Lothaire

43

I’ll never get used to this, Ellie thought as waves lapped at her feet on a secluded beach in France. A balmy breeze danced over her skin, most of which was bared in a string bikini.

For nearly three weeks, Lothaire had taken her to moonlit shores all around the world—after Hag had given her a cool druid-looking tattoo around her ankle.

But that pain had been worth it to see the world. “It’s gorgeous here, vampire.” Almost as much as you . . .

He was barefooted, shirtless, wearing only low-slung jeans. Sea spray had dampened his hair and misted his chest. In the moonlight, his skin sheened, his eyes glowing.

Though he’d seen her thrilled expression with each locale they visited, his watchful gaze was locked on her face.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

A short nod.

After that first night of mind-blowing sex, Ellie had awakened, sore but happy, expecting things to be different between them. Instead, Lothaire had dropped her off at Hag’s again, as if nothing had changed.

Well, except for the sizzling, toe-curling kiss he’d given her before he left. And then he’d returned early, asking her, “If you could go anyplace in the world, where would it be?

“Bora-Bo—”

She hadn’t even gotten the words out before he’d traced them there. Whenever she was at Hag’s, she read travel magazines, and then he’d take her to whatever destination she’d dog-eared.

Apparently Lothaire had been everywhere. She had yet to stump him in all of their journeys. He’d shown her all the Greats: the Great Wall of China, the Great Pyramids, the Great Barrier Reef. Plus the Maldives, the forests of Asia, glacial floes, and jungles . . .

Now she peered down at the water around her ankles. “Uh, Lothaire, why is the water glimmering?”

“It’s phosphorescence.”

At each destination, he would teach her new things about the area. He seemed to know everything, and she sensed he genuinely enjoyed teaching her. “Foss fur what?”

He spelled the word, then explained, “Tiny organisms that give off light when disturbed.”

“Really?” She splashed for several moments, fascinated.

“You know, this isn’t the last time you’ll see it.”

As someone who’d had time limits applied to her life span—twice—she found it hard to shake the feeling that death lay in wait. “Before we go, can we walk farther down the beach, maybe collect some shells?” She had a shelf at the apartment designated for nothing but sea shells.

“As you wish.”

They walked in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

These weeks hadn’t been perfect between them, of course. When they did get to sleep together, he had to chain himself to the bed. As he’d explained, “No more unplanned trips for my Bride.”

And there were the matters of a bitch squatting inside Ellie and a ring to be found. Not to mention the constant tension she’d sensed in him, as if he was battling some force within himself.

One night after they’d made love, he’d murmured, “I wish I could tell you the things on my mind.” Just the fact that he wanted to confide in her meant much. “You could help me see them clearly.”

Yet no matter how much she asked, he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe he was just growing impatient to turn her into a vampire. Could that explain the strain she’d begun to see on his beautiful face?

She was not so eager to be turned.

The idea of transforming into another species was terrifying to her. How could she not mourn all the things she’d be giving up forever? Her mother’s fried chicken, waffles, beer.

Sunshine. She’d asked him, “Do you ever wish you could spend a day lazing in the sun?”

“I can’t miss what I’ve never known.”

“But I could.”

“We’ll see about that. . . .”

Most of all, she would miss her loved ones.

He’d told her, “You’ll never see them again, Elizabeth. I am your family now—you took my name the instant I claimed you. Your loyalty is to me alone.”

Even if she believed she could wiggle around that proclamation, there were other worries.

She’d learned that there were virtually no female vampires in the Lore—because they’d all died of some kind of immortal plague, one that only affected them. “What if I catch the plague when you turn me?” she’d asked him.

“That should be the last of your worries. Worry about assassins, wars, torturers. But not a sickness.”

“Is your world always so violent?”

He’d admitted, “The Lore is a . . . ruthless place.”

To survive in it, Ellie would have to grow more aggressive, callous even. He’d told her that the ones who survived longest were the notorious ones, the immortals with reputations based on some bold coup or brave deed.

In prison, she’d worked so hard to hold on to her humanity. Now she would be expected to throw it away.

Did she want to be with him badly enough? To change herself so drastically?

If she loved him, she might. But she didn’t. Not at all. Mind over mind. Only a fool would love him. . ..

Besides, every time she felt like she was in danger of falling for him, they’d have an argument over something.

A few nights ago, when he’d been obsessively poring over his prized account book, she’d cleaned up some debris from his various rages and washed their linens.

He’d been aghast. “You . . . you cleaned?”

“Someone had to. I don’t like sleeping on dirty sheets.”

“Until we can hire servants, we transfer to another room. Another property, even! No Bride of mine cleans.”

“You keep trying to change me, the way I talk and act. You’re gonna alter my very species to fit yours. When will you change something for me?”

“This ancient dog will learn no new tricks. Besides, it’s a female’s place to adjust to her male.”

Ellie had bitten her tongue to keep from screaming at him. At times with him, she bit her tongue so hard it’d bleed.

And they’d quarreled because of his irrational jealousy. One night, he’d taken her to a creek she used to swim in when younger. “Why did you bring me here, Lothaire?”

“You once liked this place.”

She’d loved it there. Yet her thrill over the thoughtful gesture had faded directly. “How’d you know that?” The vampire must have seen her here—at night. “You spied on me?”

“I spy on everyone. Why would you be different? Soon you will go spying with me.”

Then realization had dawned. “Oh, my God, you’re the one who hurt Davis, the boy I was with. You saw us together, and you threw him down a gully. He broke both of his legs!”

“He lived?” Gaze narrowing, Lothaire had murmured, “Not for much longer.”

Ellie had barely kept him from searching out her old beau with intent to do murder.

Getting him to forgive Thaddeus was just as much of an uphill battle. “Come on, Lothaire,” Ellie had said. “He only wants to visit us at Hag’s. He can help guard me when you’re away.”

“Forget it.”

“He’s your best friend.” Not necessarily because Lothaire cared anything about Thaddeus, but because the boy cared more about Lothaire than anyone else in the Lore did.

“How do I know you won’t mortify him with more of your kisses?”

“Because you know I’m infatuated only with you. Besides, you can trust him. Any other man would have kissed me back.” When he remained unmoved, she’d cried, “You’re jealous of an eighteen-year-old boy!”

“He’s seventeen.”

Eventually, she’d won Lothaire over. Or so she’d thought. At Hag’s, he’d backed the boy into a wall, expression brimming with malice. “Elizabeth Daciano is my woman.”

Thad had swallowed. “And she sure is a nice one, Mr. Lothaire.”

“Keep your mouth to yourself today, boy, or your spine will decorate our mantel. . . .”

But after her fights with Lothaire, whenever he found her pensive, he surprised her with new gifts. He’d brought her jewels from all over the world. Ellie’s own jewels. She supposed the others were hers, too, but these new ones were special because he’d chosen them specifically for her.

Or he would surprise her with wicked sex. Her sensual vampire had so many tricks up his sleeve, and as he’d grown more comfortable controlling his strength with her, he’d unveiled one after another.

Yet each new move made her wonder how many stunning immortal females he’d practiced it on before her. He’d once told her he’d bedded a new one each night: fey courtesans, nymph barmaids, the occasional demon shepherdess.

But never a human of course—

He suddenly took her hand. Hers fit into his as if it were a glove made for her. She peeked up at him from under her lashes and sighed.

Lothaire was like a pale-haired god beside her.

He paused then, looking as if he’d say something, but he closed his mouth, walking on.

Would kill to know what you’re thinking. . . . Ellie didn’t want to break this tenuous truce with him, didn’t want to spoil this honeymoon period. But at the earliest opportunity, she needed to know how they were going to evict the goddess.

The night that they’d exchanged their vows, Ellie had been too frazzled by all the developments to realize something critical. When she’d asked him how they would get rid of Saroya, Lothaire had answered, “The ring’s still in play, is it not?”

Classic Lothaire-speak.

She’d been just as disingenuous, promising him that she would get past all the things he’d done to her. At the time, she would’ve said anything. She’d recognized that she had him on the ropes, and damn it, she’d wanted to live.

Now, even as she held his hand and leaned into his strong arm, she wondered if she could keep her word.

She did truly want to work through her resentment—instead of just lying to him about it and snapping her mental rubber band.

But how could she get past his treatment of her when everything he was doing now only reminded her of it?

His telling her she’d never see her family again brought to mind how he’d threatened them so cruelly. Not to mention the fact that he’d stuck her on death row. She tried to reason that he’d prevented Saroya from killing by locking Ellie away. She told herself that he’d saved lives.

Ellie told herself that a lot.

And though she’d taken Hag’s contraception potion, he still pulled out during sex. Not that she wanted to get pregnant right now or anything, but he must be horrified by the idea of a part-human heir.

Every time he left his seed anywhere but in her, he reminded her of all his many insults.

Weak mortal, stupid human. No one had ever made her feel so lacking.

It wasn’t as if he’d changed his mind about what she was, accepting her; he was merely looking forward to the time when she’d be made different.

Take away the difference in their species and they were still worlds apart. He was royalty. She was . . . Ellie. Does he still consider me just a “backward and vulgar hillbilly”? He’ll probably be embarrassed of me around others.

God, that hurts.

And how could she get comfortable with him, when she sensed how dangerous—and evil—he still was?

She’d been proud of him because he hadn’t wanted to behead his friend.

Way to set the bar there, Ellie. . . .

He stopped walking, drawing her close. “If you could have any gift, what would it be?” The breeze whipped his hair across his lean cheeks. “No expense is too great.”

“Paying off my family’s mountain. Maybe having a place near them.”

“Elizabeth . . .” he said warningly. In the moonlight, his eyes gleamed like an animal’s caught in a headlight.

“Alrighty then, maybe something for Balery? You could cross her out of your book!” Again and again, the fey had helped Ellie try to understand an enigma like Lothaire. The other night, Ellie had admitted that she’d be a goner for him if he could tweak just a few things.

Balery had replied, “You have to understand that he was born and raised in a world outside of the human realm, in a different time. Eons ago, he grew up in that ill-omened castle you saw, under the reign of a vicious despot—who was also his father. Even though Lothaire is one of the most intelligent males I’ve ever encountered, he has no wisdom about women’s feelings. None. Yours will be the first relationship he’s had with a lover, the learning curve precariously steep. . . .”

Now Lothaire said, “Hag’s debt is not yet satisfied. In any case, I was talking about a gift for you.” Plainly frustrated, he muttered, “Just forget it. You’ll simply have to endure it when I bring you more jewels.”

“Exactly how rich are you, Leo?”

He’d grown to like it when she called him that, because the name was theirs alone. Just as she’d grown to love being called Lizvetta in his raspy accent.

“We are obscenely rich. Befitting a king and queen. I will always provide for you.”

And only for me. Maybe she could secretly pawn some of her jewelry in the future, mail some cash to her family.

He tugged on her hand. “The water’s warm. Join me for a swim.”

Smile, Ellie. “You’ve got that look on your face. I’m about to get laid, aren’t I?”

After making short work of their clothes, he reached for her, palms landing on her ass with a measured slap.

She surprised herself by moaning throatily.

“Indeed,” he rasped, kneading her spanked flesh as he lifted her, forcing her legs around his waist. “You are about to get laid. . . .”

Some time later, with the waves crashing around them, Ellie screamed with pleasure, crying out his name like a prayer as she clung to his wet shoulders.

Directly after, he gave a brutal yell and jerked his shaft out of her. Heaving his breaths against her ear, he pumped semen between their slippery bodies.

So careful not to get me pregnant. That connection she’d felt the first time they’d had sex was missing now.

When he finally released her, she drew away to wash off his seed, her eyes pricking with tears.

“Lizvetta?” He grazed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. Such strength in him, yet he could caress her so gently. “Look at me.” When she did, his gaze seemed to burn with emotion. “Have I hurt you, love?”

How could he make her heart melt so easily? When he looked at her like this, all her defenses crumbled. “No, it’s not that.”

In a hoarse voice, he told her, “You are mine. Your life is with me. Do not fight this.”

The tenderness in his tone made her want to throw her arms around him and admit how much she cared for him.

But she forced herself to tell the truth. “Sometimes I have doubts—”

“Doubts?” Like a shot, he coiled a length of her hair around his fist, his expression altered from longing to menace. “The time for doubts has ended. This is a done thing, Bride.”

“Lothaire . . .”

“If we were ever parted, I would bring you back to me,” he rasped. “There is nowhere on earth that I couldn’t find you.”

From any other man, these words might be a promise about their future. From Lothaire, they were nothing more than a threat.

Put it with the others.

Snap!

“Nowhere, Elizavetta,” he repeated, his eyes aflame. Such a contrast to his earlier heartfelt sentiments.

It was as if two men stood before her, one who needed to love and be loved, and one who only wanted the Bride he believed was his by fate. Neither version knew how to love.

“I do understand that, Lothaire.”

Over the last couple of weeks, her rubber band had gotten so much play she had to wonder why it hadn’t broken yet.