King of Battle and Blood (Adrian X Isolde #1)(4)

“Isolde,” he repeated my name, a rough growl that vibrated against my chest. “My sweet.”

Then he bent, and his tongue swept across the wound on my chest. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak. The worst part was that this felt good. It felt possessive and immoral, and I found myself no longer trying to stab him but clinging to him as he worked.

When he drew away, his full lips were stained with my blood. He swallowed, and his eyes gleamed as he studied my eyes, my lips, my throat. The stare ignited something deep inside me, and the fire spread, making me ache. I was ashamed, because I knew this man was a soldier for the Blood King, a vampire.

I jerked in his grasp and was surprised when he released me. I stumbled back, my hand going to my chest, meeting smooth skin. I was healed.

“You’re a monster.”

“I healed you,” he said, as if that made him less so.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” I snapped.

“No, but you enjoyed it.”

I glared. “You were controlling me.”

That was why I hadn’t been able to grip my sword, why my body seemed to be at odds with my mind, why I suddenly felt desperate to be crushed beneath the weight of a warm body that could fill me better than anything I’d ever had before. I was out of control.

And it was his fault.

“I do not control emotions.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, it was hard to accuse him of lying.

I lifted my blade, and the vampire laughed.

“Anger suits you, my sweet. I like it.”

I scowled, but my anger just made him smile wider, his lips pulling back from gleaming white teeth, no sign that he’d just feasted on my blood. My hatred for him deepened.

“It is still daylight,” I said. “How are you able to walk among us?”

Vampires could only go out during the day in Revekka, where the red sky blocked the sun’s rays. Were they evolving? The thought brought a new kind of dread into the pit of my stomach.

“It is nearly sunset,” he said. “This time is not so dangerous for someone like me.”

What did that mean?

I did not ask, and he did not offer an explanation. Instead, he inclined his head. “We’ll meet again, Princess Isolde. I’ll make sure of it.”

His promise shivered through me like an oath he’d sworn to the goddesses themselves. I lifted my blade and charged, but as I swung, he vanished like mist in the morning sun.

Alone, I began to shake.

I’d survived an encounter with a vampire who had tasted my blood, and the worst part about it was that he’d been right.

I did like it.





Two


I had seen victims of vampires—humans who were on the cusp of change before their hearts were cut from their bodies and burned. I’d also seen bodies drained of blood, past the point of survival. But I’d never encountered an actual vampire.

“They look like us but are not us,” Killian’s father had warned during training. “They are fast. They will control your mind and drink your blood, and you will not survive. If you do, you will wish for death.”

Those were the truths I’d been told about vampires.

He’d never said how they were like us—that they could be beautiful, that their touch would inspire an acute desire beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Everything inside me was wound so tight, each breath was a reminder of how desperately I wanted to be touched.

“Isolde!”

But not by him.

Killian’s voice broke through the fog of my mind. He was close, and I did not want to be caught. There was too much to explain here in this clearing—the strzyga, my torn dress, the absence of blood.

I turned on my heels and fled.

The castle felt like it had doubled in distance. The walk was agonizing, and I grew frustrated, still feeling the effects of my encounter with the vampire. My body was warm, especially between my thighs, and I was hyperaware of how heavy and sensitive my breasts felt, rubbed raw by the woolen cloak I kept close. By the time I exited the tree line, I ached.

This was torture.

Was that what this was? Some cruel form of warfare?

I skirted the high, stone walls that rose ominously and cast me in a chill shadow. The walls were a complex system of forts, bastions, and towers that ran, uninterrupted, encircling High City of Lara and Castle Fiora. They’d been built over two hundred years ago, after the birth of the monsters in Cordova—the start of the Dark Era. There were four gates that allowed entrance into High City. Two were actually useful, one for trade that led into the heart of the city. The other was for diplomats and offered a pleasing route along cobble roads to the gleaming white towers of the castle.

The other two gates were symbolic. One was for Asha, goddess of life, the other for Dis, goddess of spirit. Once, they would have opened at dawn, marking the waking of the city, symbolizing the balance of life and death. But since the birth of the vampires, Dis’s gate remained sealed, a decision that had been made by the kings of the Nine Houses over one hundred and fifty years ago. There were a few priestesses of Dis who admonished the decision, claiming that the plague of the monsters would only grow worse—and they hadn’t been wrong. It was why all villages across the Nine Houses had high walls and gates that closed before sunset and did not open until sunrise.