Читать книгу In the Service of the King - Laura Kaye - Страница 6

After years of imagining this very moment, he was speaking to her. And, oh, God, what a voice. Deep, resonating and slightly accented, it dragged over her like a caress.

Oh, he asked me something…what did he ask? Her brain engaged again and her lips fell open. “Shayla, Your Highness, Shayla McKinnon.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Shayla. I am Kael, Son of Iain, Warrior King of the Vampires, Chieftain of Clan MacQuillan.”

His introduction set her insides to trembling. Vampire. At one time, the concept had been impossible to conceive. But she’d been forced to confront the reality of their existence one cold winter night when men in uniforms and dark suits had arrived at her family’s home and delivered the news her older sister had been murdered. At fourteen, Shayla had been completely devastated. Though she realized her father’s position as editor in chief of a major Irish newspaper made him a prominent figure in their community, she’d known nothing of her parents’ high-level role in the Electorate Council. Hadn’t known it existed at all.

But once she found out, knowledge was power, and the only thing that provided any solace to her grief was learning there were other vampires, good vampires, who fought the vile creatures who had harmed Dana.

From that moment on, purpose and a sense of mission filled Shayla’s life. She vowed to find a way to join that fight, a role she could fill in advance of inheriting her parents’ positions on the Electorate Council upon their deaths. So, when the offer to become one of the Proffered arrived, she jumped at the chance. If she could do nothing else, sustaining the warriors battling evil would make a contribution, if small. But she wanted to do more. A restlessness to help fueled her, driving her to overload classes and take summer school such that she graduated high school before her sixteenth birthday. She began university and the Proffered training in tandem, completing the latter at nineteen, readying her to perform her duties for one of the vampires some time during her twentieth year. College graduation occurred soon after. Toward what end she did all this, she didn’t quite know, but it felt right. And the fire in her gut demanded action, cried for vengeance.

The king padded across the mostly bare floor, circled her. The weight of his observation settled over her. She girded her muscles to brace against the tremors she almost couldn’t help. “Do you know why you are here?” he asked as he stopped before her once more.

Shayla inhaled to speak, but froze. You’re going to have to try harder than that. She mentally high-fived herself for not making such an elementary slip. He hadn’t specifically told her to respond, now, had he?

Excitement and adrenaline made her stomach flip-flop. How Shayla had hoped this man, this vampire king, would live up to her years of fantasizing. Once she’d learned, during her Proffered training, of his incredible exploits against the Soul Eaters—and his losses—the idea of meeting him, serving him, had quieted her restlessness like nothing before. She’d busted her butt working to the top of the class of Proffereds, earning the notice and mentorship of the most experienced and connected trainer. Her interest in this Warrior King ignited an academic curiosity about Celtic history and culture, and she’d built on her training by pursuing those studies at the graduate level. All for the chance of serving Kael the Fair, a chance she was so very thrilled to have this night.

Just being in his presence was a dream come true, and she determined to face her duty with strength and courage no matter what else happened. Though, the thought he would need her, might find her attractive, desirable even, was such an incredible turn-on she’d had no problem protecting her virtue from her few suitors over the years. Imagining what he’d seen in his long lifetime and what she could learn from him inspired her interest in the medieval history of the British Isles, now so central to the intellectual identity she’d developed for herself. So, her innocence was his to take, if he would have it. She felt no shame in that.

She only wished he would want her time and time again, but knew that wasn’t his practice.

Shayla frowned and internally chided herself for letting her thoughts run away with her. If she wasn’t careful, she would make a mistake. She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and cleared her mind, assessed her position. She held the pose just as she’d been taught: knees on the floor and spread, bottom resting on her heels, back and shoulders erect, hands resting on her thighs palms up, head down, eyes diverted. Her submission was part of her offering; it communicated the voluntary nature of her presence before the Warrior King. As she knelt there, the thin white silk robe the only barrier between his blazing eyes and her flesh, she’d never felt more brave, more in control of herself…more alive.

She drew strength from those feelings and awaited the king’s command.

Kael smiled down at the top of her head, and felt a little like testing her. He didn’t practice domination with all of his sexual partners, though the challenges inherent in it thrilled his intellect and his libido. But, given how tightly he had to control himself in order to restrain his natural instincts when in the presence of the Proffered, he’d long ago realized restricting their behavior, words and actions would enable his own control.

“You may answer my question, Shayla. Do you know why you are here?”

A light pink bloomed on her pale cheeks. “I am here to offer myself in whatever capacity might please you, Sire.”

The king tilted his head as his gaze raked over her, absorbing every detail of her appearance, observing every quiet shift in her downcast expression. “Indeed,” Kael murmured. He reached down and grasped a long braid, stroked his thumb over the length of it. Her hair was silky and fine even through the weaving. He tightened his fist around it to break his urge to plunge his hand into the beautiful mass of hair.

Finally, he dropped the fine strands of dark chocolate and came round to stand in front of her. “Look at me.”

She responded immediately to the direct command, tilting her head back but keeping her expression passive. That didn’t stop him from noticing the dilation of her eyes as they settled on him.

He sucked in a breath. He would’ve been impressed with her responsiveness if he hadn’t been so completely enthralled by those eyes. Her left iris was a brilliant emerald, nearly rivaling his own in the intensity and clarity of green. Her right, however, was a bright turquoise, touched by green to be sure, but without question a deep, dazzling blue. The effect of her mismatched gaze, paired as it was with her fair, creamy skin and dark tresses, was arresting. His mouth gaped in rapture of her beauty.

Powerless to resist, he leaned down and cupped her left cheek in his hand. He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone, his finger playing with the ends of her eyelashes. “You have been touched by magic.”

Her breathing stuttered and her eyes grew glassy. She blinked the threatening tears away. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered. She pressed her face into his hand, just the tiniest bit.

That one small movement seemed weighted with emotion and affection, drawing Kael into personal conversation he rarely offered the Proffered. “Am I to understand that tonight actually marks your birthday?”

Shayla bit her lip and nodded.

The image of her teeth buried in plump flesh made his body tighten. Her birthday, how wonderfully unusual. It happened, of course, though the Proffered’s blood was most potent any time during her twentieth year. “Well, Shayla McKinnon, I will try to make it a good one for you, yes?”

Her smile was warm, glorious. “Thank you, Sire.”

The way she looked at him sent ripples of electricity through his blood. His fangs elongated. Kael pressed his lips together and dropped his hand, backed away.

Something like confusion shadowed her face before she straightened her expression and lowered her gaze once more.

Those eyes are going to be a problem. He was drawn to them, to her. He wanted to pull her up from the floor and onto the bed, and lay her out on her side as he rested facing her. He wanted to learn about her as he stared into those magical eyes. And he never wanted to learn about any of the Proffered. He never allowed himself to imagine them as companions. He was on dangerous ground.

But her face was like a mask of his people’s mythology. One eye offered the green of their sacred stone, and the other the hue they cherished for its representation of fidelity, loyalty. Her porcelain skin reflected the purity of intent the diamond in his hair stood for, and her dark red lips were the color of life-giving blood. Her face was a mirror of the sacred stones—emerald, sapphire, diamond, ruby—hanging in his hair.

It had to…mean something. Didn’t it?

No!

He hadn’t realized he’d growled in response to his thoughts until Shayla jumped. Kael resumed his earlier pacing, growing more frustrated at himself and the situation as he thought about the dangerous impossibility of his emerging desires for her. He was half tempted to send her away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And that turned his frustration into anger.

He marched to the large cabinet in the corner and wrenched open the doors. The left one banged against the wall and ricocheted back at him. He yanked out a drawer and drew a heavy black eye mask from among the items displayed within. He had to hide those eyes.

He stalked across the room and stopped just behind Shayla’s now-trembling form. Remarkably, he noted in passing admiration, it was the first fear she’d demonstrated since he’d walked into the room….

He shook his head. “Rise, Proffered.”

Shayla complied immediately, but was as confused by his suddenly harsh tone as by him calling her by her title rather than her name. She’d been warned he might do so, but he’d been using her name so freely just moments before. Not only that, but his declaration—you have been touched by magic—had been so affectionate and earnest it filled her heart with the acceptance and appreciation of her appearance she hadn’t always found growing up. Kids had teased her about her “mutant eyes,” and it wasn’t until adulthood that she’d come to prize their uniqueness and ignore the mean comments and staring gazes. The admiring tone in his words had fueled the secret hope she harbored that tonight would lead to something more, something meaningful.

Blackness cut off her thoughts. Cool fabric covered her eyes and she swayed at the unexpected loss of her vision. His large hands on her shoulders steadied and inflamed her, and she immediately regretted the loss of their heat when he drew them away.

“Hold out your left arm.” His voice held none of the warmth of before, none of the soothing welcoming tone that had calmed and reassured her earlier. She followed the command, reining in her rising disappointment as she did so. How stupid of her to read anything into his kindness. She’d been warned what would occur this night—and what wouldn’t. And yet, she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, and she’d formed impossible expectations.

“Come.” Kael supported her arm and led her across the room. She resisted gripping onto his wrist, despite the instincts that implored her otherwise, and soon she was following his command to sit.

The chair was hard and forced her into the straightest posture. Kael arranged her arm on the wide downward-slanting surface of the armrest. Her wrist and hand hung off the end. Knowing what was coming, Shayla’s heart rate spiked and her breathing became shallow.

Something threaded between her arm and side, and warmth grazed her left breast. She barely restrained a gasp. A stretchy band bit into her bicep over the silk of her robe. None of this was unexpected, though she had thought she would have the use of her eyes to watch him work. She took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax.

Focusing on her memory of his appearance helped. God, she’d barely been able to breathe when she’d first laid eyes on him. He was…the most fascinating man she had ever seen. The vibrant deep green of his eyes was surreal. Dim lighting seemed to reflect out of them and, like an animal’s eyes, they glowed and flashed. His amazing mane of bronze hair hung down over his shoulders, and a braid with green, red, blue and clear stones tied back the hair on one side of his head, revealing the incredible angularity of his masculine face. His brow was strong, pronounced, and his cheekbones were high and sharp. His square jaw framed a mouth so full and expressive her own mouth filled with saliva at the thought of getting to taste him. Lust and desire had barreled through her veins, making his mood change all the more disorienting.

No matter. What she wanted wasn’t their purpose. A cold wetness washed over her wrist before being wiped away. What mattered most was what he needed—to maintain his strength in the war against the Soul Eaters. And she was willing to give. It was why she was here.

Kael needed to get this over with. Shayla’s—no, the Proffered’s—presence seemed to be sucking the very air out of the room and, with it, his control. There was just something about her. He needed this to be over and for her to be gone.

That would fix everything.

He rushed through his preparations, not taking the usual time to reassure the Proffered, to ease her fear. He appreciated the sacrifices they made for his well-being, and so his normal practice was to take every precaution to limit their fear, reduce their pain. Now, he did the minimum, drawing solace from her poise and calmness. She didn’t seem to need the same bolstering as some of the other Proffereds. He admired her for that, which was the problem in a nutshell.

Kael pulled the wooden stand holding the ceremonial goblet in front of the corner of the Proffered’s chair and positioned it to catch the blood that would flow from her wrist.

“Listen to my voice,” he began. Normally, he would’ve used his eyes too, the combination of voice and eyes being the most effective at completing the hypnotism, but he just…couldn’t. “I wish to have your blood. You will not feel pain, and I will make it so you bear no lasting injury. Do not be frightened. I wish you only to feel pleasure in giving me this most sacred of gifts and to know how much I appreciate your offering.” Kael rushed through the words and felt a little odd he couldn’t see his assurances reflected back in her expression.

He removed the blade from its holster.

“Do you give your blood freely, Proffered?” The knife hovered over her wrist.

She didn’t answer, and he glanced from her wrist to her face.

He hadn’t given her permission to answer. Such discipline, despite the stressed scent of her adrenaline in the air. Just who was testing whom here? “Answer me.”

“Yes, Your Highness, I give you my blood freely. It is yours.” Her voice was clear, firm.

He had no idea what possessed her to add on that final declaration, but he had no business liking the sentiment as much as he did. An odd tingling skittered over his right hand and his cock stirred under his robe. He shook off the rising fog of arousal. He had to do this. Now. Kael drew the dagger across the soft unblemished skin of her wrist. A red ribbon bloomed immediately, along with the rich, spicy aroma of her lifeblood, and Kael placed the knife on the edge of the stand next to the golden goblet.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He glanced at her face. Her cheeks had paled, but otherwise she was silent, still. Her heart sounded out the same staccato beat as before. “You are doing so well, Proffered. Be at ease.”

As crimson droplets pooled in the deep cup, Kael reached up and released the tourniquet, increasing the fragrant flow. He swallowed thickly, his body anticipating, responding. Desire set his muscles on edge.

The cup filled steadily, perfectly. Kael inhaled and the heady scent of her offering collided with every nerve in his body. He gasped and his mouth dropped open. Though he wouldn’t need them, his fangs elongated further and demanded he taste the thick warm liquid, quench his endless thirst. Ancient instincts whispered dark promises in his ear and urged him to claim her, skin to skin, mouth to throat. His erection roared to life at his imaginings and pushed easily against the thin silk of his robe. Nearly panting, he licked his bottom lip repeatedly. Had he ever felt such hunger?

When he glanced up at Shay…er, the Proffered’s face, her bottom lip was quivering.

Kael frowned as his mind raced and unease settled like a rock in his gut.

Though the cup was not quite filled, he bent immediately and licked his healing saliva across her wound. The exquisite flavor of her lifeblood exploded inside his mouth and his cock twitched and wept.

A single tear rolled out from under the right side of her eye mask.

Kael’s loins deflated as he sucked in a breath. Dread slid like ice down his spine. He reached out and eased the mask up and off her eyes. The strap on one side tangled in a braid and pulled it loose. A white flower fluttered down into her lap.

Her eyes, so beautiful, so expressive, told him how badly he’d messed up.

What have I done?