coyly for you, Lothaire? Are you besotted? Perhaps you do prefer her over me?” she scoffed.
    Might Elizavetta be mine? Her name yelled to the sky had felt . . . right.
    The thought was so abhorrent, he immediately banished it. “I am dangerously close to harming you, goddess.”
    “Surely the great Lothaire wouldn’t be growing foolishly attached.”
    Was it Elizabeth’s abandon that had aroused him so—or merely his Bride’s body? Time to find out. “Attachment? As it so happens, I’m keen to sample her replacement.”
    “The gall! Do you think I won’t remember these snide insults?”
    “Come to me, and I’ll make them all up to you.”
    “I can read that look in your eyes. Strange. I thought you’d be spent for the night.”
    “I can go a dozen rounds if I’m inspired. Come to me. Now. That was not a request.”
    Though her eyes slitted, she did rise and trudge to him. He dragged her into his lap, but she remained tense. “Relax, Saroya.”
    When he’d lain next to Elizabeth with his leg thrown over hers, his arm draping across her soft breasts . . . they fit.
    This was like shoving two mismatched puzzle pieces together, forcing them. No, no. Disordered mind. “I will be easy