Burning Up

ONE

The vampire knew how to sit on a horse. He rode with an easy muscularity despite his armor, achieving an effortless rhythm with his huge black stallion. A helm covered his head, red plumes floating in the wind, and gleaming plate mail sheathed his big body, so that he moved with the creak mail sheathed his big body, so that he moved with the creak of leather and the scrape of steel on steel.

He was surrounded by a small troop of mounted men who maintained an alert, professional silence, their armor glinting in the light of the floating spell globes that danced over their heads. As befitted humans riding so close to Varil territory, they rode warily, with hands on sword hilts, crossbows, or spears.

They were still doomed.

Brooding, Amaris watched them ride through the wooded valley below. She and the three with her were shielded by a spell designed to conceal them from human or vampire senses. Their targets had no idea they were being watched.

Feeling her gorge rise in a sick wave, Amaris swallowed hard. The sense of evil surrounding her made her skin creep. I should warn them. I can’t just sit back and watch them all die.

A male hand clamped over Amaris’s knee with a force that made her kneecap creak and the leggy roan mare dance beneath her. “If you betray us,” Tannaz said, serene as a priest, “I will see Marin’s soul feeds the Orb. It will be a very slow death.” He smiled, all chilling charm. “And I will slit your eyelids away and make you watch.”

“Get your hands off me, murderer,” Amaris snarled, as much in fury at herself as her captor.

Another mocking smile flashed white through the visor of his helm. “Is that any way to talk to your beloved father?”

“ ‘Beloved?’ ” She let her loathing fill her eyes. But he was right, damn him. Anything she tried to do for those poor bastards would get Marin killed. She’d sworn to her mother’s ghost to protect her sister, a vow she would not break.

The two Varil raiders who stood to either side produced the grunting hiss that served their kind as laughter. They were massive creatures, bodies roped with muscle under iridescent reptilian scales, eyes glowing orange as coals in the darkness. They smelled like snakes. They wore no armor, and needed none with their thick hides. Clawed hands carried battle axes with blades the size of a warrior’s shield.

It was said they’d once been human. Amaris doubted it.

What in the name of all the gods am I doing here?

Raniero rode in wariness, vampire senses alert for any attack, mystical or otherwise. Though the kingdom’s magical barriers should keep Varilian raiders out, sometimes the vicious bastards got through. And considering the king’s suspicions about Wizard Lord Korban, Raniero was not inclined to take chances.

“Do you think Korban really is working with the Varil?” Gvido asked. The boy rode at an easy trot beside him, his visor up, revealing a rawboned, freckled face in the light from Raniero’s illumination spell.

“I know not,” Raniero told him. “And I will draw no conclusions until I investigate further.”

“But how could any border wizard work with the Varil?” Gvido shook his head in disbelief. “Remember what they did to that village? What was it called, Kessel? Men, women, children—ripped apart and eaten. I have evil dreams about it still.” He had been Raniero’s squire for almost a year now, an earnest sixteen-year-old with a merry smile and a pleasant tenor voice. He wore his long red hair tied back in a queue. His chin was covered by a thin orange scruff he stubbornly refused to shave; he was determined to grow a proper beard.

“Sorcerers,” Olrick grunted from Raniero’s right. A tall, muscular man with an impressive belly, he was a skilled and wily warrior. Yet after twenty years fighting at Raniero’s side, his braided beard and long blond hair were dulling into gray. He would retire soon, and Raniero was not looking forward to it. “All wizards be mad. Years of sniffing potions and playing with spells. ’Tis no wonder their wits fly.”

Raniero lifted a dark brow. “I work spells.” His magic was not as strong as that of the border wizards, but he was no powerless peasant either.

“Ye be a vampire,” Olrick said, unperturbed. “Of course ye be mad.”

Suppressing a smile, Raniero flicked a rude finger at his friend. Olrick brayed his distinctive laugh and replied with a gesture even more obscene.

Raniero’s chuckle faded into a frown as a feeling of waiting evil brushed his vampire senses. He straightened in his saddle and drew rein as he scanned the surrounding hills. Bakur, his black warhorse, danced in unease, as if he, too, sensed a threat. Alerted, Raniero’s men pulled up and peered around.

At first his keen night vision detected nothing but the forested hills that surrounded them, silvered by moonlight and splashed with shadow.

Until something shimmered in a there-not-there flash that told him someone was moving behind a shielding spell. “Draw weapons!” Raniero bellowed, pulling his own great blade from its saddle sheath as he jerked Bakur to face the threat.

The attackers exploded into view—two Varil raiders afoot and one mounted fighter, all three plunging down the hill toward them. Raniero’s gut clenched in dread. Though the odds seemed to favor his party, the reptilian raiders were far stronger than humans—and far more vicious. Ten men were not enough to bring two Varil down.

With a hard jerk of one shoulder, Raniero shrugged his shield off his back and into his left hand, spurring his stallion forward. He had to take the Varil out quickly if his men were to survive. Bakur squealed an equine challenge as he broke into a pounding gallop up the hill.

To Raniero’s startled rage, the two raiders veered away from his charge. Before he could spin his horse after them, the third fighter bore down on him, bellowing a war cry.

Raniero swung his shield up to block the other’s sword as the horses collided with a meaty thud. His enemy’s blade struck the shield so hard Raniero felt the impact to his teeth. The man couldn’t be human, not with such strength.

Another vampire. He’d be no easy kill.

Behind him, one of Raniero’s men screamed, high and thin with agony and fear. The shriek died in a gurgle.

Raniero bared his fangs and swung his sword with all his supernatural strength. His foe caught the blow on his own kite-shaped shield, long sword arcing for Raniero’s head. Raniero ducked and kneed Bakur aside. The two mounts wheeled, slashing at each other with sharp hooves and snapping teeth.

Another death scream. It sounded like Olrick.

Fury and grief sizzling through him, Raniero forced himself to concentrate on his enemy—and prayed he’d finish the bastard off in time to save the rest of his men.

As she’d been ordered, Amaris hung back on the hillside, waiting for Tannaz’s signal. Her vantage point gave her a good view of the fight.

A bit too good, in fact. She really didn’t want to watch what the raiders’ axes were doing to those poor humans, so she focused her attention on the vampires.

Physically, the two were well-matched. Tannaz was a bit taller and thicker through the shoulders, but Raniero made up the difference in speed and agility. He clung to his beast by knees alone as the black warhorse battled Tannaz’s bay destrier.

Tannaz rose in his stirrups to better bring his blade down on his foe’s head. As Raniero blocked with his shield, his charger lunged and sank his teeth into the throat of Tannaz’s bay. The horse threw up his head and reared to escape, blood flying. Tannaz lost his balance, tumbling from the saddle to land on the leafy forest floor with a crunch of armor and bone.

“Ha!” Delighted, Amaris rose in her stirrups for a better view.

But her murdering sire had already rolled to his feet, scuttling away as his bay fled the black’s teeth and hooves. Wheeling the stallion after his foe, Raniero rained relentless blows down on Tannaz, forced the vampire to duck behind his shield and retreat. Steel rang on steel like the steady clang of a blacksmith’s hammer.

Amaris! Curse your eyes, aid me! Her father’s mystical voice bellowed in her mind.

Die and be damned, murderer, Amaris thought back.

If I do not return, Korban will slay Marin.

Amaris’s lips curled back from her teeth.

Raniero used his shield to block the vampire’s attempts to drive his sword into Bakur’s glossy black chest. Spotting an opening, Raniero brought his sword down in a furious overhand blow.

One of his men shrieked in mortal agony, but he didn’t dare look away from his enemy. A flash of white fluttered in his periphrial vision, but Raniero ignored that, too.

So when the beautiful woman suddenly appeared behind his opponent, he almost fell out of the saddle in sheer astonishment.

She was slim as a river reed, dressed in white silk so thin and fine, he could see the shadow of her nipples in the moonlight. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of dark curls, and her large eyes glowed a luminous green in her fine-boned face, like spring leaves illuminated by the sun.

A tattoo of a rose bloomed on the high rise of her cheek. He recognized the design instantly. What in the Red God’s name was a Blood Rose doing here?

Raniero’s vampire foe spun, spotted the Blood Rose, and leaped for her. Acting on sheer instinct, Raniero swung a leg over Bakur’s side and dove, plowing the vampire into the forest floor before he could grab the girl.

As they hit the ground, Raniero lifted his sword, meaning to end the bastard right there.

He did not see the Blood Rose lift her delicate hands and send a spell blast slamming into his helmeted head.

Blackness descended like a swinging fist.

Tannaz jerked free of the vampire’s dead weight and bounced to his feet, raising his sword as if to cleave his foe’s head off his shoulders.

“Korban wants him alive!” Amaris shouted, readying a stun spell if he did not heed her.

Her father hesitated, spat a curse, and aimed a kick at Raniero’s armored ribs instead. Panting, he gave her a smug, triumphant grin. “Well done, daughter.”

“I was tempted to let him kill you.”

“Vicious little harpy,” Tannaz said, almost fondly. “I shall have to teach you respect.”

She snorted contempt. “Oh, aye—when the Red God takes up needlework.”

Ignoring that, Tannaz looked around at the Varil. The two raiders had settled among Raniero’s fallen men to feed. Amaris refused to follow his gaze. The smell and sound of their feast was enough to make her stomach heave as it was.

“Feh,” he spat. “They’ll not be finished any time soon. We will move on ahead. I would have this one in a cell before your spell wears off.”

She nodded grimly and summoned the horses with a wave of her hand. The spell to bring the vampire’s black destrier under control took a bit more work, but soon the stallion was ambling along beside them, his master hanging bound and bewitched across his saddle.

At least it was over, Amaris comforted herself. She could take Marin and go.

If Korban kept his word . . .

TWO

Tzira Castle occupied the rocky heights of the Korban Mountain Range, named for the wizard clan that had held this stretch of the border for the last three hundred years. The clan had been good caretakers for generations, maintaining their section of the mystical barrier that protected the kingdom of Ourania from its neighbor, Zahur, land of the Varil.

They’d known the price of failure all too well. The humans of Zahur had been hunted to the brink of extinction to feed the Varil’s vicious appetites.

Clan Korban had accordingly built Tzira into a sprawling fortress, its black stone seeming to grow from the granite flanks of the mountain, all massive, blocky towers and curving walls, riddled with arrow slits and glowing with torch spells. Even Amaris had to admit the place had a stark kind of beauty.

Too bad the latest Korban wizard had turned to treason.

Amaris strode into the great hall of Tzira Castle, her belly tight with a sickening combination of eagerness and dread.

Eagerness to see Marin again. Dread of what Korban might have done to her while Amaris was gone. If she’s dead, I will blow this castle to fractured stone and pave the road to hell.

She would not survive the effort—Korban was too powerful—but she would make him regret his betrayal.

Heart in her throat, Amaris stalked through the mass of cowed servants and swaggering men-at-arms toward the dais where Korban sprawled on his lord’s seat. He smirked at her as she came, probably because Tannaz strode at her heels, carrying Raniero draped over his shoulder like a slain buck.

“Ama’is!” The little voice piped across the babble of voices in the hall, high and incredibly sweet. Her knees went weak with relief. “Ama’is!” Marin couldn’t yet manage the r in her name.

The child raced out of the crowd as Amaris dropped to her knees and spread her arms. Dark curls flying, big green eyes wide, the little girl flew into her hug with a force that rocked her back on her heels. “Ama’is!” she gasped. “Take me home! I want to see Mama!”

Amaris closed her eyes at the grief that stabbed her as she hugged her little sister close. Marin was too young to grasp death’s finality. “I know, love. I do, too.”

Raniero hit the ground beside her with a thud as Tannaz dumped him from his shoulder. Her father had stripped the warrior of his armor, weapons, and clothing, leaving him naught but his breeches—and the bespelled chains that leached his strength and kept him unconscious.

Tannaz sneered down at them, and Amaris gave him her best bloodthirsty glare in return. Marin burrowed into her shoulder, tiny body quivering. The child had watched him murder their mother but a month past, and she feared him with a black terror.

She might not understand death, but steel and blood were clear enough.

“Poor child.” The voice was beautiful, warm and soft as deep velvet. A big male hand reached down toward Marin’s gleaming curls.

Marin screamed and cowered.

Amaris jerked her sister away and surged to her feet, the child wrapped in her arms. Summoning a shielding spell, she glared at the wizard. “Back. Away.”

“Ahhh, Amaris, my sweet.” Korban spread his arms in the fine robes that draped his lean body in silk. Embroidered runes covered the red fabric in intricate spells of protection and power enhancement. The thread shone bright with gold—except where darkened with the blood of the robes’ tailor, slain to enhance its power. His face was long and pale in the torchlight, a beard darkening his angular cheeks and framing his dissolute mouth. “You wound me.”

“Not yet,” Amaris snarled, “But I will if you do not keep your promise.” She jerked her chin at the unconscious vampire. “I captured Lord Raniero, as you demanded. Now, release us.”

“In time.”

“Now!” Amaris demanded through clenched teeth.

Marin’s little legs curled tighter around her hip. “He thinks ’bout killin’ me to feed that ball of his,” the child whispered fearfully. “I see it in his mind. All the time.”

Korban’s eyes rested on the back of the child’s head, greed in their pale depths. “So much potential power for one so young. And you say she is but three years of age?”

“Her age is of no matter to you, wizard.” Heartily sick of his games, Amaris spun toward the great hall’s double doors. She’d left her horse saddled, Marin’s few things packed in saddlebags. They could make Clefton in three days of hard riding. “We are leaving.”

“No.”

All around the hall, warriors looked up at his tone. Swords left scabbards with a sinister metallic slither.

Amaris stopped short as the point of one fighter’s blade rose toward Marin’s thin back. The child’s arms and legs tightened around her with a strength born of sheer terror. Drawing in power desperately, Amaris reinforced the magical shield around them.

But it could not protect them against every man here.

“I’ve decided I need one further service from my Blood Rose.”

Amaris whirled toward him, hot words on her lips. They died on her tongue at the sight of the crimson globe that floated above his palm. The sheer evil emanating from the thing made her skin crawl in revulsion.

The Blood Orb.

“I have a small problem,” Korban told her absently, his eyes fixed on the Orb with lustful fascination. “I can kill King Ferran’s errand boy, of course.” He jerked his chin at Raniero, sprawled in muscular insensibility on the rush-covered floor. “But when he does not report back to his master, Ferran will consider his suspicions confirmed. And since the king maintains a well-trained and rather impressive army that includes a respectable cadre of wizards—well, I would as soon they did not pay me a visit.”

“What has that to do with me?” Amaris snapped. “I cannot defend you from an army.”

“No, but you can woo yon vampire into a more receptive frame of mind.” He smiled. The expression might have imparted a certain beauty to his triangular, foxlike face, if not for his soulless eyes. “Receptive enough to send a magical message to his master that I am a true and loyal servant. Delay Ferran’s attack just a bit. A month, perhaps even two, while I complete my work.”

“You mean your mad plot to drop the barrier that protects us all from the Varil. Whereupon they’ll roll over us and feast on our bleeding corpses.” She turned to the nearest warrior. “Do you want to fill the belly of one of those monsters? I don’t. One wonders why your master does.”

The warrior winced and looked away.

Korban’s pale face reddened with rage. “The Varil are my allies, bitch. They will give me power beyond your conception—power enough to make me king.” He shot a dark look at the flinching warrior. “And those who are loyal to me will reap the benefits.”

“Oh, aye,” Amaris sneered. “I wager they will—as crows pick their bones for what scraps the Varil leave behind.”

His fingers tightened around the Orb as his free hand lifted, trembling with his fury. Power heated the air around it into a hot red blaze.

Amaris fed more magic into her shields and readied herself to fight, clutching her sister close.

Then the glow faded from Korban’s fingers, and the rage in his eyes drained into calculation. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “You will not goad me so easily. You will lie with Raniero, and you will persuade him to cooperate. Or your sister will pay the price.”

“I fear you overestimate my skills. Lord Raniero is famous for his incorruptibility.”

“True. It’s said he’s refused some very impressive bribes.” The Orb’s light flooded Korban’s face in crimson, like a mask of gore. “But none of those bribes included the attentions of a Blood Rose.”

“I am not your whore, Korban.”

“You are whatever we tell you to be, Amaris!” her father snarled.

“Ama’is!” Marin whimpered.

“We frighten the child,” Korban said, his voice gently cruel. “But there is no need. All you must do is spend a little time with Lord Raniero. Look at him.” He turned with a sweeping gesture, directing her attention toward the vampire. Raniero’s profile looked as pure as a deity’s in the light of the torches, his black hair spilling around bare, muscled shoulders. “Such a handsome man. What’s a few nights in his arms? And then I’ll free you, let you take Marin and go. I swear it by the Red God’s blade.”

“Ama’is,” Marin whispered, staring at Korban like a bird gazing at a snake. “He’s gonna feed me to his ball if you don’t.”

She was right. Korban was projecting the image of it into their minds, sharp and vivid as reality:

A knife flashed in the red light of the Orb, and the fantasy Marin screamed. The smell of blood filled the air, and the Orb brightened into a blinding crimson blaze.

The real child quivered against her and began to cry.

“Stop it, curse you!” Amaris spat. “I’ll seduce your vampire for you. Just leave my sister out of your sickening plots.”

Korban smiled, faint and satisfied. “I knew you’d see reason.”

Pleased with his victory, Korban allowed Amaris to put her sister to bed. Usually, he permitted her only brief visits with the child, at the end of which Amaris had to surrender Marin to the nursemaid warden he’d assigned.

Even so, a pair of grim and wary guards followed her up the tower stairs to the small chamber where Marin was kept a hostage. Amaris’s thoughts churned in anguished circles as she climbed, her sister sniffling fitfully in her arms. Though sweaty and tearstained, Marin smelled clean and sweet in the way of little girls. At least that wretched nurse was taking proper care of her.

For the moment.

Korban’s promise to release them was, of course, a blatant lie. No matter what he mouthed, his plans for Marin were obvious. It would take a blood sacrifice of her innocence and magical potential to give the Blood Orb enough power to blow a hole in the kingdom’s mystical barrier.

And Korban was determined to see the Varil invade, the Red God alone knew why.

I should have known Korban would break his promise to free us, Amaris thought as she carried the child up the narrow, winding staircase. But I thought there was a faint possibility he’d keep his word. Now I will have to find some other way to escape.

Fortunately, generations of wizards had spent centuries building and strengthening the Great Barrier, and a spell to unravel it was no easy thing to cast. Korban had yet to puzzle out how to do it, though ’twould seem he was close to his goal. Enough so that he thought he needed to allay Ferran’s suspicions for but a few weeks more.

They reached the top of the stairway, and Amaris paused to let her guards unlock Marin’s door. She carried the child inside.

The nurse looked up from her sewing. At first glance, one might mistake Hetram for a motherly woman in her cheery blue gown, given her ample lap and round, rosy cheeks. But her watery gray eyes were as chilly as a frozen lake, and the line of her mouth was thin and humorless. She had power, too, a sullen snake of magic Amaris could see in her heart, enough that Korban trusted her to control Marin’s burgeoning talent.

It was probably no real challenge. In happier days, Marin had tested their mother’s patience with her mischievous magic. She’d had particular talent with an invisibility spell; she’d loved nothing better than popping out and startling her unsuspecting mother and sister. Now the child’s misery made it hard for her to concentrate enough to work even the simplest magic.

“I’ll take her.” Hetram stood and reached for Marin.

“Nay, I’ll do it.” Amaris shouldered past her toward the little girl’s narrow cot. She undressed her sister, taking pleasure in the homey task of pulling off Marin’s wool kirtle and chemise and slipping a clean white smock over her head. Exhausted by fear and tears, Marin was asleep almost before she finished. Amaris tucked her limp little body into bed, then covered her with the thin blanket she’d been allowed.

Finished, Amaris sat still a moment, brooding as she studied Marin’s pale, delicate features in the candlelight. She looks so much like Mother. Tears welled at the thought, and she quickly swiped her hand across her eyes, lest the nurse see her crying.

I will get her out of here, Mama. Somehow. I will not let that monster use her soul to feed that cursed Orb.

Which meant doing what she’d been doing all along: pretend to cooperate with their captors and watch for an opportunity to take her sister and escape. Pray gods the chance presented itself soon. She was running out of time.

And now she had to romance a vampire.

Something popped, and Amaris looked up, alert. But it was only the fire. Her eyes met the suspicious gaze of Marin’s warden, who sat with a half-darned sock in her wide lap. Amaris pointedly turned her gaze toward the fire and made no move to leave, despite the woman’s evident desire to see the back of her.

Gazing into the leaping flames, Amaris began to plan. She had to buy time, and there was only one way to do it.

She was going to have to make love to the vampire.

THREE

Amaris’s stomach coiled into a sick ball at the thought of taking Raniero into her bed. She glowered at the fire, impatient with herself. I’m a Blood Rose, curse it. Making love to them is what we were created to do.

When it became obvious the Varil were a threat to the kingdom, the first great wizard king had transformed human champions into a race of vampire knights. To ensure the knights did not likewise become a threat, the king had then transformed his most talented female sorcerers into Blood Roses with the magical power to seduce and tame them.

Though vampires could sire vampire sons with mortal women, Blood Roses were born only to Blood Rose mothers. By law, the king alone could grant a Blood Rose’s hand in marriage, and he granted that boon only to those he considered most deserving. Since drinking a Rose’s blood made a vampire stronger, his allies had the advantage over any would-be vampire rebels.

Like other Roses, Amaris was well-versed in the Arts of the Rose. Her mother had sent her to one of the best Gardens in the kingdom to learn the traditional skills: how to charm, how to flirt, how to use her mouth and hands to bring her vampire lover pleasure.

Unfortunately, vampires could not be trusted. Her father was proof of that.

And Orel, of course.

For a while she’d actually believed all the silly songs the troubadours sang in the Garden. Songs of gallant vampire warriors romancing their lady Roses, sweeping them away to lives of love and passion.

She should have known it was all utter rot.

As a child, Amaris had watched her father torment her mother until Sava finally had enough and petitioned the king for a divorce. Ferran had been so scandalized that any vampire would beat a Blood Rose, he’d granted it on the spot. The king had even issued a royal order that Tannaz keep his distance on pain of death. The vampire hadn’t dared break it.

At least until he’d fallen in with Korban and grown bold. Bold enough to murder both his former wife and her lover, Marin’s father.

And then there was Orel, handsome, seductive—and insanely jealous. Amaris had met him while she was still at the Garden, and had promptly believed herself in love.

Until the day he’d seen her smile at another vampire.

Once back at the house they’d shared, Orel had ranted at Amaris like a madman before knocking her senseless. She’d awakened with him on top of her, beginning a rape. Terrified, enraged, she’d fired a blast of magic into his face. He’d fled, burned and screaming.

That experience had left her determined to never be so vulnerable again. She’d begun combat training with Basir, who was both her mother’s lover and a skilled swordsman and sorcerer. After two years of hard work, Basir had pronounced her capable of defending herself.

But Orel’s attack had taught her something else as well: vampires could not be trusted. No matter how loving they might act, they were predators, no different from the Varil. Any Rose who let down her guard with one would rue it.

Now Amaris had to lull her captors into believing her cowed and cooperative. She felt confident that given enough time, she’d spot an opportunity to rescue her sister and escape.

But to buy that time, she was going to have to seduce Raniero. So she’d give the vampire her body—but never her trust.

Dawn was breaking when Amaris returned to the cramped chamber she’d been given in one of the castle’s towers.

Moving quickly, she swung the door closed and hurried across the room to fling open the wooden shutters. The edge of the sun was just peeking over the horizon, painting streamers of rose and violet across the sky. Beneath them, the Korban Mountains lay in thick black shadow.

There wasn’t much time.

Amaris took a deep breath and drew a long, thin dagger from the sheath that hung from her embroidered belt. Concentrating fiercely, she angled the knife point up, so that the rays of the sun poured over it. Gathering her will, she began to chant as the rising sun warmed her face. Magic swirled around her, flowing into the dagger, making the thin blade blaze.

Raniero woke half naked in a bed far more comfortable than the ground he so often slept on as the king’s investigator. Blinking, disoriented, he tried to roll off the bed, only to discover two things: he was weak as a babe, and his wrists were chained to the posts of the bed.

Rage lengthening his teeth into fangs, he jerked his head around to stare at his wrists. The manacles that encircled them were covered with magical runes he read with a wizard’s ease.

A draining spell. ’Twould sap his strength and magic, keeping him from breaking the chains.

Peering down the length of his body, he saw he wore naught but his breeches. His ankles, too, were chained.

With a growl, he dropped his head back on the feather pillow.

Who the six hells gave a prisoner a feather pillow?

The thought made him scan his cell in narrow-eyed suspicion.

It looked more guest’s chamber than prison. The room was clean, with fresh rushes on the floor, and a fire burned in the fireplace, reducing the autumn chill. Two chairs sat before the fire, and there was a small bedside table on which an unlit candle stood beside a golden goblet. No window, but vampire that he was, he was rather glad of that. At least his captors couldn’t cook him with the sunrise while he was helplessly chained to the bed.

What the six hells happened?

The last he remembered, he’d been about to take that vampire’s head in an effort to keep the bastard from attacking the Blood Rose who had appeared in the middle of the fight.

The Blood Rose.

Raniero ground his teeth in rage as the truth burst upon him. She’d been working with the vampire. They’d gulled him with their playacting, and he’d swallowed the bait whole.

Fool, fool, fool! And by now his men were likely all dead, bodies devoured by the thrice-damned Varil.

He closed his eyes, sickened. Poor Gvido had so feared those monsters after seeing the aftermath of one of their raids. Raniero had often been woken by the boy’s nightmare cries. How he must have suffered, dying at their hands.

And Olrick. He’d planned to retire and spend his last years surrounded by grandchildren while playing slap and tickle with his wife. Raniero would have to tell Gavina he’d gotten her man killed.

And then there were the others: Kellar, Favdo, Jacil, Magar, Brothan, Lor, and Shaco. Good men, brave men, all loyal king’s warriors. He would have to tell their wives, children, and parents. And the king, who would be deeply grieved.

At least his majesty would see the families were paid a death pension. They would not be left impoverished.

Just grieving.

Raniero’s eyes narrowed. His captors would rue this day. Which raised the question: why had they left him alive to seek vengeance?

He considered his prison again. It appeared someone was entertaining fantasies that he could be bought.

The idea was infuriating. But galling as it was, perhaps he should pretend to play along, that he might gain an opportunity to escape.

And make the bastards pay.

Amaris paused outside Raniero’s cell, ignoring the hot gazes of the four guards. She had dressed as carefully as ever she’d been taught in the Garden. Her gown was white silk, belted with a girdle embroidered with tiny roses, and she’d perfumed her skin with ambergris. A hint of kohl darkened her lids, and she’d rubbed a lemon on her lips to redden them. Her hair had been brushed into a gleaming fall of curls that tumbled to her hips. She carried a silver pitcher filled with honey mead.

Squaring her shoulders and drawing a deep breath, she nodded at the guards. “Unbolt the door.”

The oldest of the four, a grizzled warrior with his long beard in braids, curled a scarred lip at her and made no move to obey. She met his gaze and lifted an icy brow, letting power leap in her eyes like a flame. Realizing how close he was to suffering a painful magical jolt for his contempt, he hurried to unbolt the door and give her a carefully respectful bow. Satisfied, she sailed past.

If she could make the guards fear her, they might hesitate at a crucial moment. She could construct an escape from such small strategies.

“I wondered when they’d send you.” The vampire spoke from the firelit dimness, his voice rumbling and deep, almost touchable, a velvet seduction that seemed to stroke her skin.

The door swung closed behind Amaris with a bang. The iron bolt scraped home as the guard locked it. She managed not to jump at the harsh sound and lifted her chin. “Perhaps I come of my own accord.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, aye.” Forcing a smile, Amaris moved toward him, giving her hips the gentle sway she’d been taught. The pressure of her slippers sent a rich, green scent into the air. She’d ordered fresh herbs scattered among the rushes.

As Lady Taria said, You must seduce a man’s senses before you touch his body.

Moving with deliberate grace, Amaris picked up the golden goblet on the wooden bedside table and filled it with honey mead. “Do you thirst?”

Dark eyes dropped to her throat. “Oh, aye.” His purr made it clear he craved something other than the contents of her pitcher.

Not likely, vampire. Drinking her magical blood would strengthen him, perhaps enough to break his enchanted chains.

She took a slow and deliberate sip from the goblet, by way of demonstrating the drink had not been poisoned. As she swallowed the mead with its rich traces of lemon and berry, she let her gaze rest on his face.

Studying him through lowered lids, she had to admit Korban was right. The vampire was a handsome man. The firelight played over sculpted features: cheekbones carved high enough to leave hollows beneath, a stubbornly jutting warrior’s chin, a straight and arrogant nose. His upper lip curved over a plump lower lip that seemed to invite a woman’s bite. He wore no beard, though a night’s growth shadowed the planes of his cheeks. His hair was dark, shoulder-length, as gleaming and thick as a woman’s.

Half unwilling, she let her gaze drift down his body. He wore nothing but breeches so tight, he might as well have been naked. Muscle lay across his broad, bare torso in thick swordsman’s slabs, rippling and bunching as he pulled at his chains. His legs were long and brawny, as befit a man who sat a horse so well. She could see his sex bulking heavy beneath the breeches.

It stirred under her gaze.

Fighting the urge to jerk her eyes away, she raised her chin and met his stare. He lifted a thick black brow, his eyes hot and narrow. And deeply cynical. He was no fool, this agent of the wizard king. An ally, then?

His lips parted, and she glimpsed the white gleam of a fang.

No, she’d trust no vampire. If it were only her own life, she might take the risk, but not with Marin’s soul at hazard.

Amaris dropped her lashes and met his gaze under their thick fringe. “Would you have mead?”

His lips quirked. “Only if that’s all you offer.”

“It is.” She let her own mouth curl. “For the moment.”

There it was again, that cynical curve of the lip. “Mead it is, then.”

Amaris stepped closer and bent over him. He lifted his head and let her press the goblet to his lips. She tipped it, and he swallowed with obvious thirst. The strong cords of his throat rippled up and down. His lids lowered, and for a moment sensual pleasure lay stark on his face. She watched, half bespelled, as he drained the cup.

“You were thirsty.” Her voice sounded so hoarse, she silently cursed the desire it revealed.

He lay back, rolling brawny shoulders on his pillow. “A prisoner never knows when his needs will be met. Best to take advantage of any”—his lids dropped again—“opportunities.”

“Far be it for me to leave you wanting.” Despite the sophisticated quip, she could feel heat blooming across her face.

Blood Roses do not blush like virgins, curse it.

Raniero again drained the goblet the Blood Rose held to his lips. Even as he drank, he cursed himself. Her scent flooded his head, far more intoxicating than the mead. Ambergris, woman, magic—and blood. His fangs ached savagely.

Damn her to the six hells. If he could but drink from her—not much more than a goblet’s worth—the magic of her blood would strengthen him enough to shatter the enchantment that held him. He could take care of the guards in the hall and be gone before his foes knew what he was about.

Which was why she’d never allow him to taste that long white throat.

Unless . . .

Raniero considered her through narrowed eyes as he drank in her scent. There was more than a little desire wafting from that long, elegant body. And other emotions too: fear, rage . . . And was that despair?

No, surely not. Why would she fear him, when he was so thoroughly bound and drained by his chains?

Unless it was someone else she feared . . .

FOUR

The idea of her fear was enraging. Even knowing Amaris was a traitor to her own people, Raniero could feel the tugging need to protect her. That compulsion was part of a Blood Rose’s seductive magic, and he could no more fight it than he could refuse to breathe.

To most vampires, the hand of a Rose was a much desired prize, since her blood would strengthen both one’s magic and one’s might. Many were the drunken dreams he’d heard vampire courtiers spew of “A Rose and a fief.”

Raniero wanted only the fief. He’d get his sons on mortals, thank you. Lusty peasant wenches spun far simpler schemes.

His stepmother had been one of those scheming Roses. She’d wanted her own son to inherit, so she’d told his father Raniero had tried to force himself on her. Raniero, who’d been all of sixteen, protested his innocence, but Fulk had believed Eiriene. He’d beaten his son near to death and left him outside the castle walls. Luckily, Raniero had been able to find shelter with the neighboring lord who’d fostered him when he’d been a boy. Landless, homeless, he’d fought to earn a place at King Ferran’s court.

But he’d never forgotten the way a Rose could twist a man’s mind.

That this Rose was scheming, he did not doubt. But what, and why?

In any case, it appeared Ferran’s suspicions about Korban were confirmed. Why else would Raniero’s party be attacked the moment they crossed onto Korban’s land? And by a vampire and two Varil raiders, yet.

Why had his captors allowed Raniero to live, while slaying his men? Korban apparently thought he could buy Raniero’s cooperation. And he thought he could do it with the bribe of a Blood Rose.

Whatever spies Korban obviously had at Ferran’s palace—and he had at least one, if he’d known Raniero was coming—they weren’t as good as he thought. Raniero’s wariness of Roses was well-known.

But if Korban and his Rose knew it not, perhaps Raniero could pretend to yield to her wiles. Discover the wizard’s plans, and find a way to foil them. It was certain outright struggle would do him no good, not in these chains.

“More?” the Rose asked, candlelight painting dancing gold highlights over the tattoo blooming on her cheek.

“Actually, there’s something else I crave,” he said, deliberately staring at the plump and tempting curve of her lips. “A taste of you.”

Green eyes widened, and that luscious mouth parted. “Oh.” A pretty blush brightened her high cheeks.

Red God’s Balls, she did flustered innocence better than any sheltered virgin he’d ever met.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, she leaned down. He watched the hesitant movement. Ridiculously, his heart began to hammer. The scent of mingled fear and desire strengthened.

Why does she fear me?

The Rose’s lips touched his, only the merest brush at first, warm breath tasting of honey mead and a hint of lemon. She kept her eyes open, almost as though she didn’t trust him enough to close them. He forced relaxation into every hungry muscle and let her lead the way, keeping his mouth soft beneath hers.

She brushed her lips across his, once, then again. Hesitated like something small and wild eating from his hand. At last she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, a shy, soft stroke. When she drew in a breath, he felt the tips of her breasts touch his chest. She sighed, and slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes closed as she leaned deeper into the kiss.

It took him a moment to realize he’d closed his own as well, the better to concentrate on the delicate sensations of her swirling tongue, her gently moving mouth. He could feel her heartbeat in her breast, a rapid thump that seemed to echo his own pulse.

One soft, slender hand came to rest on his chest, cool against his heating skin. She used it to push herself upright. They stared at each other in the candlelit darkness.

Again, he watched that curious fear leap in her eyes. For a moment, he expected her to whirl and run away.

Instead she squared her delicate shoulders. Her hands went to the laces of her white gown, began to pluck at them until they fell untied. He caught his breath as she drew it off over her head and dropped it in a silken pile on the floor. Her body gleamed in the candlelight, elegant and slim, breasts pale, perfect handfuls, nipples tight and pink. She had the legs of a horsewoman, long and strong, and her arms had a kind of delicate strength, as though she did more than needlework. Her green gaze had gone bright with defiance now, as if daring him to make some cutting comment.

But speech was beyond him. He felt his cock rise, hot and hard against his breeches, balls heavy with the weight of desire.

Her gaze dipped to the broad length against his belly, and her lips parted. As he watched, her eyes dilated into a shadowed forest green, dark and wild.

“Free me,” he managed at last, his eyes on the tight pink tips of her breasts. “Let me touch you.”

She shot him a wary look, then seemed to remember herself and added a seductive smile. “Wouldn’t you rather I touch you?”

He laughed in a harsh bark. “At this moment, I would have you any way I can get you.”

The Rose stepped closer to the bed and balanced on one long leg as she slid a thigh across his belly. He caught his breath in lust at the sensation of soft skin sliding over his in a wave of silken warmth. Slowly, so slowly, she sank down to straddle him. To his raging frustration, he could feel the cloth-covered head of his cock brushing the curve of her bare bottom.

“Ahhh.” Her lids dipped and lifted, revealing the green of her eyes. The pink tip of her tongue crept out to wet her lips, and she swallowed. A very faint smile curved that tempting mouth. “You make a solid mount, my lord.”

“And you make a lovely rider,” Raniero rasped, though the courtly words were almost beyond him as lust stormed his brain. His eyes dipped down to the soft delta of her sex, the lips full and pouting behind raven curls. He wanted to see those lips close around his cock. He could imagine how they’d feel, swollen and wet, gripping him deliciously.

The Rose considered him, her head tilting. Her slender hands came to rest on his chest, long fingers stroking. Her nails were short and serviceable, and her palms were just slightly rough with calluses.

Raniero frowned in momentary puzzlement. Her hands were slim as a maid’s, but rough as a swordsman’s. No stranger to battle, this one.

Then the thought flew out of his head as she bent, green eyes locked on his. The tip of her tongue peeked out at him, and he stiffened in helpless anticipation.

She licked him. A quick little flick over the tight ridges of his torso, wet, impossibly tempting, a maddening promise of more. Her head lifted, and a smile flashed, quicksilver mockery.

God, he wished his hands were free. He’d show her need. He’d make her writhe.

But his hands were bound, and she was the one with the freedom to inflict delicious torment. She bent again, and he inhaled sharply, helplessly.

Raniero’s nipples were her target this time. He’d never considered them particularly sensitive before—certainly not like a woman’s—yet the rake of her teeth made his cock jerk like a rearing warhorse. She settled down to lick, gently, sweet teasing circles with the occasional application of a nibble or two. As if those desperate little points were candy.

Red God’s Balls, he wished she’d do that to his cock.

As the Rose nibbled, she stroked her hands over his torso, traced each ridge of muscle with tapered fingers that suddenly curled into blunt little claws. The teasing rake of nails over ribs made him want to writhe.

Green eyes watched him, shadowed by thick lashes, dwelling on his face as if fascinated. Her nostrils flared, scenting him like a cat.

His cock jerked again, brushing the velvet skin of her bottom. Raniero couldn’t quite suppress his moan.

Amaris was beginning to understand why poets spilled rivers of ink in praise of passion. The vampire lay spread under her like a feast, all frustrated power, arms bunching as he fought his chains. Yet he seemed scarcely aware of them, so utterly was he focused on her, on every tiny thing she did.

His face fascinated her. There was a muscle in his jaw that leaped and bunched each time she flicked her tongue over his nipples. He really was a handsome man, his face all jutting bone, deep hollows and uncompromising angles. It was a warrior’s face, one that could have been sculpted by the Red God himself for the battlefield—designed to lead men and bellow orders and snarl as he swung a sword in lethal arcs.

And he had a warrior’s body as well. His bunched upper arms were round as melons and near the size of her head. Each of his thighs appeared the width of her waist. Given the vampire strength within all that muscle, he’d be a formidable force on the battlefield.

A killer.

What if she could make him her killer? Amaris eyed him, considering the thick strength surging under her body, the wild black heat in his eyes.

A solid mount indeed.

Could she ride him? Could she trade him her blood for Marin’s freedom? Did she dare?

Black eyes stared into hers, highlighted with candlelit reflection in flashes of liquid gold. The male hunger in that dark gaze demanded her surrender with a trace of savagery, as if he eyed her while riding at the head of an army.

Not while he himself was bound and helpless.

Raniero’s lips parted in invitation. His breath smelled of honey mead. Unable to resist, she bent closer and kissed him again.

His mouth was soft, tempting, tangy with lemon, sweet with berries and honey. Amaris sighed, deepening the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, exploring the sensuality he offered.

Something sharp pricked her tongue, and she frowned faintly, wondering. Until realization struck.

It was one of his fangs.

He was a vampire. In the storm of emotion and heat, she’d almost forgotten.

Luscious as he was, so powerfully seductive as he lay there in pretended submission, he was a predator. And worse, he was a trapped predator. If she were stupid enough to offer him the magical blood he needed to break his chains, he’d be gone like a ghost at dawn. And she’d be left alone to confront Korban’s fury.

Vampires could not be trusted.

Anger surged in her, hot and sudden, spiked with helplessness. “Well,” she growled down into his startled eyes, “there’s one way I can use you.”

She rose onto her knees in her simmering frustration, scooted back, grabbed the waistband of his breeches, and jerked downward. His cock sprang free, its strong length shading into delicious pink, its head ripe as a plum.

Amaris grabbed that tempting thickness in one hand, rose over it, and impaled herself in a single breathless rush.

Sensation ripped away her breath. He felt incredibly thick in her slick inner grip. She hadn’t even realized she was so wet, so swollen with heat and need. Teasing him had aroused her as much as it had him.

Damn him to the six hells.

Bracing her hands on his chest, Amaris rose, teasing herself with the juicy slide of his cock. Rolling her head back, she sank, acutely aware of his deep, rumbling groan.

She told herself she no longer cared what the vampire felt. No longer cared if he moaned as she rode him. Cared not if his hungry black gaze lingered on her face, if his big hands clenched in desire, if his feet twitched in helpless reaction to her jogging strokes.

All that mattered was the impaling heat between her legs that spun such sweet pleasure every time she rose and fell. The vampire ground his teeth and rolled his hips to meet her, adding his fierce power to her strokes. But that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it. Wouldn’t let him matter.

Vampires couldn’t be trusted. They lied. They hurt.

And they killed.

FIVE

Raniero ground his aching fangs as she rode him, head tossing until her curls teased his thighs. Amaris felt as deliciously wet as any fantasy he’d ever had, gripping him in a tight vise of feminine flesh. Each time she moved, jolts of pleasure surged straight up his cock and into his balls, drawing them tighter, hotter, until the raging need to come whipped him into a ferocious, heaving gallop beneath her.

Red God’s Balls, what she’d done to him.

Gripped in a fist of lust, Raniero watched her—the sweet, seductive bounce of the breasts he was dying to taste as they danced beyond his chained reach. Her torso rolled as she rode him, all elegant, slim curves, the long muscles of her thighs working as she jogged in easy strength. Her tattoo seemed to glow in shades of red and green on her cheekbone beneath the green flash of her eyes, and her lips pouted at him, inviting kisses he couldn’t reach her to give.

It was maddening to be so utterly at her mercy, driven to climax by her luscious body, gripped so intimately, yet unable to touch.

Orgasm struck him like a spell, a ferocious blast that convulsed his thighs and curled his hands into helpless fists. He arched beneath her, surging upward, her core sheathing his cock in slick, sliding heat. His seed exploded from him in a wave of fire that emptied his balls and dropped him back on the bed, bound and panting.

With one last high, sweet shout, she collapsed on top of him, panting, sweat slicking her skin.

For several long, stunned moments, they lay together like storm survivors. Raniero’s muscles quivered and jumped in helpless spasms. He was more than a little satisfied when he felt hers do the same.

At least he wasn’t the only one left wrung out and shivering. It had been the most amazing fuck he’d ever had, yet he found himself resenting it. Resenting her. She’d taken him like a camp whore in a ruthless possession.

He was the one who did the possessing, dammit.

She rose from his body, his drained sex slipping from her tight inner grip to plop on his sweating abdomen like a dead bird. Face averted, the Rose searched out the shift she’d tossed on the floor and shrugged it over her head. She tied the laces with hands that shook.

“Are you just going to leave me with my cock hanging out?”

She looked around at him as she stuffed her feet in her shoes. Her gaze dropped to his reddened, sticky organ. Blushing like a schoolgirl, the Rose reached down to drag his breeches up until he was decently covered again.

A moment later, the door banged shut behind her hem. He listened to the patter of her footsteps on the stone.

One of his guards said something he couldn’t make out, and the other men laughed in a nasty, knowing little chorus of chuckles that made Raniero’s face heat.

Bitch.

But Red God’s balls, he’d never had better.

Amaris fled down the stairs as if a squadron of Varil was on her heels.

She hadn’t even known her body was capable of . . . that. An explosion of ripe carnality so intense, she felt dazzled, as if she’d stared too long at the sun. Except she’d done the staring with every sense she had. Echoes of the vampire jolted through her body in hot pulses. She could still taste him on her tongue, hear his groans, feel the hard muscled heat of him between her thighs—and deeper, buried in her core, long and thick, an erotic invasion that made her shudder at the memory.

It was one thing to swive some vampire, another to imprint him on your soul. How had he done it? One fuck, and he’d driven himself impossibly deep, like a dagger between the ribs.

Bitter experience warned her to stay away from him. Yet Korban would demand she go to him again, use all her Blood Rose skills to seduce him into betraying his king.

She rounded the curve of the stone stairway—and almost slammed into a massive reptilian body. The Varil raiders hissed at her, evidently on their way up. In her agitation, she made no reply, instead turning sideways and slipping between the two, barely avoiding the claws that darted out in search of her flesh. They cursed her as she fled.

She reached the bottom of the tower stairs and escaped along the snaking corridor of the keep until she found her chamber. It was far from comfortable—a thin layer of rushes on the floor, a pallet that made her back ache in the morning, and a rough wooden bench before the fire. But as it also served as a vivid reminder of her status, it suited her just as well.

She poked up the fire and tossed on another log. As the room took on a dim glow, she collapsed on the bench to stare blankly into the flames.

What was she going to do about the vampire?

Sergeant Milric Lio Ony straightened warily when the two Varil raiders appeared at the head of the stairs. Wizard Lord Korban might trust the reptilian bastards, but he did not.

“You are dismissed,” the larger of the two Varil said, his words spoken in a hissing accent that was nigh incomprehensible. A pair of iridescent blue stripes ran the length of his body from eye to tail. “Lord Korban has assigned my kevil and me to watch the vampire.”

Milric exchanged a wary look with Camar, his second sword. The two men had worked for Korban for ten summers now, and barely had to exchange a word to know each other’s thoughts. Their fellow guards shifted in unease. “I received no such orders.” Milric let his hand fall to his blade hilt.

Lids veiled glowing orange eyes. “Is the Wizard Lord in the habit of consulting thee on such matters?”

“If he had been, I would have told him to stay away from you scaly bastards.”

The second Varil sneered, the lifted black lip revealing stiletto-length teeth. Bits of his last meal rotted between them. “Then get thee gone, git’fe.”

“You do not order us, lizard.” Milric glowered at the hulking reptiles.

“Get. Thee. Gone.” His four-fingered hand went to the axe slung across his shoulder as he bared those revolting teeth again.

Milric cursed softly. He had no doubt the bastard would use that axe if Milric didn’t obey. Damned if he’d risk his life for the king’s lickspittle vampire. Besides, there was mead in the kitchen stillroom, and he had a powerful thirst. He shrugged. “The post is yours.”

Without another word, Milric headed down the stairs, his men hurrying at his heels.

“Git’fe,” one of the Varil hissed. He didn’t look around.

Which was why he didn’t see the toothy grins the Varil exchanged before slipping into the vampire’s cell.

Raniero looked up as the door opened—and felt his blood chill in his veins as the two raiders sauntered inside, spiked tail tips twitching in anticipation.

“Look, my kevil,” the one with the blue stripe hissed. “A feast all laid out for us. Prime pork.” He flexed his claws and bared a mouthful of stiletto teeth.

“And still alive to squeal.” The other laughed, sending a fat goblet of spit flying.

Raniero eyed the two, clamping down on his instinctive terror with the skill of long practice. Fear was what these bastards wanted. “Korban has other plans for me,” he said, his mind racing. A spell. His only chance was a spell. But given the way these chains drained his magic . . . “He will not be pleased to learn you’ve ruined his plans out of sheer pig greed.”

Blue Stripe lifted his shoulders. “He will make other plans.”

Which was the reason no sane man allied himself with the Varil. They were incapable of considering any concern but their own momentary whims. They made effective shock troops, but could be disciplined only through fear and the ruthless use of magical punishment.

Which meant they were going to slaughter him like the pig they’d called him—if he couldn’t defeat his enchanted chains. Raniero took a breath and reached deep into himself, into the heart of his soul where his connection to the Magical All burned like a torch. The cool, bright flame leaped high at his mental touch, responding to his will.

As the warriors padded toward him, grinning like a pair of demons, he shaped that leaping light into a tight, glowing spear. And flung it at the spell that sealed his chains. If he could break the spell, the chains would be no match for his vampire strength.

The shining lance struck the spell—and winked out, its power sucked away.

Blue Stripe gaped his jaws, a rope of drool spilling from his dagger teeth.

Amaris’s sated body purred, demanding sleep. Unfortunately, her mind raced in tight circles like a weasel in a trap. She fought to control its flight long enough for logic. So she had responded to the vampire. Well, so what? She was a Blood Rose. Making love to vampires was what Blood Roses did. All she had to do was . . .

A new thought shot through her preoccupation like a cork bobbing to the surface.

Why had those Varil raiders been walking up the tower stairs? There was nothing up there.

Except Raniero’s cell.

Amaris stiffened on the thin pallet, her breath catching in horror. The Varil were notorious for their vicious appetites. They’d find a chained vampire as irresistible as wolves discovering a staked sheep. And with the enchantment binding him, he’d be helpless.

She bolted off her bed and grabbed the sheathed dagger that still lay on her bedside table after this morning’s spell. It was little enough weapon against the likes of the Varil, but there was no time to run for the guard. She would have to summon Korban with a spell, and buy time until he could arrive. Assuming it suited him to keep Amaris and Raniero from feeding his lizards. Racing out the door, she sought Korban’s black thoughts.

The vampire could be dying even now.

Raniero gritted his teeth as claws flashed down, raking shallow furrows across his bare chest. Blood welled and ran scarlet down his ribs. The reptiles were playing with him, looking to enjoy his pain and terror.

Damned if he’d give them any.

He could scream, of course. If he were lucky, someone might even come running.

But would that serve his king? If Raniero died now, whatever plot Korban had in mind would suffer a major setback. When no word came from Raniero, King Ferran would consider his suspicions confirmed. He’d likely give the situation his personal attention—with an army at his back.

With luck, Korban’s plot would be foiled, and the kingdom saved. Perhaps.

All Raniero had to do was die without making enough noise to alert rescuers. Not exactly the act of heroism he’d prefer, but he seemed short of options . . .

Claws scraped his belly, slowly, cutting just deep enough to bleed him.

“He thinks he is brave.” Blue Stripe licked his teeth with a pointed black tongue.

“That will not last, my kevil.” His partner laid talons against Raniero’s bunched thigh, drew them slowly down. “He is git’fe. He will soon fill the air with his squeals.”

“Go fuck yourselves,” Raniero gritted, throwing all his strength against his chains, only to feel his power drain away in the spell.

Hissing laughter, the raiders reached for him again.

Raniero sensed the flare of magic just before the door blew open with the groaning screech of shattering bolts and breaking wood.

“Get away from him!”

The Blood Rose stormed through the door, a thin glowing dagger in her hand. She lifted it and snarled, “He is not food, lizards. Get yourselves gone, or die.”

Oh, Red God’s Balls, Raniero thought in horror as the Varil whirled to face her. They’ll rip her apart.

SIX

The two brawny Varil towered over the slender Rose, yet there was no fear at all on her delicate face as she faced them. Her dagger glowed like a torch, sending the reptiles’ shadows dancing like demons on the stone walls.

“Look, my kevil,” Blue Stripe hissed, “a little treat before the feast.”

“All you will eat is my blade if you do not get yourselves gone,” Amaris snapped, brandishing her blazing knife.

It might as well have been a glowing toothpick against the raiders’ power and size. Raniero could take no more. “Get out, Amaris! Summon help!”

Too late. Blue Stripe lunged at her, massive arms extended. She spun aside like a bull dancer, and the glowing blade flashed.

A splatter of green droplets rained through the air as the Varil howled in startled pain. “She cut me, Cari’f! The little git’fe cut me!”

But she had already made Cari’f her target, darting in with that ridiculous blade to slash the raider’s fanged muzzle. He yowled and swiped a massive hand at her face. The blow would have taken her head if it had landed, but she spun aside. Bloody claws caught only one silken curl.

Raniero ground his teeth in frustration. Amaris was much faster than the Varil, but all they had to do was land one blow and she was finished. He threw himself against his chains with all his vampire strength, simultaneously knifing his magic into the draining spell. He had to get free before they killed her.

His magic died as the chains held firm. He cursed and gathered himself to try again.

Amaris buried her blade in Blue Stripe’s thigh, then barely managed to yank it out again and dive aside before he could knock her into the nearest wall.

“What goes here?” a human voice bellowed.

Wizard Lord Korban stalked past the splintered door, half a dozen guards at his heels. “Cease!” he roared, flinging a spell globe at Blue Stripe. Just in time. The creature had finally succeeded in grabbing Amaris, and was about to rake her face open with his claws. The globe hit him in a splash of red light, and he yowled, releasing Amaris to paw at his burned shoulder.

“They were attempting to eat your captive, Korban,” Amaris said.

“Nay!” Cari’f hissed. “It was . . . her! She tried to free him. We but stopped her.”

“Which is, I suppose, why he is still chained and covered in the marks of your claws,” Korban snarled. “Do not try to play me for a fool, reptile. You have not the wit for it. Get out of my sight before I slay you on the spot.” A red glow gathered around his lifted hands.

“Have a care, wizard,” Blue Stripe growled. “Our masters—”

“—Will be most displeased if I tell them the Great Barrier will not fall because you two got hungry.” The glow blazed up in warning, bright as firelight. “Get you gone!”

Snarling, the two Varil limped out, hissing insults at the guards who brandished swords to speed them on their way.

Korban turned to Amaris, who was breathing hard, the bloody knife in her hand. Her thin gown was splashed with blood, both green and red.

Raniero tensed. She was hurt.

“It appears you saved my captive.” Korban eyed her up and down, gaze lingering on the shadows of her nipples, visible through the thin fabric. “My thanks.”

She curled a lip, her hand tightening on her knife until her knuckles went white. “I didn’t save him for you. I would not see anyone helpless before those beasts.”

He shrugged. “As you will.” Turning to look down at Raniero, he studied the wounds that raked across his chest and arms. “You are fortunate she summoned me and came to your aid. Otherwise your injuries would have been far worse.”

Raniero let his cold rage show in his eyes. He wouldn’t have been helpless before those monsters if it hadn’t been for Korban’s plotting. “I am well aware of what I owe you both.”

“Where were his guards?” Amaris demanded, a frown on her pretty face. “There were four human guards watching his door when I went downstairs, but they were gone when I returned. Yet their watch was not over.”

The chill smile vanished from Korban’s face, and his eyes narrowed. “That is a very good point. I believe I’ll have a word with the guard captain.” He turned, but before he stepped into the corridor, he looked back at Amaris. “Heal the vampire. He won’t be able to take care of those injuries himself in those bespelled chains. And I’d as soon he doesn’t die of blood-fever.” Korban stalked out, the hem of his robe vanishing after him with a swish like a cat’s tail.

His servants and hangers-on slipped out in his wake, leaving Raniero alone with the Rose. He eyed her in the firelight, frowning. “Why?”

She closed the door behind the last of the mob before turning to look at him. “Why what?”

“Why did you risk your life? You could have run for the guard.”

Amaris shrugged as she crossed the room with a Rose’s habitual floating grace. “I didn’t think you had the time. I feared they’d rip you apart before I could bring help.”

“Instead they might well have ripped us both apart.”

Her green eyes sparked, magic flashing clear and blue in the depths of her pupils. “I am not so easy to kill.”

“Still, you took a great risk.” He studied her lovely face. “Thank you.”

Amaris bent to examine the wounds raking across his chest. “As I told Korban, I would not see anyone at the mercy of those monsters.” She touched delicate fingertips to his chest over a particularly deep set of claw marks.

Raniero caught his breath as her magic danced across his skin, delicate as butterfly wings at first, building to a rapid burn as she forced torn flesh to heal.

Amaris met his gaze, and desire shivered between them, lush and impossibly tempting.

The Blood Rose had saved him at risk of her own life. It made no sense. Roses schemed, lied, led a man around by his dick.

Look at his stepmother. Thanks to her lies, her son was now heir to the fief that should have been Raniero’s.

Yet this Rose had put herself at hazard for one who could do her no good.

Raniero watched her, struggling with the mystery of it as her delicate fingers floated over his bloody flesh, healing his wounds with dancing waves of magic. His temples began to throb, a deep and sullen pulse.

Finishing at last, Amaris started to rise. And hesitated, her gaze on his face. She frowned. “Does your head ache?”

Raniero stirred in his bonds, gazing up at her warily. “Aye.”

She made as if to go again, then stopped and sighed, as if yielding to a weakness. Cool fingers touched him between his gathered brows, and the pain drained away like water.

And that act, he knew, could have no other motive than simple kindness.

Again, the Rose turned to go.

“May I offer you pleasure in payment?”

Her lips twisted with such cynicism; it occurred to him that he was not the only one who doubted the motives of the other. “I need no payment.”

“Then perhaps pleasure for its own sake?” When she started to speak again, he added, “I would offer you my mouth.”

He could not have known.

Orel had been a selfish lover, though she hadn’t the experience to realize it at the time. Cunnilingus was a pleasure he’d never offered her, though she’d heard much of it from the other Roses.

Her Garden mates had often rhapsodized about the sensation, comparing the tongue talents of this lover or that, until Amaris had been wild with curiosity.

No, Raniero could not have known. But once he’d made the offer, a dozen Varil raiders could not have dragged her from the room.

She hesitated, eying him. “But you are bound. How would you . . . ?”

Dark brows lifted. “You need only lower yourself over my head.”

Oh, she saw how he could accomplish it now. And what a wicked idea. Unable to resist, Amaris plucked her blood-stained gown over her head and kicked off her slippers. Only to hesitate, suddenly flustered. “I am bloody.”

He gave her a very male smile. “I care not.”

Come to think of it, neither did she.

There was a moment’s awkwardness as Amaris dealt with the problem of arranging her legs to accommodate his broad shoulders and bound arms. Then she settled down over his face, her own heating in self-consciousness.

Which she promptly forgot with the first molten flick of his tongue.

The sensation was startling in its intensity. Wet, hot, and piercingly sweet. Amaris settled down a little lower to give him better access, then raised up quickly, biting her lip. “Can you breathe?”

“Very well. Come back here.” There was laughter in his voice.

She eased down again and was rewarded with a long, incredibly skillful lap that sent exotic sensations shooting up her spine.

And that was only the start of the delicious pleasure.

Sometimes he traced exotic runes over her jutting clit with the very tip of his tongue. Sometimes he lapped between her folds, or thrust deep into her sex in a maddening tease, or suckled her until the muscles of her thighs danced and quivered.

Amaris had thought herself experienced in the ways of passion, but Raniero taught her differently. He seemed to know her body far better than she did.

And he used that knowledge to whip her into an orgasm that rolled over her and drowned her in sweet fire.

Gods, what lush pleasure. The scent of the Rose flooded Raniero’s head as her taste flowed over his tongue, astringent yet impossibly delicious, reminding him of a juicily ripe persimmon. Warm thighs clasped his head as slender fingers fisted in his hair, demanding and begging by turns.

Driving him mad with frustration.

He ached to touch her, to jerk free from his bonds and tumble her down and thrust his cock deep in that luscious peach of a cunt. But he was helpless.

Yet he’d never felt more powerful. Bound, he explored the power he could wield with only his tongue, his teeth, his lips. Nibbling, sucking, licking, he listened to her helpless cries of pleasure as his balls tightened into burning knots and his aching cock stretched up the length of his belly.

She’d fought for him. She was half his weight and a fraction of his strength, but she’d gone against those towering reptilian monsters to save his life.

Yet he was the one who was supposed to do the saving.

And now her delicate body quivered and jumped against his mouth, right there against his face—so frustratingly far from where he most wanted her.

She came again, her voice lifting in high, helpless cries of pleasure.

He dragged his chin up until he could gaze along the length of her beautiful body. “Fuck me,” Raniero growled at last, unable to take anymore. “Red God’s balls, fuck me.”

She looked down at him with dazed eyes. And then she rose from his face.

For a moment he was afraid she’d leave him like this—aching, furious, his cock hard as a sword hilt.

But then she moved down over his hips and freed his sex from his breeches. He almost moaned in relief. Grabbing the thick shaft of his cock, Amaris impaled herself, sliding the length of him in one deliciously tight swoop. Raniero shivered at the sensation—tight as a cream-slick fist, hot and dazzling.

He threw back his head and ground upward, desperate for the climax that was just inches out of reach.

So damned close.

SEVEN

Raniero stuffed her with mind-blowing sensations, his cock a searing length buried halfway to her throat. Amaris tossed back her head and began to work her thighs, thrusting, grinding, driven by a burning whip of need.

Bracing her hands on his rock-hard belly, she gazed down at him as she rode. His face was drawn tight and stark with hunger, black eyes wild, fangs bared. His long hair tumbled around his bare and brawny shoulders. Sweat and streaks of blood marked his skin, muscles flexing in hard relief with each powerful driving thrust.

She wanted to free him. Wanted to experience all that feral passion, to know exactly what those black eyes promised. To feel his bite, his kiss, his hands on her breasts.

He shouldn’t be any man’s captive. Especially not Korban’s.

Give him your blood, temptation whispered.

She imagined what it would be like—the stinging pain of penetration, the magical connection binding them together in drugging pleasure as he drank.

She could almost see his big body surging with the power of her blood, snapping the chains. The guards would have no chance against him. He’d free her and Marin, and they’d flee together.

Red God, she wanted to trust him. And every instinct she had swore he’d never play her false.

He surged upward so hard he lifted her clear of the bed, his body bending into a bow until only shoulders and heels touched the pallet.

Her climax hit like a ball of fire, blazing its way up her spine, detonating in her skull. She screamed, dimly aware of his roar of pleasure as he found his own peak.

Until she collapsed over him, both of them gasping, sweating skin to skin in a dazed heap.

Raniero had known Blood Roses—too well, in fact. His stepmother had only been the first. They might be beautiful and seductive, might even seem kind if it suited the moment’s purposes. Yet their focus was always on their own advancement. Any vampire who forgot that was a fool who’d soon find himself paying the price for his gullibility who’d soon find himself paying the price for his gullibility.

As he had.

But none of those women would have risked their lives as she’d done.

Still, that left him with one nagging question. He asked it as they lay together, panting in the limp aftermath of passion. “Why do you work with Korban? Especially considering he seems to have formed some kind of alliance with the Varil.”

She lifted her head off his chest and met his gaze, her sensual lips pulling tight. “He seeks a way to breach the Great Barrier. He’s at work on the spell now. He believes his allies will make him ruler of Ourania after the conquest.” Amaris snorted, a surprisingly indelicate sound. “More like he’ll find himself king of rotting corpses.”

“So why in the name of all the gods do you aid him? Even if King Ferran manages to drive the Varil back and repair the breech, hundreds will die. And without those peasants to work the fields, there’ll be famine. Death will pile on death.”

“I know.” She rested her hands on his chest and propped her chin on them, her expression brooding.

“Then free me.” Raniero lifted his head to meet her eyes in urgency. “At least let me taste your blood that I might free myself. I can alert the king and stop Korban before he destroys us all.”

She considered his proposal for a long moment before she finally shook her head. “It’s not so simple.”

“But it is.” He searched her face. She looked torn, as though she struggled with herself. “If you fear his threats, I can protect you. I have power, and the skill to use it. I would not be the king’s investigator otherwise. I can get you away from that madman and his plots.”

“It’s not myself I fear for.”

“Then who?” When her eyes slid away from his, he felt an inexplicable surge of jealousy. “A lover?”

Amaris blinked at that, and a quick, ironic smile flashed across her face. “Hardly.” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself to trust him. “It’s my sister. She is but three years old, an innocent, yet she has great potential power. That’s why Korban sent my father to kidnap her. Tannaz murdered my mother and stepfather and forced us to accompany him.”

Suddenly too much became far too clear. “Breaching the Great Barrier will require vast magical resources. He means to sacrifice the child for the power it will give him.”

She nodded tightly. “The Varil gave him a magical object called the Blood Orb, so called because it requires a death to trigger it. Fortunately, there’s some part of the spell he still hasn’t mastered. Once he does . . .”

“The child is dead.” He flexed his fists restlessly. “Amaris, surely you see that I am the only chance you and your sister have. But we must act now, before . . .”

She bit her lip.

He ground his teeth. “You don’t trust me.”

“If you had my father, you would know why.” She grimaced. “And my lover once tried to rape me. So no, I do not find trust an easy thing.”

Raniero stared at her, appalled, unable to fathom a vampire who could so abuse any Rose, much less Amaris.

It was little wonder she was skittish.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t afford her doubts. He met her eyes, willing her to believe. “Amaris, I swear to you on my honor—I will free you and your sister, or I will die in the attempt. I will not allow Korban to sacrifice that child, not to power his spell, not for any reason. I will not fail you.”

Raniero’s gaze was dark and utterly steady. He believed what he was saying. And she found herself believing him, despite the times she’d been betrayed.

He was no betrayer.

They had barely known each other a day, yet that didn’t matter. She sensed his bedrock decency with a certainty that went beyond logic, beyond experience. It was a truth that rang in the soul.

Like magic.

Her heart began to pound, hard thumping lunges. “Feed, then. Take my blood.” She sat up until she could straddle his chest and bend over him, pressing her bare, sweating breasts to his chest, her throat to his mouth.

Raniero froze as if unable to believe she was yielding herself. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked. “You will not regret your trust.”

He kissed her leaping pulse, his lips lingering and tender.

And then he bit.

Amaris jerked at the hot sting. It had been years since she’d fed a vampire, since she’d dared let one get this close. She’d forgotten how it felt, the hot intimacy of trusting a man with her blood, the slide of fangs into flesh, the movement of lips and tongue.

And the surging tide of magic that rolled up from somewhere inside her, deep as bone and heart, a glittering tide that ran up her spine in shuddering waves.

He jerked, absorbing it, drinking the power in with every swallow. She gasped as he moaned against her skin.

Somewhere over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard a metallic crunch, the ring and rattle of chains.

Raniero’s arms came around her, hard and sweating and strong. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized he’d broken his bonds.

Orel would have pushed her away, rolled to his feet, and gone for the door. Raniero cradled her as if she was something precious, his hands stroking over her skin, caressing her backside, exploring the dip of her waist, sliding his fingers into her hair.

Until at last he drew his fangs from her flesh with exquisite care, then ran his tongue over the tiny wounds. Amaris felt his magic dance across her skin, healing the punctures.

“Thank you,” he breathed in her ear.

She straightened, drawing reluctantly back until she could sit up astride him and meet his dark gaze. Still he stroked her, sliding his hands along the curve of her thighs, cupping a breast, rasping a thumb across an erect nipple.

He gazed up at her with those dark, bespelling eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

Simple words. She’d heard them before from other men, other vampires. So why did they have such power coming from him?

“We’d better go.” Amaris licked her dry lips and tried to steady her voice. “If we’re going to free Marin, we have to strike now.”

Raniero let his hands drop away. Her skin felt curiously chilled without them. “I know.” His gaze searched hers. “But later, when this is over . . .” He hesitated.

Her heart had slowed its frantic pound, but at those words, it leaped again. “When this is over?”

“When this is over, I want more of you.” His eyes didn’t falter as he stared into hers. “All of you.”

Amaris couldn’t seem to help her giddy smile. “You’ll have me.” Then she remembered everything that stood in the way—freeing her sister, fighting their way past the Varil, Korban’s men, Tannaz, and Korban himself. “If we live.”

Raniero’s lips thinned with determination. “We’ll live.”

The door to Raniero’s cell jerked open, and Amaris appeared around it, eyes wild, hair disheveled. “He dies!” She wrung her hands, staring at the four guards in the corridor. “Help me!”

They exchanged a wary look. “Judging from the sounds half a sandglass ago, he was healthy enough.”

“I think it’s some spell. Mayhaps Korban’s enemies move against him.” She glared at them, magic lighting her pupils with a warning glow. “Or would you rather go to Korban and tell him why you let his prize captive die?”

Considering their lord’s reaction to the last guard unit’s irresponsibility, that was a message none of them wanted to carry. “Very well, woman,” the guard sergeant said. “You two, stay in the corridor. Kriso, with me.”

Drawing his sword, he flung the door wide and stalked inside—where Raniero wrapped a length of broken chain around his neck and broke it with one ruthless jerk. Kriso fell to the magic blast Amaris fired at his head. She grabbed his sword from his hand before he hit the ground.

The other two guards shouted in alarm and rage, but Raniero was already in the corridor like a cat among pigeons, the sergeant’s sword in his hand. He killed them both in the same smooth motion, cleaving one man’s head from his shoulders before running the other right through the breastplate.

Raniero turned to aim a wild, glittering grin at Amaris. “I think the sergeant’s armor will just fit.”

She eyed the carnage. “I doubt he’ll argue. But hurry—I want to get Marin away from her witch of a nurse before someone stumbles on these four.”

But they found the nurse just leaving Marin’s room, a bundle of possessions in her arms. She gasped the truth around the fingers Raniero dug in her fat throat. “Milord came for the child. He said he has no more need of me. He told me . . . he told me nothing more!”

“The Great Barrier,” Amaris whispered in numb horror as Hetram fell unconscious to the steps. “Korban has finished his spell.”

EIGHT

“Can you find her?” Raniero demanded, his black eyes glittering through the slit in the helm he’d taken from the guardsman. “Track her with magic, since she is your blood?”

The suggestion arrested the panicked reel of Amaris’s mind, helped her think again. “Yes. I should be able to . . .” Biting her lip, she drew on her magic and reached out for her sister. It was an old, familiar spell, one she’d used a hundred times to keep track of an active child prone to disappearing. Sometimes literally; Marin had particularly loved using that invisibility spell . . .

There.

She felt the solid tug of the little girl’s life, and her knees went weak with relief. Not dead, then.

Not yet.

“I’ve got her. Come on!” Amaris spun from the room and shot down the snaking stone hallway. Behind her, Raniero’s booted feet rang on the stone, and his armor creaked as he raced after her.

“Which way?” he demanded as they ran.

“Up.” She spotted a stairway and took them. “Feels like she’s about fifty feet up, and maybe twice that far to the right.”

“Battlements,” Raniero grunted. “Makes sense.”

“The Great Barrier is closest to the castle there.” She knew the spot. Korban had once dragged her there for one of his mad rants. She’d listened to him go on and on about the power the Varil would give him, watching the glowing curtain of magic shift and glitter in the night.

If the barrier fell, his own people would be the first to pay the price, but Korban really didn’t care.

Amaris reached the top of the stairs, but before she could charge out onto the battlements, a big hand grabbed her shoulder and dragged her to a stop.

“Guards,” Raniero murmured. “Where are his guards?”

“I doubt there are any,” she whispered back. “It’s one thing for his people to know what he intends. But to work the spell in front of them, when they know they’ll be the first the Varil will kill . . . Nay, he’ll not want witnesses.”

They slipped onto the battlements together, stolen swords in hand, Raniero with a guard’s shield slung over his shoulder. The sky overhead was black with scudding clouds. The icy wind whipped Amaris’s hair, carrying the sound of chanting to her ears. She didn’t recognize the words of the spell, but something about the hissing alien syllables made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

“I do not like the sound of that,” Raniero said grimly, shrugging his shield down onto his left arm. “Which way?”

Amaris indicated the direction with a gesture, and the vampire took the lead. She padded after his broad back, straining to hear any approaching enemy over the moan of the wind.

Abruptly Raniero jerked back and froze, lifting a warning hand. She stopped to peek around his brawny shoulder.

And caught her breath in dread.

The two Varil warriors stood just ahead, backs turned as they watched the scene ahead with snakelike intensity.

Tannaz held Marin pinned to a stone altar as Korban chanted, holding a glowing knife poised over the child’s chest. The Blood Orb floated above her head like a demonic bubble, crimson energies swirling sullenly inside its glowing heart.

Amaris reached down into the core of her magic, felt its hot leap, and shouted a spell that sent it boiling from her fingertips. The blast hit Korban’s knife and knocked it from his hand, spinning it over the stone wall.

Korban snatched for the blade with a shout of startled rage, but he was too late. Furious, his face going scarlet with rage, he whirled to glare at Raniero and Amaris. “Kill them!”

The Varil whipped around and charged, huge blades lifted, fangs bared. Amaris dodged between them, avoiding their flashing blades. She had to get to Marin before Korban could complete his spell. Behind her, steel clashed on steel as Raniero engaged the two reptiles.

“Oh, no you don’t, you traitorous little bitch!” Tannaz leaped into her path, brandishing his sword. Behind him, Korban wrapped an arm around Marin and dragged her off the altar, ignoring the child’s shrieking struggles. The Blood Orb floated after them like a dog begging for a promised meal.

Tannaz swung his blade in a furious stroke, obviously thinking he’d kill her quickly. Amaris ducked his overconfident stroke, her sword slashing across his armored ribs even as she sent a spell rolling down the blade. Her magical attack sliced through his armor like parchment. Tannaz howled in startled pain and clutched his side. Amaris spun, whipping the sword around to slice his thigh to the bone.

“Oh, you’re going to bleed for that!” Ignoring the wound, he charged her with a vampire’s flashing speed.

She sidestepped like a dancer, and he missed, though she felt his sword snag the fabric of her gown. It tore with a ragged sound.

Damn, but she wished she had her armor.

Being a Blood Rose gave Amaris speed and strength beyond human, but she was still no match for a vampire as powerful as Tannaz. He would inevitably wear her down and kill her . . . Unless she could goad him into stupidity.

“Mother always said you were a bully and a coward. She underestimated you.” Amaris gave him a slow and vicious smile. “You’re also a murderer and a traitor.”

The rage that flashed over his face chilled her blood. He attacked, his sword slamming into hers with force enough to numb her arm to the shoulder. Before she could shake it off, he attacked again.

And again. And again. Amaris scrambled backward, parrying frantically as he rained blows on her, sometimes overhand, sometimes in flat, brutal arcs, sometimes targeting her thighs or arms. In minutes, she was bleeding from a dozen shallow wounds, though she managed to avoid anything more serious.

She was losing. Simply staying alive wasn’t enough; she had to land blows of her own. Yet attacking him was impossible when it was all she could do to keep him from driving through her guard and gutting her.

As Amaris circled with Tannaz, retreating, parrying, trying frantically to stay alive, she got fleeting glimpses of Marin and Raniero. The child hung limp in Korban’s arms, her eyes wide with helpless terror as he chanted, the Blood Orb hovering close.

Raniero’s blade flashed in bright moonlit arcs, shield ringing as he blocked the Varils’ massive battle axes. Blood streaked his armor, both vampire red and reptile green.

But Amaris didn’t dare divert her attention from her father’s murderous blade.

Then one thin slipper hit a pool of her blood, and slid. With a cry, she went down on one knee. She tried to throw herself backward, twisting away from the thrust she saw coming right for her heart.

Too late.

The blade slid between ribs and left hip and kept on going, right out her back. She bit back a scream of hot agony.

Tannaz grinned down into her eyes, fangs flashing.

An axe strike clanged against Raniero’s shield as he spun, avoiding the second reptile’s attempt to hack his head off. He retreated in a fighter’s crouch, watching his opponents with narrow eyes. They prowled, attempting to circle behind him, thick lizard tails twitching hungrily. They were slower than he was, but they were also much stronger, as evinced by the dents they’d left in his shield and armor. He was surprised Amaris had held her own with them as long as she had; only her Blood Rose speed and agility had kept her alive.

The thought of Amaris made his gut coil into a solid knot of anxiety. The last he’d seen of her, she was fighting her father. Yet he couldn’t see her now.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t help her until he’d taken care of the Varil.

An axe thunked against his shield with a force that drove him back on his heels. Damn, the bastards were strong. He spun away from the blow, using the momentum to launch an attack at the other lizard. His blade crashed against Blue Stripe’s axe, skidded along the steel, and bit into a scaled shoulder. The Varil hissed in pain and rage, jerking away as green blood flew.

Unfortunately, it was a shallow cut, not enough to disable the big lizard. And Raniero had collected some ugly wounds of his own, despite his stolen armor. His hands were slippery with blood, and a wound on his thigh throbbed in time to his pulse. His sword was growing heavy in his hands, and he knew he was slowing down.

And that could be the death of him, because vampire speed was all that kept him alive. He had to keep moving, or the lizards would trap him between them.

So he retreated, dancing away from his foes, darting in and out between them as he hacked at any target the Varil presented. He knew he had to wrap up this fight before Amaris or her sister died.

Then, as he ducked the brutal swing of a spiked tail, he glimpsed Amaris on her knees, her father’s sword rammed completely through her body. And his heart froze in his chest.

It was a lethal moment’s distraction. The two Varil saw it and lunged forward in simultaneous attack, one great axe swinging for his head, the other for his torso.

He sensed the twin attacks more than saw them. Throwing himself forward into a long, flat dive, he felt one blade skim past his ass as the other scraped one kicking armored shin. He landed in an acrobat’s tumble and came up just in time to hear an anguished roar.

In missing him, Blue Stripe’s axe had buried itself in his partner’s chest. Cari’f fell, tail lashing in death throes.

Taking Blue Stripe’s axe with it.

Blue Stripe lunged for Cari’f’s axe, grabbed it out of the convulsing clawed fist, and whirled.

Too late.

Raniero heaved his great sword in a flat, furious arc that chopped into the reptile’s thick neck with a meaty thunk. But even as he died, the raider swung his axe. Raniero deflected it with his shield, but the massive blade still struck his thigh a glancing blow. Blood flew, bright scarlet mixing with Varil green as Raniero went down.

“I’ll wager that hurts,” Tannaz purred as Amaris panted in anguish down on one knee. “Now, don’t you wish you’d been a loyal daughter instead of a treacherous little bitch?” He levered up on the sword he’d driven between her ribs and hip.

The pain was a blinding scarlet screech that forced Amaris to her feet again. She dropped her sword to grip her father’s wrist, trying to keep him from hurting her further.

He grinned down into her face. “Nothing to say, daughter? No viperous accusations, no vicious insults?”

“Why bother?” she managed as pain rippled through her side in nauseating waves. Her left hand groped for her belt, found the hilt of the slender knife she wore there. Her right hand spread against his armored side, found the chink just beneath his ribs. “You know what you are.”

Rage lit his eyes, and he twisted the sword, ripping a scream from her lips. “And I know what you are—a whore, just like your mother.”

Not close enough. She forced herself another inch up the blade, stepping full against him as she drew the knife from its belt sheath. “But did you know how I’ve met the sun every morning I’ve been your captive?” With a quick twist of the wrist, she drove her little knife right into the chink in his armor into the flesh beneath. It wasn’t a deep wound given the length of the blade, certainly nothing that would kill him. Not by itself. Her lip curled in satisfaction. “Burn, Father!”

Before he could jerk away, she cast the spell that released all the morning sunlight she’d stored in her dagger for just this moment, sending it pouring into the knife wound on a river of magic.

Amaris jerked back, forcing herself back the length of the sword, reeling backward as Tannaz went up like a torch. The vampire howled in agony, the light pouring from the dagger to devour his magical flesh. He blazed bonfire bright until the fire finally went out, leaving his armor to collapse to the battlement stones, empty of all but ash.

Dizzy, weak with blood loss and the effort of casting the spell, Amaris reeled like a drunken woman. But before she could hit the ground, strong male hands caught her shoulders.

“I will have to remember not to make you angry,” Raniero said, even as he sent a pulse of magic into her body. She added his strength to her own and healed the lethal sword wound, sighing in relief as the pain faded.

NINE

“We’ve got to get to Marin before he kills her,” Amaris said grimly.

Raniero longed to tell her to stay behind, but her magic was greater than his, and he knew he’d need her if he was to have any hope at all of stopping the wizard. So he nodded silently and turned to lead the way as they went in search of Korban.

They found him bathed in the pulsing crimson glow of the Blood Orb. His eyes were wide and glittering with exhilaration in his pale face as he held Marin pinned against his chest. The child hung limp in his arms, the side of her face marked with a purpling handprint where he’d obviously struck her.

“You bastard!” Amaris snarled.

Korban smirked at them and kept right on chanting, the words coming in a fast singsong now.

Amaris exchanged a grim glance with Raniero, realizing he was coming to the end of the spell. Once that happened, all he had to do was break Marin’s neck, and the Great Barrier would fall.

“We’ve got to get her away from him,” Amaris whispered.

“Aye, but how?” Raniero hefted his sword and eyed Korban, who promptly lifted the child higher to shield himself. “Fucking coward.”

Amaris’s eyes widened with desperate inspiration. “Marin!” Her voice rang clear over Korban’s chanting. “Remember our game!”

The child’s despairing gaze met hers, but there was no understanding in them.

She tried again. “Remember that game you love to play? The one where I look for you?”

Marin’s big brown eyes went huge. Then, thank the Red God, her little face screwed up with effort.

And she vanished.

Korban’s chanting broke off in a startled yelp, and his hands jerked as if losing their hold. He flailed as if trying to recapture the child who’d just magicked herself invisible and squirmed from his grip.

“Hit the ground, Marin!” Amaris screamed.

The child instantly appeared, her body drawn into a ball as she lay on the stone floor. The wizard started to swoop down and grab her up again.

Raniero ran forward, swinging his sword in a furious upward blow. It cleaved through Korban’s neck in one clean stroke, and the wizard’s head went flying.

But even as his body fell, the Blood Orb flashed a horrifying crimson. A trail of red light started draining from the wizard’s headless body into the globe, which began to pulse brighter.

Raniero froze in horror. “Red God’s Balls! Korban’s death has completed the spell!”

Her heart turning into a solid block of ice, Amaris realized he was right. Though the death of an innocent would have provided more power, any death at all would fuel the spell. In moments, it would activate and rip the barrier apart. And once it fell, the Varil would invade.

Unless . . .

“We’ve got to redirect the spell.”

“It’s too complicated—there’s no time!”

“I can do it!” She stared hard at the pattern of swirling energies, reading them, finding the spot where the spell could be warped, turned to a new purpose. Throwing out both hands, she began to chant, sending her magic swirling toward the chink in the spell.

It was like trying to redirect floodwaters with her bare hands. The spell roared along the channel Korban had constructed, ignoring her efforts to turn it in a new direction. Amaris gritted her teeth and kept trying. She was damned if they’d fall to the Varil after suffering so much, fighting so hard.

But even as she strained to turn the magic, she knew she simply didn’t have enough power.

Until strong fingers wrapped around her shoulders, and a new stream of magic joined that rolling down her arms.

Raniero’s.

The vampire joined his will to hers, reinforcing her magic, working to warp the spell into the new shape she willed for it. And slowly, reluctantly, the spell twisted, took on the form she demanded.

The mystical energies pouring through the Great Barrier began adding to its strength instead of weakening it.

Somewhere in the distance, Amaris thought she heard reptilian voices howl in rage. Perhaps it was her imagination.

But it made her grin anyway.

Even as she smiled, the Blood Orb hit the stones of the battlements and shattered.

Silence fell.

It was so quiet, Amaris could hear her own panting along with Raniero’s deeper breaths. She felt dizzy, exhausted with blood loss and effort.

“Ama’is!” Her sister flung her small warm body against Amaris’s thighs, almost bowling her over. “Ama’is, you saved me!”

She dropped to her wobbling knees and wrapped shaking arms around the little girl. “I had help.” Amaris met Raniero’s eyes, and let her own gratitude show. “I had a lot of help.”

He leaned down and kissed her over the child’s head, quick and hard. She smiled at him as he drew away, knowing a promise when she tasted one.

They limped into the great hall, where the guards and castle folk slept together on thin pallets. At the ring of Raniero’s boots on the stone, Korban’s warriors jolted awake and rose with a mass growl—only to fall silent in staring astonishment at the sight of their lord’s head, swinging by its bloody hair from Raniero’s right hand.

The left held Blue Stripe’s decapitated skull by one long ear. Amaris carried Cari’f’s head as her own gory trophy, a chilling grin of triumph pasted on her face.

Together, the lovers strolled to the dais through the stunned crowd, Marin walking solemnly behind them. Amaris’s heart was knotted in her throat, but she knew that the castle had to be reclaimed for the king.

Besides, she was frankly too tired to run from these bastards anyway.

Raniero dumped his burden on the dais, then flung himself into the lord’s chair. Amaris dropped the head she carried next to the other two, then moved to stand behind his chair, secretly bracing herself against it as the room spun around her. Despite the healing spell, she’d lost far too much blood. Marin leaned against his knee and gave the crowd a little smirk that warmed Amaris’s heart. Despite everything she’d been through, the child’s spirit was intact.

Raniero’s deep voice rang across the stillness of the great hall. “I have a message from your king.”

He gestured a spell, and a huge image appeared in the air over the hall. Ferran’s face stared out from it, rage in his golden eyes, a muscle flexing in his handsome cheek. He wore full armor, and he spoke from horseback. “I ride to Tzira Castle with my forces. When I arrive, I shall investigate your lord’s crimes. I expect you to give Lord Investigator Raniero your full obedience in the meantime.” He paused and swept his gaze over the crowd, which visibly cowered. “Lord Raniero pointed out that many of you were simply following the orders of your lord. He urges me to mercy. We shall see if he is of the same opinion when I arrive.”

The image winked out. Raniero contemplated the pale faces staring at him. “I trust,” he said at last, “you will give me your full obedience?”

Heads nodded rapidly all the length of the room.

Leaning against the back of his throne, Amaris smiled in tired satisfaction.

TEN

“A Rose and a fief,” Raniero said, settling against the pile of silken pillows in the lord’s bed. “I never thought to receive such a boon.”

“Well, you did save the kingdom,” Amaris pointed out, settling in next to him. “Naturally the king was grateful.”

He gave her a look. “We saved the kingdom.”

“So we did.” She leaned into his warm, muscled side, and he wrapped an arm around her.

King Ferran had decided Tzira Castle was too important to be entrusted to anyone except a man he was utterly sure of. Which meant Raniero, though the king sighed that he was loathe to lose his best investigator.

It was not a gift Raniero was inclined to turn down.

Ferran had showered gifts on Amaris, too, in recognition for her efforts to prevent the loss of the kingdom. There’d been gold and jewels and bolts of fine fabric, but more important, he’d given her the pick of his staff. She’d selected a calm, experienced nurse from among them to care for Marin. The woman and Amaris’s sister were now abed in the next chamber down the corridor, in an airy room full of the toys the king had presented to his “little heroine.”

Now, for the first time in weeks, Amaris and Raniero were finally alone, without either the king to entertain or Marin to reassure.

Raniero cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It strikes me that the king may have made too many assumptions.”

Amaris looked up at him, lifting a brow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “The fief might have been his to give, but not the Rose. And I would not have you if it’s but a matter of duty.”

Amaris stared at him, incredulous. “Duty?”

He nodded, his eyes serious as he looked down into her face. “I know your sense of honor is strong, but . . .”

She stretched upward until her mouth met his in a kiss that blazed with all the heat and passion she felt down to her soul. His lips parted under the fierce assault, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth.

Stroked, licked, tasted.

When she finally drew back, she saw with satisfaction that Raniero’s eyes looked a little dazed. “Did that feel like duty, my lord?”

He licked his lips. “No. It felt like . . .” He stopped and swallowed.

“Love.” Amaris did not let her eyes drop, though a part of her wanted to flinch at the nakedness of the word.

But she trusted him. She’d learned out there on the battlements that Raniero was not like those who’d betrayed her. He was a man who could be trusted unto death.

So she met his eyes and said it again. “I love you, Raniero.”

Light flared in his eyes, bright with relief and passion. “And I love you, Amaris.”

Then his mouth covered hers, and he hauled her into his arms. As Raniero kissed her with starved intensity, his hands began to explore, cupping first one breast, then the other, thumb playing back and forth over the nipple that hardened hungrily under his touch. She kissed him back, a slow mating of tongue and lip and careful nipping teeth, reveling in the taste of him, male and magic.

“You drove me mad in that cell,” he growled against her mouth, “touching me when I couldn’t touch you, fucking me half blind while I was chained and helpless.”

“Mmm,” she purred, remembering those sweet, wild rides. “As I recall, you were well-revenged by that wicked mouth of yours. That sly tongue touched plenty. I thought I would lose my mind.”

“Serves you right.” Chuckling, Raniero danced his fingers down her torso, following the curve of her belly down to the soft nest between her legs. He rumbled a growl as he found her already growing slick and swollen. “You tasted so sweet.” White teeth flashed. “In fact, I find myself hungering for more.”

Amaris yelped a giggle as he tumbled her back on the bed and began to work his way down her torso, pausing for a nip here, a suckle there. Her breasts drew him into a passionate detour for a sweet eternity that was far too short, his tongue circling each nipple in turn, drawing wet runes that set her blood ablaze. She squirmed and sighed as he stiffened his tongue to flick and tease, then used his teeth with gentle ruthlessness until she quivered.

Finally he continued down her body, exploring the rise of her rib cage with kisses, pausing to swirl his tongue into her belly button. She laughed at the cool tickle, threading her hands into his long, dark hair.

But when he finally settled between her legs, she lost all urge to laugh. The width of his powerful shoulders nudged her thighs apart, and he wrapped his strong arms around her legs as he lay full length down the bed.

Amaris lifted her head to watch with breathless attention as he tilted his head, considering her sex. His dark eyes flicked up to meet her gaze, and he gave her a wicked white grin.

The first pass of his tongue between her swollen folds made her quiver in helpless need. He licked again, slow and lazy as a cat cleaning his paws, each creamy stroke sending jolts of pleasure sizzling up her spine. Gasps and whimpers escaped her lips as he tasted her as though she dripped honey, deliberate, maddening, spinning rapture over her like a spell. She could almost see the golden glow of his magic behind her eyelids.

And still his tongue worked, dancing over her clit, sliding between her folds, thrusting deep into her core. As though that wicked enchantment wasn’t enough, he reached up around her thighs to squeeze and tease her nipples, winding the delight tighter and tighter.

The orgasm stormed out of nowhere, shaking her body, jerking the muscles of her thighs like lute strings. She screamed at the sheer sweet glory blazing through her mind.

When Amaris could see again, he was braced over her on one hand as he aimed his thick, hungry cock with the other. “Oh, yes!” She drew her legs wide in welcome.

Raniero entered in a slow, luscious slide, groaning in delight. “Red God’s Balls, you’re tight,” he panted.

And he felt so deliciously thick, a tunneling pleasure that seemed to reach halfway to her waist. His withdrawal was just as careful, a sweet, silken delight. Dazzled, she looked up at him as he braced his arms to either side of her shoulders, biting his lip as if he fought to control himself. His dark eyes seemed to glow with feral need as he thrust in and out.

A need for something more than sex. A need she felt just as powerfully.

Hypnotized by that need, she stared up into his eyes, admiring the flush riding his high cheekbones, the sensual curve of his mouth, the white tips of his fangs showing between his parted lips.

Raniero picked up the pace, nostrils flaring like a racing stallion’s. Each long thrust jolted her closer and closer to explosion. Gasping, she hooked her heels over his thighs and ground upward, meeting him with rolling hips.

The climax exploded in her core like a blast of magic, primal and savage. As she threw back her head to scream, he bent his arms, lowering himself over her, his black eyes wild and hungry. His lifted upper lip displayed the length of his teeth.

Knowing what he wanted, what he needed, she angled her head to offer him her throat. “Now, oh, now!”

The touch of his hot lips and the cool slice of his teeth kicked her climax even higher. Thrusting heavily, he began to drink. She fisted her hands in the silk of his hair, gasping with the feral intensity of her pleasure.

They lay together in the aftermath, panting, sweat sheening their skin in the moonlight that poured through the window. Amaris stroked his strong back slowly, feeling a sweet contentment she’d never known.

Until he raised his wrist to his mouth and sliced his fangs across the skin. Blood welled as he met her gaze, an odd vulnerability in his eyes. “Will you drink from me?”

Amaris blinked at him in dumbfounded surprise. She’d heard of this in the Garden, but she’d never expected a vampire to make such an offer.

For a vampire to share his blood with his Rose linked them in magic, heart to heart, soul to soul.

“Oh, yes,” Amaris breathed, joy blazing through her like sunlight.

He tasted like love, and she smiled against his skin, knowing neither of them would ever be alone again.