Disappointment nearly felled Nicolai. Why had his magic chosen this woman? What good was a human here? Even so luscious a human? If Jane were asked to perform a ritual, as Odette had often been asked, she would be unable. She would fail. Everyone would know she was not who she claimed to be, before he could get what he wanted.
He had to act faster than planned.
“Listen. I summoned you here, and I am the one who protects you.” A small truth meant to pacify her. “Trust no one else. Only me.” A lie meant to save him. For once she set him free, he truly planned to leave. This palace—and her. As unstable as his abilities were, he could not remove the mask that made her Odette while they were together without the possibility of sending her home. Plus, he needed her able to travel freely through this palace as only a princess could. What a princess couldn’t do was travel unfettered outside these walls.
The moment she let him go, Jane would have nothing but her wits to shield her.
Guilt filled him. Before the emotion had time to settle, develop roots and grow, he ground it into powder and scattered every speck. He could not soften. No matter how desperately he craved this woman’s blood.
“So, you wield some type of magic?” she said. “All right. I can roll with the idea of a magical vampire. But really, a lot of people assume science is magic, so are we talking about planar, natural, runic, divine or metaphysical, because I can—”
“Jane.” She was a babbler. He found the trait … charming. He frowned. Charming? Truly? The need to taste her must be clouding his judgment.
Abashed, she smiled. “I’m sorry. Curiosity and puzzles are my downfall. At least, they used to be. I thought I’d come to hate them, but, well, as you can see, that’s no longer the case.”
That smile … had he ever seen so open and innocent a sight? Another spark of guilt ignited in his chest, but again, he quickly ground and scattered it. Easier done this time, as the force of his arousal intensified, becoming his sole focus.
No. Only escape mattered, he told himself.
“Why me?” she asked. “I mean, how did you know to summon me?”
He’d wanted a female susceptible to the lure of a vampire, one untainted by the evil of the Queen of Hearts, one who was not afraid of blood, who would understand his plight. He told her none of that. He knew women—or, at least, thought he did—and knew it would not please her. “Order my release. Now. Hurry.”
Frustration suddenly radiated from her. “How?” she demanded.
“Summon the guard,” he said. “Tell them to unchain me, that you wish to take me to your bedchamber. Then, tell them to bring the healer to us.”
“The healer?” Her concerned gaze swept over him. “Are you hurt?”
No. But the healer had bound his memories and powers, and so the healer could easily free them. And, he mused darkly, he wanted to kill the bitch. “I do not hear you calling for the guard, Jane.”
“Then your ears are working perfectly, Nicolai. So, the guards will do what I tell them?” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that?”
“In their minds, you are the princess Odette. Oldest daughter of their queen, and soon to be their ruler.” Nicolai finally allowed himself to stride the rest of the way to the bars, his chains rattling. Closing in … “They will do anything you tell them to do.”
She released the metal and backed away before he could touch her. As if he were dirty, unworthy. He probably was. “Yes, but why do they believe I’m Odette?”
A muscle ticked below his eye. Her continued questioning irritated him, yes, but her distance irritated him more. When close to her, the scent of her was nearly overpowering and so delectable he was probably drooling. “Because.”
“Because why?”
Stubborn baggage. “Because my … vampire magic made them,” he said flatly. To tell her more was to, perhaps, send her running. Humans were so easily frightened by what they did not understand.
For the moment, he needed this woman on his side, and calm. Although, to be honest, she’d handled things very well so far.
“How?” she insisted.
He shook the bars. “Do as I told you, Jane. We must hurry.”
She arched a brow. “You’re cute when you’re ordering me around, you know that?” The color in her cheeks brightened, and her breath became shallow. “And you … you smell like sandalwood.”
She liked his scent as much as he liked hers, he realized. It aroused her. Her nipples were pearling beneath her robe, begging for a touch, a kiss. Did her belly quiver? Was she already moist between her legs?
His hands fisted at his sides. “I don’t know why I’m here or how they captured me, but I do know that I don’t belong here. I know that if I stay, I will be tortured again and again. Tell me you are not like them, Jane. Tell me you do not like to watch a man be tortured.”
Her dark gaze fell to the metal linked around his neck, then dipped lower, perhaps following the beads of dried blood that rode the ropes of his stomach before stopping at his tented loincloth.
Another shiver from her. “I don’t,” she said on a broken wisp of air. “But what happens if they realize I’m not truly Odette?”
“They won’t find out.” This lie did not leave him smoothly. “All right? All you need to know to aid the illusion is that you bought me at the Sex Market. You own me. Demand my release, and escort me to your—”
The sound of footsteps echoed, and Nicolai pressed his lips together. Jane tensed. An audience, exactly what they did not need right now. Then Laila rounded the corner, a scowl marring her already ugly face. She was as short and squat as her mother, her cheeks just as padded as Odette’s, and her jowls just as noticeable.
Without the hooked nose, however, she was the “beauty” of the family. The length of her dark hair was coiled on top of her head, ringlets hanging at her temples. She wore an opulent gown of bright green velvet to match her eyes, though there was nothing in this kingdom or any other that could make her attractive. The evil of her soul was simply too dark.
A silver timepiece hung from a chain around her neck. She was never without it, and the sight of it never failed to twist Nicolai’s stomach with rage. Why?
She ground to a halt when she spotted Jane, hurriedly smoothing her features into a doting expression. “What are you doing here, sister dear? And in your nightgown, no less.” An anxious laugh. “You should be resting. We don’t want you getting sick, do we? You’ve already suffered so much.”
Her voice never failed to disgust him, either. He’d heard it over him, under him, behind him, her warm breath trekking over his skin. Now, so close to escape, he had to bite his tongue to hold his curses inside.
Soon, he would destroy her.
Jane gulped, looked at him.
Do what I told you, Jane, he projected at her, a part of him resenting the need to do so. He’d never had to beg for anything in his life. He’d always—a sharp ache erupted in his temples, cutting off his thoughts. A memory, dead and gone before it had a chance to live.
“You are Princess Laila. My sister. Yes.” Jane breathed deeply, squared her shoulders, and faced her “sister.” “He’s—he’s mine. I own him.” What she lacked in conviction she made up for with determination.
Good girl.
Laila gritted her too-white teeth, and shifted from one sandaled foot to the other. “Yes, but you were gone, darling. I took over his care. He’s mine now.” She stroked the timepiece. “In situations such as this, Mother always sides with the one in possession.”
“I