 
Dragon Heat

Book One of the Dragon Heat series

By Ella J Phoenix

Copyright © 2012 by Ella J Phoenix

Published by Ella J. Phoenix

#### Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

What others are saying about Ella J Phoenix's romances.

"Dragon Heat (Book 1)"

#### 3rd Place Winner, Best Paranormal Romance Novel,

#### 2013 PRG Reviewer's Choice Awards

"Steamy romance, descriptive intimate scenes and a story that will grip readers on all levels." (96/100, Serious Reading)

"This book was fantastic. The romance was steamy, the story was gripping, and the whole thing was bursting at the seams with creativity." (5 STARS, Unwrapping Romance)

"This story reminded me of books I love like BDB, where a storyline ends and you look forward to the next book to learn about the next characters in the story." (5 STARS, Paranormal Romance Guild)

"A great book. Ella delivers a dragon and vampire love story like no other out there today." (4 STARS, Bitten by Romance)

"Vampire Thirst (Book 2 of the Dragon Heat series)"

"A story that is utterly griping, the 2nd book in the Dragon Heat series has surpassed every reader's expectations. The dynamics of the two leads and the fast-paced action are just a few reasons to pick up the book." (97/100, Serious Reading)

"And the story continues with more Dragons, Vampires, Shifters, and now Werewolves - oh my!" (4 STARS, Unwrapping Romance)

"Phoenix does it again!" (5 STARS, ML Rosado)

"Awesome! Any fan of the genre will fully enjoy Vampires Thirst!" (5 STARS, Paranormal Romance Guild)

"An amazing addition to the Dragon Heat series!" (5 STARS, Literary Melting Pot)

"Wolf Hunger (Book 3 of the Dragon Heat series)"

#### 2nd Place Winner, Best Paranormal Romance Novel - Shifter Category, 2014 PRG Reviewer's Choice Awards

"If we were to describe the story in three words, we would say its brilliant, imaginative and error-free writing." (98/100, Serious Reading)

"This series is a must read for anyone who loves paranormal romances. Every book leaves you wanting more!" (5 STARS, Paranormal Romance Guild)

"Awesome book three in the series. It just keeps getting better!" (5 STARS, ML Rosado)

"This series is my form of crack! Ella J. Phoenix has repeatedly hijacked my attention, emotions, and imagination with her spellbinding creativity." (5 STARS, Literary Melting Pot")

"Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series)"

#### 3rd Place Winner, Best Vampire Paranormal Romance Novel, 2015 PRG Reviewer's Choice Awards

"What an outstanding turn of events this series has taken!" (5 STARS, Romance Bookworm)

"Absolutely the best book ever! Such surprises at every turn. Gotta love it!" (5 STARS, Literary Melting Pot)

"Vampire Legacy is another successful-sexy-romantic-steamy read from award winning author Ella J Phoenix. (...) Be ready for a hot encounter with a sexy as sin vampire." (5 STARS, ML Rosado)

"Sparks fly and hearts are wrenched in this beautifully brutal tale of true love, loyalty and power." (95/100, Serious Reading)

Blood Curse (Book 5 of the Dragon Heat series)"

"It rocks! Fabulous ending to an amazing series!" (5 STARS, Unwrapping Romance)

"(Ms. Phoenix's) world building is magical and pulls the reader into a paranormal world of wonder, danger, intrigue, folklore and steamy romances. Blood Curse was all that and then some." (5 STARS, The Reading Cafe)

"Ella Phoenix has given us a fabulous final book to this brilliant series!" (5 STARS, Chrissy Dwyer)

Dedication

To my amazing mother, who is my catalyst; my fantastic husband, who is my inspiration, and all my dearest friends who have helped me along the way. Thank you for your support and constructive feedback.

Love you all,

Ella

Glossary

**Apa Dobrý –** group of five gods, creators of life on Earth and the universe

**Apa Sâmbetei** **–** the land of the souls; the afterlife

**Calathor** **–** someone who can cross to Apa Sâmbetei and return unharmed

**Draco** **–** a dragon in human form

**Hiad** **–** the Underworld

**Inmã** **–** the soul

**Razbians** **–** lizard people known for their lack of intelligence

**Soartas** **–** Goddesses of Destiny

**Sujha** **–** a non-pure being; offspring of the union between two different races

**Terhem Viahta** **–** the land of the living; Earth

**Ucidhere** **–** God of Death, Lord of Apa Sâmbetei

**Zmyzel** **–** Goddess of Life
Prologue

Romania, 1800

Tardieh realized he must have passed out because he could feel that the sun was in a different position now. It was almost sundown already.

Without opening his eyes, he unlocked his senses to his surroundings. It wasn't easy—he was weak, but he forced himself to stay calm. He first focused on the sounds around himwater dripping somewhere above him, someone breathing and a heart beating a few feet away. Just one heartbeat.

They had left only one razbian to guard him; they must have thought he was very weak. Not that they were wrong. He had lost a lot of blood, and his body ached all over.

_Breathe, breathe_ , he thought, and decided to open his eyes just a fraction. He didn't want the guard to know he had awakened. The first thing he noticed was the dancing shadows on the walls, casted by the dim light of a single candle placed on the ceiling.

On the ceiling?

No, Tardieh realized, the candle was on the floor. _He_ was the one on the ceiling—hung upside down. The dripping sound wasn't water either; it was his own blood dribbling onto the floor. He was suspended by his ankles with thick silver chains; his hands bound behind him in the same fashion. His head throbbed from being upside down for so long.

Inhale, exhale.

The smell of piss, excrement and something else, something worse, assaulted his olfactory receptors. _Fear_. He could smell the fear of previous prisoners who had suffered in that room before him. Their terror had been so tangible it had tainted the air, the walls, the floor.

"So yer awake, then."

The razbian guard stood up and placed himself in front of Tardieh. He could see the guard's sharp blackened teeth and smell his putrid breath.

"We thought yeh was gone. But yer a mulish one, ain't ya?"

The razbian was of average height, much smaller than a draco or a vampire, but one would consider him bulky. The green leathery skin and bulging wide-set yellow eyescharacteristic of his kindwere the only things preventing them from walking among humans like vampires and dracos did. Thank Apa Dobrý for that, otherwise the pricks would have turned the world upside down by now.

Tardieh felt the air shift around his face before the blow hit him. He was so weak he didn't even try to duck or defy the guard. All he could do was close his eyes and welcome the pain. The bastard's high-pitched laugh struck him like déjà vu. How long had he been in this piss-smelling prison?

Another blow. This one hit his stomach with such force that Tardieh's body swung back and forth, like meat in a slaughterhouse.

"Hey, I'm talkin' ter ye!"

More of the high-pitched laughter.

Tardieh tried to speak, but couldn't make the words come out. He tried again. "Water."

This time the guard, taken by curiosity, made the mistake of stepping closer to hear what Tardieh was saying, probably with the intent to use the new information to torture him later.

The warrior inside Tardieh took over. His fangs extended, ripping open his sore gums, and with the last ounce of energy he had, Tardieh bit the motherfucker's ear.

His brain registered the razbian's screams as if from afar, but fresh blood had already hit Tardieh's lips. The delectable warm liquid oozed into his mouth, making him forget where he was and what had happened to him. There was only the metallic taste and the life energy spreading inside him, rushing through his aching muscles. Razbian blood was a far cry from a human's; it was leaden and cold, since razbians were distant descendants of the lizard people from the east. But at that moment, Tardieh couldn't care less about how strange and heavy the razbian's blood felt on his tongue, it was the best elixir he had ever tasted.

"Yer sonofabitch! Yer ripped off my ear!"

If Tardieh had the energy, he would have laughed, but his ecstasy was cut short by another series of punches to his face.

The door opened and another guard stepped in the room. He was taller and leaner than the razbian; while the latter had obvious evidence of his race, the former could have easily passed for a human. Tardieh recognized who it was by the strong odor of decaying meat this person always carried with them. Vrajitor was his name, the so-called "draconian magician." He had politely introduced himself when Tardieh had been brought to the cell weeks before—or maybe it had been months already; he had lost track of time long ago. "Not that I have more magic than other dragons," Vrajitor had explained on their first encounter. "It's just that I'm known for magically making my guests talk."

Tardieh hadn't been surprised by the remark. Despite human folklore, dragons could unleash their magic when in human form, although it was never as powerful as when they were in their true form.

"Has he awakened?" the draco asked the razbian guard, his glare on Tardieh unwavering.

That was not a good sign.

"Da, sire, the leech bit my ear!" the guard said, still holding what remained of his left ear. His long scaled hands shook with anger.

A faint twitch that could have been mistaken for a smile appeared on Vrajitor's face. "May that serve you well for underestimating your enemy."

As he took a few more steps into the room, Tardieh noticed the bastard's eyes scrutinizing his naked body. Tardieh held his gaze, trying to show no fear of what was coming.

"You are either stronger than I have anticipated or more stupid, bloodsucker. But you will tell me what I want to know sooner or later." And there it was again, the face twitch. But this time it came with a slight show of his shark-like teeth. "Bring me the _scula,_ " Vrajitor barked to the razbian.

The guard hurried out of the room and came back with a trolley covered by a long, stained cloth.

Tardieh was now well acquainted with what they called the _scula_. The instruments were made of pure silver, of course, so as to enhance the prisoners' pain.

He tried to suck in a gulp of air, but his lungs ached too much. He must have had a few ribs broken in the never-ending punching sessions. He didn't mind the punches, though. They had always kept him awake.

Throughout his years of training to become the leader of his people, he endured endless sessions of ruthless practice. His father, the vampire king, had made it clear that just because he was his heir, he was not to receive any special treatment. More so, Tardieh's training had been even more callous than the other warriors. He was the prince and therefore needed to be stronger than the others, more prepared to deal with any battles that the Soartas imposed on him—such as this one.

Vrajitor lifted the sheet to reveal his most-loved torture apparatus. "Which one should we use today, prince? Would you like another session with my _gheara_?" he asked, raising a blood-stained silver device that looked like a claw with four sharp fingers attached to a short handle.

Tardieh swallowed dry, unable to stop the dread brought upon by the memories of that claw ripping his flesh open. Vrajitor had used it on his abdomen, his legs and his back. In the beginning, he had healed immediately, but in the last couple of visits from the magician, Tardieh had noticed that his healing abilities had been slower. The wounds from their previous session were still bleeding.

"Or maybe you would like to meet my newest invention, the _para_." With the now familiar twitch on his face, Vrajitor lifted a strange, long device, as if displaying it to a potential buyer.

It had the shape of an oversized pear with an extensive handle on its narrowest end and a pointed prong at the other, where the bottom part of the pear would have been. Vrajitor's grin broadened as he twisted the device's handle. The bottom part opened into three sections, revealing a lengthy, thick screw. The more he twisted the handle, the more the sections opened up and the broad rivet was drawn out in the middle.

"You see, prince, my first _para_ was developed to punish the ones who dared lie to me. These wedges can do quite the damage when inserted down someone's throat."

Tardieh could imagine the pain such a thing would cause. Expanded by the force of the screw, the maximum aperture of the segments would mutilate the victim's esophagus while the elongated middle section would continue ripping through the gullet's channel.

"But since you have not exactly lied to me—you refused to utter a word and that's not technically lying—I think I will choose another cavity to apply my _para._ Maybe in a lower part of your beautiful body?"

Taking his time, Vrajitor strolled around the room, coming to a stop behind Tardieh. With a sickening dread, Tardieh noticed the bastard was aroused.

"No one has ever resisted the _enlightenment_ my _para_ offers. No one has ever managed to survive it either. I must confess that seeing you succumb to my finest invention will bring me much joy, but today I'm willing to forgo my personal pleasure." Vrajitor bent down and whispered in Tardieh's ear. "If you tell me where your coward king hides, I will spare you."

As much as the offer sounded like paradise, Tardieh knew it was a lie. The draconian prick enjoyed his torture too much to deprive himself of a good session.

Tardieh felt the deceivingly smooth touch of the silver device against the back of his left thigh. It burned his skin like boiling oil, no doubt opening new wounds in its wake. The strong smell of burned flesh invaded his nostrils and he had to fight the bile rising in his throat.

Vrajitor lazily trailed the _para_ further down, along Tardieh's buttocks, and he trembled in panic but swallowed the pain, biting his own tongue to stop the cry from leaving his lips.

He would not fail his people. He would endure trials, torture and suffering, until the Soartas, the goddesses of destiny, decided it was time for him to cross the Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei, but he would not betray his father's location.

"Tell me where your armies hide, bloodsucker!" Vrajitor bellowed, tracing another painful path down Tardieh's lower body, dangerously close to his anal orifice.

This time, Tardieh couldn't contain the yelp from escaping his lips; it came out like a bark. Struggling to keep his sanity, he gathered some strength. "Fuck you," he said in a dark, low voice. It was all he could muster.

He saw Vrajitor's eyes narrow and become even more yellow. The fanatic look on his torturer's face was so intense Tardieh thought it would expel fire at any time and burn him to death right then and there. Death would have been most welcomed.

Vrajitor leveled the device to its intended destiny. "Let's see who is going to fuck whom tonight, prince."

Tardieh closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain.

"Excuse me, sire?" A female voice came from the open door.

Time stood still.

"I have an urgent message from the dragon lord," the female carried on.

After what felt like decades, but must have been just a couple of seconds, Vrajitor roared, "How dare you interrupt my session?"

"I-I have an urgent message from the lord for you, sire." Tardieh could sense the uneasiness in the woman's voice. "He requests your presence at once."

Vrajitor's anger was palpable in the air. He would probably make the poor girl pay for interfering in his work.

"Stay here," he barked at the guard, who looked as frustrated as Vrajitor, then left the room mumbling obscenities.

Tardieh exhaled in relief, allowing himself to enjoy the respite, no matter how short it would be.

After a moment of silence, he heard the girl say to the guard, "Would you like some water?" Her voice sounded much stronger now. "You look thirsty. Here, I brought some water."

She stepped into the room holding a clay jug and a cup, seemingly unfazed by the guard's hungry gaze upon her body. Tardieh could even _smell_ the razbian's arousal.

"Dunno if I want water, lass. But I sure gonna have some of what other yer offerin'." The guard took a few menacing steps toward her.

With a ghost of a smile lifting her lips, she poured the water in the cup and handed it over to him.

The guard brought the cup to his lips without taking his eyes off the lady then, once finished, threw it on the floor. "Now, let's have a bit more of what yer have, hmm?" He grabbed her by the hips, pulling her toward him.

The girl yelped in surprise and turned her head wrinkling her nose, probably to avoid the razbian's foul breath. As she did so, her gaze locked on Tardieh's for the first time.

Despite the throbbing in his head and the pain in his limbs from being hung upside down for so long, Tardieh was struck by the intensity of her honey-colored eyes. It was clear she loathed the guard's filthy hands on her, but she didn't fight him off for some reason. Tardieh felt a twinge of pity for the female. This was probably not the first time a male had used his rank or gender to take advantage of her.

Snapping out of it, Tardieh decided to exploit the guard's momentary distraction and free himself. _This may be his only chance_. White pain shot down his arms and reverberated throughout his body, making him groan. He cursed when he realized his efforts had only managed to increase the cut on his ankles and wrists, but nothing else.

The sudden sound of someone choking stole his attention away from his feeble plans of escape. As his gaze landed on the razbian and the lady a few feet away, Tardieh's jaw dropped in disbelief.

The guard, who was minutes from having his way with the female, was now crouched on the floor, holding his throat, eyes wide and face turning blue. But he wasn't simply choking, Tardieh realized when brown foam started to pour out of his putrid mouth. Shaking, the razbian looked up at the girl with inquisitive eyes, probably trying to understand what had just happened, but she was already moving toward Tardieh.

Tardieh opened his mouth to ask what in Hiad she was doing, but she shushed him.

"Don't say a word," she said with impressive confidence. "We have to get you out of here before Vrajitor realizes he was set up." With the strength and agility of a full-grown soldier, the lady released Tardieh from the silver chains and held him down, slowly placing him on the stone floor, careful not to drop him. Then, without hesitation, she took off the dead guard's trousers and threw them on Tardieh's naked lap. "Put these on quickly. Can you walk?"

Confusion and shock clouded his thoughts, but Tardieh nodded and did as she commanded. He pulled the trousers up his legs and winced when the rough fabric rasped on his open wounds. When he tried to stand up, his legs buckled beneath him, refusing to bear his weight.

Lean arms wrapped around his waist and helped him up, and once again Tardieh found himself lost in the golden sea that was the female's eyes. _Who was she_?

Before he could ask her anything, she dragged him out of the torture chamber, leaving the guard's lifeless body behind.

The door led to a dim corridor, with one only exit at the end. With the help of her surprisingly strong grip, he half-ran, half-stumbled toward his freedom.

"Why are you helping me?" Tardieh's voice was so hoarse he could barely hear his own words.

"Don't waste your energy with questions. We need to move faster."

The door at the end of the passage led to a long, descending stairway. Tardieh could feel his body giving in to his exhaustion. Blackness was enveloping his eyesight, but he found enough energy to take each step without falling down. They finally reached the bottom of the staircase, which led to yet another dark hallway with a number of doors running the length of it. They were below the fortress, Tardieh realized, because the air was thicker and damper here.

"Come, we're not far now," she whispered, pulling him toward the far end of the hall.

Just as they were at the end, Tardieh heard a door open behind them, and the dreadful smell of rotting meat permeated the stale air in the chamber.

Oh, no.

"Well, what have we here? A little kitten stealing my feast?" Vrajitor was a few feet behind them, slowly advancing like a predator sure of his dinner.

Tardieh felt the woman beside him tense, but she quickly recovered, moving to stand between himself and the magician.

Despite being barely able to hold himself up, Tardieh didn't like seeing a female protect him; it wasn't just pride, it was his thirst for revenge that blindsided his better judgement. If someone was going to face Vrajitor, it would be him.

He hissed, barring his fangs at his torturer, and tried to stand up straight but the damned female stopped him with unexpected strength.

"Please forgive me, sire," she begged with such a weak voice which was quite contradictory to the strength in her hand holding Tardieh in place. "The prisoner looked so weak. I pitied him. Please don't hurt me, sire." She bowed low, the way a plaintive would.

Vrajitor didn't seem convinced and closed the gap between them with four long strides. "What of the guard? Where is that imbecile?"

"He's met his fate," she growled in reply, then rose up with a speed and grace only known to the best warriors. Her silver dagger shone against the dim light before making its way into Vrajitor's right eye.

The bastard cried out in pain, growling profanities, but before he could recover and retaliate she stabbed him again, this time in the jugulara draco's most vulnerable spot.

Vrajitor fell to the floor with his hands clutching his neck, trying to stop the gush of blood from flowing out.

Without wasting a second, Tardieh's savior grabbed him by the hand and ran out the door.

The new chamber was pitch dark and Tardieh instinctively slowed down.

"Don't stop!" she yelled, yanking him forward.

His feet tripped against metal, some sort of ledge, making him lose his already flimsy balance and stumble down. He closed his eyes, dreading the pain the impact of colliding against the stone floor would cause his face, but it never did.

His body kept on falling, and falling. In utter shock he realized the ledge hadn't been an iron bar forgotten in the middle of the dark path, it had been a gate on the ground, and they were instead free-falling.

His body hit the icy water with a loud splash. The coldness shook off his exhaustion, and Tardieh kicked his legs, swimming toward the surface but to his surprise the lady grabbed his ankle, stopping him. He glared at her then creased his eyebrows in confusion when he saw her pointing toward the bottom of the lake. _She wanted him to swim down, not up? Who in Hiad is this girl?_ Vampires didn't need air to survive, but he didn't know that dracos shared that same talent.

Well, whoever the mysterious lady was, she had managed to get him out of that dreadful prison, so if she wanted them to swim down, down he would go, even if it did sound like a senseless plan.

After a few minutes, he saw what she was heading toward. There was an opening at the base of the lake that looked like an underwater passageway. She led them through it, and they emerged on the other side of a cave. Tardieh's strength failed him again when he tried to get out, but the prospect of finally reaching his freedom fueled his aching limbs and he managed to lift himself out of the water before collapsing on the cave floor. They both remained there for a few moments, catching their breaths.

"Who are you? Why are you helping me?" he asked between shallow intakes of air. His mind was working overtime. He had to find out who she was, where they were, and how to get out of there. The dragon lord was not the only enemy he had in this war. If she was working for another draconian sect trying to capture him for their side, he would be in deeper trouble than before.

"Not yet," the lady replied. "We can't stop now. There's still a long way to go before we're safely out of their reach." She stood up and marched deeper into the cave.

Tardieh took a deep breath before following suit.

After what felt like hours of walking they reached an opening that led to a very familiar forest. _He was still on vampire soil_ , Tardieh realized with mixed feelings of relief and shock. His captors hadn't taken him out of Romania. _Such arrogance._

The sight of his land gave him extra strength to carry on, but the newly found energy deserted him after a while. Unable to continue any longer, he stumbled and fell by a large tree.

"We can't stop now. We have to keep on going," the lady insisted. "They'll reach us in no time."

"I can't. I have to stop to regain some energy." He closed his eyes and opened his senses to his surroundings. He had to find an animal, preferably a big one, to drink from. But he couldn't sense anything close by. _Damn the Soartas!_

Vampires could survive off animal blood but not for a long period of time. Animal blood was not as fortifying as human or dragon blood, but it would have given him enough strength to teleport out of there.

He opened his eyes to find her frowning at him.

"You're still bleeding. How come?" she asked. "You're a vampire. You should have healed a long time ago." She crouched in front of him, studying him. Her voice had been sharp, but her golden gaze showed more worry than annoyance.

"I've lost a lot of blood." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

Inhale, exhale.

The delicious smell of blue-mist flowers hit his nostrils—blue-mist and blood. _Her_ blood. He could hear her heartbeat and the blood flowing through her veins. Strong, plenty.

Curbing the hunger that threatened to take hold of him, he lifted his eyelids and locked her into a firm gaze. "Who are you?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again but closed it once more, as if undecided of what to do.

That's it; he'd had enough. He had to know what she was up to before it was too late. "I will not take another step until you tell me who you are and why you are helping me."

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that you need to go back to your people and end this bloody war," she retorted, leaning back on her heels.

Tardieh could see her properly now. She was wearing a dark brown woolen kirtle over a loose-fitting shirt with long bell sleeves. The kirtle was topped by a dark green apron that complemented her eyes. It was the typical attire from this region and it suited her. Her long, black wavy hair, which had been pulled back by a plain headscarf, now cascaded down her shoulders in front of her full breasts. The combination of her striking almond-shaped, hazel-honey eyes with her thick lips gave her an exotic, mesmerizing appearance.

"End the war? I thought you dracos wanted this bloody war," Tardieh countered, trying to wake up from the trance of having her so near.

"We? No, not _we_. The draconian people never wanted a war against your kind. That dragon lord and his bunch of ignorant followers did. Who do you think has suffered the most from this war? We never cared to invade Romania. We were happy with our crops and our own land in the eastern mountains. _We_ didn't need more land. And now it's all gone, devastated, burned to the ground." Her voice cracked with emotion before she stood up and turned her back to him.

Tardieh could taste the saltiness of her tears in the air. There was nothing more powerful than tears of anger.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked in reply. "Go back to my people and tell them to stop because the draconians have asked me to?" That was ludicrous. How could he, the vampire prince, go against his father's commands? Yes, he would be king one day, but not now, not soon enough to make a difference in the near future.

"Yes. That's exactly what I want you to do. I've risked my life to show you that not every draco agrees with this war. Actually, only the aristocratic minority supports that stupid dragon lord. The others who opposed him were hunted down and their fate was worse than yours. You have to go back and stop the attacks."

Tardieh exhaled, frustration gnawing at him. "Even if I could convince my father to stop the attacks, your dragon lord would continue. He would keep on trying to take not only Wallachia but the whole of Romania." She was insane! She truly believed he had the power to stop this war.

She stared back at him for a couple of seconds. "The dragon lord won't be around for much longer."

A cold chill ran up Tardieh's spine. "What exactly are you talking about?"

She lifted an eyebrow at him.

Mighty Soartas, she and whomever was working with her were going to assassinate the dragon lord. Or at least they were going to try. And if she could get him to commit to stopping the attacks from the vampire's side, the war could actually come to a halt.

Well, at least until the next dragon lord decided he wanted a bigger backyard.

She took a step closer and crouched in front of him again. "I know what you're thinking. You think you're just the prince, just another pawn in this game, but you're mistaken, Tardieh. You have more power than you realize. You have forged close relationships with many sovereigns in the region, vampires as well as other races. They all adore you."

That was true. Despite him being a free spirit, which was often frowned upon—especially by his father—Tardieh was quite popular in the supernatural community.

"Promise me you will end the attacks on my people upon your return," she pressed again. Her voice carried a confidence that clashed with her fragile-looking figure.

Tardieh gazed up at the woman in front of him and marveled at her unique beauty and strength of character, but it was for just a moment. All he wanted was to grant whatever wishes she requested, but he couldn't.

"I can't promise you that. It would be a lie if I did. I'm sorry," Tardieh replied, true sadness clutching his heart. Promising a future he had no control of would be a form of betrayal. She had saved his life, and for that he owed her his honesty, to say the least. "My father is the king, and he was betrayed. He won't stop until he gets his revenge."

But Tardieh saw her point now, saw a perspective he hadn't seen afore. Before meeting her, Tardieh had believed that only his beloved Romania had suffered from that war. Never had he thought that the dracos were suffering from the consequences as much as the vampires.

_I guess the gods of war don't pick sides when it comes to averting collateral damage_ , he thought.

The lady pushed off the floor and paced around. "What if the circumstances were different? What if your father were...if he somehow let you make the choice, what would you do?"

"I would stop the attacks and try to end the war for good," Tardieh replied without hesitation.

At his answer, she stopped pacing and faced him once more. Her gaze was full of hope—a hope Tardieh couldn't dare let grow further, so he continued. "But he won't. My father believes I am not ready to rule. He says I'm naive to think all races can coexist in harmony." And maybe his father was right. After all, it had been Tardieh's gullibility and arrogance that had led him to the trap that allowed the draconians to capture him.

"So, if you had the chance, you'd end the war?"

"Yes. If my father gave me the chance, but he won't."

A ghost of a smile lifted her lips.

Tardieh was about to tell her that his heart went out to her people, that he would have wanted nothing else than to repay her for freeing him, but stopped mid-thought when he saw her drop to her knees and crawl between his legs.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"We can discuss what we'll do about this war later, now we have more pressing problems to address." She started untying her blouse.

Tardieh gaped at her in confusion. "What are you _doing_?"

"I don't want you to stain my blouse."

After untying the front lace, she lowered the blouse down her shoulders and stopped just above her nipples. Tardieh couldn't stop himself from gawking at her delicate torso and full breasts. By Apa Dobrý, he knew it had been a while since he'd been with a woman and was therefore more susceptible to the female lure, but sexual drought or not, this woman was stunning.

His fangs began to elongate of their own accord before apprehension claimed his mind as he finally understood her intentions. "No. I will not feed from you," he growled, trying to look away but failing miserably.

"You need to feed, Tardieh."

"It's too dangerous," he retorted, his jaw tight. He was too weak and didn't trust himself to take only what he needed. In his current state, the bloodlust would easily overpower him and he would kill her in no time.

"By now, the razbian guards have probably realized what happened and may be on our tracks already."

"I will not take from you."

He turned his face to the side and took a deep breath. Big mistake; her blue-mist scent was unbelievably inviting.

Leaning on her hands, she crawled forward, closer still, between his legs. "You have to feed from me, Tardieh," she whispered.

Maybe it was his weakened state, or the combination of her husky voice, floral scent and sexual energy—whatever it was, it was too much for him to resist. His gaze fell once again upon her luscious breasts barely hidden by the thin fabric, and finally landed on her throat. Her veins. Pulsing blood.

She leaned even closer, the smooth skin of her cheek brushed against his. "You know you have no other choice, Tardieh. The scent of your blood will lead the razbians straight to us, and your wounds won't stop bleeding until you feed."

"No," he replied stubbornly, but swallowed hard, trying to curb the hunger threatening to consume him from inside out.

She raised her chin, positioning her gorgeous neck inches from his lips. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Drink from me. Take my vein."

Damn her!

"Tardieh..."

Later, he would try to justify his actions by telling himself it hadn't been his fault. It had been all too much and overwhelmed him; she had been too alluring for his debilitated mind and flesh. But at that very moment when her lush lips called his name, when her warm blood called for his fangs, any concerns of taking too much and killing his savior vanished, forgotten in the mist of lust and hunger.

Tardieh felt his eyes go red, before he grabbed the nape of her neck with both hands and held her in place. Her pulse quickened, the familiar tanginess of fear enveloped his nostrils. "Too late now, lass. You will have what you asked for," he rasped, then opened his mouth, allowing his fangs to extend fully.

Then, without hesitation, he bit her.

Her yelp of surprise was the last thing his mind registered. With her blood spilling inside his mouth, every coherent thought escaped him. All he could think of was _more_ , _more blood_. Sweet, delicious blood.

His muscles cramped slightly before swelling from the strength of her nourishment. His senses became sharper and he could feel his limbs regenerate by the second.

More, more.

Before she could try to run away, he pulled her down on the ground, swapping positions. He was now on top, in full control, his long body touching every part of hers. After a moment, he felt his beautiful savior relax in his arms.

She wouldn't turn into a vampire, contrary to popular folk stories, but she wouldn't be able to stop the effects of his bite from taking over. Vampire's fangs released a poison that neutralized his victim's neural senses, opening them up for the physical enjoyment of the exchange. That was the scientific explanation but, in reality, no one could resist the erotic ecstasy spilled by a vampire's bite.

Tardieh continued to drink from her, as he felt his strength return at a faster rate than he had anticipated. He enveloped his arms around her waist linking her lower body to his. The Soartas should damn him—what he was doing wasn't right—but he simply couldn't stop himself. She felt much too perfect in his arms. His hips lazily rocked against her and found bliss in her softness. To his surprise, she didn't resist. On the contrary, his savior let out a low moan before her nails rasped along his back, encouraging him to keep going.

So he did. He squirmed on top of her, their bodies separated only by the thin material of his stolen trousers and her kirtle.

_Stop! Enough!_ The voice of reason yelled inside his mind. He had to stop—he had already taken in excess—but her warm blood flowing in his veins and her soft body rocking against his was too much to resist.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and his shaft grew even harder, aching to meet her core, no doubt moist by now and ready for him. A new groan echoed in the quiet night, louder than before, and this time he couldn't discern if it was his or hers.

But another sound also invaded his ears. Footsteps on grass. Not close, but not far from where they were.

_Damn the Soartas!_ His captors were coming.

Struggling to ignore his lower head that was eager to take her right there, Tardieh pulled his lips from his savior's delicate neck. "We have to go." He could barely hear himself, so he tried again. "We have to go."

She lazily opened her eyes and met his, then her gaze set upon his lips, watching his fangs recede, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he was still lying on top of her. _Mighty Soartas._

"They're coming for us," Tardieh repeated, but his voice was lower than usual, his gaze fixed on her delicious lips. Gods, what he wouldn't do to kiss her right now, but they had to get moving. "Can you hear footsteps?"

His question did the trick, successfully waking her up from the trance. Blinking quickly, as if confused, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed slightlythe international sign for 'give me some space'. Tardieh complied, sliding sideways and unwrapping her from his embrace. He watched her sit up and fumble with her skirts, before lifting herself up.

But as soon as she got up, her knees buckled and back down she went.

"Whoa, easy there, lass," Tardieh chuckled, catching her in the air before she fell on her arse. "It'll take you a few moments to regain your balance."

She took a long, deep breath and was about to say something, but the sound of a massive explosion made them both stop and turn toward the mountains. _What in Hiad_?

Tardieh's jaw dropped as he watched in disbelief the draconian prison be consumed by fire. "Merciful Soartas!"

"Time to go," his savior said, her confident tone resounding in the forest once again. "They're coming." She straightened her blouse, as well as her spine, and pointed in the opposite direction as the footsteps. "There's a village not far from here. If we hurry, we can reach it before the razbians reach us." And with that she darted away along the narrow dirt path.

It was so easy to keep up with her this time around. His wounds were completely healed, his limbs didn't ache anymore and his skin tingled from the powerful energy rushing through his body. Never had he felt so invigorated so quickly after a feed. _Amazing_.

His body had starved for how long? Normally, it would have taken him at least a good day's rest to fully recover, but not tonight, and it was all due to her nourishment. Who was this woman? Or more to the point, _what_ was she? Dragon blood was powerful but not that powerful.

After easily catching up with her, Tardieh grabbed both of her arms, forcing her to stop.

She looked at him with a mix of annoyance and confusion. "What are you doing? There is an army of razbian soldiers coming straight at us. We need to go now."

"Yes, we do, but not by foot." He enveloped one arm around her slim waist, bringing her close to him. Her warm body pressed against his and his shaft immediately responded. The damn thing had no sense of impropriety whatsoever.

Gathering his strength, he focused on the image of his home village and let the darkness surround them. From the corner of his eye, he saw the guards emerge between the trees. But they were too late; the translocation was already happening.

His savior's startled gaze locked on his. "Are you sure you're strong enough to do this?"

He couldn't talk but hoped he could give her some reassurance through his stance. Before long, the forest gave way to total darkness and Tardieh welcomed the familiar feeling of free-falling that always came with teleportation.

As soon as it happened, it was gone.

Opening his eyes again, he realized he had managed to teleport them to the exact street corner he'd wanted. Despite the whole ordeal, he felt almost one hundred percent again. _Amazing_.

He gave her a small grin. "Yes, I'm sure."

She looked dizzy but rewarded him with a small chuckle before stepping out of his embrace. His body responded in protest and he unconsciously held on to her hand. She didn't object.

"Where are we?"

"At the base of my castle. We're safe here."

"You mean, _you_ are safe here. I'm still a draco in vampire territory." She walked down the dark alleyway, analyzing the surroundings. The moon had fully risen by then, and Tardieh could see her slender hips swaying down the path.

"I can give you protection. Come with me and you'll be safe," he said. For some insane reason he didn't want her to go.

She turned back to him. "This is _your_ home. It's time for you to go and keep your end of our bargain, prince." She stepped closer and stopped a few feet from him, her honey gaze intent on his. "Promise me you will. Promise me you will stop the attacks."

"I can't promise you that. I'm truly sorry." His chest ached, but he couldn't lie to her. Not after everything she'd done for him.

Her eyes filled up with sadness and disappointment. Before she turned around to leave, Tardieh grabbed her wrist. "But I can promise you thisI will do everything in my power to convince my father to stop the attacks."

She pursed her lips, as if considering his words, so he carried on without hesitation.

"And you can be certain that from this night onward, you will always have an ally in my kingdom."

She exhaled, then a ghost of a smile lifted her cheeks. "That's enough for me," she said, watching him under long lashes. "Thank you, Tardieh. May the Soartas guide you in this new cycle of your life." She turned away again and started down the narrow street once more.

"Wait! At least tell me your name."

She stopped, but kept her back to him. Tardieh could see only her profile and her wavy dark hair cascading down her back. "Zoricah. My name is Zoricah," she replied, before disappearing into the shadows.

Tardieh's breath got caught in his throat as his mind went blank. He could not believe his ears. He had just been saved by none other than Zoricah, the draconian demigoddess.
Chapter One

New York, Present Day

The techno music pumped at full blast, driving the horde of dancers into a new high, their semi naked bodies moving eagerly to the hypnotic rhythm. There was no doubt, Cascade was the hottest nightclub in New York City. The name derived from its main feature: an enormous waterfall that filled the whole southern wall and descended upon an amorphous swimming pool, which was impossibly lit from inside out. The dance floor was on the opposite side of the spring and the main bar on the western wall.

The club's mystical-sexual vibe was further enhanced by its enormous glass dome ceiling which displayed the summer stars above. The VIP areas were located on the second floora large upper circle that ran along all four walls like an indoor balcony. But the real VIP area was one level up. Only a very selective group of patrons had entry to the third floor, where private lounge rooms and suites were carefully secured.

Yara had her eyes on a specific booth on the upper circle. It had taken her less than thirty minutes to locate her target.

"Hey, babe, how are you?"

May Apa Dobrý help her, not another one!

This must have been the tenth guy to come on to her in the last twenty minutes. True, she was glad that her carefully chosen outfit proved to be serving its purpose. She was wearing a crimson halter top tied up just below her firm breasts with a low-rise miniskirt that left nothing to the imagination. She had topped it all off with a pair of red lace-up seven-inch sandals, large golden hoop earrings, and marble bangle bracelets. Yep, she was very pleased with herself, but she had had enough of those sad excuses of the male gender disturbing her evening. This one must have been either blind or suicidal, for he ignored her 'piss off' look and ran his hand on her naked, flat stomach.

"So, does this belly button have a name?" the guy drawled. From a few feet away, a small audience cheered and punched the air.

Great, his buddies were watching.

Yara took an inquisitive look at the happy hand that had found its home on her well-defined stomach and slowly raised her eyes to scrutinize its owner. It seemed that the sad bastard was under the illusion he had a chance to score tonight.

Yara didn't say a word. She didn't have to.

She slowly reached for the misguided hand, which had already migrated a few inches south, and without taking her eyes off the male slime-bucket in front of her, she twisted it.

Too bad it was to the wrong direction.

With curious amazement, she saw the guy's eyes flicker from cockiness to disbelief to denial and finally pain. When he was about to spoil her fun by screaming like a girl, she sealed his lips with her other hand. "Now, now, _babe_ , you're not going to make a fool of yourself by crying like a baby in front of your buddies, are you?"

He swallowed and tried to retrieve his hand in vain. Yara held on to the twisted wrist, making the experience even more painful. The more he tried to pull away, the harder she held onto it, the further his wrist bent. His face went white before a little squeak escaped his mouth, reminding Yara of a squealing piglet.

"I suggest you leave her alone before she decides to have your hand for dinner," her friend Samantha said, finally arriving with their drinks.

The guy's wide eyes darted from Yara to Sam then back to Yara, as if trying to kick his brain into second gear. Yara felt a twinge of pity for him. He was obviously having a hard time grasping how such a fragile looking lady could be so impossibly strong. Unfortunately for him, the twinge vanished as soon as it came and she let out a low purr, just to add one more unexpected piece to his nightmare.

"Let him go, Yara. Play time is after we do our homework."

"Oh, but this is so much fun." Yara gave her friend a little shrug and let go of Mr. Happy Hands.

He stepped away so fast it almost threw a couple of people into the swimming pool and then staggered desperately toward the exit, ignoring his group of friends who were now almost rolling on the floor laughing.

Yara let out a husky chuckle and turned to get her drink from her friend's outstretched hand. "Oh, come on. He had it coming," she said, after seeing the disapproving look on Samantha's face.

"We have to focus," Sam scowled her. "We don't know how long they're going to stay at their VIP area. Do you have the ring?"

Yara raised her right hand showing a large ring adorned by a huge ruby-colored rock. For the naked eye, it was just another overrated ruby ring; but at close range, a trained eye may have just been able to notice a tiny latch on its frame, which once opened released a very rare and powerful poison known for knocking out crocodiles in the Amazon.

"Don't worry. I got it covered." Yara looked at her friend and sensed something amiss.

Sam was her opposite. They were both beautiful in their own way. One was the typical Amazon splendor: tall with dark hair, slim, toned voluptuous body, and sun-kissed skin; the other was the perfect example of the Celtic angelic beauty: blue eyes, blonde wavy hair and narrow hips that accentuated her full breasts.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Yara asked, trying not to sound too rude.

Sam looked back at her with haunted eyes. "I...it's nothing. I just want to finish this mission and get out of here."

Yara didn't buy that. Sam was usually the quiet one, but today her quietness had an edge Yara didn't like. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I am, just... I don't know. My energies are a bit off, that's all." Sam replied, referring to her special ability to draw electricity into her body, like a human-conduit. She took another sip from her frozen margarita and glanced toward the VIP area on the second floor. "Which one, do you reckon?"

Yara turned her attention to the open balcony, from where three vampires enjoyed their evening, watching the unsuspecting humans on the dance floor below.

The three amigos _-_ with-fangs, as Yara had nicknamed them, were an interesting bunch. A Japanese samurai descendant from one of the oldest vampire families in the world; a Native American who was said to be the son of a shaman, and a blond male who could have made a fortune in Hollywood. They were all sexy as hell and exuded powera combo as deadly as their fangs.

During the course of the evening, Yara had watched a few bimbos—female and male—throw themselves at them, sometimes quite literally. The other supernatural creatures present at the nightclub kept their distance, as if they knew they were no match to the three vamps on the second floor. Either that or they also knew who the three amigos really werethe vampire king's personal guards and closest advisors. Yeah, no one messed with this bunch.

Well, no one except Yara and Samantha.

"So, who's your pick?" Sam asked Yara again.

"The blond one," Yara replied, eyeing the gorgeous vamp who was leaning casually on the balcony railing while his two friends went inside and sat around a chess table. _They're playing chess at a night club? Really?_

She had chosen the blond vamp for two simple reasons. He was ridiculously handsome—over six feet tall, short golden hair, muscular body, broad shoulders and an amazing pair of grey eyes—and because every time she'd seen him in the scene before he'd never been alone. He had always been entangled with one or two, sometimes three, women. That combination made him the perfect candidate for their mission. Tonight she was going to show him what entanglement really meant.

She glanced at Sam and said quietly, "Look, if you want to head off, it's fine with me. I can take care of this by myself."

"No, I'm fine, really. I'm here to watch your back, aren't I?" Sam could be very convincing most of the times, but tonight her twitchiness was so visible Yara would bet her left arm there was a light bulb exploding somewhere in the vicinity.

Yara's overly sharp sense of smell made her turn her attention back to the vampires' VIP area on the second floor. _Damn it._ A redhead with big tits was walking up the stairs toward the blond vamp, who was obviously enjoying the view of her cleavage. The sweet smell of the woman's cheap perfume was so strong Yara's stomach lurched in protest. Being a panther-shifter with a heightened sense of smell had its benefits, but sometimes it was a curse.

"That bitch!" Yara scowled. "Now I'll have to wait till he's done with her before I can get an opening again, and by the way he's drawling all over her, it's definitely a sure thing."

_Shit, shit, shit!_ She hated when things didn't go according to plans. Well, no point on crying over the spilled milk now. She'd just have to wait.

Yara was about to make another acid remark chiding the redhead but stopped mid-sentence when she saw her friend's expression. Sam was paralyzed, staring at something across the swimming pool, as if she'd been hypnotized or something. Yara immediately searched for the source of what had entranced her friend and gasped.

"Holy shit."

**********

Sam was having a hard time remembering how to breathe as the vampire locked his gaze on her.

When Yara started bitching about the redhead who was currently being swallowed by the blond vampire, one of his friends who had been playing chess in the VIP booth stood up all of a sudden, as if looking for something. Sam was about to tell Yara to tone it down, thinking that the vamp must have heard her somehow, but the words never left her lips. The vamp's gaze roamed around the club once then came to a dead halt when it found Sam.

Oh, dear.

His gaze was so intense, so _fixed_ on her, that it made Sam forget where she was. Or maybe it was the fact that the vampire was the most handsome man Sam had ever seen—that is, she had seen him before, of course. He was one of the vampire king's personal advisors, but the photos in her mission's briefing file hadn't given him justice.

He was tall with pitch black hair that cascaded down to his neck like a thick waterfall. He wore black jeans with a tight charcoal V-neck sweater that highlighted his lean but strong arms and very well-defined abs.

Sam blinked and tried to force herself to break the eye contacthis hypnotic staring was getting a bit uncomfortableand was about to look away when the vamp stepped away from the balcony railing and started walking down the stairs.

All that, without taking his eyes off her.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Was he doing it on purpose? Maybe he was onto them and was trying to hypnotize her before he pounced at her and ripped her neck open. _Shit!_

Sam knew some vampires had the power of hypnosis, but it didn't feel like she was being put under. She remembered her name and where she was; she just seemed completely unable to avert her gaze from his.

He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't angry, either.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs, he crossed the dancefloor without breaking his stride. People opened up the way for him, probably sensing the power he exuded. His long strides were definite, like those of someone confident about what he wants, of someone on a mission. The thought that such a gorgeous man had noticed her would be flattering if it weren't for the fact that _he_ was _her_ mission, not the other way around.

When he crossed the pool's threshold, Sam gaped, vaguely thinking she should get Yara and run out of there, but her feet didn't move—maybe they didn't _want_ to. Dear gods, the way the vamp walkedno, the way he marched, the swing of his hips keeping with the slight sway of his broad shoulders, was just so hot!

Sam heard Yara say something, but her mind was too busy drooling over the vamp that it didn't register her friend's words.

Finally the tall vampire came to a stop a few feet from her, his brilliant dark eyes intent on hers. She waited, now a bit apprehensive about what he'd do next. Did he know who they were? Did he hear them talking about targeting his blond friend?

But then, the most unexpected thing happened.

He took a breath as if he were about to say something, then gave up, moistened his lips and exhaled.

He _exhaled_ , as though unsure.

Sam bit her lower lip, not knowing what to say either. She wanted to leave, to run out of there but, once again, she simply couldn't. His intent gaze went from determined to slightly frowning, to confused, like a child trying to decipher a hard equation.

From the corner of her eye she saw Yara shift the weight of her stancethe universal sign of impatience. Yeah, this was getting a bit too creepy. Sam was really flattered by the attention but now she was getting worried. What did he want with her? Kill her? Question her? Woo her?

She opened her mouth to tell him to—

Without any warning, the vampire closed the gap between them, pulled her by the nape of her neck and crushed his lips to hers.

**********

Hikuro was lost.

As soon as his lips touched the blonde's, he felt an electrical charge pump through his body. _Incredible_. He pulled away, startled, but less than a second later his mouth was on hers again, craving more.

It wasn't just the softness of her lush lips or the way she tasted like fresh peach, but that electrical tickle travelling along his skin was mind-boggling. And all three things combined made him forget his manners and the discipline gained over three hundred years of training. He was happily drowning in this stranger, and wasn't planning on coming up for air anytime soon.

He had first sensed her when he was sitting on the couch at the back of their VIP area. He had been focusing on not losing another chess game to his friend Dyam when an electrical surge suddenly charged the air and awoke his vampire senses. It was slow yet powerfully alluring at the same time, like a mermaid's song that draws the unknowing sailor to the bottom of the sea.

Hikuro had never experienced anything like that before. It puzzled him, and he didn't like puzzles. He looked around the large VIP booth, expecting to find an exposed electric wire somewhere, but found none. The electrical lure was coming from outside; his mermaid was somewhere beyond the dance floor.

Not giving up, he had stood up and gone to the balcony in search of the source. And there she was, a demure blonde with haunting blue eyes standing by the far end of the bar.

His mermaid was wearing a 1960s style light blue mini-dress that complemented her feminine figure. Her light blonde locks framed her heart-shaped face, which had barely any makeup. But it wasn't the quietness of her beauty that amazed him; it was the strange glow that seemed to _dance_ around her aura.

Hikuro hated those vampires who attacked their victims, not giving them the choice to refuse, but this time around, _he_ had had no choice. Once in front of her, he simply couldn't think of anything to say in spite of the million questions blasting inside his mind. How could she glow like that? Who was she? What was her name? Was she a real mermaid?

When he sensed she was about to bail out probably freaked out by his strange behavior, he simply ignored his rational mind, the one million questions, and did what his body was craving for. He gave in to her allure and dived toward the bottom of her sea.

Now, with her mouth on his, he realized it had been the best decision of the night.

Her lips parted in invitation and he held the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The initial electrical tingle was now a familiar buzz that went straight to his core. His tongue snaked around hers, eager for more.

Too soon, she pulled away, blinking fast, looking up at him with those stunningly haunted eyes.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, still shaken by the madness of his actions. "I don't know what came over me. I don't usually attack women like that."

She frowned, then lifted an eyebrow at him. "Oh? So how do you usually attack women?"

The question took him by surprise. "I...I meant I _don't_ attack women, I..." He paused when he saw her mouth quirk up in a lopsided smile. Hikuro let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Look, how about we start over. Hi, I'm Hikuro," he said, offering his hand to her.

She scrutinized him, then his hand. "I'm Sam," she replied in a most delightful accent, finally shaking his hand. His mermaid was British. _How fitting._

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

She gave him a small chuckle, as if amused by his sudden change in approach.

Smiling back, he joked. "What? I would appreciate a little support. It's not easy to work up the courage to approach such a gorgeous woman like you."

"Ooh, smooth," Sam replied, half-teasing half-appraising him. "Can't wait to hear the next line."

"Well, I have a few," Hikuro replied with a crooked smile.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, please don't tell me you're one of those who practice in front of the mirror."

"No! No, no, no..."

Even though his panicked response made her chuckle, he knew he needed a recovery plan and fast. His earlier boldness was dwindling as quickly as this encounter was going south. For Hiad's sake, he was a three-hundred-year-old vampire, a samurai warrior, the vampire king's second-in-command! He had decimated a battlefield of enemies, but apparently killing was much easier than charming this woman.

He searched his mind, trying to find a pleasant yet interesting remark to say, but the only thing that came out was, "It's amazing how you glow like that."

She gaped at him in disbelief, midway through taking a sip from her green drink.

Yeah, way to go, Hikuro, great recovery.

She took a few steps back and opened her mouth to no doubt give him a 'See ya, you freak'.

"Wait, it came out wrong. I meant that there's this glow around you that's not normal."

Her jaw dropped and she let out an uncomfortable chortle. It was obvious she was planning her escape route.

What the fuck was happening with him tonight?

"Look, Hikuro, it was lovely to meet you, but I wanted to introduce you to my friend. She's..."

Before she finished her "see ya" excuse, and before he could put his foot in his mouth again, he grabbed her hand and commanded, "Come with me."

For the second time in the evening, Hikuro did what other vampires he loathed didhe gave her no choice, didn't wait for her answer, didn't give her the chance to refuse him. He simply took her through the dance floor, away from the crowd and up the main stairway where a vampire bouncer gave him a short nod and let them through to the elevators toward the third floor.

**********

Yara could not believe her eyes. What in Hiad was Sam thinking? And how did that vamp get lucky so fast with her usually timid friend?

Yara saw him come down the stairs and walk through the dance floor like he was king, where no one dared get in his way. She had desperately tried to get Sam's attention without moving too much—after all, the vamp's friends had probably been watching them as well—but to no avail. Sam had been completely entranced by the vampire god coming her way.

Okay, Yara could almost sympathize with her friend's predicament. The vamp was stunning with his dark eyes, chiseled chin and longish hair, but Sam was the one who had reminded Yara just a few moments ago that play time was _after_ they finished the job.

With an exhale that reflected her disbelief, Yara pondered the situation. Even if Sam had decided to take over and see their mission through, she didn't have the poison with her or the note, so how was Sam going to do what needed to be done?

Now the vamp seemed to be dragging Sam to the private lounge rooms on the third floor. Man, those vamps didn't waste any time, did they?

Yara could go after them, but she didn't have free access, and the huge mean-looking vampire bouncer didn't give the impression he was in the mood for charity.

Yara had to do something though; she would not leave Sam without a backup, even if her friend had planned on enjoying a few hours with their target. It was the core motto of their friendship: whatever happened, they would have each other's back.

_Damn it!_ Yara really, _really_ hated when things didn't go according to plan.

**********

On the third floor, Hikuro turned left and opened a secure door with his digital key. He entered the room first and checked if the coast was clear. His sharp eyesight didn't need light to see if danger was lurking in the shadows. Once satisfied, he turned back around and held the door open for Sam.

She hesitated for a second but went in. Hikuro closed the door quietly and meant to turn the light on, but the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She did glow. Her profile was strangely surrounded by a soft radiance that seemed to float around her.

In a surprising move, she looked up at him, took a deep breath and slowly closed the gap between them.

Her lips were soft on his. She shyly ran her hands along his chest and he immediately felt the tingling again wherever she touched: his pecks, his shoulders, his neck.

Unable to deny her, he encircled his arms around her waist while parting her lips with his tongue. Their kiss became more urgent, more passionate. Hikuro couldn't have enough of her. He reached down, cupped her lean ass and pulled her fully against him. She rewarded him with a little groan. Let Apa Dobrý punish him later, but he had to have her right now.

He lowered his lips, tasting her neck while his left hand made its way up her stomach and caressed one of her full breasts. She arched in response, giving him more access to her lean, gorgeous body. Another groan, but this time Hikuro realized it was coming from him. He had to have her _now_!

"I'm sorry," she whispered faintly against his ear.

"Wha—?" Hikuro never finished the question. He felt a lightning bolt shoot down his spine. His muscles spasmed in response, and then there was only darkness.
Chapter Two

Dyam was tired of this nightclub. After Hikuro had strangely deserted him and carried the blonde woman up to his private quarters, Dyam had returned to his whiskey-infused blood drink and finished the chess game by himself. He got their waitress' attention and gave her the international signal for one more with his index finger. She promptly obliged, bringing him another triple dose of Springbank diluted in the same amount of fresh blood. Dyam took a nice sip of the dark golden liquid and sat back on the couch.

He didn't understand why his friends enjoyed this place. It was full of desperate humans looking for a cheap escape from their miserable, empty lives, and vampires looking for easy targets.

Contrary to popular belief, vampires couldn't turn humans; one was either born a vampire or not, just like any other being. There had been some cases among _sujha_ half-humans, half-supernaturalfamilies where the vampire gene lay dormant and skipped a generation or two, scaring the hell out of the unsuspecting non-vampire parents. But this was the closest one could get to the bullshit of "turning" someone. And his kind didn't have to kill a human to get their nourishment, either, but there were a lot of them who lost themselves to bloodlust and that's when things got complicated. Places like the Cascade offered the perfect conditions for complications.

Killing humans was strictly prohibited because it attracted too much attention to the vampires' existence. Dyam had once asked Hikuro—who was much older than him—why the vampires hadn't conquered the human race and lived freely on _Terhem Viahta_ , Earth. It's not like they depended on humans; vampires could survive off any kind of blood, fresh or bottled. Hikuro had then explained that thousands of years ago when all the races roamed freely on Terhem Viahta, the life scale tipped when vampires and dragons started battling for world dominance. There were no restraints when it came to feeding the vampire and draconian armies. Large animals, like aurocks, giant deer and sea cows were the first choice on the menu, mainly because only one of them could feed an entire brigade. When those beasts were hunted down to extinction, the other supernatural communities started to pressure for a truce of the two battling races. After realizing that if they didn't stop, they would probably extinguish all life on Earthor maybe it was because their mighty armies couldn't fight for long off small animal or human bloodthe dragon lords and vampire kings agreed on a peace treaty and returned to their lands.

By then, humans had evolved and defied their natural inferiority with cleverness and ingenious inventions. They had built entire cities made of stone and lived off plantations, a feat never seen before, for even the magical creatures survived on what the environment provided them. Dragons and vampires, blinded by their arrogance, realized what was happening a little too late—humans had discovered an incredible weapon: steel. And so the supernatural races, like the vampires, the dragons, and the fae, wisely decided to draw back to their nests and observe the strange race that dared defy the natural laws of life.

They were all dumbfounded by the humans' clever ways of changing the environment to suit their own needs: building cobblestone streets for better access and multi-story edifices to maximize space; creating amazing inventions like the steam train, electricity, and the telephone. So instead of fighting the humans, the magical races slowly started to live inconspicuously among them and enjoy the benefits of human inventions.

Dyam took another sip and closed his eyes to enjoy the delicious amber liquid burning down his throat. He could feel the music vibrating in his body cells, hear bodies rubbing against each other, and smell the scent of sweat, a jungle animal, and lust in the air.

Jungle animal?

Opening his eyes, Dyam sat up straight and inspected his surroundings. _What in Hiad?_

He tried to shake it off and reminded himself that there was no way a jungle animal could have been in a nightclub in the middle of Soho, and it was probably just the whiskey talking, but no, he wasn't mistaken. His Cherokee _inmã,_ his soul, could sense it, smell it faintly in the air. He took another deep breath and stood up.

Going to the balcony, he scanned the dance floor below, then the bar, the fake waterfall and the swimming pool. Nothing. He couldn't see any jungle animal, or any animal for that matter, not even a bird.

But when he turned his attention back to the second floor, he saw her.

A tall, olive-skinned woman with short spiky hair wearing a crimson top and matching miniskirt was talking to the vampire bouncer by the elevator. She was just inches away from the guy and a dim light green radiance seemed to be glimmering off her eyes. The vampire bouncer with all his mass of muscles did nothing to stop her when she whisked by him and got into the elevator.

_Sonofabitch_.

Turning on his heels toward the back of the booth, Dyam spotted Joel, who was now enjoying the redhead's mouth on his cock. His friend wasn't going to like him very much, but they had to find out what the fuck was happening.

"Joel, we gotta go." His friend didn't even flinch so Dyam tried again. "Joel, something's not right. We gotta go."

This time, his friend opened one eye. "Dy, buddy, this is not a good time."

"I know, but I think there's a jungle animal inside this nightclub." Okay, even he could see the insanity of his remark.

"What?" Joel sat up straight but didn't motion the girl off his shaft. "What do you mean there's a jungle animal in the club?"

"She was getting inside one of the elevators. I think she's going to the third floor."

"She?" Joel asked, with an impish smile on his face. "Dy, my man, it's probably the remains of your Cherokee _inmã_ begging for some release." With a dismissive chuckle, Joel leaned back on the couch and placed his hand on the girl's head, encouraging her to go deeper.

He was probably right, but Dyam could not shake off the certainty of what he had sensed. Deciding he couldn't just sit around and forget about it, he started toward the elevator. The bouncer was still on the same spot.

"Did you see who she was?" Dyam asked while checking which floor the elevator had stopped on.

The bouncer looked at Dyam, blinking fast. "Who?"

"The woman, the tall woman, wearing a red top and mini. She's just passed by you."

The bouncer looked up to the nothingness and smiled broadly—he actually smiled and Dyam was overwhelmed by a smell of fresh rain on autumn leaves.

"Oh, that woman. Yeah, she...yeah," the bouncer with foggy eyes said.

What a waste of space he was.

Taking a deep breath, Dyam walked past him and took the stairs, following the strange scent. When he reached the door to the third floor, he stopped and unlocked his senses again. Yes, she had been there.

Opening the door slowly, he put his head out into the hallway and checked the surroundings. The coast was clear. Closing the door soundlessly behind him, he scanned the long corridor. There were only four apartments in that section—a true testament of how exclusive that part of the nightclub was. A small pathway at the far end led to the south wing. The area was dimly lit by long amber lights. The black carpets and crimson walls added a "what happens here, stays here" feel to the decor.

Dyam took a few steps to the right with the intention of checking the doors for suspicious sounds, but the soft _thud_ coming from the south wing stopped him midway. As quietly as possible, he started toward the sound, but when he got to that section of the building, it was empty. The smell of rainforest was stronger there, though. Following it, he realized the scent drew a direct line between the fire exit, located at the end of the corridor, and one of the four exclusive apartments on that wing. Looking up to see which door it was, Dyam's heart went straight to his mouth.

It was Hikuro's private quarters.

Without a second thought, Dyam burst inside the room, knife steady in his hand, ready for battle.

He found his friend sprawled on the floor by the couch, motionless. _What in Hiad?_

He scanned the room for potential attackers hiding in the shadows, then went to check on his friend. Hikuro's head was still attached to his body.

Thank the Soartas.

Dyam released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and tried to wake his friend up. Nothing. Hikuro was out cold. That was when Dyam saw a small envelope on his lap. Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, he punched the numbers. Joel had better take this.

After a few more tries, his blond friend decided to pick it up. "There better be a whole fucking jungle invading the club, buddy."

"Hikuro is down, unconscious in his private quarters."

"I'll be right up."

The phone disconnected, and in record time, Dyam heard footsteps in the corridor. A second later, Joel was by the door, his Heckler & Koch 9mm positioned to put a nice hole in the middle of any motherfucker who dared cross his path. "What happened?"

"I don't know. She was gone when I got here." Dyam rolled his unconscious friend to the side to check for any injuries.

"Are you sure it was the woman you saw?"

"She wasn't human. I'm telling you, she was a jungle animal. Well, at least a shifter. I'm not sure which one because I never got to look into her eyes. But I followed her distinct scent here."

"How the fuck did that happen? A female knocking Hikuro out? That's impossible." Joel helped Dyam lift their unconscious friend up.

"I know. It is a disturbing thought. The other piece of this puzzle is _why_." Together they put Hikuro on the chaise lounge. "I think we should go to the king. Look what I found." Dyam took out the small envelope and handed it to Joel, who opened it.

"What in Hiad?" Joel exclaimed after reading the note inside. "What's this supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, but I don't think we're the ones who are supposed to know." Dyam held Hikuro's hand, then went to the balcony and dematerialized out of there.

**********

By the time Dyam and Joel arrived at the headquarters, Hikuro was coming around. They had to dematerialize to a secure location about thirty minutes out of town, then took the _Porsche_ Cayenne, which was one of the several all-wheel drives always at the ready, and blasted up the hill. Twenty minutes later, they reached the main entrance.

At first glance, one would think it was the beginning of just another wild forest with its high balsam firs, red spruces and thick oaks. Only a trained eye would notice the small boxes imperceptibly attached against each tree trunk.

Hikuro saw Dyam stop the Porsche Cayenne and swipe his digital key against the camouflaged brown box clipped to a large oak tree. A second later, a bright red light flickered between the two trunks in front of the car. The flickering intensified and expanded to encompass every single tree in the vicinity. In a few moments, a vast laser fence was displayed before their eyes. Red beams crisscrossed between trees forming a crimson security net. With a second swipe of the digital key, the laser beams directly in front of the car disappeared, shaping a narrow pathway for secure passage.

Dyam put the car in first gear and started forward. As soon as the car passed the first row of trees, the laser beams automatically turned on again, reforming the security net mile by mile. After a few minutes on the dirt road, they reached the main gate and parked the Porsche along the outside walls, side by side with a black Jaguar, a dark blue Ferrari, and a charcoal BMW X6.

Hikuro was still a bit shaken—his legs weren't yet fully responding to his neural commands—but he didn't accept Joel's offer to help him out of the car. A retinal scan and voice recognition test later, the gates were open and the three friends walked to the mansion.

Hidden from preying eyes by the woodlands and the tall fence, the mansion looked like a great _medieval fortress. Completely b_ uilt of stone, it stood at the top of a hill that overlooked New York City.

Before they had reached the entrance, the door opened and an elderly man appeared in front of them. "His majesty is expecting you in the library."

"Thanks, Arthur," Hikuro managed to say with a nod. His head was still thumping from whatever had happened to him.

What in Hiad had happened anyway? He remembered kissing the girl, Sam, in his private quarters at the Cascade; then she said something and bam! His muscles started spasming, his heart stopped beating for a second and the feeling of being fried from the inside out overtook him. He hadn't seen any weapons, any devices on her that may have caused such a massive electrical shock. And there was no doubt it had been massive because just a handful of things in this world had the power to knock out a three-hundred-year-old vampire like him.

He crossed the ample foyer and turned left toward an open door. Even though it was ajar, he knocked before entering. Joel and Dyam were right behind him.

The room was large with a tall ceiling. Bookshelves covered two walls from top to bottom; the third wall housed a fireplace made of light-brown sandstone. Two sets of black sofas were placed in front of it. The beautiful view could be seen through the fourth wall, made of thick bulletproof glass.

The king was sitting behind the large mahogany desk located between the fireplace and the glass wall. He was staring at the view of the city night below.

The three friends bowed deeply. Hikuro rose and met his king's eyes. "Good evening, King Tardieh."
Chapter Three

One A.M. The man had been waiting in the stupid alleyway for thirty minutes already. If his brainless associate didn't show up in the next three minutes, he would make sure he'd regret it. To Hiad with it, he would make sure his associate paid for it regardless. The alleyway stunk of human feces and dead animals, typical in this part of town. East Flatbush, New York, wasn't known for having rose-smelling streets.

Headlights blinded his vision for a second, and he turned his head slightly to see his associate heading toward him. When the green sedan was just a few feet away, he stepped out of the threshold he had chosen to hide in from the view of curious neighbors and waved for his associate to stop the car.

"You're late," he said bluntly. He regretted having chosen a half-human to do the job. He usually hired vampires or dracos, but this one had shown an interesting enthusiasm for his bounty-hunting assignments.

A short plump man nearing his forties stepped out of the car and closed the door with a _thud_. "The bitch was harder to get than I thought." His associate had the audacity to open his unbuttoned flannel shirt and show his torso which bore a number of scratches. "She put up a hell of a fight."

Ignoring the exposed torso, he walked toward the back of the car. "I wonder what gave you the idea that I give a fuck. Open the trunk," he commanded, accentuating the dark vibrato in his voice.

His associate obliged with a small "Yes, sir" and opened the trunk to reveal a female vampire inside. She was gagged with a cloth that looked like it had been taken from a mechanic's office, her hands and feet were tied up with silver chains, and she had an ugly black eye and a few bruises on her arms that were already healing. She hissed, but her wide eyes were staring up at him in terror.

He bent over slightly, took a deep breath and smiled. Yes, one more for his collection. The vampire started shaking then the faint smell of urine invaded his nostrils.

"You made her piss herself!" his associate said with a snorting laugh.

Shutting the trunk, he turned around and grabbed his soon-to-be-former associate by the throat and squeezed. He saw his eyes bulging with surprise. The brainless moron hopelessly tried to punch and kick himit tickled a little bitso he lifted the human off the ground and put more pressure on his grip. He didn't want him to die too soon, though. He enjoyed seeing his victims' eyes just before he squeezed all existence out of them. They held a remarkable glow that slowly, oh so slowly, dimmed until there was nothing. Curiously, it was always inversely proportional to their desperation level. The more the glow dwindled, the more desperate their feeble attempts to escape became. After all these years, it still fascinated him.

He dumped his associate's lifeless corpse farther down the alley, got in the driver's seat and left the area, the smell of urine still lingering in his nostrils.
Chapter Four

Tardieh was apprehensive. From what his most trusted friends were telling him, someone had just gone through a lot of trouble to make that attempt on Hikuro's life. _But why?_

He strolled away from the fireplace and sat on the couch, listening to Dyam describe the female with olive skin that he believed was also involved in the attack. Even though their story didn't add up, these three warriors were his most trusted advisors and friends, so he'd take their word for it, no matter what.

After his father's death, Tardieh was forced to transfer his court and military headquarters from Romania to America. He'd basically had to build his kingdom from scratch—but instead of bitching about the past and what the dracos had done to him and his family, he decided to take the opportunity to build a new society, a kingdom devoid of tyranny and despotism, where everyone would have a chance to strive, no matter their social ranking, background or race. His motto had seem very fitting with the human's vision of the 'New World', so America became his new home.

The first decades were a dream, with many supernatural families settling in his kingdom, not only vampires. But soon, the fights amongst races started, mobs were created and turf wars threatened to decimate his perfect world. Tardieh remembered how disappointed he'd been with the sons of Apa Sâmbetei, the supernatural community, but in the end he realized _he_ was the one to blame for his disillusionment, for thinking that just because they thought to be _superior_ they'd magically forego their own nature. Greed, jealousy and intolerance were an integral part of the supernatural races' DNA after all.

But Tardieh had managed to realize his dream in his own team of personal advisors. He had handpicked these three amazing warriors, from several parts of the world, not only for their bravery and sense of loyalty, but for their integrity. They couldn't have been more different, yet more alike at the same time.

"So there were two women, then," he concluded after Dyam finished telling his side of the story.

"Yes, my lord. The blonde one who introduced herself as Sam and the olive skinned one. We don't know who they really are, though." Hikuro replied. His voice carried an edge to it and his jaw was so tight that Tardieh was amazed his teeth hadn't splintered already. It was clear his second-in-command was having a tough time coming to terms with what had happened at the nightclub.

"But from what you're telling me, _you_ approached the blonde woman," Tardieh asked, confused. "Are you sure she was human?"

"I'm not certain because I didn't taste her blood, but she smelled like a human. But..." Hikuro hesitated for a second.

Tardieh nodded to his 2IC, encouraging him to carry on.

After taking a deep breath, he continued, "She glowed."

Silence descended upon the room. Tardieh raised an eyebrow and looked at Joel and Dyam, who had the same confusion mixed with incredibility stamped on their faces.

Joel was the first one to recover. "Okay, I think the fall hit you harder than we thought, buddy."

Tardieh couldn't stop his lips from curling up into a smile. Joel could be the most serious and focused fighter he'd ever known, but he had the worst timing.

As expected, Hikuro didn't like the comment and said between clenched teeth, "This is not a joke, Joel. I'm not kidding. She had this glow, like a blue light dancing around her."

"What of the other female? Are you sure they were working together?" This story had so many loose ends, it was giving Tardieh a headache. How had the blonde managed to strike when it was Hikuro who had approached her in the first place? Not to mention that she'd had enough time and opportunity to kill him, but she had chosen not to. Her intent had clearly been to just stun him. But for what purpose? What about the olive-skinned female who Dyam was so sure was a jungle animal?

Tardieh had never heard of shifters in New York Cityit was the home of the vampire king after alllet alone someone who could shift into a jungle animal. There was the occasional werewolf here and there but, contrary to human folklore, there was no bad blood between werewolves and vampires—as long as the fucking dogs stayed on their side of the country.

"I am not positive, my lord. But I traced her scent to the third floor. It was very distinct. And there's one other thing." Dyam took a small envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Tardieh. "This was on top of Hikuro when I found him."

Ignoring Hikuro's low growl, Tardieh opened the envelope to find a yellow piece of paper with just a few words inside.

His blood ran cold.

He read the message again, then took a deep breath.

"Do you understand the meaning of this message, my lord?" Dyam asked, narrowing his eyes.

Tardieh didn't reply and read the message for the third time.

'From this night onward, you will always have an ally in my kingdom. 300404251N74023W.'

He raised his glare to meet three pairs of eyes very intent on him. "I know who's behind this attack."

**********

After quickly summarizing his ordeal during the war in 1800, and explaining how he had been saved by none other than the draconian demigoddess Zoricah, Tardieh set upon them the task of deciphering her message. When his friends had bombarded him with questions, asking for more details, he had cut them off, commanding them to focus on the present, not the pasta long-lost past. Half an hour later, they were still there, trying and failing miserably.

He was still fuming over Zoricah's audacity though. How dared she plan an attack on his personal advisor just to catch Tardieh's attention? Did she think she was above the rest to ignore protocol? All she had to do was request an audience with the king, like everyone else.

Tardieh ran a hand through his dark hair. Deep inside he knew that the source of his indignation was something else, something he had buried in the past along with his naïve gratitude toward Zoricah.

From this night onward, you will always have an ally in my kingdom. 300404251N74023W.

"What if it's a Morse code?" Hikuro asked, his face reflecting Tardieh's own tiredness and annoyance.

Tardieh started decoding the number in the new light but soon realized it didn't make any more sense than the whole attack.

Half an hour for human standards is not much, but the same time span on a fast-paced, high-wired vampire brain was a lifetime. They were all getting fidgety and irritated. The current setting showed Hikuro on the black leather armchair by the fireplace, Joel sprawled on the floor in front him and Dyam was on the couch, next to Tardieh. But they all had tried every other piece of furniture in the room.

Dyam stood up and started pacing. "What if they are geographical coordinates?"

"We've already covered this option, man," Joel drawled, staring at the ceiling. "The three hundred number doesn't fit in."

"Yes, but what if the last combination of numbers are separate from the 300?"

Everyone stopped and looked at Dyam. His new theory could actually make sense.

"If we leave the first three numbers out, we're left with 404251N74023W. And if they're coordinates, they could mean forty degrees, forty-two minutes and fifty-one seconds north," Dyam explained.

"And seventy-four degrees, zero minutes, and twenty-three seconds west," Tardieh finished his sentence, allowing himself to feel hopeful again.

"Oh, fuck me sideways!" Joel exclaimed.

"Now we have to find out where these coordinates lead us to. Hikuro—" Tardieh didn't have to finish his request—his tech-genius friend was already typing on his smartphone.

A few seconds later, Hikuro announced, "They correspond to a spot in the middle of Prospect Park in Brooklyn."

Joel sat up straight. "Brooklyn? As in Brooklyn, New York?"

"Yep," Hikuro confirmed.

_She's here?_ Zoricah was in his city?

Right, now that they had a good lead on the last digits of the message, they had to figure out what in Hiad '300' meant.

"Maybe it's a lock combination," Dyam pondered.

"Or maybe it's a specific time."

Everyone stared at Tardieh, considering his remark.

"Do you think the message is a meeting arrangement, my lord?" Hikuro asked.

"It's got to be," Tardieh replied, checking the time on his smartphone. It was two A.M. If he was right, they had exactly one hour to go to the spot and find out what was going on.

"Sweet!" Joel cried out, springing off the floor and onto his feet as if ready to go.

It was Hikuro's turn to get restless. "I don't like this, my lord. It has ambush written all over it."

Tardieh paused and considered his friend's unspoken advice. "I'm not so sure. Even though her means to getting the message to me were somewhat unconventional..."

"To say the least," Dyam added under his breath.

"The fact that she used my old pledge to her in the message makes me think she intends to reignite the tie between us."

"Or use it as bait," Hikuro replied.

"But why would this Zoricah go through all this trouble to get the message to Tardieh, remind him of his debt to her, with the intent to kill him?" Joel asked, already holstering his guns. Tardieh knew he was dying for some action.

"Maybe she's not working alone, or maybe this message is not even from Zoricah but from someone else who knows what happened," Hikuro replied.

"Hikuro may be right, my lord," Dyam conceded. "It's best to take precautions, just in case." He stood by the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Standing like that, he reminded Tardieh of Dyam's father, a Native American shaman from one of the most powerful Cherokee tribes of the nineteenth century.

Tardieh considered the possibilities. Yes, it could well be a trap. Zoricah could have told someone about their encounter over two hundred years ago and that person could be using it now to lure him to his death. The Soartas only knew how often he'd had attempts on his life since being crowned. But then, it could be her. It could very well be Zoricah herself trying to get in touch with him.

His blood boiled in his veins, a deep hatred overtaking his usually serene countenance. Images of that dreadful night when Zoricah had supposedly saved him from his fate came flooding in his mind. He remembered arriving at his father's castle to give him the news that he had been freed.

The castle was quiet, too quiet. There was no one at the main entrance to meet him as was customary. A gust of wind blew with the opening of the front door, and the strong smell of blood invaded his nostrils. Vampire blood. Lots of it.

Without wasting any time, Tardieh ran up the main stairway in a desperate search for his father. Several decapitated bodies were sprawled throughout the entire mansion. Tardieh recognized a few servants, royal guards and dracos among them. Crimson pools marked the way to his father's chambers as if in a macabre version of "Hansel and Gretel." Turning left on the top floor, he reached the chamber he was looking for.

The door was ajar, so Tardieh slowly pushed it open while checking for any foreign sounds. The sight in front of him stole his breath. His father's headless body was hanging from the ceiling by its ankles. Small droplets of blood dripped onto the floor beneath the body where a large red puddle had formed. Tardieh's head spun; his stomach convulsed violently.

He turned away from the scene in a desperate attempt to stop the heaving, but his eyes landed on the mantelpiece. His father's head had been carefully placed on top of it with the famous golden crown as its base, holding it up, as if it were a souvenir.

No, not a souvenir, a statement.

The king's lifeless eyes stared straight at him. This time Tardieh could not stop the gagging. Bending down, he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. After a few more of those, still quivering, he remembered Zoricah's words: _"If the circumstances were different, if your father were...if he somehow let you make the choice, what would you do?"_

Tardieh had vowed to try to convince his father to stop the attacks on the draconian territory. What a fool he had been. Now Tardieh wouldn't have to convince his father of anything, would he? As Zoricah had insightfully predicted, his father _had_ let him make the choice by leaving this life. Or should he say that the draconian demigoddess had made the choice for him?

What had troubled Tardieh all these years was that he had never been able to prove Zoricah had been the one who had orchestrated the attack. Word on the streets was she had colluded with one of his father's most-trusted councilors, who promised to pay her a hefty sum of gold once he got the vampire crown. But the said councilor had died during the attack, thus preventing any further inquiry on the matter. _How convenient_. Tardieh bet there was more to this story, and that the lovely draconian demigoddess had a finger in that pie.

Closing his eyes, Tardieh forced the dark memories back to the depths of his _inmã_ and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his three friends and royal advisors were watching him apprehensively. His hatred might have shown a bit more than he had expected.

He raised his chin and stared back at them. "Let's go."
Chapter Five

The green sedan crossed the narrow wooden bridge toward the farmhouse. Dawn was still a few hours away. A couple of minutes later the man reached the main house, drove around it and parked at the back entrance, located near the kitchen.

His new safe house had been a great find. It was of the perfect size for his experiment, the nearest town was four miles away and the owner's family had been more than grateful to take his offer to buy the house outright, after the proprietor had suddenly died in a car accidentat least that was what the police records stated.

The back door opened, and two razbian guards stepped out onto the back porch.

"In the trunk," he commanded.

Having done this drill more than a dozen times, the razbians took his new acquisition, the female vampire, out of the trunk, blocking her feeble attempts to escape.

While they carried her inside, the man stayed behind to retrieve the box of supplies he'd brought with him. When he walked around the car to close the trunk, the smell of urine penetrated his nostrils once again. At first he thought it was the new girl's smell lingering, but no, this one was different.

Slowly, he turned around and scanned the area.

There, from behind a small poison ivy bush, two big brown eyes stared up at him. He recognized her at once. She was the fae whore he had picked up at an underground bar in Chicago a few months prior.

A dangerous smile lifted his lips. "Well, well, well," he said to the naked female. "How did you manage to get out?"

In a rush of panic, the girl ran toward the woods that permeated the house, her silver fae skin glowed in the dark night. Despite her light feet giving her speed, the little whore wasn't very bright, and in no time, he managed to capture her.

He twisted her arms around her back and forced the bitch down, shoving her face on the dirt floor and effectively muffling her cries. The noise must have alerted his stupid guards for they came rushing out of the safe house.

"How the fuck did she manage to escape?" the man barked at them.

Blinking eyes and muffled "Dunno, boss" were all he got for an answer.

_Fucking razbians_. He would deal with those two later. Now, he had a more important lesson to teach.

He dragged the female fae back into the house, crossed the kitchen, and threw her on the floor in the middle of the living room.

It was an ample space, but it felt cramped with the several hospital beds lying around. Ten females—draconian, vampire, fae and human—lay on them. Their wide eyes stared back at him in a mixture of terror and haziness, probably caused by the heavy drugs he kept them on.

A sense of pride filled his chest, toning down his rage. His harem was full, his mission was almost accomplished.

His gaze landed on the farthest bed on the left-hand corner near the staircase which led to the second floor. It had its pillows organized in such way that pitifully resembled a body lying underneath the covers.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he cursed under his breath. The fae girl had pulled off one of the oldest children's tricks on his mentally challenged guards. _Stupid razbians_.

His jaw tightened as his rage boiled in his veins again. It was time for a good lesson.

He bent down and pulled the female fae off the floor by her hair. The first slap hit her on the right side of her face, and was quickly followed by a second one. The other ladies in his harem shrieked and cried in response, in keeping with the fae girl's yelps.

He slowly reached for his back pocket and pulled out a small round device that looked like a cigar cutter but it had a bigger opening and sharper blades inside its aperture. "Let me make something very clear to you all," he exclaimed, his double vibrato voice reverberating across the room. "There will be no more escaping or kicking and certainly no more screaming in this place."

He easily forced the girl's mouth open and pulled her tongue out. Then holding it in place, he lifted the small device. "I would like you to meet my new toy—the _tighajra_."

After displaying it for all to see, he shoved the round device into her mouth, capturing her tongue in the aperture, then squeezed the gadget shut. The soft sound of her tongue falling on the floor was muffled by her failed attempts to scream while choking on her own blood.

"Tie her up on the bed, and make sure you do it right this time around," he ordered his guards. He would bring in more guards and reinforce the perimeter just after he cut the hearts out of those two.

While the razbians followed his command, he went to check on his newest rising star in another bed near the kitchena beautiful female draco with long red hair and sparkling green eyes.

He had kidnapped her from a nightclub in New York City a few weeks ago. He had known it was dangerous to recruit in an area so close to his safe house, but he couldn't resist. As soon as he'd seen her dancing and flirting with the other men in the club, he'd known she was the one.

Bending over, he ran his hand along the draconian's long red curls, then her cheek. She uttered a small distressed sound and tried to turn her head away, but it barely moved.

He smiled; the drugs were still working their magic.

His hand went lower and caressed her naked breasts, then traced a circle around her overextended belly. She was close, very close.

"It is growing, my dear," the man murmured. "You'll soon experience the joy that every female yearns for."
Chapter Six

The park was mostly silent apart from the usual sounds of animals foraging for food. Tardieh was getting impatient. It was almost three in the morning and so far no signs of foreign activity.

The four vampires had arrived in Prospect Park half an hour earlier and covered the grounds twice. If Zoricah was plotting something, they would have found evidence of it by now.

"I don't like this, my lord." Hikuro, crouching beside him, was as fidgety as Tardieh felt. "At least let me go meet with them in your place."

"It bothers me that we haven't found any signs of an army or foul play,' Tardieh pondered. "If an attack on my life is on Zoricah's mind, she will do it as a surprise."

"Exactly, my lord. You should not be here."

Tardieh took another look around. The short stone bridge over a deep walking track where the geographic coordinates Zoricah's note led to was one quarter of a mile away. He had positioned himself far enough to easily hide in the shadows but close enough to have a good vantage point of the meeting place.

Tardieh punched a button on his cellular. "Dyam, what's your status?"

Dyam and Joel were keeping watch one mile north and east, respectively. This way, the four vampires had a closed circle around the designated rendezvous spot. Half a second later, he got his answer.

"Situation unchanged, my lord."

After repeating the procedure and receiving the same answer from Joel, Tardieh went back to watching the bridge and its surroundings.

Two fifty-eight.

Hikuro shuffled on his heels but refrained from standing up.

Three A.M.

Tardieh opened his senses to anything and everything in the park and beyond. _This is it_. Whatever Zoricah had planned for this encounter, it would take place in the next seconds.

Apprehension churned Tardieh's gut. What if Hikuro was right? What if Zoricah had been hired to kill him? Or what if this was not Zoricah at all, but one of his old enemies using her to set a trap for him?

No, it couldn't be. Zoricah, the demigoddess, was known as much as for her skills in battle as for her independence. If she were part of a plot against Tardieh, she was the leader.

After the war between vampires and dracos ended in Romania—which forced Tardieh to move to America—he had lost track of the demigoddess, hearing only a few whispered conversations about her adventures. She was said to have gone from draconian rebel to a mercenary spy, then later into a private eye. Apparently she followed no king; she looked up to no lord. She was her own queen.

Sudden high-pitched sounds brought Tardieh back from his thoughts. The weird noise was soon followed by dark wings coming right at them. Bats. The bats that had been in the middle of their evening meal on the western side of the park were flying out, scattered in every direction, as if fleeing from a threat.

"My lord, something is scarring the animals here. It's coming from the west." Tardieh could barely discern Dyam's voice on the cell over the bats' screeching, but before he could respond he heard Dyam say, "I'm going to investigate."

Tardieh didn't waste time watching the distressed bats fly low over his head. His trained eyes were locked on the woods, scanning for any sign of danger.

Then he saw it.

It was just a shadow and it could have easily been regarded as a trick of the moonlight, but he knew better. There was definitely a jungle animal roaming around this very park, in the middle of freaking Brooklyn.

Whatever it had been, it vanished in the darkness as quickly as it had emerged.

"My lord, three o'clock."

Tardieh's head snapped forty-five degrees to the right in response to Hikuro's call, and saw it again, this time clearera huge, beautiful black panther crossing the woods at high speed toward the stone bridge.

"What in Hiad?" If it wasn't for his oversensitive vampire eyesight, Tardieh wouldn't have caught it, for the beast was the fastest he had ever seen.

He was about to go after it when Hikuro put his hand on his forearm, stopping him.

Before he could rebuke such bold move, even for his oldest advisor and friend, Hikuro said, "Please, my lord. Let me intervene on your behalf. I beg of you, stay here. Do not endanger yourself any further."

Tardieh's gaze darted to the stone bridge, then back to his friend. His first impulse was to free his arm and do whatever the fuck he wanted tohe was the king after allbut then he paused.

With a start, he realized that his breathing had picked up the pace and his fangs had emerged at their own accord. An irrational feeling of anticipation pumped the blood in his veins, making his vision go dark around the edges.

Tardieh frowned. Hikuro was right: he was too involved in this case to think logically. His history with Zoricah was preventing him from making the right decisions and paved the way for guaranteed disaster.

Curbing the primitive instinct screaming in his head, demanding to face Zoricah himself, he agreed, "Okay. Go and find out what Zoricah wants."

Without waiting for a second order, Hikuro darted across the woods in a flash, just before Dyam's profile appeared behind a nearby tree.

Tardieh signaled him to go to the bridge to provide Hikuro a strong backup. No words were needed. In the long years of service to their king, the three official guards had learned to take care of one another. They were like brothers who protected their family at all costs. Tardieh valued and admired his guards' loyalty not only to him but to each other.

A quick movement on his left side made him snap his attention back to the action. It was Joel taking Dyam's position from where he could easily protect his king and provide backup for his friends on the bridge.

They waited in the shadows, anxiety threatening to get the best of Tardieh's usually cool frame of mind. After the bats had scattered and the vision of the black panther vanished, the park had gone strangely quiet again. Too quiet for Tardieh's liking.

Out of nowhere, Hikuro stood up from his hiding place and started walking toward the bridge. Tardieh tilted his head in search for the source that caused such a bold advance from his 2IC.

A tall brunette beauty with short spiky hair stood on the opposite end of the bridge. With her arms hung loose on both sides of her hips, she was standing with an open stance that projected neither menace nor amity. Her tight black pants and black top complemented her lean yet toned figure. It was clear she was as much of a warrior as they were.

Hikuro reached the opposite edge of the bridge and stopped, facing the woman on the other side. From Dyam's descriptions, that must be the female who had hypnotized the vampire bouncer at the night club earlier that evening.

Before he could share his suspicious with his Cherokee warrior, the one in question stepped out of hiding and placed himself behind Hikuro.

The brunette took a sharp breath at the sight of Dyam, as if something had hit her, but quickly recovered.

"I'm here to give an important message to your king." Her voice was quiet and husky. She knew there was no need to shout. Vampires' hearing abilities weren't as acute as a werewolf's but were more sensitive than other creatures' in the supernatural world. They could hear a pin drop in a room full of screaming kids.

"Give it to me and I'll pass it on," Hikuro suggested with a short nod. His tone was solemn, even respectful, but his sharp eyes were trained on the female across the bridge, giving Tardieh no doubt of how aware he was of the threat she still posed to them.

"No, I need to give it to him in person," she replied.

"Why is that, black panther?" Dyam's accusing tones resonated in the woods, making the air grow thicker.

"Because I don't trust you, Cherokee," she replied with a shrug.

So she knew exactly who they all were, Tardieh thought. _Interesting_.

"This message is for your king's ears only. I won't deliver it otherwise."

"And why would he care to hear it?" Hikuro asked. His respectful tones from earlier had morphed into disdain.

"Because it concerns him and his kingdom."

"And why would a shifter be so concerned with the health of a vampire sovereign?" Dyam enquired in the same accusing tones as before. It was clear that the females' stunt at the night club earlier had deeply wounded his warriors, more than just their pride.

"Because his blindness is costing him more than his subjects' lives."

Tardieh sneered quietly at the insult. _Blindness_? What was she talking about?

"If your intentions are as noble as you claim them to be, you will share the message with us, shifter," Hikuro pondered.

"And trust you to take the message?"

Hikuro nodded. But his solemn gesture was met by a snort.

"Yeah, right," the woman sneered. "Look, we can do this dance all night long, vamp, but there's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. I will only give this message to the king in person."

"And there's nothing you have said that convinced me to change mine. You still haven't explained why the king of vampires should grant you a special audience."

As he watched the negotiations on the bridge come to a dead end, a sudden gush of wind crossed Tardieh's cheeks, and the delicious scent of blue-mist flowers invaded his nostrils.

He froze, his senses going at full alert. She was here.

A second later, he heard a whisper behind him. "You should do it because a gentleman always keeps his promise."

In a flash, Tardieh spun on his heels, raised his gun and pinned his target by the throat against a nearby tree.

Bright honey-hazel eyes met his green gaze.

Zoricah didn't try to stop him or defend herself. She just faced him with an unreadable expression on her face. Her long midnight hair was neatly tied up in a ponytail; she wore no earrings or makeup. She didn't need to. Her eyes glittered in the dark night and illuminated her exotic features. Like her black panther associate, she wore tight black pants, knee-high boots and a black tank top that paid tribute to her perfect female figure.

"What do you want, Zoricah?" Tardieh's voice came out like a groan. His gun glued to her right temple. "What is this all about?"

"I knew you would come," Zoricah responded, pinning him with her beautiful eyes. "It's been a long time, Tardieh."

Hearing his name coming out of those lush lips made his mouth go dry. "Not long enough," he growled between his teeth. "What the fuck is this all about?"

Tardieh saw a small hint of shock in her eyes, but whatever feelings he had stirred in her were quickly concealed. "We need to talk. Can you please be so kind as to lower your gun?"

"Not until you tell me why you trapped one of my guards and knocked him unconscious."

Her nose was inches from his. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the minty blue-mist perfume of her skin.

"You are a very difficult man to reach, Tardieh, and my matter is urgent." She looked him straight in the eye, no wavering, no faltering, no hint of hesitancy. She was dead serious. "My girl did not kill your guard despite having plenty of time and the opportunity to do so. It was not my intention to offend you, but I had no other choice."

"You could have asked for an audience, just like everybody else does."

"And your royal advisors would have gladly welcomed a dragon inside your gates?"

She had a point. After his father's death and the attempts on his own life that followed, Tardieh had learned his lesson. Besides barring every non-vampire creature from his inner circle, he never stayed in one place for more than six months, never went to pre-scheduled functions or meetings, preferring to show up unexpectedly. That way his enemies would never know where or when to find him. Until now.

A movement in his peripheral vision made him shift his gaze slightly. Before he had time to turn around, a hand locked on the nape of his neck, but it felt like charged wire on his skin.

"Let her go, vampire, or I'll fry you to dust," a new female voice uttered behind him.

He hadn't intended to start another war, but it all happened too fast.

In a second, Joel was pointing his gun at the new female who kept her hand on Tardieh's nape. The brunette appeared a second later in her black panther shape, growling at both Joel and Hikuro, who had reached the spot at the same time. Soon after, Dyam jumped in front of the panther, clearly prepared to take on her attack.

"Stop!"
Chapter Seven

Zoricah was furious. She had gone through the plan a thousand times with her team and yet they still failed to follow it. She knew this situation would very likely happen and she'd wanted to avoid it at all costs. That's why she had had Yara and Samantha distract the vampire guards while she talked with Tardieh.

"Stop!" she had to shout once more. "Remove your hand, Sam."

Samantha didn't move.

Zoricah unlocked her gaze from Tardieh's, which had not wavered from hers the entire time, and found her friend's. "Sam, retrieve your hand. Now." Her low, directive tones were enough to make her friend finally follow the command.

Sam slowly removed her hand from Tardieh's neck but kept her stance, ready for another attack if needed.

Zoricah's gaze found Tardieh's again. "There's is no need for hostility. I come in peace." Tardieh's eyes narrowed at her in suspicion. "This matter concerns the healthy state of your kingdom."

He lowered his face, as if studying her between his long lashes. Their closeness was starting to bother Zoricah in ways she had not anticipated. She lifted her chin up and didn't let his glare intimidate her. "Tell your men to stand down, Tardieh. I promise you there are no enemies in this park tonight."

After a few more seconds where she could have cut the air with a knife, Tardieh finally lowered the gun and said to his guards, "Stand down, my friends." He didn't remove his hands from her throat, though, nor did he step away from her.

"Why are you here?" he growled.

Zoricah was shocked to see pure hatred in his green eyes, a hatred she couldn't understand. It had been two hundred years since they had last seen each other, but she remembered every single minute of their encounter and thought they had forged a unique bond after she had risked her life to rescue him from captivity.

Even though their races still didn't see eye to eye, she had thought Tardieh was above the irrational prejudice that plagued both their worlds. She trusted him to keep the promise he had made all those years ago. She wasn't foolish enough to expect him to welcome her with fireworks but, for the love of all gods, she wasn't expecting pure loathing either.

"I won't ask again, dragon, what are you doing in my territory?"

She exhaled slowly, curbing her own rage at his insolent tone, then very calmly put her hand on his broad chest and forced him to step back. "I'm afraid I do not bring easy words, king."

She felt Tardieh tense at her touch, but he didn't resist and instead gave her some space.

"If you give me five minutes of your precious time, I'll explain my purpose."

"The clock is ticking," he replied dryly.

She noted his guards stood menacingly around them, ready to decimate any threat to their king. As Yara had once noted, they were an interesting bunch. A Japanese samurai; a Native American, son of a shaman, and a blond male who looked like he belonged on the catwalk. As part of her preparations to meet the vampire king, she had, of course, studied his soldiers in depth. These three trained warriors were known to be his personal guards, closest friends and advisors. Seldom did Tardieh leave his homeor hiding place, as some called itwithout his trusted guards. Seeing them there, standing between their king and any threat, ready to give their lives to save Tardieh's, made Zoricah understand why.

She gave one reassuring look to her own faithful squad, Sam and Yara, and focused her attention on the tall male in front of her. "I've been investigating a series of disappearances in the past eighteen months. They started in the Middle East—Dubai to be more precise—but there are reports of several females disappearing in other countries as well. In the beginning, no one gave the matter a second thought because all of the victims were _sujhas_ until the daughter of a draconian senator met the same fate."

Zoricah could feel those females' desperation boiling under her skin. Having been outcast herself and labeled as non-pure, a _sujha_ , by her society for being the result of a fling between a draconian female and a god—apparently her father's divine status was not good enough for her race's aristocracy—Zoricah's heart went out to every _sujha_ whose life was cut short for lack of social shelter.

"I fail to see the reason why I should care for draconian females disappearing in the Middle East." Tardieh's voice was hard, but carried an edge to it, as if he was not entirely sure of that statement himself.

"Because the females are not only dragons. There are vampires among the abducted."

Tardieh's eyes widened in surprise for a split second, but then his features took on an even harder look. "I would have been advised if such occurrences had happened in my kingdom."

"Why? They were nothing but solitary wonderers or outcasts, _sujha_ who had gotten sick and tired of our society's prejudiced laws. Nobody missed them, so nobody reported their deaths."

"How do you know they are dead?"

"We found a mass grave just outside Dubai near a village called Al Musaydrah," she replied, reaching for her back pocket.

Big mistake.

Before the thought formed in her mind, Tardieh had his gun at her forehead, his guards had raised their weapons, Sam reacted by placing her hand on Tardieh's nape, and the menacing roar of Yara's black panther echoed in the night.

Zoricah put her hands up as if in surrender. "I'm just going to get the dossier from my pants. That is all."

Tardieh gave her a knowing look. "Where is it?"

"In my back pocket. May I?" she asked, batting her lashes sarcastically.

"No, you may not." Without warning, Tardieh pulled her close and reached behind her, shoving his hand down her pocket.

"Hey, watch it, vampire," she growled in his ear.

"Don't worry, goddess. Touching you is the last thing I want to do right now."

_Ouch_. Where was that unwarranted hostility coming from? She wasn't interested in doing the paso doble with a vampire either, but nonetheless, it was never gratifying to hear such statement coming from a man.

She felt his big hands grabbing her palm-foldera small black pentagram one inch high and just over five inches long with no apparent openings.

After a quick look at the device, he said, "I thought you said it was a dossier."

"It is—an electronic one. Did you really think I'd fly around with a briefcase hanging off my claws?" Zoricah's patience was wearing thin. She had come here to try to get his support, but ultimately she was doing him a favor by trying to save his race from a predator.

Tardieh turned the device in his hand with a puzzled face.

"Just give me that," she uttered, not caring for taming her temper anymore. "And take that gun out of my face."

Tardieh raised his eyebrows at her but complied, looking a bit startled by her boldness. _Good_.

She stepped away from him, put the small pentagram in the palm of her hand, and touched one of the sides. A flicker of bright blue light crossed its surface just before a narrow rectangle opened in the center, and a radiant translucent square spread upward in front of everyone's eyes. Zoricah watched Tardieh ogle over her little toy as if it were magic, and had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop her smile.

She touched the side of the pentagram again, and a small picture appeared on the glowing rectangle. Slowly, it grew to the size of a piece of paper. The holographic photo showed mutilated bodies of vampires dumped in a deep hole on the ground. After a few seconds, the image was substituted for another oneheadless bodies lay on top of more bodies, all butchered, with their bellies open and entrails showing. The slideshow carried on, and Zoricah noted that Tardieh was as intent on it as his guards. They had all gathered around to watch the macabre demonstration.

Zoricah gave them a few seconds to take in the pictures, then continued, "After weeks of investigation, we managed to track down where the vampires and dracos were taken. We broke in and destroyed the place." She watched Tardieh's eyes still locked on the images.

It was Hikuro who managed to first wake up from the ghoulish trance. "What was it?"

"It was a sort of hospital with beds and operating facilities," Sam replied.

Hikuro shifted his gaze to Sam and measured her up and down with a sneer. To Zoricah's surprise, Sam looked hurt by his rude reaction.

"Who was behind it? And why?" Tardieh asked, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.

"We don't know. Unfortunately, we got there too late. They must have been tipped off because the place was empty." Zoricah's stomach lurched with the memories.

She still hadn't forgiven herself for letting them get away in Dubai.

"But it was a close one," Yara added. "All surgical apparatus, medicines and operating tools were still there when we broke in."

"We also found an inventory with a list of supplies dated a few weeks back," Zoricah said, measuring Tardieh's reaction. "It had a New York address on it."

After the last image faded, Zoricah moved to put the pentagram away, but Tardieh grabbed her wrist. "Pictures can be doctored, especially with this sort of technology."

Without pulling her hand back, she agreed for the first time with the vampire king. "Yes, they can." Taking a deep breath, she looked at her fighters. They were ready for an attack, but they wanted a specific target, and it was not Tardieh. If they were going to succeed in this mission, they needed his help. "You don't have to believe me, Tardieh. You can join me tomorrow night and see it for yourself."

She took a small piece of paper out of her front pocket. "This is where the facility in New York is. We believe it's a laboratory, not a hospital. Someone is using vampires and dracos as lab rats."

Tardieh's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He took a step closer and was nose to nose with Zoricah once again. "How do I know this is not another one of your brilliant plots?"

May the Soartas damn him to the depths of Hiad!

Zoricah couldn't believe Tardieh's stubbornness. What the Hiad had happened to the bond they forged at the end of the war? Hadn't he promised her he'd always be her ally? What had made him change his mind about her?

Even though this surprising insolence was killing her inside, she had no time to dwell on it now. The clock was ticking and the longer they stayed here wasting time, the more women were dying in the hands of a sick bastard. And if this hard-headed vampire didn't care enough for his race to get past his intransigence, she would make him.

"Why should I help you, Zoricah?" Tardieh sneered. "Why should I bother to trust you again?"

"Because I saved your life once and you owe me." Her voice dark, each word came out filled with the resentment she cared not to hide anymore.

Tardieh's eyes narrowed, but before he gathered strength to respond, she raised her hand. "Look, Tardieh, it's been over two hundred years. Why would I want to plot against you now when you have established yourself on the throne and your kingdom is strong?" She hoped some military rationale would get through that thick skull of his. She offered him the piece of paper carrying the location of the laboratory again. "All I'm asking you is to be at these coordinates by midnight tomorrow and see it for yourself."

Still scrutinizing her, he drawled, "I'll think about it." Tardieh accepted the piece of paper, and before she could stop him, he snatched the pentagram from her other hand.

Zoricah rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew her last strategy had worked. Tardieh would be there tomorrowif not to see it for himself, to disgrace her if she was wrong. He hadn't confirmed it now because he was just playing hard to get.

Fine, two could play that stupid game.

She signaled to Yara and Sam. It was time to leave the vampires to their own thoughts, but not without one last demonstration.

She took a couple of steps away from him, opened her senses, and let her dragon surface. She felt the heat start at her core and grow deliciously inside her, but didn't allow it to take over completelyjust a little bit, just enough to give them a taste. Two huge, dark golden wings sprung out of her shoulder blades, and moved gracefully under the moonlight. She arched her back and stretched them out, showing off their full extent, then retracted them slightly.

A small smile crossed her lips when she noticed the vampires' gazes glued on her, especially Tardieh's. It held a mix of admiration and disbelief, coated by awe.

Her little show had worked.

The vamps had completely missed her fighters leaving the park.

"I guess I'll see you when I see you, then." She gave Tardieh one raised eyebrow and flew away.

**********

Tardieh was flabbergasted. With a start, he managed to close his mouth before drooling in front of his friends. Zoricah was beautiful. The moment she stepped back, her honey eyes flared and two massive wings simply grew out of her back. They reflected a hypnotic, dark golden shine that matched the glitter in her seductive gaze. Then she arched her back, giving him full view of her delicious body. Immediately Tardieh imagined her arching her back out of pleasure underneath him.

_No_ , he stopped himself. She was not beautiful; she was the enemy with an agenda, and he had to get a grip on himself. "Joel."

"Yes, my lord." His friend's voice came out in a gasp, as if he too had just been woken up from a trance.

"Are your spies active?"

"Always, my lord."

"Then call on them. I want to know where she's hiding, where she's been, and who she's been getting her intel from." Tardieh turned around and faced his loyal guards and advisors. "If this is a trap, Zoricah will not live to see another sunrise."
Chapter Eight

"I don't like this." Yara's voice came from the kitchen. Apparently the previous four times she voiced her opinion about the night's encounter had not been enough.

Zoricah locked the front door behind her. Her fighters had just arrived back from the park and Yara had headed straight to the kitchen. Due to her aerial voyage, Zoricah had returned faster. She loved flying over Manhattan, its perfectly geometrical streets lit by the fluorescent colors of skyscrapers and car beams. She knew it was partly because of the thrill born from the possibility of getting caught by humans, but she wasn't a young dragon; she knew how to conceal herself even in bright full moon nights like this one. Tonight, however, she went straight home to clear her head before Yara and Sam got back.

Sam crossed the living room and sat down on the leather couch. "Tone it down, Yara. You'll wake Drew up," she said weakly.

"I'm already awake. I've been waiting for you." Drew was standing by the hallway door. Her eyes were even more sullen than when Zoricah had left to meet Tardieh.

This whole account had taken a big toll on her friend. Drew was the main reason why they were in New York. Her twin sister's abduction had shaken the draconian senate. According to Drew, they had spared no efforts to find her sister, Deirdre, but to no avail.

Zoricah, Sam, and Yara had been in Italy trying to take down a draconian version of Jack the Ripper when Drew managed to find Zoricah and convince her to help. Draconian twins were a rarity in the world and as with most magical races were treated almost as divine beings. Rumor had it that the bond between twins was so great they could sense each other, feel what the other was feeling and sometimes even read each other's mind. Drew and Deirdre were the perfect proof that this rumor was more than just an old legend.

Zoricah knew the senate had allowed Drew to contact her only as a last resort. Zoricah and the draconian high society had parted ways ever since her mother's death almost three hundred years ago. She despised them for their conservative, prejudiced ways and they despised her for her rebellious mindset that threatened their millennia-old conventions.

At first, Zoricah had agreed to take the case because other draconian females had been abducted, too. She knew that as soon as Deirdre was found—that is, if she was found—the senate would stop looking for the culprit and ignore the _sujhas_ who had also been abducted. They were, in their eyes, the scum—the shame—of their society.

After a few months together, Zoricah saw there was more to Drew than what meets the eye. Her porcelain doll-like beauty gave out a fragile vibe that hid an innate strength and determination. Drew had refused to go back to the draconian lands in the far eastern mountains with the senate's guards and had basically forced her presence among Zoricah's female warriors. At first, Yara and Sam had been beside themselves, but in no time she conquered their hearts and gained their respect.

Zoricah looked at her pale friend by the hallway door. Her once shiny, wavy red hair was gathered in a single plait; her blue eyes were dark with pain.

"How are you feeling?" Zoricah asked.

"How did it go?" Drew enquired in reply.

"Those vamps are a joke!" Yara started again, coming out of the kitchen chewing on a raw chicken leg. "They have no idea what's happening under their noses and yet feel they have the right to doubt us," she said indignantly, waving the poultry limb at Drew.

"It's understandable. I would, too," Drew responded, crossing the living room to take a seat next to Sam, who gave her a friendly smile but stood up and went to the balcony. She had always been the quiet one among them, but tonight Sam was especially quiet, Zoricah realized.

"If someone brought me hard evidence that my people were getting butchered everywhere, I would listen carefully and do something about it instead of wasting my time shooting the messenger," Yara barked on her way to the kitchen—no doubt to get another piece of chow. When Yara was frustrated, she got very predictable. She ate, usually something raw and nasty to sate the black panther inside her, and let her Brazilian temper fly free.

Drew ignored her Latin friend. "Z, please. Are they backing us up tomorrow?"

"Don't worry, Drew. We'll get Deirdre back." It was all Zoricah could promise because, by Apa Dobrý, she would bring the draconian twin back home. It didn't matter if Tardieh helped them or not; the following night she would lead her small but fierce army on the attack, as she had done countless times, and rescue Deirdre. Drew depended on her twin sister, and her girls depended on their wellbeing to continue believing the world was not just a place where the gods dumped in foul people with psychotic obsessions.

Maybe she should stop calling them "her girls," Z reflected. They have grown and changed so much since she'd welcomed them in her home.

Yara continued to be a hot-headed Brazilian who had unsolved issues with her past, but she had learned how to tone it down, control the beast and focus on heightening her strengths instead of blaming everyone else for her unfortunate fate.

Sam had also matured, but still struggled with her powers. Zoricah had literally _felt_ her when she was investigating strange accounts in a small town near North Yorkshire in England. Sam's inner energy was so great and so out of control that she had been locked up in a human mental institution and put under 24/7 surveillance and heavy drugs.

Zoricah had known Sam was human and had no magical heritage in her blood, but nonetheless she was intrigued by the girl's powers and infuriated by what the humans had done to her. So one night she flew in and got her out. That had been almost forty years before, but Sam still looked like a twenty-something, fresh-from-the-farm girl.

Zoricah met Drew's eyes; they were filled with sadness, but they weren't dead—not yet. "We'll need all the strength we have for tomorrow, and that means having more than just a few hours' sleep." She smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you go back to bed, Drew? You too, Yara. I want you all fresh and ready by early evening. We'll go through the plan once more before we leave."

Yara and Drew nodded in agreement and complied. They were strong women but respected her as their leader.

Z crossed the Victorian style living room of her SoHo townhouse and went to the balcony. She loved SoHo in the summer. It was always buzzing with people, and music could be heard everywhere. It was the reason she had bought this townhouse in the first place. It wasn't luxurious, and had only four average-size bedrooms distributed over three levels.

She had decorated it with modern furniture in a classic, almost minimalist, style. It wasn't the best home she owned, but it was in the perfect location, on Mott Street off Broome. Just seconds away from art galleries, bars, shops and vibrant live music venues. Humans couldn't discern if she was one of them or not and, unlike vampires, she had no issues with sunlight, so she could always enjoy the best of the human world without major worries.

Z found Sam sitting on the outdoor sofa in the balcony. The lights hadn't been turned on, so the place was only lit by the full moon above. Shadows highlighted the somber expression on her friend's delicate features. She seemed to have taken great interest in the concrete floor.

"Thank you for backing me up at the park, Sam." Zoricah sat down on the armchair next to the sofa. "I'm sorry for having to reprimand you in front of the vampires."

Sam looked up and smiled, but it never reached her eyes. "That's all right. I probably deserved it."

"You did?" Z asked, not believing her ears.

"Oh, well, you had warned us about what could happen and told us not to overreact. And I did, so..." Sam shrugged and let the silence fill in the gaps.

Zoricah frowned, not understanding where the guilty-your-honor attitude was coming from. Something was wrong, very wrong. She looked straight into her youngest fighter's eyes and tried to read what wasn't being said, but failed miserably. "Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam looked away, then back at Zoricah and smiled again, but once more it never reached her eyes. "It's nothing new really. I just wish we had rescued Deirdre already. This waiting is driving me crazy."

She was right; this whole abduction was taking a very big toll on them all. It had been one of the first times that someone close to them had been their mission. But Zoricah knew her petite blonde fighter was not disclosing the whole truth. Unfortunately, now was not the time for a therapy session; maybe later, after they finished their job in New York. Apa Dobrý only knew Zoricah herself was in no condition for giving out inspiring advice at that moment.

"Why don't you go to bed and have a nice rest?" Zoricah suggested with the best motherly voice she could muster. "It's almost dawn, and we have to be really sharp tomorrow night."

"Okay. I think I'm just tired," Sam agreed. "Yeah, that might be it." It was clear Sam was trying to convince herself more than Zoricah.

She stood up, gave Zoricah one last small smile, and went inside.

Z exhaled a tired breath and was considering making her own way to bed when her cell phone rang. She picked it up but didn't recognize the number. Who could be calling her at four in the morning? She pressed the green bottom. "Yeah."

"Is this Zoricah?" a male voice asked on the other end of the line.

"Who's this?" she replied.

"Gordon gave me your number."

Gordon, Hot & Sweaty's sleazy manager, Z's brain registered. "I'm listening."

"I need your help. Something happened to my roommate," the guy said. The distress in his voice was palpable.

"Who's your roommate? Do I know him?"

"Her," he corrected Z. "My roommate is one of the dancers here at Hot & Sweaty. I found her purse in the alleyway next to the club. I think she was abducted just like those other girls."
Chapter Nine

Half an hour later, Z stepped out of the stinking strip club and took a much needed breath. She hated those kinds of places. She respected people's choices and didn't care if someone chose to take their clothes off for a living, but no one should need to put up with sleazy bastards in order to make a buck. And Hot and Sweaty, "the finest strip club in Philadelphia," was filled with sleazy bastards. She shivered, recalling one of its patron's hungry eyes on her when she had walked in. _Yuck_.

The man who had contacted her was a waiter at the joint and his friend, Amelia, was one of the dancers. A few weeks back, Zoricah had visited every joint in the worst parts of New York as well as in main cities in neighboring states in her attempts to find out what had happened to Deidre. Drew had traced her sister's whereabouts to somewhere in New York, but when Z, Sam and Yara tracked Deidre's hotel room, the concierge told them that she would spend days away, only to return in her 'party clothes'.

That information led their investigation to the highest and lowest parts of New York. They had started their search in the high-profile clubsDeidre was the daughter of a draconian senator, after allbut after finding nothing, she decided to extend their search to the less noble joints. She made sure all venue managers kept her card and instructed them to contact her in case they heard anything.

"Gordon doesn't mind it," the waiter said, pulling Z away from her memories. "Hell, he actually encourages the dancers to do it."

He had told Z that sometimes, usually in the days before their rent was due, Amelia offered the club's patrons some additional entertainment of a more intimate nature. The practice wasn't frowned upon by the club's management; on the contrary, they encouraged the strip dancers to offer extra services, but always outside their premises. Never inside the club.

"Over here," the bartender said, guiding her to the alleyway where he had found his friend's purse. "I came out for a cigarette and saw it laying near the dumpster."

The narrow side street smelled like rotten cabbage and other nasty stuff, but Zoricah's nostrils also identified the distinct smell of grease, and that was odd.

She strode along the roughly-paved path and spotted dirty oil on the ground. Crouching down, she sniffed the dark puddles, confirming her suspicions.

"All the contents of her purse were sprawled on the asphalt," the waiter added.

"Did you notice anything missing?" Z asked, still crouched near the puddle of oil. "Credit cards, money, phone?"

"Nope." The guy shook his head. "All in there."

Her eyes narrowed when she spotted something poking out from underneath a dumpster. Using her pen as a fork, she pulled the thing out and inspected it. It was the collar of a flannel shirt, which looked like it had been torn off. Z brought it close to her nose and sniffed it. The stench of grease and something else permeated her nostrils. She paused. Even though the shirt's red and green pattern would have hidden it, the smudge of blood stood out like a Christmas' lights to Zoricah's trained eye. It was fresh, and not just any kind of blood—vampire blood.

"What makes you think something's happened to your friend?" Z asked, scrutinizing her new client. "Maybe she just dropped her purse on her way out?"

"No," the guy replied. "Even if she were just having an extra-long hour with a client somewhere, Amelia would have been back by now because of her condition."

"What condition?"

"She's hypersensitive to the sun."

Z lifted her eyebrows at the waiter. _How original._

"Look!" he cried out, pointing at the floor near the club's backdoor.

Z stood up and walked over to where he was.

"Oh, man, I told Gordon. I told him something had happened to Amelia, but he didn't believe me, he didn't want to call the cops, and now—oh man, she's gone. She's gone!" he ranted, pacing around the sparkling silver sandal laying forgotten on a dark corner of the pathway.

"Are you sure Amelia was wearing this tonight?" Z asked before taking the shoe in her hands and inspecting it for clues.

"I'm sure. She loves those sandals," the poor guy replied with a trembling chin. "Oh man, is she dead?"

Z didn't answer.

She didn't want to lie to him.

There was no trace of the other shoe. Z's acute gaze focused on the club's back door, then traced a line down the alleyway then up toward the roof and landed on the surveillance camera perched on the edge of the building. "Take me to your manager."

Z would bet her pinky that the recording would show Amelia stepping out of the club accompanied by her kidnapper who owned an old car that leaked oil. When she'd refused to get into the car, they fought, she put up a fight, ripping his shirt, but lost in the end. The kidnapper must have been very strong, or fought dirty, in order to take down a full-grown vampire.

Z started walking back in to find Gordon and the surveillance tape when the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She whirled on her heels, sensing danger.

"What is it?" the waiter asked, probably alarmed by her sudden attack-mode.

"Nothing," Z replied with a frown. Even though her gut was telling her they were being watched, she couldn't find anything strange lurking in the shadows. "Let's take a look at those tapes."

**********

From a few stories up, Joel watched Zoricah follow the short waiter inside the club again. His network of informants had told him a woman with Zoricah's description had been seen at night clubs and strip joints around the state in the past weeks, but they didn't know anything else.

To his surprise, the Soartas seemed to be on his side because Joel had barely arrived back at the mansion when a call came through. It was Gordon, his faithful snitch. Zoricah had just arrived at his strip club in Philadelphia. _What in Hiad was she doing there?_

At first he thought she just in search for some extracurricular entertainment, but she didn't seem interested in drugs, only information. He had kept his distance of course, and that had compromised his ability to learn everything about her motives, but from what he could tell, she had been called here by the waiter who was worried about one of the dancers.

When Joel asked Gordon why the waiter had contacted Z, his informant clicked his tongue in a dismissive way. "One of the girls is late back from the night. She's probably earning extra cash, that's all."

But neither Zoricah nor the waiter had given any hints they shared the same opinion. Apparently, Zoricah had volunteered to find the guy's roommate without asking for a dime in payment.

_Damn the Soartas._ Joel was really hoping he'd find some dirt on the draconian demigoddess, or something solid he could take back to Tardiehhe didn't know her, but his gut was telling him she was bad newsbut so far, all he could find was more evidence that she had told them the truth. And, apparently, one more female had been abducted tonight.

Pulling out his cell phone from his leather jacket, he dialed the familiar number. "My lord?" he said. "I have some information for you."
Chapter Ten

Zoricah landed on her balcony as smoothly and as quietly as she could muster. Her legs and wings were tired from the night's dealings, but her mind was working overtime.

By Apa Dobrý, one more victim had disappeared without a trace. One more _sujha_ had fallen victim to that sick psychopath, or psychopaths—Zoricah didn't know. What was he doing to them? Why was he abducting all these women, and why did he need so many?

From what she had found tonight, the bastard wasn't working alone. He couldn't be. She hadn't dared go to the house they believed the females were being kept, at the risk of ruining their mission the next evening.

No, this kidnapper had outsmarted them once before, and she wasn't going to jeopardize their chances of getting him again by showing up without a backup plan. So she had gathered as much information as she could about the new victim and forced herself to return home, and wait for the right time to striketomorrow night.

Zoricah exhaled a long breath and slumped down on the outdoor couch as her brain went through the attack strategy for the tenth time. It would all come down to tomorrow night's attack. Mighty Soartas, she only hoped Tardieh pulled his finger out his arse and showed up with his crew at the time and place she had told him.

She had planned the whole operation in detail, from tracing Tardieh's personal guards to the meeting at Prospect Park. Of course, she hadn't anticipated that Yara would be outfoxed by a human bimbo at the nightclub and that Hikuro would take such a mind-boggling interest in Sam but, all in all, her plan was running like clockwork.

She was very proud in the way Sam had turned the debacle around and completed the mission with flair and innovation. She was still learning how to fully control her powers—she could blast a whole house with one energy blow—so it had been a nice surprise to receive the news she had managed to strike Hikuro with enough energy to knock him out, but not too much as to cook him alive, which had been a serious possibility.

Images of Tardieh were next to invade Zoricah's mind, pushing aside any worries about her plan or kidnappings.

By Apa Dobrý, he looked even more charming than when they had first met. His chiseled jaw was clean-shaven, his hair kept short but allowed some movement. He had definitely bulked up since their encounter over two hundred years ago, as expectedhe had just been through months of imprisonment when she had found himbut his broad shoulders hadn't changed a bit. They were still there, wide and strong, and Zoricah was a sucker for men with broad shoulders.

A frown wrinkled her smooth skin when she recalled his angry glare earlier that night. She had expected him to be suspicious or even cold but not _angry_ upon seeing her. Was he mad at her out of pride, because her fighters had managed to best his warriors? Or was it to mask his embarrassment? It was certainly not because she hadn't gone through the proper channels, as he had spat out. She knew he cared as much for protocol as she did.

For what it's worth, she had thought of asking for an official assembly with the great King Tardieh, but that route would have taken much too long, and for sure her clues would've gone freezing cold while she waited for approval.

_Two hundred years_... _wow_. Time had flown.

With sadness she remembered the end of the bloody war at the turn of the nineteenth century. Both the vampire king and the dragon lord ended up losing their heads, but Tardieh had been true to his word.

He had contacted the draconian senate and led them onto an arduous but decisive peace deal. It took several decades before her country recovered from the damages of war, though. By the end of it all, humans had acquired too much knowledge and invented new technologies, forcing the draconian population to make a choice. The more traditional dragons left their beloved country to hide deep into the Russian far east mountains. The younger ones were happy to live amongst humans, and enjoy the fruits of the industrial revolution.

The night she'd saved Tardieh from Vrajitor's claws had been the point of no return for the war. Her moments with him in the alleyway behind his father's castle in Romania filled her mind like a ghost who refuses to leave.

She had been so young back then; they both had. Tardieh had refused to promise her something he wasn't certain of, and that had really touched her heart and earned her respect.

Before meeting him, Zoricah's life had been filled with empty promises and deceptive friendships, so it had been surprisingly refreshing to meet someone who would risk losing an ally for the sake of the truth. She had really admired him then. Well, if she were honest with herself, her feelings had been a little bit more than just admiration.

Mighty Soartas, she remembered vividly how his body had awakened hers with such passion. His hands caressing her nape and lower back, her hips rocking against his while his fangs sucked on her neck. It had been her first vampire bite.

She chuckled. In a way, he'd been her first.

Despite the dangers imposed by his blood starvation, she had been confident he wouldn't drain her drymaybe it was because he had resisted her offer with such vehemence, or maybe it was her own curiosity that convinced herself of the false sense of security. For whatever reason, in the end, he had struck with the precision of an experienced vampire and the gentleness of someone who cared about his victim's wellbeing.

If they'd had more time, if the razbian guards hadn't interrupted them, she wouldn't have been able to resist the insane heat Tardieh's bite stirred inside her. She would have opened her legs, taken off her clothes while ripping his out of the way, and given herself to him completely just as a horny teenager would do.

Z shifted her position on the sofa, her panties feeling surprisingly damp.

The air around her changed slightly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up before the rasping sound of a shoe scraping on her balcony floor reached her ears.

On a fluent movement, Zoricah pulled her combat knife out of its holster on her hip, sprung out of the couch and got ready to shred into pieces whomever her uninvited guest might be.

"At ease, draco." Tardieh's grave voice came out of the darkness, shortly followed by his tall, muscular body.

Zoricah held her breath. _Damn the Soartas_. How had he found her?

He was wearing black pants and a jade long sleeve shirt that accentuated his green eyes. His dark brown hair, cut short at the nape and a bit longer in the front, contrasted his almost-translucent skin and framed his chiseled jaw perfectly. Even from a distance, she had to look up to match his stare. She wasn't usually considered a short female, but he was at least a head taller than her.

Tardieh narrowed his eyes, clearly noticing her detailed scrutiny of his body, and repeated the words she had given him in the park. "I come in peace."

Zoricah noticed the sarcasm in his voice but decided not to reply. She went for the attack instead. She raised her knife higher and asked with deceivingly easiness, "How did you find me?"

One of his eyebrows went up as if in amusement. "Did you really think you could hide for long in my own territory?"

No, she didn't, but she had taken a few precautions to at least have some time incognito before she had to worry about him knowing her location. Now it was too late for regrets. It was time for damage control. With her knife firmly pointing at him, she replied, "Fine. You found me. What do you want?"

His head tilted slightly to the side, but he didn't come any closer. "Funny, that's exactly what I wanted to ask you."

"You know why I'm here, Tardieh. I've given you enough proof of the seriousness of our mission."

Tardieh's voice took on an even lower, more menacing tone. "Proof that could have been easily doctored."

Zoricah rolled her eyes, having a hard time understanding where such resistance was coming from. King Tardieh had been known to be hardheaded, but he was also known for his quest for the truth. It had saved him from a number of attempts to destroy him and his closest friends in the past.

Letting her frustration show, she exclaimed, "Tardieh, it's been more than two hundred years. Why would I come to you after all this time if not for something of the utmost importance?"

"Because you are the ultimate puppet master, or should I say, puppet mistress?" he drawled, taking a step closer. "After all, you were the one who managed to get me out of the draconian prison back in the war. You, only you, and no one else."

"Yes. And I thought you would be grateful for that," she said, unable to mask her frustration.

"Grateful?" It was his turn to show his annoyance, but just as fast, his features took on the cynical tones from before. "For having been sucked into one of your ploys to dethrone your draconian lord?"

"No, for having come to your aid when no one else did."

He paused, as if struck by the truth, then strolled along the balcony. "I must confess, I felt honored and even smug to have been saved by the beautiful draconian demigoddess." His eyes pored over her from head to toe.

Z suddenly felt very conscious of her combat clothes and unraveled hairdo, which had certainly suffered under the harsh New York wind.

"I remember walking back to my father's castle thinking how jealous my friends would feel when I told them that I had the luxury of holding the stunning Zoricah in my very arms. You were kind of a celebrity back in the day, you know?"

His words were flattering but his eyes were cold—oh, so cold. Nonetheless, Z's insides burned with the memories he was evoking—and not in a bad way. "Well, you were too. A celebrity, I mean. The court adored you."

A ghost of a smile lifted his cheek, then sadness cloaked his gaze. "The boy you saved is long gone, demigoddess." He paused, and then the chillness in his tone returned with vengeance. "And with him, there went the fool who thought your ploys were harmless."

Z's jaw dropped in disbelief, but at the same time her blood boiled at his open assault on her integrity. _How dare he?_ She thought she'd feel offended by his unwarranted hatred, but no, she was simply pissed off. After all, he hadn't been the first man to mislead her into believing he was an ally.

"You know what, Tardieh?" she retorted. "I really don't give a damn about what you think of me, or how your twisted mind decided to remember our last encounter. But I do care about the women suffering and being tortured by this psychopath who's been working right under your nose. So stop wasting my time and tell me why you're here."

"Sure," he spat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Right after you tell me who you're working for."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Zoricah, you really want me to believe that you've gone through all this trouble to save a bunch of missing girls?" he sneered. "Give me a break."

"Isn't that enough for you?" Z growled in utter shock. "Oh, I'm sorry if you think a _bunch of girls_ aren't worth saving, Your Majesty. But where I come from, every innocent _inmã_ is worth saving. No one deserves to be tortured or held against their will." She paused, then added dryly, "Not even a pompous prince."

Her piercing words conjured a sarcastic chuckle from him. "Forgive me if I failed to blindly follow you, Your Holiness. But you see, where _I_ come from, people use others' good will as a means to get what they want. _Always_. There's no such thing as a truly altruistic deed, my dear, so stop the act and tell me who you're working for."

"You know, I'm actually offended that you think I'm working _for_ someone," Z replied, giving him a taste of his own sarcasm. "After all, if I'm this great mastermind you say I am, I should be clever enough to work for myself, right?"

He gave her a knowing look in reply. "Very funny."

"No, Tardieh," she said, cutting the bullshit and going back to the point. "This is not funny. Nothing about my presence here in New York is _funny_. These females are dying for nothing. There's a serial killer roaming in your streets and no one is doing anything to stop him."

For once, Tardieh didn't have a smart reply. He just regarded her with his green somber eyes.

"I know you have actioned your spies," she carried on. For some insane reason, her gut was telling her he had come here to be convinced of her honesty, not the way around. "And I also know that they have found nothing incriminating about me." She cocked her head sideways, looking at him under her long lashes.

"I would save the cockiness if I were you," Tardieh replied, but the harshness in his gaze had melted a bit. For the first time this evening, Z felt warmth coming from him. "Joel's network can find anything, including your den's location, as you've already noticed."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "He won't find anything incriminating because there isn't anything to be found. Unless he's in the business of fabricating reality."

"Don't," Tardieh warned her. "I vouch for my guys."

"And I vouch for my girls."

They stared at each other for a moment. A cold and hot bead of sweat ran down her spine as Tardieh's gaze fixed on hers. He wasn't trying to seduce her, neither was he trying to subdue her, but damn, he made her feel weak on the knees.

Suddenly she was back in Romania, two hundred years ago, at the alleyway behind the vampire king's castle, with a young Tardieh who had managed to break through the cold walls around her heart. It was an insane feeling, considering how short their encounter had been, but it was real nonetheless. But ghosts from the past could be a misleading bitch sometimes.

Before he could notice how his presence affected her, she broke the gaze and lifted her chin up. "Like I said at the park earlier this evening, there's no foul play here, Tardieh. I'm not playing games." She paused to take a deep breath.

The sun threatened to emerge from behind the skyscrapers of Manhattan at any moment now. Dawn was upon them. She was running out of time. If she were to get Tardieh to back her up tomorrow, she had to do it now.

"I'm just surprised at your resistance to see that. This is _your_ territory and they are _your subjects_ who are getting killed. Your spies have probably told that this very evening I was called into a nightclub to investigate one more disappearance. And guess what? It was a female vampire, who fits the profile of the other victims to a T."

Tardieh nodded slightly. Maybe she was finally getting through that thick skull of his.

"Okay," he mumbled.

"Okay?"

"Okay," he repeated. "I'll back you up tomorrow night, but I want some guarantees before diving into a mission with you."

Zoricah realized what he had meant a second too late. With his vampire speed, Tardieh grabbed her hand holding the combat knife and twisted it behind her back while seizing her nape with his other hand. Just before he struck, she saw his fully extended fangs reflecting the last remains of moonlight.

He pierced her neck with vigor but not violence. His strong arms enveloped her and locked her in place. She tried to move, but his hold on her right hand was at such an angle that to break away she would have to dislodge her shoulder first.

The hypnotic feeling of ecstasy hit her like thunder on dry land. Z tried to fight it, but no one could triumph over the lure of a vampire bite—not even a demigoddess.

After the first pull, Tardieh seemed to pause for a millisecond, the way people do when savoring a rare wine, then he resumed drinking from her with renewed vigor. Zoricah felt the surge of power pass through them as her blood streamed out of her veins and into his lips.

His right hand caressed her nape and massaged the base of her skull, taunting, gentle, and then pulling her even closer. She tried to resist but soon lost the battle. After a few more sips, she felt his hips closing in on her body. Instead of listening to her inner voice that screamed for her to fight him off, she lifted her chin and gave him easier access to her neck. He took it. His left hand brushed her back, the same way he had done two hundred years before.

When he seemed satiated, he pulled his fangs back but his lips remained on her skin for a moment longer, as if relishing the lingering taste of her blood on his tongue. She didn't pull away—she didn't want to—and noticed his breaths were as heavy as hers had become.

When he finally unburied his face from the crook of her neck, his dark, green gaze found hers. It exuded warmth, arousal and something else—something that could've been mistaken for longing.

Z gazed back at him, barely caring for anything else. His fair cheeks were flushed now—most likely from her hot blood coursing through his veins. Rosy-cheeked like that, he was even more handsome.

Tardieh opened his mouth to say something but closed it as if he'd decided against it.

Her eyes landed on his lips and a sudden urge to kiss them overcame her. Mighty Soartas, what wouldn't she do to kiss him right now? But even in her current state of post-bite-ecstasy, she knew kissing Tardieh would be crossing a line one shouldn't cross. Soon they'd wake up from this insane trance his bite had brought down upon them both, and they'd be back to their strictly-business relationship again.

A light breeze blew across Zoricah's face, and she took a deep, lazy breath, allowing herself to enjoy that rare moment of respite, while memorizing the feeling of his body against hers.

Out of nowhere, his nose flared as if taking in a divine fragrance, and his eyes went wild.

"Tardieh?" she asked weakly, yet alarmed.

An eerie red glow cloaked his irises just before his lips crashed against hers with unexpected passion.

Mighty Soartas, he was kissing her?

Z's mind took a moment to register what had just happened, or that it _was_ truly happening. But there was no mistaking the way his lips felt, lush and inviting against hers, the way his tongue searched hers in a sensuous dance. There was also no mistaking how her heart had skipped a beat, or how she felt weak on the knees.

Tardieh had crossed the proverbial line.

Too late, Zoricah realized she was kissing him backwith equal fervor. His lips were... too much to resist. This very moment had been two hundred years in the making, after all.

She lifted one of her legs, giving his fullness more access to its target and rejoiced with the new sensations the position evoked. By the way his deep groan reverberated against her lips, she knew Tardieh had enjoyed it as well.

He finally let her right hand go after throwing her combat knife on the floor, then he grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her off the floor. The cold wall hit her back, its coolness a stark contrast to the intense heat growing inside her.

Wrapping her arms around Tardieh's neck, she rocked her hips slowly against his and was rewarded with a growl. He gently stroked her flat tummy, then lifted her tank top before finding her firm breasts.

It was Zoricah's turn to moan. Mighty Soartas, this was crazy and amazing at the same time.

He deepened the kiss while playing with her left nipple. She was so wet she could barely think of anything else but taking him inside her. His lips left hers and found her already hardened nipple. He suckled her, teased her, taunted her to the edge. She heard more moaning and realized it was her. She was close, oh so close.

Too soon, he lifted his lips and whispered something in her ear, but Zoricah was too consumed by the fire he had lit inside her to understand it.

"Tell me, Zoricah." This time, he tried to say it more clearly, but his voice was quite hoarse. "Who hired you to do this job? Who hired you to come to New York and find me?"

"That again?" It took Zoricah a few moments to grasp that Tardieh had gone back to square one. "I thought you had agreed..."

"Tell me who you're working for," he whispered, licking the wounds induced by his fangs. "Tell me his name and I'll spare you. Oh, Hiad, I may even keep you for myself."

"Keep me for yourself?" His words had on Zoricah the same effect of a bucket of cold water on a balmy cat. She pulled away and looked him in the eye. She was almost at his height in that up-in-the-air position. "Why do you insist on asking me this? Don't you believe me?"

"How can I?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I won't make the same mistake twice, or allow you to play me the way you played my father."

"What?" Zoricah was stunned by his accusation. She shoved him away while pulling her tank top back into place. "Are you insane?"

"Do you really think I'd buy your lame excuse for knocking out one of my closest advisors just to get in touch with me?" he replied, as if that explained everything.

"That's because you are stupidly impossible to reach." She tried to find where her combat knife had gone, but was too furious to focus. "You know, that says a lot about your leadership style."

"You're in my territory, Zoricah. You should have come to me by official channels as tradition dictates."

"Tradition?" She was screaming now. She couldn't believe his words. "What happened to that prince who was willing to fight tradition to build a new world?"

"He grew up."

"You know, it's my fault. I thought I was dealing with a true leader, not a despot with a self-inflated ego."

"Don't worry about my inflated ego, dear. If I want a reality check, I know where to find your band of girls."

That was the last drop. Zoricah could feel her dragon stirring inside her, begging to come out and break his skull in two. "Get out!" she shouted. So much for teaching Yara about toning it down. "Get the fuck out of my balcony before I fry you to dust!"

She heard noises in the house. Great, she had awakened the girls—no, they were not "girls"; they were fighters. Her fierce warriors!

Tardieh seemed to have heard them, too. "I'll leave, mighty goddess. But know this: I will know of every step you take inside my territory." He gave her one last look over and teleported out of there.

"May the Soartas damn you to the depths of Hiad!" Zoricah cursed out loud when she realized why he had bitten her in the first place. Despite popular folklore, vampires couldn't track someone just from drinking their blood; but some of them, like Tardieh, could sense whenever their source of blood was close by. The foreign blood acted as a kind of biological alarm clock for the host. And now Tardieh would know every time she was in his vicinity—well, at least until he fed again. _Damn him!_

How could she have been so stupid? She should've shoved him away as soon as his fangs touched her skin; slapped him in the face when he kissed her. She was an experienced fighter and strategist. She knew manipulation when she saw it. And Tardieh accused _her_ of trying to manipulate him? How infuriating he was.

His visit was an affront to her intelligence. The smooth talk, pretending he had believed her, the fangs, the kiss... Argh! And she fell for it like a damned teenager.

What was happening to her? She had never allowed any male of any species to fool her like that, let alone lose her cooland here she was, panting and worn-out from yelling her head off at Tardieh.

"Z! Is everything all right?" Yara asked from the balcony door, pointing a Beretta M9 at everything in front of her. Her eyes were filled with worry and determination. "I heard you shouting."

Zoricah took a deep breath. This was not the way of a good leader. It was certainly not leading by example. She wouldn't allow Tardieh to mess with her head or with her plans. "It was nothing, Yara. Thank you for coming down and checking up on me, though."

"Oh, well, I was just finishing my snack when I heard the shouting. Who were you yelling at?"

"It was no one, believe meno one." She found her knife that had slid under the sofa in the midst of her ridiculous French-kissing session with Tardieh. "Let's go to bed, honey. Tomorrow we will bring Deirdre back even if the Apa Dobrý descend upon us themselves."

Yara gave Z a satisfying smile. "That's what I'm talking about."

**********

The glass wall in his library-slash-office suddenly shimmered, and New York City's dramatic skyline was engulfed by darkness. The sun was finally rising. Tardieh knew it not because of the mechanism that was triggered just before the first rays of sunshine flooded his house; he could feel the sun in his blood.

All the windows around his home had the same device that turned them into thick dark shields just before sunrise and back to see-through glass by sundown. The ingenious mechanism had been developed by one of Hikuro's human acquaintances in Japan back in the 1990s. It was very convenient because it gave them access to the beautiful star-filled sky at night and saved his house staff the hassle of manually shutting all the hundreds of windows every sunrise.

Tardieh exhaled a long breath and wondered why in Hiad his mind was pondering on the technology that save his staff time. Oh, right, he had forced himself to think of anything else but his little encounter with the draconian demigoddess. It had shaken him more than he dared to admit.

After leaving her yelling on the balcony in SoHo, he had gone straight back to his mansion in the hills, still panting with rage and some other feeling he didn't want to dwell on at that particular moment. Fair enough, he had been a bastard for kissing her—but in his defense, he hadn't planned on entangling himself with Zoricah when Joel had given him her address. She had been just too much to resist, that's all.

He hadn't kissed her because he harbored feelings for her, or because seeing her again after all those years had evoked a longing he had shut down in the depths of his mind long ago. Even though her kiss had topped all others by far, the heat Zoricah stirred in him was the result of male hormones reacting to the lure of a beautiful woman. That was all. And, by Apa Dobrý, she was beautiful.

The bite, though, had definitely been premeditated. And well calculated, he admitted, giving himself an imaginary pat on the back. Zoricah hadn't seen it coming. Yes, he had bit her in order to be able to sense whenever she was nearby. Gaining that advantage over her was critical for his plansshe wouldn't be able to sneak up on him again like she did at the park, at least not until his next feed. And he'd make sure to feed only after this ordeal was over.

He took another deep breath and rejoiced in the amazing sensations her divine blood was inducing while coursing in his veins. Being over four hundred years old, Tardieh could feel his victims' blood for a longer period of time than other vampires, but Zoricah's demigoddess blood was different. It was the most delicious and most powerful elixir he had ever tasted. He wasn't just _feeling_ it; he could sense it flowing through his body, relaxing him, breaking the tension in his muscles...arousing him.

He remembered how fast it had helped him recover from his wounds back in the war when they first met. And then he remembered something more recent: the feel of her warm, voluptuous body, her long black hair cascading down her back, her honey eyes scrutinizing his every move, and her blue-mist perfume. Mighty Soartas, that natural scent of hers had been the last straw. He had lost the battle with his cock after that breeze brushed her cheeks.

Tardieh shook his head and took another sip from his gin-and-blood drink. The whole night was water under the bridge, and now he had to focus on what to do next.

Of course he would go to the place that Zoricah claimed to be a laboratory facility holding the missing females. Despite what she had told him, he wasn't a despot with a self-inflated ego. He'd rather die before he let any innocent vampire be slain by enemy hands.

He would give her the backup she seemed to so desperately need, but he'd do it on his own terms. Before tonight's encounter on her balcony he'd been certain Zoricah was up to no good, yet the way she'd reacted to his accusations had really thrown him off.

She had been either truly offended or was the best actress the world had ever known. The fact that she had managed to pull him out of his iron-tight security protocol, by ensnaring him to meet at the park with a clever game of dare, was proof enough of how cunning her maneuvers were. And that disturbed him, more than anything.

Tardieh would have to uncover the whole truth behind those alleged kidnappings, and Zoricah's part in them. He only hoped to be a little more impervious to her charms next time they met.
Chapter Eleven

"Freeze in the icebergs of Hiad, you bunch of weak bitches!"

The operating table went flying across the kitchen and smashed against the wall. The lifeless body of the new female vampire fell on the floor with a muffled _thud_. The damned stripper had been even weaker than the others. If he hadn't killed his associate already, he'd find a way of killing him again, but much slower this time around.

The situation was not good. He had invested everything in this operation, and those fucking whores kept dying on him. Most of them would hold up well until the last quarter of their pregnancy, then they'd go from extremely healthy to ridiculously weak in a fortnight. This last one had dried up within hours, though. She was the thirty-fourth female to wither like a grape in winter snow without any warning.

He had tested and retested his formulas on female vampires and dracos, and nothing had come up as abnormal. He bet his long cock it was those weak bitches who couldn't handle the punch. In truth, he didn't give a damn if they died on his operating tablethey were actually doing him a favor and saving him the trouble later. But could they at least be a little bit more considerate and die _after_ they'd given birth? _No, they couldn't, those ungrateful_ sujhas _!_ He had taken them in when the whole world had shunned them. All they had to do was give him a fucking offspring.

A couple more operating tables went flying off the floor along with a heavy metal desk.

He exhaled an angry breath and forced himself to concentrate; he still had one last prospect—the draconian girl.

He slowly walked out of the kitchen-turned-operating-room, entered the living room and gazed upon his beautiful draconian redhead sleeping on one of several beds. Her long wavy hair had almost made him lose his self-control. She had put up a nice fight when he had first brought her there over eighteen months before. It had taken him double the normal amount of drugs to keep her sedated. What a turn-on. The farther she was into the pregnancy, the more delicious she got. He bent over and smelled her. Yes, she was holding up just fine.

She stirred, her eyebrows frowning. Her eyes opened slightly.

He smiled at her. "Good morning, my dear."

When he raised his hand to touch her, the female turned away and tried to roll out of the bed, but the chains that kept her in place gave her very little room to move. She pulled hard at them with all the strength she could muster and they became a little loose, giving her enough freedom to cover her naked breasts and female core with her hands. She tried to cry for help, but all that came out beyond the tight gag was a pathetic muffled bark.

"Now, now, my dear little fighter. Stop that before you hurt our baby."

She glared at him, her eyes mad with fear and desperation. Without warning, she started punching her protruded belly.

"You fucking bitch!" He grabbed her wrists and yanked them far apart. Piercing pain shot up his hands. The whore had managed to bite him.

Blood was spilling down his arm, but he didn't let go of her wrists. Pulling her, bed and all, farther down the room, he picked another set of heavy chains by the cupboard and tied her wrists to the bed's metal headboard. With her arms completely immobilized, there wasn't much room for movement, but she didn't give up and started feebly kicking and jerking on the bed.

After slowly licking his blood off his arms, he bent down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, and whispered in her ear, "Yeah, that's right, stupid dragon bitch. You can kick all you want now, but you _will_ carry this pregnancy to term or until _I_ say so."

She gave out another muffled cry and head-butted him right on the nose.

The man stood up sharply, his eyes blazing in fury. Without another word, he grabbed her hand and twisted sharply. The sound of bones snapping echoed in the room. The draco girl cried out, but once more was muffled by the gag. So he removed it; he wanted to hear her cries—they were sweet music to his ears—and were even more delightful the second time around, when he broke the fingers on her other hand.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, he drawled, "There. We'll be a good girl now, won't we?"

The man went to the cabinet where his medicine and operating tools were carefully kept and pulled out a small flask filled with a yellow substance and a syringe. "I believe your little show has earned you another dose, my dear."

Going once again to her bedside, he grabbed her by the jaw and made her face him. Still sobbing in despair and pain, she didn't even try to fight. The needle stabbed into her neck without any concern or second thought. The bitch had to pay for her insubordination. After a few seconds, he saw her muscles go limp and her eyes close.

Part of him actually wanted her to have jeopardized her pregnancy. _Oh, yes._ If she had, they would have a very nice, long day together. He needed something to unleash his tension, and this little fighter would make a fine dancing partner.
Chapter Twelve

The Adirondacks filled the horizon before Tardieh. Rugged peaks outlined the dark summer sky like an expressionist picture frame. The majestic Whiteface Mountain, usually full of adrenaline junkies, stood silent under the moonlight. The wind blew lightly against Tardieh's face and he closed his eyes for a moment to better savor the fresh smell of alpine trees. He could have enjoyed the serenity of the place if it wasn't for the farmhouse down the hill.

He had teleported a few miles from the coordinates Zoricah had given him almost two hours prior to the intended time of the meet, and had covered the remaining distance by foot. It had been safer that way. His trained eyes surveyed every tree, every shadow along the way but, once again, there was no signs of foul play or a trap. Dyam, Joel, and Hikuro had done the same from different directions. That way, the four vampire warriors had had the entire perimeter around the meeting point covered. It felt like déjà vu.

After just a quarter of an hour, Tardieh reached the top of a hill that looked over an old farmhouse. Surrounded by two multi-paned windows on each side, the large two-story broad-frame building had only three visible points of entrythe front and back doors, and a tall central chimney. A small shed stood a few meters away from the back door.

Tardieh hadn't felt the need to consult his GPS; he'd known he'd reached the destined spot as soon as he got there. In front of its main entrance stood two razbian guards, wearing heavy raincoats and hats, probably a feeble attempt to disguise their green complexion.

In the past hour watching the house, he had spotted fifteen more razbians guarding the perimeter, all heavily armed. Some stood still—well, as still as their fidgety nature allowed—and others were making rounds.

Tardieh could distinguish some movement inside the house, but very little. It was difficult to identify what was happening or how many people were in there because the windows were kept tightly shut.

During his investigations conducted the night before, Joel had found out that the farm had been owned by a middle-aged widower, who'd died in a car accident just over eighteen months before. A few weeks after the unfortunate accident, the house was successfully sold for almost twice its market value to a private company whose proprietors' names were nowhere to be found. _Fishy. Very fishy._

Tardieh checked his watch. Eleven thirty. Fifteen minutes had passed since he last checked it. Where was she?

Zoricah had told him to meet her at midnight, but he knew she would be there before that. She would've wanted to survey the area for possible unexpected inconveniences to her plan—that is, if she were coming at all, and if this was not a trap to assassinate him.

He opened his senses to track Zoricah's location, but came back with nothing. She wasn't anywhere near him. _Damned female._ Because of her, he hadn't had a restful day; in fact, he had barely had a few hours of fidgety dormancy. Every time he closed his eyes, images of her hypnotic golden gaze luring him in haunted him. What a predicament.

_The Soartas had really fucked him up this time around_ , Tardieh thought with a half-smile. The goddesses of destiny must be having a full week on his account. He, the cold, calculating, rational vampire king, was losing his mind over a draconian female. And not any draconian a demigoddess who had most likely orchestrated his father's assassination. _Great_. What would his father say if he were alive?

With a bitter snort, he remembered the countless times his father had reproached his actions. "Tardieh, you are the vampire prince. You cannot mingle with any vampire, let alone _sujhas_ from other races." His father's deep voice rang in his ears. "Beware of eager females, son. They are only after your kingdom."

Tardieh knew that well. The several female vampires who had been presented to him as consorts—Apa Dobrý only knew how much his senate wanted to see him settled down—were a feeble excuse for wedlock material, desperate to add the queen's crown to their extravagant collection of hair accessories.

He exhaled a long breath and shifted position, keeping low to the ground. He tried to erase any warm thoughts of Zoricah from his mind but failed miserably. _Damn woman._ At first, she had seemed different from the other women.

Back on that fateful night when she rescued him and left him standing there in the dark alley, he had almost gone after her and begged her to stay, like a fucking puppy. She had been the first female to actually leave him. But when he arrived at his father's castle and saw the leftovers of the dragon's carnage, he understood why.

"Damn female," Tardieh cursed for the tenth time. No matter what, he couldn't get rid of that stupid blue mist scent of hers that still lingered on his skin. Even now, he could feel it.

Actually, it had got stronger.

Finally realizing that the scent wasn't the product of his cock-driven imagination, Tardieh sprung to his feet and positioned himself facing upwind. His blood started to boil, a sign that his last _donor_ was close by. After just a couple of seconds, he heard flapping sounds and saw the shadow of a winged creature approaching.

Zoricah was flying low, dancing between the tall alpine trees like a hawk who had just found its prey. She lowered herself evenly and landed gracefully a few feet from him.

Tardieh couldn't stop himself from taking in every detail, every curve, every movement she made. She hadn't completely shifted. With large golden wings on a stunning female body, she looked like a dark angel from those human legends. She wore a similar outfit as the night before: black tight pants, knee-high black boots, and a tank top that hugged her stunning body like a second skin. Her hair was tied up in a long plait that _brought out her stunning eyes_ and her exotic features perfectly. The only difference was that this time she was carrying a shit load of guns and knives. At the sight of her, Tardieh knew he was doomed.

Damn female.

**********

Zoricah had been looking for the damned vampire for the past half hour. She had flown in early to check the razbian activities in the farmhouse and inspect the perimeter for any inconveniences to her plan, but had lost precious time trying to pin point where the vampires were. One of those inconveniences was bound to be Tardieh and his lot.

She had spent the entire day mulling over the events of the previous night and had decided that, if he wasn't going to cooperate, she wouldn't let him get in her way either. She knew he'd meet her here—no one was completely impervious to curiosity, after all. But she was expecting a full vampire barricade with spikes and barbed-wirea minor obstacle she planned to dispose of fairly quickly.

She sauntered toward him, trying to ignore the way he gawked at her, like she was a true goddess worthy of the most sumptuous of temples and lavish offerings. The damned vampire was definitely doing that on purpose, trying to play her the same way he'd done the previous night. _The arrogant despot._

But the joke was on him this time around, because it wasn't going to work. Not this time. No, sir. She was a fast learner and didn't need a second time to imprint a lesson into her brainwhich seemed to be having momentary difficulties sending that particular message down to her heart.

"So you finally got your royal arse off the cozy throne to check what the evil puppet mistress was up to, huh?" Her voice sounded as cynical as she had intended it to. A human once said that s _arcasm was the lowest form of wit, but Zoricah didn't give a damn. The best defense was a good offense,_ after all.

Tardieh raised an eyebrow at her. "I thought you said you needed my help."

"I thought you said I couldn't be trusted."

"I never said that."

"Oh, give me a break, Tardieh. I have no time for political games." Zoricah marched past him, crouched by one of the trees and focused on pretending she was focused on the mission.

Jack the Ripper's farmhouse down the hill looked almost serene under the moonlight. Two razbians guarded the front door, while the other razbians were still covering the same positions they had the last time she watched the house.

"There are seventeen guards in total." Tardieh's deep voice came from behind her. "Two at the front door, three covering the back—"

"Two on the roof, two more in the shed, and eight hidden in the woods," she added, finishing his sentence. Not turning around to face him, she asked, "Has there been any activity inside the house?"

"Some," Tardieh answered, crouching beside her. "But it's hard to make out exactly what. The windows have been shut the entire time I've been here."

"They're always shut," Zoricah agreed.

After a short pause, when Z started feeling like a fish being watched by the hungry cat, he asked, "Where are your girls?"

"They are not _my girls_ ," she replied with an edge, but kept her eyes on the house—Tardieh was dangerously too close. "They're trained fighters, just like your lot."

He raised his eyebrows at her sharp tones. "All right, where are your _fierce warriors_?"

"They're where they are supposed to be," she replied, then calmly went back to surveying the farmhouse. Damn, he was really, really close. She could feel his powerful energy pulling at her even though they weren't touching. Was it a lingering side effect from the bite poison?

He looked away, and she noticed him releasing a long breath, even though he tried to hide it.

After a few painful heartbeats, he said, "Zoricah, you said you had no time for games. Well, me either. Tell me where your fighters are and what exactly is happening in that house."

Z chose to ignore his commanding tones for the moment and pushed him to close the deal. "Does that mean you're backing us up?"

He looked at her with hard eyes. "I will not commit to an attack without knowing what and who is in that house. In my kingdom, it's not illegal to have razbians guarding your property, nor is it illegal to keep your windows shut."

May Apa Dobrý damn him, but he had a point. She had no proof of what was happening in there, no evidence that females were being kept against their will or being tortured. All she had was the testimonies of the deceased themselves, and she could _not_ disclose that to him. Her so-called _talent_ had been her secret for over four centuries; only her closest friends and her father knew about it. Telling Tardieh how and where she'd got her information was simply not an option.

She looked straight into his eyes and let him see her truth. "I don't have any proof, just like I didn't have proof of what Vrajitor was doing to you back in that cell two hundred years ago." She knew it was a low blow, but she was running out of time.

His eyes flashed red with rage just before he replied in a low dark voice, "That's precisely why I'm so skeptical about your devotion to this mission. You always seem to know more than the most skilled of spies—know things no one could ever know. And from my experience, Zoricah, that usually means you are either part of or leading the operation." He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her. "So, which one are you, Zoricah? The snitch, or the pants giving orders?"

She glared at him, lost for words. There he was again, blaming her for what had happened to his father. Couldn't he see she was only one fighter and she had been busy saving his ass? If she had been able to predict the massacre in his father's house she would have tried to stop it, but divination wasn't one of her many talents.

Zoricah held her ground; she didn't recoil or looked away. "There was no way I could have prevented what happened to your father, Tardieh. Even if I hadn't been busy trying to get you out of captivity, I wouldn't have been able to stop the attack."

"Of course you wouldn't," Tardieh replied with a snort. "It would have ruined your whole plan, wouldn't it?"

The proverbial coin dropped.

Utterly astonished, Zoricah realized he wasn't blaming her for failing to come to his father's aid; he was accusing her of planning the whole freaking attack on his father's castle. _What the fuck?_

Zoricah fought to keep her voice down. "By Apa Dobrý! Do you really believe I was behind that massacre?"

Tardieh just glared at her; he didn't have to say anything else. His cold, accusing, fully-red stare was enough. Her heart sank.

Zoricah leaned back on the tree trunk behind her, horrified. She had made a few mistakes in her long life, but nothing like that, nothing like the slaughtering of innocent beings—even if they had been in the middle of a war and they had been the enemy race. All of her assignments had met their fate in battle or by a clean sweep. To think Tardieh believed she was capable of such barbarism...it was simply deplorable.

Rarely did she explain herself to anyone or apologize for her acts, but this time she felt the urge to clear her name, to make him see that she would never have the coldness to carry out such a bloody actor to get that thick skull of his and bang it five times against a concrete wall.

Then she saw something change. His dark, accusing eyes had turned doubtful, had lost a little of the cruel hardness they had carried an instant before. The shift was so minimal, almost imperceptible, but it was enough for Zoricah to realize that the Soartas hadn't brought them back together by mistake.

A slow smile lifted her cheeks when she realized what was really going on in his mind. "If you were so certain I was the mastermind behind the attack, why didn't you come after me?"

Tardieh was very still, like a cornered lion. "Because you had disappeared by the time I realized what had really happened."

"Disappeared?" Zoricah straightened away from the tree trunk and leaned forward. "What about now, Tardieh? Why haven't you struck yet? Why didn't you kill me last night when you had the chance?"

Tardieh narrowed his eyes but before he had the chance to reply, Zoricah carried on. "I'll tell you why, because you're _not_ sure. Deep inside, you don't really believe I was behind the attack at your castle. You just needed a scapegoat to get on with life and gain political favor with your precious vampire council, and you used me to get it."

It was his turn to look flabbergasted. "Nonsense. I don't need scapegoats. I find the truth and deal with it."

"Oh, do you now?"

"Yes, I do. And if you are such an innocent lass, why are you concealing information from me? Why can't you tell me how you get your intel? Just like before, you expect me to follow you and not question why, how, or who. You're probably used to men drooling over you and doing as they're told like housebroken puppies. Well, not this puppy, Zoricah. You'll have to tell me everything, and I mean _everything_ , to get my cooperation this time around."

Zoricah was about to tell him she didn't need his stupid cooperation; that even if she did, she didn't want it anymore, when the large doors on the shed opened and a dark sedan drove off toward the forest.

**********

As soon as the sound of large iron doors opening up reached his ears, Tardieh's military-trained reflexes kicked in. He crouched lower on the ground and saw Zoricah do the same. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to see who was inside the dark sedan, but the damn car had tinted windows. Turning his attention back to the shed, he saw that there were three razbians guarding it, not two.

Hmm, interesting.

Why were there so many razbians watching over a shed? What was in it?

Turning his head slightly, he caught a glimpse of movement to his left. Zoricah's two warriors were walking toward them, carrying a redheaded female he hadn't seen before. Zoricah stood up to meet them.

"It's getting worse," the tall brunette said.

"Her abdominal seizures are getting less and less sparse. I cannot help her anymore," added the slender blondie with a thick British accent.

Zoricah leaned down to check on the redhead after the two females had carefully laid her on the forest floor. "Drew?" she whispered, "Drew, tell me what you're feeling."

The redhead's eyes fluttered open, and she tried to talk, but no words came out. Instead she coiled over herself as if a sharp sword had pierced her stomach.

"Drew!" Zoricah cried out, and Tardieh heard genuine desperation on her plea. There was no way this could have been staged. The redhead draconian was really suffering, and he had no idea why.

He reached for his cell phone and speed-dialed his warriors. In less than two seconds, Hikuro, Dyam and Joel were standing next to him.

Zoricah pushed off the ground and faced him with a determination he'd seen only in true leaders. "We have to go in, now. There's no more time," she said in grave tones, then started to turn around to command the attack, but Tardieh grabbed her wrist and raised an eyebrow at her.

She exhaled sharply and answered his unspoken question. "Her twin sister is in there, and she's dying."

_Twin sister?_ Tardieh's eyes widened. Draconian twins were extremely rare. The bond between them was said to be so powerful that it was believed they were emissaries of Apa Dobrý. Several kings had tried to understand and reproduce their psychic connection throughout history. None had ever managed to succeed.

Freeing her wrist from his grip, Zoricah took a new electronic brief out of her back pocket and turned it on. Once more the blue rays emerged from the center of the device, but this time they formed a suspended horizontal platform, and a 3-D blueprint of the farmhouse appeared. Pointing at it, she continued, "According to my sources, the front central door opens to a large living room, which is followed by a kitchen. On the second floor, you'll find three bedrooms and a bathroom."

"What's in the shed?" Hikuro asked.

"There must be something of value in there, otherwise there wouldn't be so many razbians guarding it," Dyam added.

"I'm not sure because my sources have never been in there," Zoricah replied, revealing more in one sentence than she had in the past forty-eight hours. Who were her damned sources?

"Dyam and Joel, you cover the roof," Tardieh commanded, pointing at the digital blueprint on Zoricah's hand.

"Sam and Yara can cover the back door," Zoricah replied in grave but agreeable tones. "I'll fly in and create a diversion at the main entrance."

"I'll back you up," Tardieh said.

Zoricah's gaze carried the weight of their mission, but there was a hint of gratefulness in them he hadn't seen before. And he'd be damned if it didn't warm his heart.

Hikuro stepped forward. "I can cover the shed. There must be something there they don't want us to find."

Tardieh nodded in approval.

"Our last intel piece reported ten females in the house, mainly on the ground floor. Our primary objective is to rescue them alive," Zoricah said, emphasizing the last word.

"I'll go with you," the redhead said, before she stood up and joined them by the tree.

Zoricah put a hand on her friend's shoulder and said, "Drew, you have to stay here. You're too weak to fight, and I don't want to risk any more than we absolutely have to."

"But I know where Deirdre is! I'm the only one who can feel her," Drew replied with fierce determination, despite her pallid features.

"Tell us where this Deirdre is, and I promise we'll find her," Joel counter-argued with iron-hard certainty.

Zoricah's two female fighters rolled their eyes in response, but Zoricah intervened before they lashed out at his friend. "He's right. The house isn't big, and we know the victims are being kept mainly on the ground floor."

Drew's angry reaction told Tardieh she would not back down. She tried to argue, but Zoricah put her hand up, silencing her words.

Tardieh expected to hear hard imposing tones, but instead, Zoricah took Drew aside and murmured, "Deirdre needs you alive, Drew. You said it yourself. She's very weak. You've had limited training and even less time in combat. What happens if you get wounded in battle? Who will give Dreidre life energy, then?"

Silence descended on the forest. Drew lowered her eyes in resignation. "Okay, I'll stay here."

"Call us if you see anyone else approaching the farmhouse," Zoricah said with a slight nod. Then she turned toward Tardieh and raised her chin. "Ready?"

He gave her a half smile in reply and a glimpse of his fully-extended fangs. "Always."

All six warriors descended on the farmhouse like a well-rehearsed ballet.

Tardieh dematerialized a few feet from the front door. "Hello there," he called to the surprised razbians who seemed to have woken up from a boring slumber.

With delight, he saw Zoricah fly in from high above. Like before, she hadn't shifted completely, using only her powerful golden wings to carry her. But they were enough to do the necessary damage.

More razbians were already coming out of their hiding places in the forest to fight the invaders. Zoricah landed on top of a pair and smashed them to the ground. One of them managed to recover and tried to seize her arms. With a smooth, continuous movement, she bent sideways and around, taking his left arm with her. Pulling out her knife, she took advantage of his open stance and stabbed him in the heart. With a loud cry, he fell lifeless on the floor.

Tardieh felt the air change near him and managed to catch the razbian's fist just before it reached his jaw. Reacting with his vampire speed, he ducked down and plunged his combat knife into his attacker's jugular. Dark brown blood spilled onto his hand. Twisting his wrist, he put an end to his opponent by slashing his throat and, in the same movement, he gathered momentum enough to turn around and kick the other razbian's gun out of his claw-like hands.

The bullet intended for his heart hit a nearby tree, straight past Zoricah's ears. She gave him a knowing look; he shrugged in apology. Then he saw her eyes go wide in warning. Without a second thought, Tardieh crouched down at the same time turning on his left heel, then thrusting his right leg in a semicircle. His leg hit another guard who was trying to surprise him from behind on the ankles, making him stumble and fall heavily on the ground.

If it wasn't for Zoricah's worried look, the razbian would have succeeded in the attack. _By_ _Apa Dobrý! Focus on the battle, stupid puppy!_ Tardieh chided himself. But there was no time for self-reprimands. Having been joined by two others, the fallen razbian was already lifting himself up and coming at Tardieh once more.

Tardieh materialized right behind his three attackers. It took them a few precious seconds to realize what had happened. Too bad it was a little too late. In a heartbeat, Tardieh had slashed open the throats of two of them.

Having seen his companions falling lifelessly on the floor, the third one backed away and fired three shots at Tardieh, who managed to dodge two. The third bullet hit him on the shoulder, slowing him down, but it wasn't powerful enough to stop his progress toward the last razbian.

Dropping low, he punched the gun out of the guard's hand with his left forearm then, ducking to the right underneath his opponent's left elbow, he thrust his knife straight into the motherfucker's heart.

Crouching low, he twisted on his heels to assess the situation. Zoricah was surrounded by three razbians who looked determined to make a meal out of her. _Damn it!_ He stood up ready to go to her aid, but stopped in his tracks.

It was the most beautiful battle sight he'd ever seen. Using the razbian on her left as leverage, Zoricah kicked the second one in the head, knocking him to the ground. Smoke started coming out of the first razbian's throat. Tardieh realized that she had set the razbian on fire using only her bare hands, while using him as a live catapult. _Impressive._

Then with the liquid grace of a lethal ballerina, she ducked out of the third razbian's aim, dodging the bullet intended to split her brain open. Dropping low on the ground, she punched him in the groin, immobilizing him for good. Without wasting any time, she turned on her heels while pulling her gun out and fired two bullets at each of their heads. In less than sixty seconds, all three razbians had been eliminated.

She turned around, her resolute gaze finding his, then her lips curled up in a mischievous half-smile. "Close your mouth, Tardieh. You're drooling."

Tardieh rolled his eyes but strolled to her anyway. He was about to tell her they should check on the others when a high-pitched cry shrilled through the night air. He covered his ears in response, trying the block the agony of the assault. It sounded like a thousand knifes were stabbing his eardrums.

Zoricah looked toward the house, fear in her eyes. "Drew, no!"

Tardieh turned just in time to see an enormous red dragon hovering above the house.

So _that_ was the source of that deafening sound.

The dragon seemed not to hear Zoricah's command. She was focused on the farmhouse, as if trying to see through the roof, but soon realized it was useless. Frustrated, the dragon swirled upward and took a deep breath, preparing to fire. Tardieh saw through the open front door Hikuro, Dyam, and Joel right below the dragon's target. _Shit_.

**********

Zoricah didn't think twice. She had to stop Drew from burning the roof down. If her friend succeeded in her attack, she would kill everyone beneath it, including any female survivors, Sam, Yara and the three vampires who had just reached the living room.

"Get them out of the house!" she yelled to Tardieh. She knew she wouldn't have the time to shapeshift fully into her dragon form, so she let her golden wings grow even bigger and took off toward her deranged draconian friend.

Zoricah flew up and crashed straight into Drew, knocking her to the ground. But Drew had managed to throw a fireball at the roof which was rapidly disintegrating under the growing blaze.

Z was at a great disadvantage. Even though Drew wasn't an experienced fighter, she was a powerful dragon and Zoricah was not fully turned, so she had to play to her strengths.

She untangled herself while evading Drew's sharp claws, which were slashing at anything and everything in front of her; she flew around Drew's head and landed on her friend's back, straddling her as tight as she could. Zoricah placed both hands on Drew's leathery back and channeled her demigoddess heat toward them. But Drew quickly swung her long, barbed tail, slamming Zoricah squarely on the head. _Fuck, that hurt_. Unable to keep her balance, Zoricah fell hard on the ground.

Rolling on her back, she saw that Tardieh, his vampires, and her fighters were still inside the house. _What the fuck are they still doing in there?_ _Why aren't they getting those females out?_ She managed to dodge another tail attack by rolling to the side, but Drew was already preparing to exhale a fireball. That would hurt. Quite a bit.

Zoricah didn't have much time to think; she had to act quickly. But what could she do to stop her friend without harming her?

She pushed off the floor onto her feet and got ready. Her dragon heat built inside her, growing, gaining speed like an avalanche on a steep mountain. She focused, channeling the power fully to her arms. A shield of fire came out of her hands just in time to block Drew's fireball.

Without missing a beat, Zoricah raised both hands and brought them back down in a fluid movement. The fire that had blocked her friend's attack turned into a blazing whip. Repeating the circular movement smoothly, Zoricah brought her magical whip down on her dragon friend, who promptly started raging against the sharp thrashes.

After three attempts, Z managed to throw her blazing lasso over and around Drew's head, locked it tight like a collar and pulled it down with all her might.

Drew lost her balance and fell sideways onto the ground. Z took advantage of her friend's momentary disorientation, jumping on top of the fallen dragon and tying her front claws together. Then she repeated the same drill with Drew's hind legs, immobilizing her friend completely. But Drew didn't like being tied up like a wild hog and started trouncing against the blazing ropes.

Zoricah stepped down from her friend's back and yelled out, trying to call her attention. "Drew, you're out of control!" she bellowed over the dragon's shrieks. "We can't save Deidre with you like this."

The dragon's eyes focused on her. It seemed to have lost a bit of the mad glow it had before. "Deirdre needs you, Drew. She needs you well and sane."

Drew gave out another anguished screech. "She's dying," her friend managed to say through dark tears. "She's dying in there."

"Exactly. The longer I spend here fighting you, the more time we waste."

Slowly, bit by bit, red scales shifted back into fair, soft skin. The long, barbed tail receded and red locks cascaded down Drew's lean spine.

Retrieving the blazing rope, Zoricah strode to her friend and held her tightly in her arms. She had to go back to the house and find Deirdre, but her heart ached for the surviving twin. "Drew," she whispered. "Promise me you'll stay here. Promise me you will not go off like that again, because we can't afford to lose any more time."

Tears fell down Drew's cheeks. Barely lifting her head up, she nodded.

Zoricah kissed her friend on the cheek, trying to bequeath as much warmth as she could before she pushed off on her feet and raced toward the house.

Half of the roof was ablaze, and the other half was beginning to collapse from the lack of support. "Please, Apa Dobrý, don't let them die in there," she prayed under her breath.

When she was a couple of feet away from the central door, she saw a tall figure coming out of the falling frame, followed by a large animal. His jacket was on fire, and he was carrying someone in his arms.

Tardieh.

Thank Apa Dobrý.

Trying to contain her emotions, Zoricah raised an open palm toward the fire on his shoulder. It curved like a blazing serpent, dancing against the wind, then it flew across the empty space between them and disappeared into Zoricah's hand.

"Neat trick," Tardieh said with true admiration in his eyes.

She lifted an eyebrow at him as if to say, "You have no idea."

"Thank you. It was starting to nag me," he replied with a crocked smile, then nodded in appreciation when she helped him put Deirdre carefully down on the forest floor.

Then he took off his battered jacket and covered her friend's naked body. "I think you'd better hold her. My body temperature is too low for her condition."

Zoricah followed his advice and accommodated the frail Deidre on her lap. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the black panther anxiously circling around them.

"Yara, please, go check on Drew. She's near the back door between the house and the shed."

The black panther gave a small snarl in protest, but quickly complied and disappeared into the shadows.

Zoricah looked at the weak female before her. _Mighty Soartas, what has happened to her?_

Deirdre's overly-protruding belly was moving as if an alien hid inside, and her delicate hands seemed to have been broken in half. Her once beautiful shiny red hair was plastered against her face and she was shaking uncontrollably.

"Where are the others?" Zoricah asked Tardieh while carefully inspecting Deirdre's condition.

"Hikuro and Sam went after a few razbians who fled through the underground tunnel."

"Underground tunnel?" Zoricah inquired, frowning.

"Yes, that's what it was in the shed. An underground tunnel connecting the house and the garage. Joel and Dyam are checking the site for survivors."

Zoricah's heart skipped a beat. She looked up and asked, "Are there any other survivors?"

Tardieh's green eyes turned red for a split second before he shook his head. "I'm afraid they're all dead." His deep baritone voice was filled with fury and grief.

Zoricah's heart sank. She had got to them too late. Again.

She heard footsteps approaching and before she could react, Tardieh had already placed himself between her and the imminent danger, combat knife and fangs fully out and ready to slash and tear.

"Permission to approach, my lord. It is I, Hikuro, and Samantha." Hikuro's voice was low but firm. Both fighters were covered in soot and razbian blood.

Tardieh relaxed and stood straight once again. Putting his combat knife back in its holster, he asked his second-in-command. "What's the status?"

Before Hikuro could reply, more footsteps echoed in the forest. This time it was Sam and Hikuro's turn to raise their weapons. They moved in unison, as if one was intrinsically aware of the other. _How interesting_ , Zoricah thought. Sam had never shown such an innate link with anyone else before.

"Whoa! If you have to shoot, aim a bit lower, okay?" Joel's voice sounded in the darkness before his and Dyam's tall frames were lit by the bonfire which had once been the farmhouse.

Lowering his gun, Hikuro turned back around and replied to his king's earlier question. "All seventeen razbians are down, my lord. Unfortunately, it was not possible to spare them for interrogation."

"What about the females? Any survivors?" Zoricah asked the four fighters.

They all lowered their eyes in sadness. Sam slowly shook her head confirming Zoricah's worst fears.

"Deirdre!" Drew came into view, shortly followed by Yara, who was now in her human form. They ran across the field, avoiding the sparks from the blazing house.

"I couldn't hold her back any longer," Yara said apologetically.

Drew crouched down beside her frail twin sister and placed her hands on the unnaturally extended belly. At once, Deirdre's shivering receded.

Zoricah could feel the twins' connection as if she had just been hit by a warm weather front. She was angry at Drew for not having followed her orders, but a part of her understood her friend's predicament and, deep inside, she admitted she would've done the same—or worse, had she been in Drew's shoes. "We need to get her to a warmer place. Sam, where's the car?"

"A couple of miles north of Lake Placid Village."

They were four miles south of the village, which meant that the car was almost six miles away. _Damn it._ It was too far for her to carry Deirdre, and the night was too bright for her to fly over Lake Placid. Humans were bound to spot her and call the news channels or even film her themselves on their freaking cell phones.

"I can dematerialize with her to a safe place." Tardieh's low voice startled her.

Z looked at him in disbelief. What was he playing at? First, he didn't want to believe in her; then he accused her of murdering his father; now he was willing to take one of her own to safety?

Yeah, right. My turn to play skeptical, buddy.

But did she really have a choice?

As if reading her mind, Tardieh added, "You don't have many options, Zoricah. Your friend needs medical assistance urgently."

"I don't have many, but they are options, nonetheless," she retorted. The gates of Hiad could suck her in, but she would hold on to her pride till the last minute, damn it.

"Z, please, we need to take her somewhere warm. She's getting worse." Drew's pleading voice brought Z back from her ego trip.

She looked back at Yara and Samboth seemed determined to carry their friend to the ends of _Terhem Viahta_ just to not have to accept any male's help. But the one million dollar question was: would Deirdre survive the journey?

With a sigh of resignation, Zoricah agreed to the last thing she wanted to happen. "Okay, you can dematerialize on my balcony in SoHo. I'll be right behind you."

"And then what will you do?" Tardieh asked. He was trying hard not to sound condescending, Zoricah noticed. "You need supplies, a warm and large, clean area to tend to her wounds. From what I saw, your house doesn't really fit the profile."

_Damn him!_ He was right. Sometimes wounded dragons preferred to remain in their animal form in order to speed up the recovery process, and quite often, when the injury was too great, the draco didn't have a choice. The dragon took over and that was it.

By the way Deirdre looked, she would probably have a tough time controlling her shifting, and if she did shift, she'd need much more room than Zoricah's "cozy" townhouse could offer. Nonetheless, Z wasn't ready to openly agree with Tardieh that easily.

"I'll find a way," she said stubbornly.

"How? Your rooms aren't spacious enough to be turned into an operating theater, nor are they fit to accommodate a wounded dragon."

"How do you know our rooms are not big enough?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at Tardieh.

He seemed to ignore Sam's inquisitive look and carried on, "Zoricah, you know I'm right. You need to take your friend to a safe, large, clean, well-supplied hideaway, and you have to do it right now. I'm the only one who can provide all of that at the present moment."

With dread, Zoricah realized she would have to agree to the second riskiest plan she had ever taken part in her life. The first had taken place two hundred years before.

She took a deep breath. "Okay. But you are dematerializing me at the same time, too."

A wave of heated female protests followed her agreement.

She knew her fighters would be against it, but their disapproval was the least of her concerns. She needed to take Deirdre to safety and come up with a backup plan in less than thirty seconds, and be well-prepared for a more-than-likely vampire ambush.

"There's no way I'll leave you unprotected with this blood-fucking-sucker." Yara's voice stood out in the sea of protests.

"Well, these blood-fucking-suckers saved your ass tonight, witch," Dyam growled back.

Before another battle ensued, Zoricah stood up, faced her fighters, and declared, "We don't have time for this. I hate to say it, but Tardieh is right. We do not have the right amenities to tend for Deirdre."

"So one of them stays with us," Yara said, pointing an accusing finger at Dyam, as if she were a Spanish Inquisitor who had just found a heretic.

"Yes, for ransom," Sam added heatedly.

Great, the Inquisition Court was complete.

"I'll stay." Hikuro's cold, calm voice resonated like a bullet fired in a metal container. He was looking at Sam with defiance in his eyes.

Tardieh gave his 2IC a knowing look as if to say "What the fuck?" and got a reassuring nod in return.

Zoricah took advantage of the momentary disagreement between the two vampires and closed the deal. "So it's settled, then. Tardieh will teleport Deirdre and I to the castle while Hikuro stays here with Sam, Yara, and Drew."

A high-pitched screech echoed once again through the night. When Zoricah managed to recover from the assault on her ears, she looked at the source the dreadful sound had come from.

Drew was crouched on the floor, hugging her sister tight and rocking her twin in her arms.

"She needs me," she wailed weakly. "Please don't split us apart. Not again."

Zoricah's heart sank to the depths of her draconian _inmã_ when she stared at her friend's pleading eyes. _Oh, Mighty Soartas._

"I'll take her, Zoricah," Joel said firmly, as if reading her inner-conflict. "I'll teleport Drew to the castle and make sure no harm comes to her."

Surprised, Z searched for an inch of suspicion in the blond vampire's promise, a hint of deceit in his eyes, something, _anything_ that told her he had an agenda behind that incredibly honorable offer, but she found none. Her heart warmed, reinforcing her hunch that she could trust the vampires.

_Can you really?_ her inner skeptic self cried out.

Ignoring it, she gazed at Tardieh, who nodded gravely in agreement. His confidence and unwavering gaze settled her mind.

"And I'll stay here with Hikuro," Dyam announced, returning Yara's fierce stare. Apparently, it hadn't been just Zoricah who needed assurance they could trust the vamps.

Zoricah released a long breath and said to her girls, "I'll meet you back at the townhouse in SoHo as soon as I can."

Tardieh stepped closer and held her hand, startling her. It wasn't demanding though, but soft, almost...caring.

It took Z a few milliseconds to realize that he needed to touch her in order to teleport her out of there.

Right. Teleport, nothing else.

Together, they kneeled down beside Deirdre's unconscious body and dematerialized out of there.
Chapter Thirteen

Tardieh took Zoricah and Deirdre straight to one of the largest guest rooms in his mansion. Joel arrived with a very pale Drew soon after.

The room was ample, with a tall ceiling and a large window overlooking the back garden. The bath chamber was located to the left of the walk-in wardrobe, just like every other guest room in his castle. The interior designer Tardieh hired had only one rule: minimal, clean solutions. He absolutely despised those Renaissance castles full of lavish furnishings and accessories that screamed for attention—every room packed with drapes, flower curtains, three thousand patterns per square inch.

All his castles were an oasis of order; everything served a specific function with only a few tall vases and large canvases here and there. His style came in very handy when situations like these presented themselves. It gave his home the space necessary to accommodate, say, a wounded dragon, quite comfortably any day of the week.

With some help, Zoricah had managed to put Deirdre's broken hands back into place without spilling too much blood. He was truly impressed by how she had kept her cool under such pressure. But the same couldn't be said of Drew. The supposedly healthy half of the twin-pack got paler by the minute.

As soon as Deirdre stopped shivering and her breathing normalized, Zoricah asked Drew to take a break. It was no surprise that the redhead refused to leave her sister's side, so Tardieh promptly arranged for a second bed to be brought in for her, with an extra set of towels and robes. This way, they could comfortably sleep in the same room and take a much-needed rest.

To Zoricah, he offered the adjacent room; that way, she'd be able to rest while still being close by for any emergencies. And by Apa Dobrý, she looked like she needed a breather.

Tardieh paused, then shook his head at the weird feeling that threatened to warm his heart. _What in Hiad?_ No, he hadn't done all that because he worried about Zoricah or her bunch of feminist wackos. Hadn't people heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer?

"Come on," he snorted, in a rare self-deprecating manner.

Crossing the ample foyer, he strode straight to his library, ignoring the stupid muscle in the middle of his chest. He needed to ponder on what to do next. After all, he _was_ sheltering his father's murderer under this very roofit didn't matter that his resolve concerning Zoricah's participation on his father's death had weakened considerably over the last two days, Zoricah still was a cunning mind with an agenda and had to be closely watched. The good news was that the twin daughters of a draconian senator were also his guests, and they were certainly a valuable war prize.

_How ironic._ One could even think the Soartas had finally taken his side for a change. He had them where he wanted, didn't he? So what next? Only a fool would miss this opportunity to... do what?

**********

Zoricah stepped into the large guest bedroom, closed the door behind her and only then she allowed herself to exhale a long breath. Mighty Soartas, what an incredible turn on events this night had seen. And for a moment there, she could swear all masks had fallen offhers and Tardieh's.

The alarm bells inside her head had gone full blast as soon as she stepped into his castle-slash-mansion. The building was enormous, with plenty of rooms for an ambush. She had almost turned around and left with the sisters in tow, but Deirdre was so weak that she couldn't afford to take the risk.

Z's suspicious grew even stronger when she saw Tardieh go out of his way to ensure they were provided for. He ordered his entire house staff to attend to her every wish, anything she needed or wanted. If she were to request a freaking pink unicorn they were to find a way of getting it for her. It was almost too good to be true.

But when she started tending to Deirdre, Tardieh had remained in the room and, without a word or complaint, simply rolled up his sleeves and got to work beside her. Together, they managed to get Deirdre settled in comfortably and well-tended for with her hands and fingers back in the correct angles.

Red anger boiled in Z's veins at the thought of the atrocities the bastard kidnapper had done to her friend. May the Soartas curse her to a thousand years in Hiad, but she would find the pitiful coward and make him pay for everything he'd done to all those innocent females.

She rubbed the heel of her hands over her tired eyes. None of the other females had survived, only Deirdre—barely.

_Poor Amelia_ , Z thought, thinking about how the dancer from the Philadelphia nightclub had had no chance. They didn't even have a body to take back to her friend to bury. Poor Amelia.

Z wiped the single tear that rolled down her cheek and exhaled a long breath. She needed to focus. She needed to be prepared for whatever Tardieh was concocting for her.

Even though her alarm bells had silenced after seeing him so reliably dedicated to helping her, she still couldn't afford to be complacent around him. If she had learned anything from their past altercations, it was that he believed she had betrayed him.

By Apa Dobrý, he believed she had orchestrated his father's murder! Not that she wasn't capable of doing itbecause she definitely was and had taken down a number of tyrants back in the daybut she would never double-cross him like that. She was a rebel through-and-through, but there was one thing she shared with the traditionaliststhe belief that your word is your honor. Tardieh and she had made a promise to each other back on that dreadful night, in the alleyway behind his father's castle and, no matter what, Z would keep her word and honor their agreement.

She sighed again, shaking away the sadness and forcing her brain to focus on her current state of affairs. The black and white truth was: she was at the vampire king's castle, without a plan.

That had to change immediately.

Z had noticed how Tardieh's eyes had flared upon seeing Drew and Deirdre side-by-side in the forest. Most certainly, he had realized that their entire operation had revolved around the rescue of a draconian _twin_. Zoricah had seen that kind of spark in countless eyes' before.

An ambitious sovereign like Tardieh would never be impervious to the legends about draconian twins. Their preternatural link was legendary, often thought to be just urban legend, for the tales promised infinite power and knowledge to those who came to understand how the telepathic bond took place.

Z needed to find out what Tardieh's plans were before he had the chance to set them in motionoh yes, because she was certain he was up to something.

If he was planning on making them eternal guests in his castle, to find a way of bottling the twins' powers, he hadn't given any hint of it yet. That didn't give her much comfort, though. If she were Tardieh, or the evil mastermind he had accused her of being, she'd wait to see the real deal before she set her ambush in motion. Drew was exhausted, and Deirdre was in some kind of coma. So far, they hadn't really shown the true extent of the fabled twin-bond. But if everything went well, they would, and it would happen as soon as Deirdre woke up.

Zoricah needed to act fast.

Her gaze landed on a silk kimono neatly folded on her bed, and a mischievous smile lifted her cheeks. She knew exactly what her next move would be.

**********

"Hikuro said their situation is still under control, my lord," Joel replied to his silent question.

The glass wall in front of Tardieh shimmered. Another sunrise was approaching. He took a sip from his whiskey-infused blood and saw the mountains before him be engulfed by darkness.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Still at the forest," Joel replied with a hint of amusement. "Apparently Yara and Samantha refuse to be teleported anywhere or leave the spot in case Zoricah returns."

Tardieh shook his head and chuckled. "Women." Then he called his faithful housemaster.

Arthur appeared by the door at once.

"Arthur, please ask the kitchen to prepare a hamper with whatever people eat, or whatever we have in the kitchen that is not blood. Joel will take it to them." At Joel's exasperated look, he added, "Worse than stubborn women are famished stubborn women. Trust me on this, pal."

Joel let out a loud laugh before nodding in agreement.

"There's no need for hampers," Z's sultry voice echoed from behind Arthur. "I called Yara. They're on their way to my home in SoHo. She's going to call me when they get there."

All three vampires gasped in surprise. Maybe it was the natural reaction when one was caught red-handed, or maybe it was how absolutely edible Zoricah looked.

Her long dark hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few rebellious strands cascading down her neck. She was wearing the silk summer kimono he had left on top of her bed— _his_ kimono. It was black with Japanese characters beaded in gold. A Japanese shogun had given it to him as a coronation gift, but it suited her much better than it had ever suited him. _Oh yeah._ The soft fabric hung loosely over her beautiful figure highlighting her full breasts and long legs.

Joel cleared his throat and mumbled, "I'll go and check the tapes again from the surveillance cameras we got from the house." He then turned quickly on his heels and left the room, with the old housemaster in tow.

After they closed the door behind them, Tardieh said, "I see you're refreshed."

"Much," she replied in agreeable tones. She sounded relaxed, almost content. "Thank you for the robe."

"It suits you."

She sauntered inside, taking in his book collection on the wall. "What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

"Whiskey?" she asked, raising her perfect eyebrows at him. "I thought vampires only drank blood."

"We do, but we can digest other liquids when diluted with it," he replied. "Would you like a glass?"

"That would be nice."

She strolled over to the fireplace and leaned against the back of the couch. Her movements were fluid, naturally sensual, almost feline-like. All she had to do now was purr and the fantasy would be complete. The light kimono slipped open slightly, showing a bit more of her silky skin. Tardieh's cock came alive in response.

What devious tricks were simmering in that beautiful head of hers?

Tardieh drained his drink dry, then crossed the room toward the liquor cabinet and opened the bottle of 1975 Bushmills Millennium Malt. "On the rocks or cowboy?"

"On the rocks, please."

He put a couple of ice cubes in the glass—he didn't want it too diluted—and poured the golden liquid into it, before topping his own drink.

"Your house is full of clever technology," she drawled in a jesting tone. "Glass walls that shade off by themselves, a liquor cabinet that is also a blood bank... Impressive."

"Only fruits of the modern world," he replied with a closed-lip smile, then strode over to the couch and handed her the glass.

She took a small sip then exhaled, a small but noticeable sigh. Despite whatever game she was playing, the weight on her shoulders seemed to have genuinely lifted.

"How are the twins?"

"Drew has finally succumbed to tiredness, and Deirdre is stable," Zoricah replied, before taking a longer sip from her drink.

She crossed her legs while still leaning on the back of the couch. One of the edges of her oversized kimono slipped to the side, endowing Tardieh with a VIP-box view of her toned thighs. A few more inches and her private parts would be deliciously exposed. Damn, that was the problem with beautiful women. They knew how to make the toughest of men go down on his knees and beg for mercy.

She gazed up at him under long, dark lashes.

_So let the games begin_.

Tardieh took a step closer, watching her reaction to his nearness. When she didn't shirk back, he reached across and captured one of the ends of the silky belt fastening her kimono. "This kimono was given to me by a shogun, right after my coronation. It suits you better than anyone else." Tardieh murmured, playing with the soft material between his fingers.

She narrowed her eyes, looked down at his hand, then back up at him. "Really? And how many others have had the pleasure of wearing it?" she asked. Her exotic eyes regarded him closely.

_Touché_. "Just you and me."

She lifted a mocking eyebrow at him, before standing up, brushing past him and moseying to the bookshelves.

"It's so remarkably secluded here," she drawled. "I wouldn't be surprised if a few other chicks have enjoyed your robe's _silkiness_."

Slender fingers caressed the book covers and Tardieh immediately imagined those same fingers stroking his shaft. His crotch gave another jolt. He clenched his jaw and forced both his heads to think straight. _Down boy_.

"What about your warriors? Any word from them?" She had stopped in front of an old encyclopedia series and was pretending to read one of the books.

Tardieh took the last sip of his drink, enjoying the way the whiskey burned down his throat. It was almost as hot as the woman in front of him. "They've called in. Everything's under control," he finally replied, before putting his empty glass on the coffee table.

"Hmm... _Under control_ ," she purred. "Sam and Yara haven't called back." She returned the book to its place, her back still to him.

Tardieh strolled to her, removed the drink from her hand and placed it on the edge of the shelf. "Despite all the gadgets, cell phone reception is terrible here," he murmured. "It's the satellites. Too much interference."

"Still, I wonder if they arrived in SoHo safely. I worry about them, you know. We're no draconian twins, but we do share a very strong bond."

Ah, so that's why she had come to him this morning. She was fishing for information. She probably wanted to know how far he was willing to go to witness—or exploit—the legendary draconian twin-link live and in color. Well, she wasn't entirely wrong; he did want to see it for himself, that and what in Hiad was growing inside Deirdre's belly, but may the gods strike him twice if he started exploiting defenseless females for profit.

"I couldn't care less about your draconian twins, Zoricah," he whispered, his lips inches from her ear.

She didn't respond, but didn't snake away from him either. She remained facing the books, very still, goose bumps riding on the back of her neck. His acute ears detected her heart had picked up its pace. Or was that his heart?

Unable to stop himself, he brushed the back of his fingers along her shoulders, trailing her neckline, then massaged the base of her skull. Her skin felt like fire under his cold vampire fingers.

He felt her tense under his touch and hoped she didn't push him away. After all, the last time they'd been intimate didn't end on great terms. To his surprise, her head tilted slightly to the side. Was she giving him more access to her neck? His fangs extended, but he resisted the urge to bite her. _Not yet._

He slowly leaned in and inhaled a breathhe had yearned to smell her blue mist scent again. His cock jolted, craving for a touch. It strained inside his trousers, almost bursting out with the pressure. This time around, Tardieh didn't try to tame its hunger.

Zoricah let out an almost imperceptible shudder. Almost.

His hand slid down her left thigh and found the small knife strapped there. _You clever girl._ He leisurely opened the lower edges of the kimono, unhooked the two Velcro straps holding the weapon, and let it all fall to the floor.

Once again, she did nothing to stop him.

So he drew his hands back up and rested them on her hips. "Let me make it up to you, Zoricah." He gently massaged her lower back with his thumbs. "Let me help you relax. You won't regret it, I promise."

He thought he heard a light groan in response but couldn't be sure.

He was getting anxious, restless with the anticipation. Mighty Soartas, he wanted to taste her, feel her against his skin, hear her cry out in pleasure as his lips explored every inch of her delicious body.

Deciding it was time to throw down the proverbial gauntlethe wasn't going to let this moment slip through his fingershe leaned over her shoulder and, brushing her soft skin with his lips, he whispered, "Turn around, Zoricah. Turn around for me."

**********

Zoricah was well and truly screwed.

She had come to find him in his library with the sole intent of unveiling his intentions. She had prepared herself for the encounter, of course.

First, she ensured she was well-rested with a long, hot bath followed by self-applied massage-with-scentless almond oil she had found in the guestroom cabinetshe was careful not to overpower her natural blue mist scent Tardieh seemed to like so much. Her clothes had been dried by the time she finished her ritual, but she chose to wear the silky kimono _someone_ had left on the bed instead.

Oh, yes, nothing like light silk to accentuate one's curves without being too vulgar or aggressive. She had let the three-sizes-too-big robe dangle loose, that way it wouldn't be difficult for it to _accidentally_ unfasten itself and display some bare skin before she could realize what had happened, then—blushing miserably, of course—close it tightly again. Nothing like smoke and mirrors to help deceive the most cunning of eyes.

Zoricah knew Tardieh wanted her, so she would use one of the only weapons his vampire nature had no shields against: female heat. She was very skilled in that area. Who was the very wise human who said that practice leads to perfection? She couldn't remember, but took her hat off to him anyway.

Her plan had started off well. Tardieh couldn't take his eyes off her legs, her breasts or her bottom as soon as she'd walked into the library. He had practically drooled on the floor.

But then everything changed. He called her bluff and came on to her like a true prince of darkness. His soft touch on her skin, his breath warming her neck, his thumb massaging her lower back... She felt her heart pound and her folds go so moist she thought her juices would spill down her legs any minute now.

"Turn around, Zoricah," he whispered in her ear again. His large hands had finished massaging her lower back and were trailing up along both sides of her ribs. She felt his lips on her neck again and couldn't prevent a whimper from escaping her mouth.

She only realized she had tilted her head sideways, giving him more access to her exposed neck, when she heard his low, mischievous, approving groan.

Damn him.

Before she could snake out of his touch, he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, right above the kimono's belt. His fingers started gathering the fabric—slowly, oh so very slowly—forcing the already loose neckline to drape down her shoulders. A cold breeze blew across her bare chest and she shuddered in response.

While holding the robe open with one hand, with the other he stroked the base of her breast. It was sensual rather than urgent; delicate, a whisper of a caress.

Z was startled by his boldness but she couldn't deny she liked it. Once again he had surprised her, crossing that invisible line one should never cross when doing business with each other. She remained very still, neither shutting him out nor welcoming him in, while her mind argued with her lower folds for control.

When he started tracing lazy circles around her breast while his tongue explored her earlobe, she knew her brain would lose the battle.

Wide circles at first, then slowly closing in until he reached the tip. He fondled the already hard nipple for a while, teasing it, caressing it; then he squeezed it between his thumb and index finger.

_Oh, fucking_ _gates of_ _Hiad!_

Zoricah couldn't stop herself. Whimpering in ecstasy, she leaned back against his broad chest, opening herself up to his expert hands.

"Zoricah," she heard him whisper hoarsely, "you're going to be my demise."

Oh, mighty Soartas.

She had barely registered his words when he turned her around and kissed her hard.

Tardieh's lips were demanding, hungry for her, and Z couldn't have enough of him either. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with the same intensity.

His hands grabbed her ass, pulling her closer against his shaft. His hard cock was stroking her wet core through the light silk. _Oh, what a torment!_ She wanted more; she needed more. She needed to feel him inside her.

While still caressing the base of his skull with one hand, she traced a path down his tight abdomen with the other, past his waist, the belt line, and found his hard cock inside his pants. A hoarse moan told her he liked that. Zoricah could feel his shaft dripping through the thick material. She rubbed her hand along his full length a few more times and was rewarded with another groan, longer this time.

As if reading her mind, Tardieh untied her belt and finished opening the kimono, exposing her bare body. He took a moment to revel at her nakedness before his mouth descended on her breast while his left hand caressed the other. Zoricah arched her back in response, and he took the hint. _Thank Apa Dobrý._ While still sucking on her breast, he drove his hand down her belly and covered the short curls between her legs.

Mighty Gods, his fingers were divine! He stroked her, spreading her wetness all the way to her outer labia. With two very moist fingers, he started massaging her clitoris. Zoricah's hips moved of their own accord. She lost track of what she had been doing, what she had gone to the library for—she didn't care anymore. She just parted her legs wide and held on to his broad shoulders.

His left hand traced a path down her spine, over her buttocks and her anus. Two long fingers entered her pussy at the same time that the left middle finger penetrated her from behind. Zoricah cried out in pleasure.

"Come for me, Zoricah," he said huskily. "I want to hear you scream for me."

He dropped down on his knees and completed the torment. While his clever fingers were pumping in and out of her, his tongue licked her clit. First it was rhythmically; then he increased the tempo until Zoricah couldn't remember her name anymore. All she cared about was the orgasm building up inside her and the heat threatening to consume her.

Tardieh groaned between her legs and inserted a third finger inside her core followed by a second one in her ass.

The unbearable ache between her legs exploded into a phenomenal orgasm, blinding Zoricah senseless. Unable to stop herself, she cried out loud and plunged into the tidal wave rolling through her body.

She was still savoring the aftershocks of her first orgasm when Tardieh hooked his arms under the back of her knees, lifting her up in the air, and plunged his large cock inside her with so much force that two rows of books fell down to the floor with the crash. All she could do was wrap her arms tightly around his neck and relish the ride. For the first time in her life, Zoricah had no control, no way out—she didn't want one.

She had never thought that it was possible to have two orgasms in a row. She was wrong.

Tardieh started mercilessly thrusting inside her. His lips smashed into hers, his mouth wild, eager and demanding. Then, without losing the rhythm, he traced her neck with his lips and stopped right above her collarbone. A second later, his fangs pierced her skin with the urgency of a viper's bite.

His gulps were as unforgiving as his hips riding her. But Zoricah couldn't care less. She had already lost herself to him. The bite's toxins increased their sexual pleasure tenfold, tipping her over the edge.

She heard Tardieh's guttural cries and felt his seed spilling inside her an instant before her second orgasm hit her like a firebomb.

They stayed in each other's arms for a while, breathing heavily, then Tardieh slowly lifted his head up and licked the bite mark.

Zoricah heard him say something but couldn't grasp the meaning, nor could she gather strength to tell him that.

"Hurt you?" he finally whispered again.

_Hurt her?_ What did he mean by 'hurt her'? She had just had the best orgasms of her very long, and quite lonely, life. Not that she would ever tell him that.

"You didn't," she answered. "Did I?"

Tardieh's low chuckle reverberated in her ears. "No, you didn't, draconian."

He lifted her off the bookshelf and laid her on the leather couch. Then he crossed the room, opened the small liquor cabinet-slash-fridge, and took out two bottles: fresh orange juice and fresh blood.

Zoricah tilted her head slightly to get a better view of his gloriously naked body. He was simply gorgeous. His broad shoulders were well defined by muscular biceps; he had a monstrous six-pack abs, perfectly shaped legs and an ass to die for. She hadn't even seen him take his clothes off. May Apa Dobrý bless the vampire speed.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. "Like what you see?"

"Hate it," she joked.

His lips were still curled up when he sat down by her side, then handed her the juice, while taking a long sip of the bottled blood.

"I hope you like orange," he said after coming up for air. "That's all I've got." His gaze descended upon her neck, and he added with an impish grin, "Apart from blood, of course."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes, then took a long gulp of the orange juice. She hadn't realized how thirsty she'd been. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he drawled with a knowing smile.

Realizing he wasn't talking about the orange juice, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't flatter yourself, vampire. You were not the first one to give me an orgasm."

"Two, actually," he replied.

_The rascal_! Standing up, she pretended to ignore his last remark. "Yeah, but only you make me want to take it all back in record time."

She had intended to go and get her kimono by the bookshelves, but his arms closed around her waist and dragged her down on his lap.

He lay her down on top of him, before replying in a low growl, "And only you make me want to start it all over again, in record time."

This time around, his kiss was soft and slow. He opened her mouth against his, their tongue dancing to the same tune. They fit perfectly together. _Damn it_ , Zoricah thought. He managed to make her forget what she had gone there for again. She had meant to seduce him to get information. Instead she had completely lost her mind and herself in the process.

But before she could gather her wits and start asking the right questions again, they heard a horrible cry echo throughout Tardieh's castle.

Zoricah's heart skipped a beat. "Deirdre!"
Chapter Fourteen

As soon as he walked into the guest bedroom, Tardieh gasped at the sight before him.

After hearing the awful cry echo in the castle, he and Zoricah had dressed hastily and rushed to find Deirdre convulsing wildly on the bed. Her overly-protruded belly was moving, as if a serpent were trapped inside and was obviously not happy with the current arrangements. _Mighty Soartas._

"The thing's gone crazy, Zoricah. It's too much for Deirdre!" Drew cried out standing by her sister's side. Between sobs, the draconian explained she'd been trying to soothe her sister's belly—singing to it, caressing it, but to no avail. Whatever was growing inside her sister was clearly ready to come out.

Deirdre's painful cries were so distressing that the entire household had woken up. A few servants were hovering tensely by the door, fear and empathy in their eyes.

At once, Zoricah ran to the head of the bed and tried to hold Deirdre's shoulders in an attempt to prevent her from hurting herself even more. Tardieh didn't miss a beat and grabbed the flaying draconian by the ankles.

Her skin was changing color and texture; she was shifting into her dragon form.

That was not a good sign.

Her body looked as if it were trying to fight with all its might the thing consuming it. They would find themselves in a very sticky situation if Deirdre's unconscious mind managed to succeed in bringing her dragon form forth.

"Zoricah, it's killing her!" Drew yelled.

Tardieh swallowed dry as his mind searched for a solution. If they didn't remove the thing from Deirdre's belly soon, it would certainly find its own way out, ripping the draconian open in its wake.

Deirdre let out a new cry, worse than the others, before her hands flew to her stomach.

Drew jumped on top of her sister and started punching her sister's belly. "Stop it! Stop it!" she shouted, as if the _thing_ could hear her.

Tardieh froze, flabbergasted and horrified by the sight.

"Drew!" Z yelled, trying to remove the crazy draco off her sister, but Drew deflected her.

"It's biting her, Z!" Drew explained in a wail. "It's actually eating her insides!" She then held her own belly in her hands, as if she too were being consumed by the monster.

Z blinked, no doubt shocked by the horrifying revelation, and then gazed at Tardieh. "I have to stop it," she murmured, despair coating her words. "But..."

Her voice trailed off, but Tardieh knew the end of that thought very wellbut how could she remove the thing without killing Deidre in the process?

Without waiting for an answer, Zoricah exhaled a sharp breath then pulled her knife out and drove it into Deirdre's belly.

_It_ stopped moving. Instantly.

They all did.

Gasps echoed in the room when Z removed the knife and brown, razbian blood started spilling out of the wound.

"Oh, dear Soartas," Drew cried, covering her mouth with both hands. Fat tears rolled freely down her white cheeks. "What have they done to you, my sister?"

"I don't know, Drew," Zoricah replied on even tones. "But it will all be over soon." Twisting her wrists, she sliced Deirdre's belly open, then without ceremony reached inside and pulled out a dead green lizard.

Someone threw up somewhere outside the room.

"I need a clean needle and thread," Z commanded.

Before Tardieh could give the order out, Alfred entered the bedroom. "Here."

While Zoricah stitched the open wound back together, Tardieh grabbed the dead slimy lizard and wrapped it with one of the bed covers. Then, lifting a chin at Joel, who had been watching the scene from the shadows, he said, "Take it away, but don't dispose of it." They needed to examine that freak of nature before burning it. _What have those fucking bastards done to this poor female_?

His Master of Spies nodded gravely before dashing out of the room.

Zoricah let out a faint gasp, calling Tardieh's attention back to her. _Damn the Soartas_!

She was trying to close the wound, but Deidre was losing too much blood. She wasn't going to make it at that pace.

"Tardieh," Zoricah murmured. It was one word, just his name, but it was enough for him to understand her plea for help.

Without hesitating, Tardieh took the needle and thread from Zoricah's hand and, using his vampire speed, sewed the bleeding belly closed as fast as he could.

"Let's give her more heat, Drew," Zoricah instructed her friend, and both females placed their hands over Deidre's frail body, trying to give her as much life force as possible, but the draconian didn't look any better.

Tardieh sat back on his heels and waited. There was nothing more they could do for now.

At that moment, Joel walked back in, followed by Hikuro, Dyam, Yara and Samantha. Tardieh gave Hikuro an inquisitive look but only got a small shrug in response. "They didn't want to wait any longer."

"Girls, I need you here," Zoricah called and, without the need for explanation or instruction, the two warriors walked over to the bed and placed their hands on different parts of the ailing female draco.

All four women took a deep breath and exhaled in unison.

Tardieh sighed as an incredible sense of calm and warmth filled the air around him. Unfortunately, no matter how much better it had made him feel, it didn't seem to be helping Deirdre. Her breathing was getting shallower; her lips had turned light purple.

"She's getting worse...her heart... Zoricah, her heart is failing," Drew exclaimed with fresh tears in her eyes. "Please, Zoricah. Don't let her cross the Third River. I beg you," she pleaded between sobs.

Drew was looking at Zoricah in a strange way, Tardieh thought to himself, as if Zoricah could actually stop her twin sister's _inmã_ from crossing the Three Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei, the ones every soul crossed in their journey to the spiritual plane. But Tardieh knew that was not possible. Only a handful of people were born every millennium with the power to travel to Apa Sâmbetei and return alive. They were called _calathors_ and held great powers which came from the knowledge gathered from both physical and spiritual worlds. The world hadn't seen a _calathor_ for over five hundred years.

"Please, Zoricah, please." Drew's painful plea echoed in the silent room again.

Zoricah looked up, and for the first time Tardieh saw a teardrop stream down her cheek.

"I may not be able to do it, Drew," she murmured, then gazed down at their dying friend. "She may have crossed the Second River already, and if she did..."

"Please, Zoricah, try." It was Yara's turn to beg.

Zoricah looked at her fighters. They were all looking back at her, like small children in a storm. Did they really think she could stop the lightning from striking them? In shocking amazement, Tardieh realized that, yes, they did.

"Tardieh, please gather your warriors. I need everyone's help."

**********

Zoricah took a deep breath and got off the bed. She didn't know if she'd be able to find Deirdre in Apa Sâmbetei, let alone bring her back, but she would try. She owed it to her friends. They might never recover from such tragedy if Deirdre died.

After hearing that no other female had survived, that all abducted females were dead, Zoricah had really felt the weight on her shoulders. She had been too late again. Images of their attack in Dubai flooded her mind. Decapitated bodies, entrails spilling out of open bellies. Her blood boiled in response. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks again. She would get the motherfucker who was behind those monstrous abductions, and when she did, not even Apa Dobrý would be able to save him from her rage.

Wiping away her tears, she told Tardieh, "I need space behind the bed. Can you move it forward to the center of the room, please?"

After the bed had been placed where she needed, she positioned the four vampires at the base and the three females by her side. She then beckoned them to hold hands, forming a circle around the bed where Deirdre laid unconscious. Sam and Drew held her elbows while she placed both hands on Deirdre's chest.

Zoricah looked up at all of them, then said, "Okay, here we go."

She closed her eyes and focused on channeling the energy of all seven fighters toward herself. Her body responded to the power surge with a jolt. She had done this ritual a thousand times before, but never had she had such potent aids helping her out.

"Zoricah." She heard Tardieh call before he motioned with the intention to come to her aid. She opened her eyes to see his expression contorted with worry.

_No!_ If he broke out of the circle, they'd lose the energy bond and would have to start all over again, losing precious time. Time they didn't have.

She gave him a reassuring look and shook her head. Tardieh didn't look very comfortable with not calling the shots, but settled back in his place nonetheless.

Zoricah quieted her mind and focused on Deirdre's beating heart. It was weak, so weak. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Apa Sâmbetei, eu vin la tine." _Apa Sâmbetei,_ I come to thee.

Streams of a thousand colors blinded her vision, and she was overcome with the feeling of drowning. She hated that part. She felt the colors engulfing her, churning her, taking her away, out of the bedroom and into the darkness.

Zoricah opened her eyes and assessed her surroundings. The characteristic mist of Apa Sâmbetei was thick, almost impenetrable. She heard the sound of water flowing somewhere nearby.

"I'm near the First River," she thought to herself.

Carefully, she took a step forward. She didn't have much time to linger around; she had to find Deirdre and get out of there before Ucidhere, Lord of Apa Sâmbetei _,_ learned of her intensions for crossing over. She took a few more steps and felt confident enough to continue, but after just a heartbeat she tripped and fell face down on the floor. _Damn celestial rocks_.

Straight ahead of her, through the dense mist, Zoricah saw the shape of a female walking on the banks of the river. _Deirdre!_

Z lifted herself off the ground and started running toward the female, but the mist was too thick and the rocks kept making her stumble. By the time she got to the river, she only saw Deirdre's red locks disappearing into the water.

No, by Apa Dobrý, no!

Without thinking, Zoricah dived in after her.

Once again, she was blinded by a thousand colors. They were so beautiful, so inviting that she allowed herself to pause for a moment and contemplate the splendor of this part of the spiritual plane. Streams of bright reds, yellows, blues and greens crossed in front and around her, like schools of fish swimming with the current. Her body relaxed, her aching muscles loosened. All she saw, all she cared about was those beautiful colors warming her up.

Shit! Wake up! Wake up, Zoricah!

Forcing her eyes open, she fought the celestial pull of Apa Sâmbetei and tried to spot Deirdre through the multicolored current. After a few frustrating minutes, she caught a glimpse of her friend who appeared to be unconscious.

Swimming through the colors as fast as she could, Zoricah reached out and grabbed Deirdre by the wrists. But at that moment, the colorful currents started changing around them, from deep shades to brighter tones, until all were so bright they became one.

_Damn._ She was running out of time. They were close to the end of the First River. _Time to jump_. Gathering all her remaining strength, Z willed her body out of the light, taking Deirdre with her.

They fell flat on gray, sandy floor. The good news was that they had successfully gotten out of the First River. The bad news was that they had crossed to the other side.

As if on a trance, Deirdre stood up and started walking again.

"Deirdre, Deirdre!" Zoricah called out, but Deirdre didn't slow down nor did she seem to hear.

Z started after her and suddenly was overpowered by the fantastic feeling of ecstasy. Wow, the sand touching her bare feet was so soft. The air on her skin was like velvet caressing her cheeks.

She looked up and saw gray clouds, gray skies, gray planets. Everything was gray, but it didn't matter, because she could feel them all with her skin, her hair, her nails. The silk kimono she was wearing felt like a lover's hand caressing her body.

She sat down and slowly dug her bare feet in the soft gray sand. What a marvelous feeling! In a complete state of bliss, Zoricah watched the sand deliciously envelop the heels of her feet, her toes, her ankles. She laid down and let the light breeze caress her arms. Oh, it had been so long since she felt that wayutterly relaxed and in peace. She could stay there forever, leave everyone behind, but she had to take someone back to the physical plane, didn't she? Who was it again? And there was someone waiting for her on the other side...

Images of Sam and Yara came to her mind. Yara when she had first learned how to bring forth her panther form and control it. Her loud laughter echoing triumphantly in the forest. Sam smiling gloriously after passing her first fighting test. All three of them laughing at something silly.

Then the scenes changed, and the vision of two bodies intermingled near bookshelves, sweating, kissing, loving each other flooded her mind. Along with them came the feeling of being complete for the first time in her life. _Tardieh_.

Zoricah sat up straight and blinked a few times. Tardieh, Yara, Sam. _They_ were back on Terhem Viahta , the land of the living, waiting for her. She had to go back; they needed her. _But the sand is so soft; the breeze is so soothing_... Too soothing, actually.

_Fuck_!

With a start, she realized this _was_ the second river. She had already entered it, and that meant that Deirdre was in it, too.

"No!" Zoricah said out loud. "Stand the fuck up and move!"

Keeping her friends' images in her mind so that she wouldn't lose herself again, Z stood up and ran across the sandy field. On the distance, she saw Deirdre on the ground, rolling on the gray sand like a child playing on the beach.

Z went to her and crouched down beside her friend. "Deidre. Deirdre, it's me, Zoricah."

But Deirdre didn't seem to hear her, nor did she acknowledge her presence. She just kept on rolling and laughing, throwing sand on herself. Her long ginger locks covered the ground like a soft sheet.

"Deirdre!" Zoricah yelled, shaking her by the shoulders. Nothing. Nothing could disturb her.

"She can't hear you, you know." The deep voice came from above.

_Damn it._ Ucidhere, the god of death, Lord of Apa Sâmbetei, had found her.

Zoricah stood up and turned around to face the mighty deity. "Hello, father."
Chapter Fifteen

The razbian's vision was getting blurry. "Please, sire, I am telling the truth," he begged, but he didn't know how many of his words had actually come out. It's hard to speak when your windpipe was getting squashed. "They surprised us. We wasn't expectin' it."

His sire's eyes were completely red with fury. His grip tightened on the razbian's throat.

"I swear, sire. I came to you as soon as I saw the flames and the big red dragon!"

"You mean you ran away like a scared little girl, and when I found you at the whorehouse, you decided to tell me what had gone down," his master replied, flashing his teeth at him.

"Please, please, sire. I tried to find you, yeah, but couldn', yeah?" he lied. The razbian didn't mind begging for his life. Begging, kissing feet, changing sides as often as he changed clothes, all of it was part of keeping his heart beating.

"I pay you to _expect_ attacks to my properties. I don't fucking care if it's a bunch of freaking bees. You have to be ready," his sire yelled, accentuating the last five words with a tighter squeeze on his throat. His voice had a strange dark vibrato quality to it, as if two people were talking at the same time.

The razbian began to see black dots, and a wave of panic hit him. "Oh fair Soartas _,_ please don't let my destiny be this. I gonna be good man from now on, I swear ta ya!" he begged for one more miracle in his thoughts.

The sound of a cell phone ringing froze his sire's deadly grip.

Slackening his grip slightly, but without removing his hands, his sire picked up the phone and checked the caller ID. Even in the state he was in—almost pissing his pants—the razbian noticed a slight change in his sire's tough facade. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there, like a cloud of fear hovering above the mighty sun.

"Yeah?" his sire replied after pushing the answer button on his cell phone. Then a long pause. "Well, we are a little behind schedule. Hmm, something came up. We had to relocate." Another short pause. "Of course, I am. We are close to finding the right formula. I tell you, the last bitch almost made it till to end—" Another pause, longer this time. His sire seemed strangely nervous. "Yes, I will. Don't you worry, I am. No, no. There's no need to send your guards over. I guarantee I have everything under control. That draconian demigoddess will have a nice surprise waiting for her next time she decides to burst into one of my farms again."

After a few tense heartbeats, his sire ended the call and glared back at him.

The razbian guard chuckled nervously. "Bummer getting flogged by the boss, eh?"

His sire leaned closer and replied in an icy cold voice, "Yeah, too bad your boss' whip is burning with the flames of Hiad."

The last thing that came to the razbian's mind before feeling his windpipe shattering followed by the unbearable agony of running out of air was that he shouldn't have bought those lottery tickets the day before. He would never be able to claim the money if he won.
Chapter Sixteen

"Hello, daughter mine," Ucidhere greeted Zoricah.

That was the last thing she needed. Every time her father showed up, something happened.

"She won't answer to your calls, no matter what you do," he said in a light tone, nodding toward Deirdre.

Zoricah looked at her friend, who seemed to have gone back in time a couple of centuries. She was rolling on the gray sand, building sand castles while laughing out loud, finding the whole thing hilarious.

"Why?" Zoricah asked her father. "Why can't she hear me? Others have."

Crossing his arms in front of him as if he were a bored bouncer and she a teenager wanting to jump the queue, he said, "Because she has made her choice."

Ignoring her father, Zoricah kneeled down beside Deirdre and tried again. "Deirdre, we need to go back. You're needed back on Terhem Viahta."

Out of nowhere, her friend sat up straight with fear in her eyes, then jumped up and started running across the gray desert.

"Deirdre, no! Damn it!" Z cursed under her breath, bolting after her.

Reaching Deirdre was no problem, but stopping her from running again was another question. As soon as Zoricah tried to block her, Deirdre started screaming and kicking like a spoiled brat who didn't want to go to school.

Long white fingers touched Deirdre's shoulders, and she stopped struggling against Zoricah's grip immediately.

"Thank you," Z mumbled to her father.

Ucidhere regarded her gravely. She took the hint and confronted the unspoken command. "I _can_ take her back. She hasn't crossed the Third River yet. She is not officially inside Apa Sâmbetei."

The Three Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei acted like dimensional portals. The more one crossed, the farther away from Terhem Viahta one became. The Third River was the final gateway. Once crossed, the _inmã_ could never go back to being encased by a physical body, even if it wanted to. The Rivers changed the composition of the soul; they cleansed it.

Of course, there had been cases of people who tried to cheat, and despite belonging to Hiad, they had pushed through. But the Rivers didn't release anyone who wasn't spiritually clean enough to be in the gardens of Apa Sâmbetei. So those _inmãs_ were trapped forever between planesthe worst punishment any _inmã_ could suffer. It was her father's job to guarantee balance was maintained by ensuring each _inmã_ went to the correct place, or better yet, _remained_ in their rightful place.

Ucidhere caressed Deirdre's shoulders, and Zoricah saw her friend relax under his powerful hands. "She will make a great addition to my garden."

_Oh, for crying out loud!_ He still called Apa Sâmbetei _his_ garden? "You know, I've never been there myself, but I heard it's a pretty large place to be called a garden."

Ucidhere ignored her and massaged her friend's shoulders. Deirdre let out a faint whimper of pleasure.

Z slapped her father's hand away. "That's cheating."

Smacking a deity wasn't exactly a clever move, but she couldn't contain her desperation. The longer Deirdre stayed there, the more her _inmã_ would be changed. Soon, even if Zoricah did manage to drag her friend's ass back to Terhem Viahta, she wouldn't "fit" into her unclean body anymore. And Ucidhere was counting on that.

Ucidhere gave her an innocent look. "Why? She was enjoying it so much."

Z narrowed her eyes at him in response then, giving it one more shot, she placed herself in front of Deirdre, who seemed to still be enjoying the lingering feelings left by Ucidhere's hands.

Trying to capture her friend's eyes with her own, Zoricah murmured, "Deirdre, the nightmare is over. You don't have to go back to that torture anymore. You are safe."

Deirdre started displaying signs of distress againher brows furrowed, her eyes wideso Zoricah quickly added, "Drew is there, waiting for you."

Deirdre froze and, for the first time, looked straight at Zoricah. _Yes!_ That was the key to getting her out of there—the preternatural bond she had with her sister.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Ucidhere shuffle on his feet, so she carried on. "Drew needs you, Dee. She won't make it without you. And if she takes her own life, she will never be accepted in Apa Sâmbetei with you."

According to the divine scrolls, everything one experienced in life had been placed there for a reason. The "trials", as they were called, were set by the Soartas themselves, the goddesses of destiny, to help each _inmã_ evolve into a better being. And after a few—or many—reincarnations, if you passed all of your trials, you would be welcomed in Apa Sâmbetei and allowed to stay there forever. No more trials, no more suffering, just an eternity of bliss. Nice, huh?

But _i_ _nmãs_ who killed themselves, and by default evaded the trials the Soartas set for them, weren't allowed in Apa Sâmbetei at all. It was like dodging the tax man or cheating on the SATs, and it was harshly punished by the goddesses of destiny.

According to the old legends, in the beginning, all supernatural creatures lived harmoniously in Apa Sâmbetei, but a group of them decided to go against Ucidhere's many rules, and as a result were kicked out and cursed to live in Terhem Viahta.

Zoricah was counting on Deirdre's knowledge of the legends to bring the proverbial cup home. She knew the draconian twin wouldn't want that horrible destiny for her other half, so she pressed on. "Drew won't make it without you, Dee. Your sister will take her own life."

Deirdre's eyes filled with tears.

Z's chest ached in response; she hated causing pain to innocent people, but she had no other choice. She knew how much Dee loved her sister and was going to use that damned card to win this game against her father, even if it meant cursing herself to suffer through a couple of extra incarnations to get her _inmã_ cleansed again.

Z had had the opportunity to see the draconian twin's connection on one occasion, a hundred or so years before. The twins had been flying over El Salvador when the Santa Ana volcano erupted. Its collapse produced an extraordinary avalanche that swept everything in its wake into the Pacific Ocean. Drew had been right above the volcano when it happened and got trapped in the lava.

Since dragons are creatures of fire, they can't be killed by it or any blazing material, so the rescue party had known Drew was still alive. All efforts were used to track her down, but the smoke cloud emanating from the craters lasted several weeks, preventing the dragons from carrying out the search accurately. After a year of failed attempts, Deirdre convinced her father she could locate her twin sister. Hesitantly, he'd agreed to the dangerous idea; he had run out of options. Within half an hour, Deirdre found Drew, and the rescue dragons managed to dig her out of the solidified debris.

Deirdre let out a sob, bringing Zoricah back to the present. Could she see Z's memories?

"Now _that's_ cheating," Ucidhere growled, his words oozing disdain. "Of course she saw them. We are at the gates of Apa Sâmbetei, everything that is _essence_ is shared here." He let out a sharp breath. "And there's nothing more intrinsic to the soul than a memory."

"Drew," Deirdre called softly, as if in a plea. Tears were still rolling down her beautiful cheeks, but her eyes carried a different type of pain now. The pain brought by hope.

Slowly, tentatively, Zoricah reached out and held her friend's hand. Dee took hold of it and smiled for the first time, bringing a lump to Z's own throat.

"This is truly touching, daughter mine," Ucidhere uttered, interrupting the beautiful moment, "but unfortunately the order still stands. You cannot take her back to Terhem Viahta."

"Yes, I can," Zoricah retorted, while hugging Deirdre tightly. "The rules are clear, anything before the Third River is no-man's-land and, therefore, if an _inmã_ hasn't crossed it, it can return."

"The rules _are_ clear," her father replied in an even, but firm, tone. "Once an _inmã_ crossed the Rivers it cannot return to Terhem Viahta. If anyone could come and go at their will, my Rivers would be turned into a damned train station."

"But..."

"No buts!" Ucidhere shouted thunderously. "The rules must be obeyed."

Zoricah started to argue but was silenced by an excruciating pain in her chest, as if an invisible hand had crushed through her sternum and was squeezing her heart like a ripe grape. She hated showing weakness, but unable to contain herself, Z dropped to the ground in agony. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, it was so much pain!

"Daughter of mine, when are you going to learn life is all about balance?" Ucidhere remained distant, but there was something else in his voice—empathy, sadness...tiredness? That gave Zoricah an idea.

"I will..." Zoricah managed to choke out over the unbearable agony in her chest. "I will bring you another soul."

Ucidhere raised an eyebrow at her. "Now that's something of interest to me. Tell me what you have in mind, child."

The pain stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Wasn't Ucidhere the father every girl dreamed of?

After taking a much needed breath, Zoricah stood up and faced her father, eye-to-eye. "I will replace Deirdre's _inmã_ with another."

Her father regarded her for a moment, as if trying to decipher what she was up to, or maybe read her mind.

Zoricah froze. _Shit, what if he could read her mind?_

As if on cue, Ucidhere's eyes narrowed. "Do not fear, my child. I do not read minds, just memories."

Zoricah found that hard to believe, but there wasn't much she could do about it, so she tried to gain some more ground over their battle of wits. "I will need some time though."

"Why?"

"It's not easy to find a pure soul who is willing to sacrifice himself or herself for the sake of ' _the rules_ '," Zoricah retorted, mimicking the inverted commas sign with her index fingers.

Ucidhere circled around them and stopped by Deirdre's makeshift sand castle. Dee clutched Zoricah's arm, searching for shelter.

"What about the vampire king?" Ucidhere finally spoke. He had apparently decided to try to fix the sand castle by adding a few more towers. Particles of gray sand magically lifted themselves up the air, forming a smooth pillar. "He seemed quite a good candidate."

Zoricah's heart skipped a beat. "No, he won't do."

"Why not?" Another sand tower added to the right.

"Because..." Zoricah swallowed. "Because he's killed before and he's a merciless ruler."

"Oh, but he is just. He is a seeker of truth, is he not?" her father asked, analyzing his work of art.

"He's fought in and started many wars." She snorted, feigning a detachment she didn't feel. "It will take him ten more incarnations to be clean enough for your garden, father." She didn't care about the consequences; her father could squeeze all the life out of her heart. She would not promise Tardieh's soul to Ucidhere.

"Why not, Zoricah?" Ucidhere looked up and faced her.

His striking dark eyes were almost too much to bear, but Zoricah stood her ground. "He's used women like they were sheep, turned many virgins into whores and let them die of heartache when he got bored."

"And he has repented himself," Ucidhere replied stubbornly.

"Tardieh is _not_ a candidate!"

"Why not?"

"Because he just isn't!"

"And why is that?"

"Because he is mine!" Zoricah yelled back.

Silence descended upon the gray desert.

Zoricah could hear her own heart beating. It sounded like a hummingbird's wings on steroids. _Shit! Where in Hiad had that come from?_

She hadn't meant to say it out loud or, more accurately, admit it out loud, but there was no point in lying to herself anymore: she did have feelings for Tardieh.

His annoying way of getting under her skin had brought her back to life, forcing her heart out of its self-imposed numbness. Before he came around, she had only regarded the male species as a means to an end—to win wars, to help the unfortunate, for sexual release when the going got too tough. But Tardieh had refused to play his role quietly. He had surprised her in ways no one had ever had.

Ucidhere's low chuckle brought her back from her thoughts. "Does that mean that the mighty, independent, no-nonsense Zoricah has finally found her match?"

At the disoriented look on her face, his chuckle turned into a loud laugh.

Z didn't appreciate it one bit, but she knew she shouldn't tease the beast anymore, so she swallowed her pride and kept quiet. For the moment.

A strong wind touched her face. Suddenly, gray, sandy particles were everywhere. The sand castle collapsed and she saw Deirdre block her eyes with her hands. Z couldn't see anything in front of her.

"All right, daughter mine," she heard Ucidhere say from a distance. "I will grant you your wish. You have forty-eight hours to bring me another _inmã_."

"What? No! I need more time!" Zoricah tried to find him, but the sand cloud turned into a storm, and Ucidhere was gone.

"Show off," she grumbled after the storm had died down.

Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight bloody hours to find a pure soul and convince him or her to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Zoricah collapsed on the sandy floor and put her head between her hands. Despite the soothing powers of the Second River, she didn't feel like celebrating.

Small fingers touched her shoulder. Zoricah lifted her head to find Deirdre in front of her.

"Let's go home," Deirdre offered with a serene smile.

"Sounds like a great idea, Dee." Zoricah stood up with her friend's help, and she focused on getting them out of there.

She had travelled in and out of Apa Sâmbetei numerous times over her long life, but never had she taken anyone with her. That would prove to be an interesting task.

"Just hang on to me tightly, okay?" she said to her friend, who promptly complied.

Zoricah closed her eyes and gathered the last of her energy. "Terhem Viahta, _eu vin la tine_."

Nothing happened. _That's odd._

She felt good—the Second River's influence was very powerful—but the fact that she was having trouble gathering her strength meant she was dangerously running on empty.

"Right. Better do this quickly, then," she said to herself.

Closing her eyes again, she tried harder. After channeling her dragon fire, bringing it forth and letting it expand inside her, she visualized her powers spilling out of her ethereal body and engulfing Deirdre. Within her dragon heat, they were one.

Using the last remains of her strength, Zoricah shouted, "Terhem Viahta, eu vin la tine."

**********

Tardieh was known for his extraordinary composure, but this was getting ridiculous. Zoricah had been completely immobile for over an hour now. He could see her energy dwindling by the minute.

Half an hour after her soul had left to Apa Sâmbetei, anxiety had gotten the best of him, so he tried to go to her at the far end of the bed. But Yara, Sam, and Drew stopped him. After the female commands and swearing were silenced, Sam had explained to him that none of them should leave the circle, that Zoricah needed their energy to complete the journey. So there he had stayed.

"Are you sure this is normal?" he asked Yara for the third time.

After giving him a look that clearly told him her patience was also wearing thin, she said, "Yes, Tardieh, this is normal. She'll take as long as it takes to complete her mission. That's Zoricah."

"Yeah but..." Sam said, but bit her lips and let her voice trail.

"But what? What, damn it? Tell me." Tardieh's order came out like a bark. His vampire warriors lifted their heads in response, at the same time that Yara lifted an eyebrow at him. He took a deep breath and growled between his teeth, "Tell me, please."

Sam looked at Yara, who sighed and rolled her eyes. "She's usually quite fast," Sam offered.

Tardieh's gut didn't like that at all. "How fast?" he asked, trying to contain his temper.

Sam stole a glance at Drew and Yara again, as if uncertain of how much information she should reveal. It was Yara who ended the suspense.

"Ten minutes max," the shifter blurted out.

"Ten minutes?" Tardieh cried out. "Ten fucking minutes? She has been there for more than an hour!" He felt his blood boil in his veins. He wanted to break the circle, go to Zoricah and bring her back. Even if that meant he had to shake her, drown her, burn her, whatever. He would do whatever it took to get her out of Apa Sâmbetei alive and well.

But as soon as he released Yara's hand, she held on tighter, and the yelling and swearing started again. This time he didn't back down, and more yelling, swearing, and threatening followed. Even Hikuro, Joel, and Dyam joined in the uproar to back him up. But Yara kept a surprisingly tight grip on him.

"Silence! She's awaken!" Drew's words did the job.

Tardieh looked at Zoricah, but nothing had changed in her countenance. She was still barely standing with her eyes closed and a frown on her face. Then he realized who Drew had meant. Deirdre was awake and looking at her twin sister with a weak, but sincere, smile on her face.

"No one breaks the circle!" It was his turn to shout. "Zoricah hasn't returned yet."

After a few anxious heartbeats, Zoricah shivered, then took a deep breath as if she had just come out of the water for air and slowly opened her eyes. She looked straight into Tardieh's and said in a whisper, "Mission accomplished."

Then she collapsed on the floor, unconscious.
Chapter Seventeen

Tardieh woke up with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he didn't want to leave her unattended. It had been over twenty-four hours since Zoricah had fallen unconscious since returning from Apa Sâmbetei. He had brought her straight to his quarters and settled her on his bed.

Just like the other chambers in the house, his bedroom was large with a high ceiling and decorated in a minimalist style; the only difference was that it was all in dark tones. The walls were dark slate-gray and the carpet a deep forest-green. Similar to the library, one of the walls was made of thick translucent glass so that the room was warmed by the moonlight. The walk-in wardrobe had a spinning rack that automatically turned on once the door was opened. It was rather annoying, Tardieh had concluded.

The bathroom was furnished with a large marble bathtub that had been brought over from Italy, and a matching toilet set; a double shower ran across the east wall. In front of his grand king-size bed was a living room with a round table, a pair of cushioned chairs and a chaise where he usually spent his nights watching the sky when he wasn't working in the library. Tardieh loved to watch the ballet of colors in the pre-dawn sky.

Tardieh gazed at Zoricah and let out a long breath. When he'd brought her to his quarters she was still unconscious, but breathing steadily, so he assumed she was going to be all right. But too long a time had passed and Tardieh was starting to get really worried.

He had been doing that a lot lately, he realized. Worrying, getting anxious, going out of his mind, losing his grip on sanity. He had a faint idea the reason for all that was lying on his bed at that precise moment.

Standing up from his chaise, he lifted his arms and stretched his tight muscles. By Apa Dobrý, he was stiff. He hadn't had a sound day's sleep ever since Hikuro and the others delivered that note from Zoricah. _Damn female._ Why did his father's murderer have to be so freaking irresistible? He wasn't used to females like her gorgeously stubborn and dangerously independent. He was used to people—nations!—doing what he commanded. _Damn female!_

With a sigh, he turned his head toward the bed to check on the cause of his desperation for the fifty-seventh time.

His heart stopped. Her eyes were open. She had been watching him quietly.

"What's wrong?" she asked weakly.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked in reply, as he walked back to the bed and sat by her side.

"Like a train wreck," she said with a tired smile. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"You were frowning," she added, closing her eyes again.

Tardieh waited silently for her to fully wake. After a few moments, she opened her eyes again and took a deep breath.

"I think I need a shower." Her voice was still weak, but seemed to have recovered some of its beautiful low timbre.

Tardieh stopped ogling, went to his walk-in wardrobe and picked up one of his robes. It wasn't a beautiful kimono like the one he had chosen for her previously, but it was very comfortable, and more practical. Then he went back to the side of the bed and raised the robe up. She took the hint and pulled the covers off to get out of bed, but stopped midway.

"Oh, I'm naked!" she exclaimed in true astonishment.

Tardieh felt himself blush. _Why was he blushing?_ He had seen her naked before, and stripping her had been the most rational thing to do. She was unconscious, and the robe she was wearing was covered with blood, so he took it off and cleaned her up. No big deal. So why was he freaking blushing like a seventeen-year-old school boy?

"It was the most rational thing to do," he voiced his thoughts, then realized it didn't really explain anything, but decided to let it go.

Looking a bit confused, Zoricah got out of bed and took what he offered.

"The bathroom is on the left," Tardieh said, helping her into the robe. Her delicious blue-mist scent invaded his nostrils once more. It had gotten stronger, he realized. Or was he now just starting to notice every single detail about her? His cock hardened in reply to his rhetorical question. _Down boy_ , he chided. He was going to get a few answers before giving in to her charms again.

The bathroom door close with a soft _thud_ behind Zoricah. While she was taking a bath, Tardieh focused on getting her something to eat. He had sent his butler, Arthur, to the shops earlier that evening. He had no idea what Zoricah ate, so Tardieh told him to err on the side of caution and get everything he thought dragons ate, which was quite a wide range of options. Tardieh speed-dialed Arthur and told him to bring the food down to his chambers.

By the time Zoricah finished her bath, Tardieh had a table full of food and freshly-cleaned clothes ready for her.

The bathroom door clicked open, and she stepped out. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever witnessed. His three-sizes-too-big robe had fit her even more perfectly than the kimono. Its dark green color complemented her eyes, which had become even more golden than before. Her exotic features looked rejuvenated, glowing with pure energy. Her long black hair was still wet and dripping slightly, making the light robe cling to her delicious breasts.

_You need answers. Get those answers first,_ Tardieh reminded his cock, which was throbbing with anticipation. He finally found his voice and asked hoarsely, "Feeling better?"

"Much, thank you," she said softly, coming into the room.

She spotted the large table in the middle of the chamber and her mouth dropped open. "By Apa Dobrý, how many people will dine with us?" she asked, smiling in surprise.

Tardieh glanced at the table and shrugged. It displayed four different kinds of meat, rice, vegetables, a light chicken soup—just in case she still felt too weak to eat—fruits, three types of juice, coffee, milk, cheeses, and bread. "Don't tell me you're a cereal kind of girl."

She chuckled at his remark and gave him the most beautiful smile on Terhem Viahta _._ "No, I am not, but I'm not an army either."

Tardieh pulled a chair for her, which she took graciously, and sat on the one beside her.

They dined in silence. She took a few pieces of lamb, potatoes, green veggies and a little bit of juice. He contented himself with a glass of blood mixed with tomato juice and vodka.

After a while, she put her cutlery down, wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and said, "Okay, I'm nicely fed. You can ask your questions now."

Tardieh raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She gave him a small smile. "I'm not psychic. It's just that I would have wanted a few answers myself if I were in your shoes."

He nodded in acknowledgement. She wasn't psychic, but she was damn right. He took another sip and put his drink down on the table. She waited silently.

"You go back to Apa Sâmbetei and interview the dead," Tardieh finally said. It wasn't a question, but Zoricah nodded in response.

Tardieh continued, "That's how you get your information—contacting _inmãs_ of people who had been where you need to be or had experienced what you need to know."

Another short nod.

Suddenly curiosity took over, and he asked, "Who did you contact to find out where I was being kept back in the war?"

"A razbian maid. She had suffered horrible things by Vrajitor's hand. For many months he used her to test his inventions. She shared a cell with you when you were first taken to that place in the mountains," she answered, then added thoughtfully, sadness clouding her gaze, "She died soon after, thank Apa Dobrý."

Tardieh looked at Zoricah's golden eyes and frowned. "Why didn't you tell me you are a _calathor_?"

She just stared back at him, seemingly lost for words. Finally, she shrugged lightly. "How could I?"

"I don't understand. Why couldn't you?" If she had, maybe he would have understood where she was coming from and maybe he wouldn't have misjudged her actions. He wouldn't have been so quick to believe the rumors about her involvement in his father's assassination.

Their time together, no matter how short it had been, had changed him. Seeing her with her band of female fighters, the way she cared about innocent victimsdracos or nothad shaken his resolve. No longer did he believe she had orchestrated that gruesome massacre at his father's castle, but that didn't mean everything between them was now fine and dandy. She was still hiding things from him. He knew it.

Zoricah opened her mouth to answer his question, then decided against it and closed it back again. Tardieh gave her an irritated look and stood up, frustrated. _There she was again with her damned secrets._ Couldn't she realize that was ruining everything?

"I didn't know I could trust you," she blurted out from behind him.

"What about now? Do you still have doubts you can?" he asked, turning to face her once more.

"No. I don't have doubts anymore." She took a deep breath, straightened on the chair, and continued, "I am the daughter of Ucidhere, God of Death, Lord of Apa Sâmbetei."

It was Tardieh's turn to drop his mouth open.

Holy Apa Dobrý!

He knew she was a demigoddess, but because no one had ever raised temples in her honor or venerated her—at least not in a _spiritual_ way—he thought she was the daughter of a minor god, not one of the five gods who'd created their world, not one of the five gods in the Holy Apa Dobrý quintet!

"Tardieh, sit down again, please."

Still flabbergasted, he granted her wish and sat down on the table beside her.

Zoricah picked her fork up and started playing with the leftover food on her plate. "I didn't tell you I was a _calathor_ before because...well, because I didn't really have a good reason to trust you." She raised a hand when he opened his mouth in protest. "You are the king of the archenemies of my people. How many times have dragons been betrayed by your race?"

Those had been his thoughts precisely, but the other way around. _How ironic_.

Tardieh tried to retort, but she stopped him once again. "And you _did_ believe the rumors about me colluding with that dead vampire councilor," she added quickly, rolling her eyes as if the thought disgusted her. "So it's only natural I would raise my defenses, too."

He closed his mouth shut. She had a point.

"And I don't go around telling everyone Ucidhere is my father either," she continued. "This is one of my only weapons against my enemies. If word got out that I'm a _calathor_ , that I can travel to spiritual realms, my enemies—as well as my allies, I'm sure—would try to use me for their own personal benefit. I would have become a puppet in their hands in no time. Do you remember what happened to the last _calathor_?"

Tardieh remembered him well. Having received his tutoring straight from Socrates and Plato, who were also fae mages in Ancient Greece, Epimetheus had been a very wise man. Tardieh's father had convinced him to become a counselor in the Interracial Court Committee.

Animosity bubbling between dragons and vampires in the last decade of the eighteenth century, Epimetheus had tried to mediate a peace agreement before the bloodshed blew out of proportions, but got caught in the dirty politics. Desperate and frustrated, Epimetheus openly recounted to the committee the testimonies of the deceased victims of war, denouncing the atrocities both sovereigns had committed.

Tardieh's father and the draconian lord accused him of manipulating the dead to his advantage. Alone and without protection, he was assassinated soon after.

"Look, Tardieh. I know I have trust issues, and I need to work on that, but how can you blame me?" Zoricah asked sincerely.

"I don't—well, not anymore." It would've been nice to have had this conversation when they'd first met, but he understood her reservations. He hadn't been completely open and honest with her, either. If he were truthful with himself, he would admit that he would've been less hard on her had she been fae or human, not dragon.

Tardieh leaned forward and took her hands on his. "But if we are going to find and destroy whoever is behind these abductions, we need to work together."

"I agree."

"And that means we need to trust each other."

Zoricah didn't reply; she just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, okay, I need to work on my trust issues, too, I admit," Tardieh said with a crooked smile. "So, we're good? No more accusations, no more secrets?"

She took a deep breath and regarded him gravely, before nodding. "No more secrets."

Tardieh knew they had reached a ground-breaking point in their short but intense relationship. This was big not only for her, but for him as well. Now they just had to fight to keep their promise to each other. And taking from their past history, that wouldn't be easy.

But he was willing to try, and would certainly enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.

With less honorable thoughts drifting into his mind, he grabbed the base of her chair and dragged it toward him. Leaning forward, he murmured, "Can I kiss you now?"

She gave him an impish grin, then whispered against his mouth, "I thought you'd never ask."

Her lips touched his lightly, but he felt her warmth all the way to his bones. He parted her lips with his own, and their tongues met in a delicious waltz. _Yes_ , he thought to himself. She had found the scentless almond oil he had surreptitiously left in the bath cabinet earlier.

She put her arms around his neck while he lifted her up and brought her onto his lap, straddling his hips. His cock jumped in delight as her flesh rubbed him in the right places. She wasn't wearing any underwear.

Craving to feel more of her delicious heat, he undid her belt and let the robe fall loosely to the floor. She was magnificent. Fair skin contrasted with dark midnight hair cascading down slender shoulders and added to exotic almond eyes the color of honey—it was the most seductive combination he'd ever encountered.

Tardieh slowly stroke her cheeks, then her shoulders, descending between her breasts, her flat muscular belly, and finally her sex. Zoricah gloriously arched her back in response. Ignoring his aching shaft, he took his time, not wanting to rush things over or miss a detail.

Bringing his lips down, he sucked her right nipple while fondling the left. Her hard tip felt perfect in his mouth. He sucked, teased, nibbled it, then started all over again. As a reward, he heard her moan his name.

She was rubbing herself against him, but his trousers were in the way. As if reading his mind, she lifted herself slightly, opened his zipper, and let his engorged cock out. By Apa Dobrý _,_ her hands were clever on him.

"Are you sure you're not psychic?" he whispered in her ear.

She chuckled and started rubbing his length with her left hand. The right was on the nape of his neck pulling him in for another kiss.

Tardieh groaned when he felt her fondling his cock between her hand and her wet pussy. It was almost too much to bear. Little drops of pleasure were already spilling out of his tip.

Tardieh decided he didn't want to wait any more. He gripped her by the hips and meant to position her right on target, but apparently Zoricah had other plans.

Expertly, she dodged his grip and stood up in front of him. Then slowly, oh so slowly, she went down on her knees between his legs. Her mischievous glare was topped with a lazy smile. Tardieh sat very still, watching her every move. He was ridiculously turned on, his shaft begging to be touched again.

All he managed to do was let out the loud moan when her lips finally descended on his cock. _Holy Apa Dobrý_! She started by lightly licking its length, then massaged the tip with her tongue while her hands caressed his tight balls. After taking her time torturing him for a while, she swallowed him whole.

Tardieh's hips lifted on their own accord. He was close, but he forced himself to hold the orgasm a little longer. He caressed her breasts in return while Zoricah increased the rhythm of her movements, driving him completely insane. Then suddenly, she released his throbbing cock and gazed up at him.

"This is torture, Zoricah. Please..."

He was rewarded with another gorgeous mischievous grin, before she dipped her head again. But instead of going for his cock, she ran her tongue over his balls and dived in, sucking, licking and nibbling his aching scrotum.

"Zoricah!" he cried out in pure pleasure. He was on the edge of reason. This was by far the most powerful torture he had ever endured, and he would gladly submit himself to it again and again.

Finally, answering his pleas, she went back to sucking him deep while her hands fondled his testicles. Tardieh let out a guttural cry as the release hit him hard. Blinded by utter orgasmic ecstasy, without any control over his actions, he let go of sanity and spilled his seed inside her mouth.

He stayed there for a while, quivering and rejoicing in the waves of pleasure that rippled through his body. When he had enough strength to open his eyes, he found her still kneeling down between his legs.

She was looking up at him under long dark eyelashes. "Feeling better?"

His lips curled up in a lazy smile before he reached out and scooped her up in his arms in one smooth movement. His lips found hers again, as he carried her to the king-size bed and tenderly laid her down. He then stood back up to enjoy the viewher delicious naked body glistened in the dimmed light. He inhaled, taking in every little detail. _Mine_.

She arched her back, lifting those gorgeous breasts, teasing him with her sensual manner. "Like what you see?" she asked, giving back his words from their previous encounter.

"Yes. Very much," he growled in reply. His voice came out several octaves below the norm.

Tardieh stripped off his trousers and shirt then, placing one knee on the bed, picked up her left foot and started massaging it. His fingers worked slowly through her muscles, loosening them, relaxing her pressure points.

She arched her back again, but this time it wasn't for tease. She released a soft moan when he extended the massage to her ankles and down her calf. When his hands roamed lightly over the back of her knee, she jumped in surprise.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked, lifting her head off the bed to see more clearly.

He didn't reply. He just looked up at her with the same wicked smile she had given him earlier and carried on. He gently caressed the soft spot behind her knee, the one very few lovers knew about. His fingers were like feathers on her soft skin.

She jumped again. "Tardieh, you have divine fingers," she said between short high-pitched cries.

Tardieh knelt down in front of her and licked the same spot; then slowly made his way to paradise. She was fully wet by the time his lips touched her sex. He opened her thighs and took a deep breath.

"Zoricah, I can't get enough of your scent," he said, nuzzling the delicate pink skin between her legs. "It drives me mad."

"Then have some more," she whispered huskily. "It's all yours to take, Tardieh." She arched her back, opening herself even farther before him.

Tardieh saw red. His fangs extended fully with the sight of her veins pumping alluringly between her folds. His cock followed his fangs and became fully erect instantly. _By_ _Apa Dobrý, he needed to feel her soft opening hemming him in right now!_

It took all his willpower to move away from her intoxicating scent to lay on top of her. Zoricah welcomed him with eagerness. Kissing her deeply, he thrust inside her.

Oh, Mighty Soartas.

They both released long guttural sighs when the powerful sense of wholeness overtook them. He knew Zoricah felt the same way because being inside her felt like...

"Apa Sâmbetei!" Zoricah cried out in pleasure. "More, Tardieh, more. I need to feel you whole inside me." Her voice was frantic in his ear.

"Your wish is my command, my love," he whispered, before pumping ferociously inside her.

Zoricah wrapped her legs around him, lifting her hips to meet him halfway. It intensified his pleasure tenfold. Pure heat emanated from her core. Mighty Apa Dobrý, in record time he felt his orgasm build up again, but forced himself to control it. He wanted her to have her pleasure first. So, ignoring his aching balls that felt like they were about to explode, he continued thrusting hard, in and out, in and out, without mercy. The harder he plunged, the more high-pitched her screams became.

After a few minutes of blinding sexual walloping, her internal muscles finally gripped his shaft before her delicious cry of pleasure reverberated across the room. His followed her suit, and wasn't any fainter. He let his orgasm take him, and once again the waves of ecstasy flooded him like a thunderstorm in a desert.

Utterly satisfied, Tardieh collapsed on top of her, meaning to roll over on the bed, but she held him in place.

"Aren't I squashing you?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"No, you're not. Your body cools me down," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

He lay there, listening to her heartbeat and her soft breathing until she dozed off.

Tardieh slowly lifted his weight up and rolled to the side. Resting his head on his hand, he watched her sleep. Like that in their post-orgasmic quietness, she was the perfect image of calm. The exact opposite of when she was awake. _How ironic._ Yep, his Zoricah was a handful, a delightful contradiction and everything he had tried to run away from all these years.

Tardieh froze. Had he just referred to her as 'his Zoricah'?

Coming to think of it, he had called her "my love" moments ago, hadn't he?

"Fucking Soartas," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. They couldn't have thrown him into a more thorny fate than this.

"What's wrong?" Zoricah's worried voice brought him back to the present. "You're frowning again. What is it?"

He gazed at those golden eyes full of worry and melted inside. "Nothing, my love," he answered stroking her cheeks gently. "Go back to sleep. I'll guard your dreams."

She smiled tenderly and cuddled up against him like a little kitten. Yep, he was well and truly fucked.
Chapter Eighteen

Zoricah closed the bedroom door behind her and contemplated the beautiful hallway before her. Tardieh had told her to go ahead and meet her friends upstairs because he still had a few things to sort out or something—she bet it was just an excuse. But she didn't mind; she too needed some space, some time to think about what had happened between them.

The last couple of days with Tardieh had been an emotional roller coaster. When she woke up in his arms after their amazing lovemaking, she didn't feel suffocated like she usually did. She felt strangely good; she could even dare say she felt at home in his arms. Yeah, and that thought alone had an effect on her psyche like a thunderbolt on the ocean.

Putting her daddy issues aside, she had to admit that there were a lot of endearing qualities in Tardieh. Things that would melt any girl's heart and make her want to set up camp beside him forever.

Unfortunately, to play husband and wife was simply not possible in their case. At the end of the day, it didn't matter how wonderful he made her feel, or how perfectly they seemed to complement each other—she was still the draconian demigoddess, and he was the vampire king. Dragons and vampires—archenemies for millennia. Past, present and future.

Zoricah sighed sadly and started walking up the beautiful marble steps.

She would enjoy his company while it lasted, but once their mission was finished she would say good-bye and leave. Even if a part of her died in the process.

Reaching the long hallway that led to the library, the billiard room, and another never-ending corridor, she focused on the immediate task of taking care of her friends.

She was looking forward to seeing her fighters again. How was Deirdre doing? Had she completely recovered? She already anticipated Sam, Yara, and Drew's protests for having to stay at Tardieh's castle. She was so sure they'd give her hell for making them stay with the vamps for such a long period of time. It didn't matter if it had been not even twenty-four hours—they'd still give her grief. She was certain.

The sound of laughter echoing in the long corridor stopped Zoricah in her tracks. Following it, she headed toward the billiard room. She had never expected to see the sight in front of her when she entered.

Sam was laughing her head off, Yara was performing her victory dance, Joel and Dyam were looking flabbergasted at the billiard table as if trying to understand what had just happened, and the draconian twins were on the leather couch by the bar joyfully watching them all. Hikuro, Tardieh's 2IC, was the only one who seemed detached from it all. He was leaning on the bar, drinking something bloody and looking grimly at Sam.

"I have no idea how the fuck she managed to get those three balls in, man!" Joel exclaimed in frustration.

"They're killing us, Joel," Dyam agreed in genuine astonishment. "Do you realize what that means?"

"And may that serve you right for saying females can't play pool," Sam said, chuckling.

A cold hand massaged Zoricah's lower back in a timid caress, pulling her away from the shocking scene before her. She looked over her shoulder to find Tardieh standing right behind her.

He gave her a tender half-smile, then his gaze landed on the fighters inside the room. Frowning slightly, he whispered confused, "What in Hiad?"

She returned his grin with one of her own then shrugged in response, as if to say "Crazy, right?"

"Zoricah!" Deirdre's voice made everyone pause and look at the couple by the door.

Z took a few steps inside and grinned, "Please don't mind me. I'd kill myself before I came between girls beating boys at pool."

Sam, Yara, and Drew stood up to welcome her back to the land of the living. Deirdre opened her arms but remained seated, so Zoricah sat down on the couch beside her. "How are you feeling?" she asked, hugging the draconian.

"I'm well, Z. It still hurts, but I'll be fine," she replied, teary-eyed. "Thank you so much. I thought I'd never be free from that nightmare."

"You are, sister," Drew said, wiping away a few tears of her own. "It's over. You're safe now."

Zoricah was getting a little emotional herself, so she slowly released Deirdre from the hug.

Yara stopped in front of them, sniffed the air a couple of times, then her dark round eyes narrowed. "You smell different," she blurted out.

"No, I don't," Z replied, with a snort, a little bit too quickly.

"Yeah, you do," Yara replied stubbornly. She leaned forward and sniffed Zoricah's neck. "You smell like..."

"Yara, please, I don't smell like anything, okay?"

Yara straightened, crossed her arms in front of her, and gave Zoricah a wicked 'you-can't-fool-me' smile.

Z rolled her eyes and quickly checked the vampires across the room, testing the waters. They all wore the same knowing look on their faces, but avoided meeting her gaze. A vampire's sense of smell wasn't as acute as a werewolf's but it was sharp enough for them to have picked up Tardieh's scent on her, just like Yara had.

Z glanced at Tardieh, who had decided to watch her walk of shame by the door, arms crossed over his broad chest and an unnerving half-smile lifting his face. _Okay, smoke and mirrors needed pronto._

"Deirdre, I'm so glad you're well and recovering fast," Zoricah said, trying to take everyone's attention away from her sex life.

"Yes, we are all very glad," Tardieh added in a borderline-joking tone, before coming to sit next to Zoricah on the couch. But then the smugness on his face vanished and he added somberly, "You'll always find a safe haven in my kingdom."

"I can't express how much we appreciate your help in rescuing my sister, your highness," Drew said, bowing her head low.

"It was nothing compared to the efforts Zoricah has been sparing to stop these horrific abductions." Tardieh gazed at Zoricah, his eyes oozed admiration without any reservations, and her heart pounded in her chest like African drums.

She looked away as her brain tried to remember how to breathe. _Oh, dear._

Forcing her mind to focus on their mission, she said, "But I'm afraid we're not done yet. We need to find out where the bastard who is behind this is hiding." Zoricah took Deirdre's hands in hers. "I know this is very painful for you, Dee, but we need your help."

Prompted by Zoricah and Tardieh, Deirdre told them everything she could remember about the abductions. She had been taken away at a nightclub in New York City. She remembered dancing with humans and drinking cocktails, then waking up in the trunk of a car. She had first been taken to a warehouse that smelled like rotting flesh and manure, then was transported to the farmhouse where they'd found her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she recounted her ordeal and her captor's experiments.

"I believe he was trying to create a hybrid razbian race by mixing our genes. None of the other females survived the labor," she said through her tears. "He used to give us a foul-smelling formula that made us tired and numb at the same time."

"Maybe they're trying to come up with the perfect soldier, one that has the strength of a vampire and the abilities of a dragon, but is easy to command like the razbians," Dyam suggested.

"He often took samples of our tissue, our fluids, our blood with those weird tools of his," Deirdre added, seeming to agree with Dyam's theory.

"What weird tools?" Tardieh asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Hmm, he had a few. One looked like a metallic pear, and he used it on one of the vampires..." Deirdre shivered. "It was truly awful."

Tardieh looked sharply at Zoricah. Rage mixed with the promise of a much-anticipated revenge contorted his handsome features.

"Vrajitor?" she asked, referring to the draconian torturer who made Tardieh's life a living hell during his months of incarceration back in the war.

"It's got to be. I remember very clearly how proud of his gadgets the motherfucker was," Tardieh replied between clenched teeth. After seeing the twins widen their eyes, he added, "I apologize for the foul language, ladies."

"Do you remember being on the road for a long or a short period of time, Deirdre?" Zoricah asked.

After thinking for a while, Deirdre answered, "Quite a short time, like a couple of hours or so." She put her hand on her forehead as if trying to contain a headache. "It's hard to be exact because they gave me something; I was drifting in and out all the way to that first warehouse."

Drew sat on the floor and started massaging her sister's feet. At once, images of Tardieh's hands on _her_ feet flooded Zoricah's mind. His strong hands massaging her legs, followed by his lips tracing its way to her...

She noticed Yara's eyes on her again. Blushing, Zoricah looked away.

"Hikuro, get me a list of all abattoirs located in a one-hundred-and-fifty mile radius around New York City," Tardieh said. "Joel, I want you to find out if anyone has seen anything in that club. I want a description of everyone who danced close to Deirdre that night. Dyam, we will need extra ammo for Zoricah's fighters."

With a short nod of acknowledgement, the three vampires left the room to complete the tasks given by their king.

"Time to get ready," Zoricah told her own fighters. "Let's reconvene back here in one hour."

"Deirdre, Drew, you're welcome to stay here in my castle while we're out on the mission," Tardieh said, standing up. "But I can also offer you an escort should you wish to leave for your homeland right away."

The twins looked at each other; then Drew answered for them both. "We thank you for your hospitality, your highness, and we're honored to accept your invitation to stay."

"We'd like to wait for your return," Deirdre added, bowing low.

Zoricah stood up and led her fighters to find Dyam and get ammo'd up.

_So this is it_ , she thought to herself. Tonight they were going to end these bloody abductions one way or another.

**********

Sam was just leaving the billiard room when she felt eyes upon her. She looked suspiciously around the hallway, the library entrance, the high ceiling and then finally at the staircase.

Hikuro stood there, at the base of the long marble stairway, watching her. The light coming from the corridor cast an eerie shadow on his tall figure.

As soon as he saw she had noticed him, he took a step forward. His beautiful chiseled jaw was hard, his hypnotic narrow eyes as cold as ice.

She didn't want any confrontation—Apa Dobrý knew how hard she had been trying to avoid his fiery stares ever since they met again in the park—so she decided to ignore him and started walking down the long hallway. But as soon as she turned around the corner, he appeared in front of her. _Damn it!_

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"My thoughts, precisely," he replied, and Sam swallowed dry. He could be a very intimidating male.

Not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how nervous he made her feel, Sam lifted her chin up, taking on a nonchalant posture. "Hikuro, I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I am sorry for that, but I'm not going to apologize for what happened at the nightclub."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, as if he didn't believe she dared to mention the occasion to him.

"We need to do what is necessary to accomplish our missions, the same way you vampires have to as well," she added, sounding very professional. "I know you can relate to that."

His features took on the coldest stare Sam had ever seen in her life. "I am watching you, human," Hikuro said darkly. Then taking a step closer, he added, "Tardieh may have become smitten by your leader's cunt, but I'm not as easily deceived."

Sam's jaw dropped to the floor. _How rude!_ Hearing such offense against the woman who had saved her life made her cheeks burn, but not from embarrassment—from fury.

Without being able to—or wanting to—stop herself, she closed her fist and punched Hikuro in the jaw. Just to be sure he felt it good, she added a few bolts of energy to it.

His head snapped sideways with the blow.

"The only thing you should be watching is your filthy mouth when talking about Zoricah," Sam said still wanting to punch him a few more times. _How dare he? How dare he talk about Zoricah like—_

Sam never finished that thought. Out of nowhere, she felt her body being dragged backwards and hitting the wall. When she recovered, she saw Hikuro's dark eyes a few inches from hers, his elongated, sharp fangs glistened against the dim light. He was securing her in place by her wrists, which had been slammed against the wall above her head.

_Oh, crap_.

She tried to kick him, but he quickly moved his knees between her legs, effectively blocking her blows. Sam felt his muscular body enclosing hers, pressing her against the wall. She couldn't avoid memories of their kisses at the club rom flooding her mindhot, passionate, wild.

"Next time you hit me, woman, I _will_ hit you back," he warned her.

Sam tried to remind herself that the man she'd kissed at the club was completely different from the ogre holding her against the wall. "Oh please. Don't make me laugh, vamp." She snorted. "If you want to trounce your frustrations by going at me, that's perfectly fine. I can take you anytime, anywhere."

"Ha!" It was his turn to snort sarcastically. "You? Take me?"

"Anytime, anywhere," Sam repeated challengingly.

"Like right now?"

"Yeah, right bloody now, vamp!"

Yelling obscenities at him, she tried to free her wrists, but Hikuro held on to them tightly. _Damn it, he was really strong!_ So she focused on using the only weapon she had: her extremely volatile energy.

Taking deep breaths, she brought her energy forth. When she felt her hands tingle with little shocks, she channeled power to her wrists, her legs, her breasts and everywhere else his body was touching hers.

His eyes went wide with the realization of what was about to happen. _Yeah, that's right, Hikuro, you're about to get fried...again._

Before she could see what was coming, his lips smashed into hers, making Sam lose her concentration.

It was an angry kiss, but not violent. She expected him to back away after successfully blocking her attack, but she was wrong. After the surprise attack, he didn't withdraw—he did exactly the opposite. His lips caressed hers; his tongue massaged hers invitingly, wanting more.

Sam felt her body lighting up all the way to her core. She couldn't stop herself and kissed him back with the same eagerness. His hands finally released her wrists and enveloped her waist. His hips met hers. His long hard shaft pressed against her. Sam released a soft moan when his expert hands travelled over her breasts, caressing them, teasing her.

His mouth left hers and made its way down her throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. _Oh, gods._

"Thank you for your professional services," he whispered in her ear, shoving something down her cleavage.

Out of nowhere, Sam felt him vanish between her arms and almost fell face-first on the floor from the sudden lack of support. Cold wind replaced the heat of his body. _What in Hiad?_ Sam reached for the top of her dress and found a bunch of dollar bills between her breasts.

Frozen in place, she watched Hikuro walk down the hallway and disappear into the shadows without a second glance at her. She was still holding the bunch of dollar bills in her hand when teardrops of pure light started streaming down her cheeks.
Chapter Nineteen

_It was quite a chilly night for the usually steamy New York summer_ , Zoricah thought, as she crouched beside Tardieh on the grass behind a large hedge plant.

The slaughterhouse complex in front of them consisted of two buildings bordered by an electrical fence, which was marked out by four surveillance towers. The main structure was a long warehouse with a tall, arched tin roof and concrete walls. Apart from the twelve small windows spread across the south and north walls, there were only two exits: the main one faced east, and a smaller one located on the opposite side. The second building was an abandoned cattle shed, which was being used as a makeshift parking lot.

After Hikuro and Joel had returned with the information Tardieh had asked, they'd narrowed down the list of possible slaughterhouses that could be sheltering their enemy's operations to three. After a little more digging, they'd found out that only one—located in Columbia County, about one-hundred-and-twenty-five miles north of New York City—had changed owners in the past two years and apparently was no longer in operation.

They had planned the surprise attack dividing the seven warriors into four groups. Sam, Yara, and Joel would attack from the south while Zoricah and Tardieh would once more create a diversion at the main gate located on the east side, attracting as many guards as possible, leaving Hikuro and Dyam clear to free the hostages likely being kept inside the main building.

But once they all arrived at the destination, expecting an abandoned slaughterhouse, they had quite a surprise. It was not abandoned; it was buzzing with activity. The high electrical fence was being guarded by four razbians positioned in the watch towers. There were heavily-armed razbian fighters in front of the main building, more by the fence's main gate, and a few more were removing contents out of the main building and loading them into two container trucks.

"Tardieh, they're relocating," Zoricah whispered.

"Vrajitor most likely didn't want to take any risks after we destroyed the farmhouse near Lake Placid," Tardieh agreed.

He was about to speed-dial their teams and order the attack when the house's main door burst open and two razbian's dragged out a group of fifteen or so female vampires. They were tied up in silver chains by the wrists and ankles, virtually blocking their ability to teleport themselves to freedom.

The two razbian guards poked them with their rifles, forcing them toward one of the container trucks. One of the females, who seemed to be a little less drugged than the others, tried to punch the guns out of their hands and was rewarded with the rifle's butt to her temple. She stumbled sideways, dragging the others down to the ground with her. The two razbians started kicking them to stand back up and, to Zoricah's despair, some females didn't even try to block their blows. After a few tense moments, the hostages managed to stand up and were promptly locked inside the container truck.

Zoricah saw Tardieh's fangs extend fully. He was breathing heavily, his bright red eyes locked on the two razbians abusing the female vampires. He was a reflection of her own anger boiling in her veins.

"We need to move fast," he growled.

Zoricah speed-dialed Hikuro and Dyam, who were hidden half a mile north of the property, waiting for their signal. "Joel, change of plans. The hostages were taken out of the main building and are now locked in a truck by the main entrance on the east side. I'll fly in and try to call the razbians' attention to the west side. This way, you can get the female vampires out of the truck and—"

"No." Tardieh's dark command stopped Zoricah midsentence. "I will not let you be the bait. It's too dangerous. There are too many of them."

Zoricah left Hikuro on standby and faced Tardieh. "And what exactly do you plan on doing?"

_"I_ will go and create the diversion," he replied sternly. His eyes were still locked on the slaughterhouse in front of them.

Zoricah took a deep breath and counted to three. She didn't have time for Tardieh's macho ego fit, but she needed to nip that evil in the bud straight away before it grew to become a delusional habit. "So you think you can lure twenty odd razbians away from the main entrance, overpower them all by yourself, kill the four others who are guarding the towers and be back home in time for dinner, dear?"

Tardieh's gaze finally turned to her, confusion suffused his face.

"I made beef casserole, you know. Your favorite," she added with the perfect fake-grin.

"Zoricah, I don't think"

"Exactly. You're not thinking," Zoricah cut him off sharply. "You're forgetting who you're talking to, King Tardieh. The plan has been agreed upon, and we will stick to it because you need me in the skies as much as I need you backing me up on the ground."

Tardieh opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself, swore under his breath and returned his attention to the slaughterhouse.

Presuming no answer was a good answer, Z speed-dialed the others and confirmed the slight change of plans. Without another word, she turned away from Tardieh to shapeshift in the woods, but she felt his strong hands on her arms, holding her back.

Tardieh exhaled a breath. "Be careful. Please."

Zoricah's heart skipped a beat. She was expecting the typical macho reaction, the 'go back to the kitchen' kind, not the worry in his eyes and those short but caring words. She felt a knot clog her throat. "You, too," she replied softly. She then reached across and kissed his lips. "See you soon."

She found a large shrub area not too far from their hiding place and undressed then, standing completely naked, she took a deep breath and brought her dragon forth. It stirred inside her, her life heat building up from her core all the way to her limbs. She straightened her back and let the large wings spread in the dark night. Her smooth fair skin gave place to tough leathery golden pelt. Next, it was time for her limbs to grow and her hands and feet to turn into large razor-sharp claws. Shape shifting wasn't usually a pleasant experience for most creatures, but Zoricah loved it. Her golden dragon was who she really was, and bringing it forth felt like finally setting her _inmã_ free.

Fully shifted, Z glared at the four towers guarding the slaughterhouse through her serpent-like eyes. Smiling, she thought, _Dinner time_.

**********

Tardieh saw Zoricah disappear behind the large shrub. He had to call the attention of as many razbians as possible before she had the time to shift. He knew he was being stupid by trying to stop her from fighting, but he couldn't help himself. His almost five-hundred years of existence was screaming to protect what he loved. So, yeah, the same inner-self wasn't enjoying seeing Zoricah put herself in danger like that.

But he also knew she would never want to see him again if he didn't respect her as an equal leader and warrior. Come to think of it, she was almost as old as he was, so his fears were rationally unfounded. _Rationally_. If only one's heart could see reason as easily as one's mind.

After scanning the area, he focused on his target and teleported to the other side of the electrical fence. Stupid razbians, as if a mere fence would stop any vampire from invading their compound. He placed himself between the main gate and the buildingthis way the guards at the main entrance would need to leave their posts to deal with their uninvited guest.

It worked.

Tardieh was welcomed by three bulky guards who came at him almost as soon as he had materialized. Combat knife in one hand, knees bent outward slightly and body weight evenly distributed on both legs, he was ready. _Come to papa, bitches_.

With his left hand firmly open and fingers extended out, Tardieh hammered his first opponent in the ribs while slashing his exposed throat with his knife. The second opponent managed to strike him with a powerful front kick which sent him stumbling to the ground. Recovering fast, Tardieh deflected the second kick aimed at his face with his left forearm then, raising his right knee straight up, he directed his right heel forward and smashed his opponent's knee cap.

Standing up swiftly, he turned his body sideways, away from the third razbian who was coming at him fast. Using his speed, he raised his left leg high up and bent his foot so that the curve of his instep was parallel to the ground. The guard never saw the powerful kick that hooked the side of his face. Tardieh pulled his semiautomatic Glock .17 Gen 4 out and shot all three guards between the eyes.

The clicking sound of a bullet being fired reached his ears and he dropped on the ground at once. After assessing where the attack was coming from, he spotted the guard in the east tower. _Stupid razbians_. _Didn't they know bullets can't kill vampires?_

He spotted five other razbians running fast toward him. _Good boys_ , he thought, just before dematerializing and reappearing again farther west of the main building. "Now let's play hide and seek."

Tardieh had intended to piss the razbians off with a little cat-and-mouse game and thus alluring them away from the main entrance and the container truck where the hostages were, but when he turned around to check if the guards were on his trail, a massive shadow blocked the moonlight above him. He looked up to see what was happening and got lost for words.

Large golden wings, fiery eyes, dark barbs delineating a powerful back all the way down to a long tail, Zoricah's dragon must have been a good ten feet long with a wingspan of probably twice that length. She wasn't soaring as other dragons he'd encountered, but she was certainly more elegant. Her dragon had a feminine yet dominant aura about it, exuding power and charm at the same time.

At once, the razbian militia switched targets from Tardieh to the menacing dragon above them and started firing their machine guns in an effort to bring her down.

Hovering effortlessly above the east tower, Zoricah exhaled a fireball and, within seconds, the whole structure melted to the ground. While using the sharp spade at the end of her golden tail to keep the razbians away from the trucks where the hostages were, she exhaled another blazing squall on the cattle shed, setting all the parked cars on fire.

"Yes!" Tardieh cheered silently. She had virtually handicapped their enemies from fleeing the scene.

As sharp as a hawk, she turned toward Tardieh and flew west, successfully attracting all guards toward them, including the ones guarding the remaining towers.

Tardieh raised his Glock and hit three thugs who were about to shoot Zoricah again. She flew past him, and he heard her beautiful low voice thanking him from above.

When he turned around to reply, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A large figure was trying to sneak out incognito through the back door. At once, he recognized the motherfucker.

"Yerik?" Tardieh growled after materializing right in front of his father's former councilor. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Prince Tardieh, long time, no see," Yerik replied with his characteristic dark vibrato voice, as if two people were speaking at the same time.

_What in Hiad?_ "I thought you were dead," Tardieh exclaimed, having a hard time believing his own eyes. "You were killed during the attack on my father's castle at the end of the war."

"Now, now, prince, no one has ever told you that, you assumed that part, didn't you? Like you assumed a lot of things during your sovereignty."

The coin finally dropped. _Sonofabitch!_ Yerik was the vampire councilor with whom Zoricah had supposedly plotted his father's fallat least that was the story fed to him all those years ago. But now that he knew Zoricah was innocent, seeing the bastard well and alive, sneaking out the back door, made much more sense than whatever bullshit his senate had led him to believe. The dragon lord would've needed someone deep within the vampire's political engine to carry out such an attack on their most secured stronghold. And who was better equipped to deliver precious security intel than the vampire king's closest advisor? Yerik had betrayed Tardieh's father, conspired with the dragon lord and started the whole war between their races.

"For what?" Tardieh growled, disgust seeping out of ever word.

"Beg your pardon?" Yerik asked, sounding truly confused.

"Because of you, millions of innocent people died, and both our countries devastated. For what?" Tardieh repeated, blocking the prick's way out. "What did the dragon lord promise you that my father couldn't offer?"

Yerik's pretend-nonchalance morphed into cold disdain. "The vampire crown, you fool. What else?"

Tardieh saw red but a hint of satisfaction enveloped his heart. It was time for some long overdue payback.

He looked around, then probed, "Where's Vrajitor?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about," Yerik countered.

"Bullshit!" Tardieh barked. "You've been torturing those girls using Vrajitor's inventions. Don't even bother denying it, Yerik, I became very acquainted with the fucker's work during those long months of incarceration."

Yerik didn't reply.

Tardieh took a step forward, towering over the traitor. "I won't repeat it again, Yerik. Where's Vrajitor?" His voice reflected the dark hunger for revenge eating at his heart.

Yerik lifted his chin up as if ready to retort but pulled out a gun instead. Then, he fired twice.

The bullets hit Tardieh's sternum with a weird popping sound.

After feeling disoriented for a moment, he straightened up, and was about the scorn Yerik for thinking that mere silver bullets would stop himthey might slow him down, but they certainly wouldn't prevent him from killing the prickwhen his skin started burning from the inside out.

_What in Hiad_?

Looking down, he saw his chest being rapidly eaten up. Those weren't normal silver bullets; they were made of a strange acid that was corroding his skin at an unimaginable fast rate. The wound was already spreading throughout his torso and lower abdomen. Instead of rejuvenating instantly, his skin was being charred like a thin piece of paper under a hot blaze. Unable to keep his balance, Tardieh fell down on his knees.

Incredulously, he looked up and saw his attacker raise the strange gun once again, straight at his forehead.

**********

Zoricah couldn't believe her eyes. From high above, she saw Tardieh fall down on his knees in front of Yerik. The razbian thugs were closing in fast. Soon they would reach him and kill him on the spot. That is, if Yerik didn't burn him down first. _What in Hiad was in that gun?_ Contrary to folklore, vampires could only be killed by the sun, fire, or decapitation. Silver bullets slowed them down and prevented them from teleporting, but apart from that they couldn't do much damage. Zoricah had never heard of any bullet being as lethal as the one Yerik had shot Tardieh with.

She had to think fast. She needed to be very precise; a fireball would effectively take Yerik down, but would also hit Tardieh. She couldn't risk it.

Taking a deep breath, Z ignored the shots being fired at her by the approaching razbians and exhaled a fire whip straight at Yerik.

It did the job.

Just before the former vampire councilor pulled the trigger, her blazing lash hit him on the face, setting it afire like dry leaves under the summer sun. It wasn't going to kill him, but at least it would give Tardieh more time to recover from the strange acid that seemed to be consuming his flesh.

From a distance, Zoricah saw Joel strike another group of razbians who were attacking from the north. Sam followed right behind with her thunderbolts. Yara's black panther was by the container trucks, helping Hikuro and Dyam free the hostages. She was snapping their silver chains open with her sharp teeth.

Zoricah threw a fireball on seven razbians closing in on her from the east. Four caught fire and rapidly disintegrated before her. The others who managed to shirk her blast tried to carry on with the attack, but soon had to focus their attention on dodging their burning associates, who were blindly colliding with each other.

_That will slow them down,_ she thought, before turning her attention back toward the slaughterhouse's west exit.

Tardieh's wound was still quite ugly, but it had shrunk considerably. He had stood up again and was now fighting with Yerik for the acid gun.

He evaded Yerik's new shot by ducking out of range at the same time he grabbed Yerik's wrist. Next, he swung around while still holding on to it tightly and smacked his elbow on Yerik's chin a couple of times. Yerik's head snapped backward on an impossible angle, making him loose his grip on the firearm. Standing with his right side facing Yerik, Tardieh then threw a powerful side kick at his opponent. The front of Tardieh's boot hit Yerik hard on the temple, knocking him sideways.

"You fight just like your father." Zoricah heard Yerik's double-vibrato voice from above. "You know, he lasted quite a long time," the bastard added, wiping the blood off his mouth. "Killed half of my men before they managed to take him down."

"Shut the fuck up," Tardieh demanded in a low, dark voice.

"Your father prided himself so much of his fighting skills," Yerik uttered before his dreadful laughter echoed around. "'A male of worth mustn't require a shield,' the stupid despot used to belt out." Yerik tried to circle around and strike, but Tardieh quickly blocked his move. "I can see _your_ fighting skills have improved."

"It's been two-hundred fucking years, Yerik. What did you expect?" Tardieh replied, playing the game.

Yerik raised an eyebrow at Tardieh, who was still blocking his path. He had nowhere to run. "To be honest, I was expecting you to have remained the brainless playboy who only had eyes for easy pussies. After all, why change? Your life was great."

Tardieh let out a low growl, but didn't attack Yerik.

Zoricah blasted a few more razbians who were trying to go to their leader's aid and attack Tardieh from the north. Her gaze met Tardieh's. She didn't press him to get on with it. She knew he needed this encounter with Yerik; he needed his answers.

"Oh, Tardieh, Tardieh. You shouldn't hate me," the prick uttered. "You should thank me. If I hadn't killed your father, you wouldn't have become king. You would still be living that futile life of yours, chasing those wanton _sujhas_ around and hiding under your daddy's robes. How many times had your father failed to make a man out of you?" He shook his head as if the whole world was his oyster. "But, look at you now! I opened your eyes to the reality of life and unleashed the king inside you."

"Opened my eyes?" Tardieh repeated, his jaw tight in rage.

"Why, who do you think told the dragon lord which whorehouse to find you so that they could capture you?"

_Oh, Mighty Soartas._ Yerik had just admitted to not only having betrayed Tardieh's father, but also having been the one that engineered Tardieh's kidnapping, which led to months of imprisonment.

Tardieh's eyes narrowed in pure hatred, his hands clenched into fists. Emitting the darkest war cry Zoricah had ever heard, he advanced toward his father's murderer, who managed to block his first punch but was not expecting the second one, which hit him hard in the left ribs. And yet, Tardieh didn't stop.

He overwhelmed Yerik with a series of crosses and jabs with an astonishing speed that even Zoricah couldn't follow.

"Tardieh, behind you!" she warned just before a razbian guard, who had come out of the west exit, fired at him. He ducked, and the acid bullet passed, flying by just a few inches away from his head. Without missing a beat, Zoricah exhaled a blazing jet at the damn guard, setting him on fire.

Taking advantage of Tardieh's momentary distraction, Yerik pulled Tardieh's head down and struck him on the chin with his left knee. Tardieh stumbled backward but managed to stand his ground and block Yerik's second kick with his hands and, while holding on to Yerik's foot, he twisted them in a powerful motion. Yerik fell down, but not before striking Tardieh's ribs with his other leg. Both vampires went to the ground.

Tardieh reached across and grabbed the razbian's gun that had fallen a few feet from the door. Yerik used the same line of attack and went for his gun in the opposite direction.

At the same time that Tardieh pulled the trigger, Zoricah exhaled a fire whip at Yerik. Her dragon blaze, added to the strange acid, formed an explosive combination. Yerik's flesh disintegrated in front of them in record time. Zoricah had never seen a vampire as old as Yerik crumble so fast.

As Tardieh stood up in front of the melting corpse and watched it disintegrate into dust, Zoricah saw the huge weight on his shoulders literally disappear. Her lover then gazed up and gave her a sad but reassuring smile. It was the smile of someone who had just had closure. She was glad he had had the opportunity to get his long overdue answers, but most of all she was glad he was alive and unharmed.

Z tensed her muscles to fly up high and go check on Yara and the hostageshopefully they were all safe and sound by nowbut her body didn't obey.

What in Hiad?

Unable to control her motions, she lost her balance, her wings wobbling uselessly in the air. She plummeted down, taking half of the slaughterhouse's roof with her. Trying to find out what the fuck was happening, she saw an enormous wound rapidly corroding the dragon flesh on her left hip.

And then the pain hit her.

Mighty Soartas, it felt like someone was ripping her flesh open with cold ice! It burned, but it was strangely cold at the same time. Her left leg had also been hit and was being quickly consumed by the strange chemical. The razbians had probably hit her with the same acid bullet Yerik shot Tardieh with.

Zoricah felt her breathing growing shallow at the same speed her limbs were getting numb. Feeling weak and dizzy, she let her head fall backward on the ground.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Z saw Sam yell her name before her thunderbolts shredded a razbian guard who was dangerously close by. Dyam, followed by Hikuro, Joel, and Yara, joined in.

Z tried desperately to tell them to go away, to save themselves before they were also killed by the strange acid, but no words came out. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and tried not to cry out from the unbearable pain devouring her sanity.

A strange thought flooded her mind through the white painwhen she opened her eyes back again, she would probably find herself in Apa Sâmbetei's colorful First River, and for the first time, she wouldn't stop. She wasn't afraid or worried about making her final journey to the land of the souls, though. She knew her _inmã_ would be welcomed there. The Soartas had been strangely kind to her.

They had put Yara, Sam, and the draconian twins in her life. They had become her apprentices, her loyal friends, her legacy. There was no such thing as immortality in their world. All sons of Apa Sâmbetei met their fate one day or another—that was reality, pure and simple. Too bad today had been her day.

With an unexpected lump in her throat, Zoricah realized she had only one regret: she wished she had told Tardieh she loved him.
Chapter Twenty

As soon as he saw Zoricah struggle to fly, Tardieh knew something was wrong. With his heart in his throat, he ran to her, killing a couple of razbians on the way.

"Hikuro! Form a barricade around her!" he yelled to his second in command.

The moment Tardieh reached Zoricah, the four warriors and the black panther closed in a tight circle around them, safely obstructing any razbian attacks.

"Beware of their bullets!" he heard Sam shouting over the battle noises. "They're made of some weird acid."

Tardieh looked at the beautiful golden dragon before him. Her wounds were expanding rapidly. "Zoricah, Zoricah!" He tried to wake her up.

Slowly her eyes fluttered open and she let out a painful groan before smoke came out of her nostrils.

"No, don't talk. Save your strength," he quickly told her. He knew how badly those wounds hurt and consumed one's energy. The acid was a strange mixture that ate from the inside out. He had only managed to fight it off because she had successfully diverted Yerik's attention, giving his body time to regain enough energy to close the wound. But dragons didn't have the same healing abilities as vampires did, and Zoricah's two gunshot wounds were infesting her entire limbs, rapidly consuming her flesh. Tardieh realized he could see all the way down to her bones.

"Please, please, Apa Dobrý, don't take her away from me, not now," he prayed heatedly.

Another puff of smoke told him she was in great pain. Soon the acid would reach her heart, and that would be the end of it. The end of _them_.

With sad amazement, he saw her beautiful golden leather slowly shift into smooth skin. Her large snake-like irises went back to the golden color he'd grown to love so much. Next, her long tail receded and sharp claws yielded to soft hands and feet. Bit by bit, the ten foot long dragon disappeared, giving way to his beautiful lover. She lay on the ground naked, the wounds now covering her entire left side. She whimpered in distress.

Without knowing what else to do, Tardieh hugged Zoricah, accommodating her on his lap. Trying hard not to touch the wounded flesh, he kissed her on the lips. She trembled, and he saw a small smile appear on her beautiful exotic face.

Desperation hit him. He could not live without her; he would not survive if she died.

"Fuck that! I'll give you my life if you save her," he shouted to no one and to everyone. He bent down and kissed her lips again while hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

Out of nowhere, a female voice invaded his mind. _Your blood. The answer is in your blood_.

"My blood?" Tardieh repeated, startled. "What do you mean by 'my blood'?" he asked that strange voice in his head, but received no reply.

Suddenly a strange image engulfed his mind and he found himself in a clearing where dragons and vampires congregated. Both races were merry and seemed to be celebrating, feasting. Huge slabs of stone were aligned almost perfectly, forming three large circles. The outer one, which encased the other two, should have been over three hundred feet in diameter. Males, females, and children were dancing around the loops of stone. They were all dressed in animal skin and woven fabrics made of flax. The sun shone brightly in the sky, but none of the vampires there seemed to mind it.

Where was this place? Was he in the beginning of time, when all races were said to have lived harmoniously together?

Tardieh followed a few draconian children toward the center of the third inner ring. A group of fully-grown vampires and dracos were playing drums made of animal skin and wood. In the center of their musical circle, a beautiful female was dancing. Tardieh recognized her immediately: Zmyzel, the goddess of life. Dressed in a light-colored transparent tunic, she was dancing sensuously to the spellbinding rhythm. Tardieh was instantly hypnotized by her. Their eyes met, and she offered her hand in invitation. He strolled toward her with the goal to get some answers _where was this place, where was Zoricah?_  but as soon as he walked into the musical circle, a strange force pulled him forward.

Suddenly, he _was_ Zmyzel.

Completely flabbergasted, he saw his ancestors through her eyes and the feeling of being alive, in peace, overwhelmed him. Then his head snapped to the left. A male draco was drinking from a vampire's wrists. His sips were lethargic, sensual. His male vampire friend was caressing his hair in invitation. After a long time of ecstasy, the draco lifted his head up and licked his lips, as if savoring the lingering taste of the red liquid.

_What the fuck? Dracos don't drink blood_.

But despite his rational confusion, Tardieh could feel the life energy coursing through the draconian's veins, giving him the power to run faster, to dematerialize, to heal. In utter astonishment, Tardieh repeated the magic words. "My blood..."

Blinking fast, he found himself once more at the slaughterhouse, Zoricah still lay in his arms and his five friends were barricading them from the few surviving razbians.

She took another shallow breath in his arms, signaling there was no time to waste.

Without a second thought, Tardieh ripped the sleeve of his already burned shirt and opened a deep wound on his wrist with his fangs, then he raised it above his lover's lips.

"But note this, Vampire King," Zmyzel's voice resonated in his head once again, making him pause for a moment. "You will sacrifice your prolonged existence to save hers. By giving her your blood, your lives will be forever linked. If she dies, you die. If she triumphs, you triumph."

Tardieh opened his mouth to say "I don't fucking care," but reconsidered. He didn't think the goddess would appreciate such foul language.

A sensual chuckle echoed in his mind. "Forsooth, Vampire King, the choice is yours."

Once he could feel the goddess of life was out of his head, Tardieh focused on the task at hand: saving his love's life. He had to. There was no other choice and, frankly, he was tired of living a lonely existence.

He had finally found someone whom he respected, cared for, no matter how fast or how crazy that sounded. Even though one would have advised him not to make haste on life-changing decisions, he knew deep in his _inmã_ that the world without Zoricah would lose its color. If today was truly her day to cross the Three Rivers and meet her father in Apa Sâmbetei, he would gladly follow.

With renewed determination, he opened the wound on his left wrist again and raised it above Zoricah's mouth.

Nothing happened. She didn't seem to be feeling it, let alone drinking it.

Tardieh shook her softly, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Zoricah. Zoricah, my love, you need to drink this. You have to drink my blood in order to live." He tried again, but she didn't respond. _No, no, no! It can't be too late! Come on!_

Resting her head on his legs, he opened her mouth with his right hand while dripping his blood inside her mouth. This time, it hit the mark. Zoricah jolted in response, and the next few drops fell on her cheek instead of into her mouth.

"Fuck!" Tardieh shouted in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he repeated the drill, but this time, he was expecting her draconian body's reaction to his vampire blood and held her chin tightly in place.

After he had opened his wrists for the fifth time, Tardieh felt a hand touch his shoulders. Startled, he looked up. Hikuro was crouched beside him and the other four warriors were standing there, looking somber. The battle had ended. A carpet of dead razbians filled the ground before him.

"My Lord, she's not responding anymore." Hikuro's voice resonated faintly in Tardieh's ears, as if he were in another dimension.

Tardieh looked down at Zoricah. She still lay unconscious on his lap, her wounds were still taking up half of her body, and white ugly foam had started coming out of them. She felt cold in his arms, so cold.

Sam crouched beside Hikuro. "It's time to go," she said weakly. Tears of pure light trickled down her cheeks. "It's time to let her go."
Chapter Twenty-One

Zoricah felt like road kill. Her body ached, her head was about to explode, her throat was as dry as a desert.

_That wasn't a very nice way of arriving in_ _Apa Sâmbetei,_ she thought. She was probably lying down on the rocks before the First River.

Tentatively, she opened her eyes.

_Hmm, that's weird_.

The room before her didn't look like anything in Apa Sâmbetei. It actually looked a lot like Tardieh's sleeping quarters.

"Hi," Tardieh's deep voice reached her ears. She knew it was a trick of her mind, but nonetheless, it warmed her heart. By Apa Dobrý, she would miss him; she would miss him dearly.

Wanting to hear his voice one last time, Z turned her head and saw Tardieh's handsome face in front of her. He was sitting on the chaise lounge next to the bed. How cruel were the Soartas for tricking her that way.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Z blinked a few times.

That couldn't be happening. She had felt Apa Sâmbetei calling her. She had even seen her father. _Or had she?_ Confusing images popped into her head. The mist near Apa Sâmbetei's First River, Ucidhere's light warming her, him talking to Tardieh, strong hands smoothing her aching skin with a warm washcloth.

"Where am I?" she asked, utterly confused.

"Home," he said.

He then stood up and brought her a glass of water, as if he had read her mind. It was difficult to lift her head, so he helped her, and she managed to drink the soothing liquid.

Her headache dwindled a little.

"I don't understand. How...?"

"Did it happen?" He finished her question, helping her drink a second glass of water. "Well, we're now linked forever."

_"What?_ " Zoricah choked and started coughing like a mad woman. His statement did the job; it definitely woke her up. Sitting up, she swallowed hard. "What do you mean 'we're now linked forever'?"

Diligently, Tardieh explained what had happened from the minute she passed out at the slaughterhouse to the moment he brought her back to his castle, or _home_ , as he had referred it. He told her about Zmyzel and the vision he had with the dragons and vampires congregating, and what he had to do to save her life.

Zoricah listened intently, flabbergasted. She couldn't believe Zmyzel had come to his aid. The goddess of life wasn't well-known for her generosity, especially with a demigoddess who refused to settle down and procreate, like Zoricah.

"We also found out that Yerik had other facilities in Europe," Tardieh continued. "Three of the fifteen females we rescued were abducted in London."

"London?"

"Yep, and they were taken to some place near there before being flown to New York," he added, handing her a food plate full of cold meat, cheese, and bread.

Taking a few slices of succulent Serrano Ham, Zoricah said, "But that can only mean that Yerik wasn't working alone, that"

"He had an associate," Tardieh said, finishing her sentence.

"Vrajitor?"

"Maybe."

Zoricah exhaled sharply. "We need to go to Europe."

Nodding in agreement, Tardieh informed her of their progress. "Joel and Dyam are analyzing those strange acid bullets they hit us with, while Sam and Yara are trying to find any useful information through your connections in London." Filling up her empty glass with orange juice, he added, "We'll leave as soon as you're well enough to travel."

After giving her time to enjoy a few sips of the juice, he said warily, "You've had an interesting visitor."

"Who?" Z asked raising an eyebrow.

"The god of death, Ucidhere."

Her brows lifted in surprise, just as her mind acknowledged the memory of having seen her father talking to Tardieh. But then she remembered her father's ridiculous deadline. " _You have forty-eight hours to bring me another_ inmã _._ "

"Oh, mighty Soartas, what day is today? How long have I been unconscious?" Zoricah tried to get out of the bed but did it too fast. Her head spun around a couple of times, making her lose her balance. The next second, she was being held by Tardieh's strong arms, and the food plate she had been holding sat safely on the bedside table. He had pulled his speedy act again.

"I know you're eager to get out of bed, my love, but you'll have to take it easy," Tardieh drawled, helping her sit down again.

"You don't understand," Z said, trying hard not to just lay there in his arms and enjoy the miracle of being given one more chance with him. "I need to find a soul to cross the Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei."

At his confused frown, she explained, "Ucidhere let me take Deirdre out of Apa Sâmbetei—well, actually she wasn't officially in Apa Sâmbetei yet—but anyway, he wanted your soul as a replacement for Deirdre's."

"Oh?"

"Don't worry, I said no," she added quickly. "I told him I would find another _inmã_ who would be willing to sacrifice himself within forty-eight hours." Zoricah looked frantically at the large clock on the wall. It didn't provide much comfort. It just told her it was three o'clock, but of what day?

"Well, that explains it, then," Tardieh stated.

Zoricah darted her glance back to meet his gorgeous green eyes. "Explains what?"

"Ucidhere told me to give you a message. He said, 'Tell Zoricah her debt is settled.' I didn't understand it then, but I do now."

"So please enlighten me because I'm completely lost." Z tried to stand up again, but the room spun around for a second time. She decided it was best to stay where she was.

Tardieh took her hands in his. "Our lives are linked, my love. I am not immortal anymore."

"But vampires aren't immortals. Your life span is just really, _really_ long."

He nodded and a ghost of a smiled played on his lips. "True, but we're by far the longest living creatures of Apa Sâmbetei."

The coin dropped like a brick in an empty well. _Mighty Soartas_ _!_ Dragons had extensive lives, a million years sometimes, but vampires lived even longer, hence the myth about their immortality. By giving his blood to save her life, Tardieh had linked their existences forever. So once Zoricah's draconian body withered and her _inmã_ took its last journey across the Three Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei, Tardieh's would too.

Z stared blankly at those gemstone green eyes. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you," he replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't want to carry on living in a world where you are not there."

Oh, wow.

Zoricah felt the lump in her throat suffocate her. She lowered her head. "It's almost impossible for us to be together."

"No, it's not," he replied softly, lifting her chin up with his fingers. "We'll make it work."

"Your senate will crucify you. I'm a _sujha_ dragon, and you're the vampire king. Our races have been enemies for millennia. It's so imbedded in our lives that it's become a tradition."

"Well, it's time we started new traditions, then." His soft lips touched hers, warming everything inside her. His tongue parted her mouth invitingly while his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her up onto his lap.

Zoricah would never cease to be amazed by how instantly her body responded to his. Kissing him back, she rocked her hips against his. Delicious heat engulfed them both, and she had to struggle to stop herself from opening his trousers and plunging his long shaft inside her.

She knew that their relationship was political suicide for both of them, but after what happened—after experiencing the emptiness in her heart when she thought she would never see him again—she decided she didn't care. She had been granted her wish—she had been given a second chance with Tardieh—and by Apa Dobrý, she wouldn't waste any more time with what-ifs and maybes. She would enjoy their time together with all her heart until her name was woven by the Soartas' spinning wheel.

She pulled her lips from his and brought their foreheads together. "The last thing that came to my mind when I heard Apa Sâmbetei's call was that I wished we had more time together, that I had told you how I felt." She looked straight into his eyes and released a deep breath. "So, here it is, King Tardieh. I love you. And I will welcome the challenge of making our races accept us as a couple, because it's simply not worth it being brought back to life if I have to endure it without you."

Tardieh's eyes filled with tears, which made the lump in her throat grow.

He pulled her close and kissed her passionately once more. After a few moments where Zoricah thought she would explode with so much fervor, he touched her cheeks and whispered, "So be my queen."

Zoricah's heart skipped a beat. "Be your what?"
Epilogue

London, a few weeks later

Sam opened the taxi door and looked up. Yep, it was still raining. She paid the fare and, sheltering herself with her overcoat, got out of the car.

The pub across the street carried an old wooden sign displaying the name PIG AND WHISTLE. There were a couple of drunkards near the entrance, but nothing to worry about. She had lived around that area when she had first come to London with Zoricah a few decades before. Islington had its rough streets and dark alleyways, but all in all it was a fairly safe place—for a trained fighter like her, that is.

Sam crossed the street and strolled into the old pub. The wooden bar area with bronzed rims topped by the worn-out maroon carpet corroborated Sam's suspicions: the pub had probably last seen a cleaner the day it was opened, a couple of hundred years before.

The small, round wooden tables cramped along the dining area were the only things that remotely suggested she had not entered a time machine and was still in the twenty-first century.

A few old men were drinking at the bar, another bunch was trying their luck at the slot machines by the back door, and a couple more were finishing a game at the billiard table. Sam was overwhelmed by the stench of stale beer and body odor. Man, she missed the time when people could smoke inside those pubs. Not that Sam smoked or was pro-smoking—she did agree that it was a foul habit—but at least it concealed the real smell of those stinking patrons who insisted on rushing to the pub as soon as the five-o'clock bell rang at the local factory. Like the one sitting on the bar and looking at her through his yellow cirrhosis-damaged eyes. _Charming._ Ignoring his attempts to get her attention, Sam looked around and tried to spot the reason why she was in such a classy establishment.

The tall draco named Phillip was sitting at one of the tables by the window. Blond wavy hair, large blue inviting eyes and biceps to die for. _Yep, that was Phillip all right,_ she thought, then took a deep breath, readying herself for their encounter.

Their eyes met, and he nodded in acknowledgement. He was bigger than she remembered. She had met Phillip only once years before. She had been helping Zoricah crack down a series of murders in the Fae community in Manchester. They met Phillip in one of the most popular S&M nightclubs at the time. The whole evening felt extremely surreal to Sam, but it had been worth it. Phillip, with his infinite network of connections, had given them the ultimate lead that had taken them straight to the killer's den. Today, Sam hoped history would repeat itself.

Taking her drenched overcoat off, she walked to the table where he was sitting. "Hello, Phillip", she greeted him, before running her hand through her damp hair and tried to adjust her top a bit better.

She cursed herself for not having picked a sexier outfit. Her dark blue jeans and a white tank top were much too simple for Mr. Blond Draco over here. Phillip was used to his girls flaunting much more flesh than that.

"Please," Phillip replied, beckoning for her to take a sit. He gave her a very impish once-over and asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Nothing, thank you."

Big blue eyes met hers. "Oh, come, come, Sammy," he said charmingly. "I remember how much you love a vodka cocktail." His British accent was very distinguished; she remembered it being quite annoying. Hers didn't sound as pompous, did it?

On that first occasion when she met Phillip, he had been accompanied by two voluptuous bimbos who kept touching him in front of Zoricah and Sam. She remembered being extremely uncomfortable and strangely aroused throughout the whole encounter. Phillip was a very attractive draco, after all.

Ignoring her refusal, Phillip raised his glass to the barman, who promptly brought them a round of vodka and Red Bull.

"It's not a proper cocktail, my dear, but it is very refreshing," Phillip said, raising his glass in a toast.

Sam raised hers in reply and took a small sip. "Phillip, Zoricah asked me to come to you."

"Indeed? Is she back in London?" Phillip asked, looking at her over the rim of his glass.

"Yes," Sam lied and took another small sip.

"I've heard quite interesting rumors about a mêlée taking place on the outskirts of New York City. Some even dare suggest she's in alliance with the vampire king." Sharp blue gaze scrutinized on her before he asked, "Is it true?"

"Oh, well, I wouldn't say 'alliance', per se," she lied again.

Phillip's suspicious glance released hers and slowly moved down to her lips and her throat and stopped on her breasts.

Shifting on the chair, Sam carried on. "King Tardieh just offered his support. After all, a number of female vampires were abducted, too, not only draconians."

Sam tried to sound nonchalant. Zoricah had warned her that Phillip was a very good informant, but just like any other snitch, his loyalties were directly proportional to the size of the reward being offered.

Taking advantage of the fact that his eyes had not left her bosom, Sam leaned forward, hoping she could pull the voluptuous bimbo act as well as his companions had done in the past. "Phillip, Zoricah is willing to reward you generously for your services."

His eagle eyes took in all she was offering. His thick mouth quirked upward in a lazy smile as he reached across the table and took her hands in his. "I'll tell you what, love. You get rid of your vampire boyfriend over there, and we can go to my hotel room and discuss what sort of reward Zoricah has in mind."

Sam's blood ran cold. Turning her head around, she saw who Phillip meant. A tall man with amazing dark eyes was watching them from a stool at the far end of the bar.

Hikuro.

Bloody Hiad!

He had surreptitiously taken a place where his presence was safely hidden in the shadows, just behind the front door. That's why she hadn't seen him walk in. He must have followed her here.

"Damn it, Sam, you should have been more careful," she chided herself silently.

Turning back to face her informant, she returned his smile with one of her own. "He's not my boyfriend. Don't worry about him."

"I couldn't agree more," Phillip replied, caressing her fingers. "Let's go back to my hotel room, love, and...discuss our matters safely away from prying ears."

Sam wasn't ready for that kind of situation. She had been in the field, fighting alongside Zoricah and Yara for a few decades now, but Yara was usually the one sent to engage in those sorts of tricky situations. Sam was usually the geeky one who did the research and hacked into high-security servers, but since Sam had been the only one besides Zoricah who had met Phillip before, they had no other option than to send her instead of Yara.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to imitate Yara and save her skin. "That's a fantastic idea," she said, pouting her lips à la Angelina Jolie. "It's a pity I don't have much time. Why don't you tell me what you know about the razbian's operations in London and then we'll set up another time to...you know...discuss your reward."

Sam tried to free her hands from his caresses, but his grip tightened, holding her in place. "Hmm, so you want to know about Yerik's experiments and his new weapon, huh?" he asked, unveiling all her cards on the table. Raising her hands to his lips, he slowly licked the joints between her fingers.

Sam's stomach churned in revulsion. _Crap!_ She had to find a way of convincing him to give her the information they needed and get out of there ASAP.

Snaking her hands away from his lips, she tried to deter his attentions with one of the only weapons Yara had taught her: the all-powerful ego massage. "I can see your reputation is not unfounded, Phillip, but a girl has her obligations."

Once again, Phillip held on to her hands. "Nonsense, love, I am certain I can convince you that your only obligation is to yourself." He took her middle finger into his mouth and sucked it deep.

Sam swallowed dry.

Strong, cold hands suddenly covered hers. "Let go of her."

Sam's head snapped up at the dark command. Hikuro was standing right beside her with murder in his eyes.

"Hikuro!" Sam barked at him.

"Let. Her. Go. Now," he repeated the order, crushing Phillip's wrists.

"I believe your girl here wants to try other fish in the sea, my vampire friend," Phillip replied with a deceivingly laid-back voice, but his blue eyes were intent on Hikuro.

Sam managed to set her hands free from both men's grips. "Hikuro, leave now," she said, standing up.

Hikuro didn't even look at her; he kept his gaze pierced on Phillip.

And then Phillip made the biggest mistake in his long life. He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled her down to his lap. She had barely found her ground when Phillip's lips crashed into hers. She struggled against him, but he held her in place with an iron-tight embrace.

The next thing Sam felt was her body being swung out of Phillip's hold and crashed on top of a nearby chair. She managed to stand her ground and avoid falling on her ass on the lovely chewing-gum-washed carpet. When she looked up, Hikuro had Phillip's head pinned down on the table.

The draco tried to set himself free by elbowing Hikuro's jaw, but the vampire was faster. Within seconds, the fight was over, with Hikuro hooking both Phillip's arms on his back at an impossible angle. Phillip snarled in pain.

"Don't you wanna know why your girlfriend is the key to all of those abductions?" Phillip uttered. His posh accent was nowhere to be found.

"What?" Sam stepped in. "What did you say?"

"Fucking liar. Stay away from her," Hikuro replied, twisting the draco's arms.

Phillip was breathing heavily; sweat broke on his forehead.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. Phillip, being an alpha male himself, was going to push the other alpha in the room, Hikuro, until someone got really hurt, and she would lose the opportunity to know what in Hiad had he meant by she being the key to the abductions.

"Hikuro!" Sam took a few steps forward on a feeble attempt to place herself between him and the draco. "Let him go, now!"

Phillip let out another painful howl, before uttering the two words that sealed his fate. "Fuck. You."

"What did you say?" Hikuro growled in the draco's ears, his eyes glowing an eerie red.

Sam averted her gaze just in time. The sound of bones snapping echoed across the bar as Hikuro wrung Phillip's arm on a ninety-degree angle to the wrong side. Anyone who hadn't stopped to watch the fight very much tuned in now.

Phillip let out a loud, agonizing cry, but it didn't seem to faze Hikuro. He kept his glare locked on his adversary. Sam could swear he was thinking of twisting both Phillip's arms out of their sockets.

_Damn it!_ Now there was no way Phillip would freely tell her what she wanted to know. As Sam rifled her head for a solution, Zoricah's voice came to mind. "When you find yourself at a crossroads, the best solution is always the one you can't see. The wise warrior removes herself from the situation and examines it from afar."

Sam grabbed her overcoat and walked away.

It was still raining outside.

Bloody Hiad. And to Hiad with testosterone-fueled swinging dicks!

She was planning on walking back to the nearest tube station, but her internal alarm bells rang when she heard footsteps approaching fast behind her.

At once Hikuro, Phillip and the entire altercation at the pub vanished from her mind as her training kicked in. Instead of picking up her pace, she slowed down and waited for her attacker to get closer.

Just before he reached her, she twisted her body sideways, blocking her attacker's arm, and using the heel of her hand, she hit him hard on the nose.

"Aww, Sam!" Hikuro's cry came out muffled.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam barked, not knowing what to think about having successfully struck the vampire kung fu master.

"I came looking for you when I realized you had left," Hikuro replied, holding his bloody nose.

"Oh yeah?" Sam snapped. "That served you well, then." She spun on her heels and walked off.

Hikuro was right behind her again. "Wait, Sam!"

She ignored him and kept on walking, heels stomping hard on the concrete footpath.

"Damn it, woman, I said wait!" Hikuro growled, grabbing Sam's elbow.

She spun around and slapped his hand hard. "Do you want me to break your nose again?" She was furious! How dare he ruin her assignment? How dare he show up like that after everything that had happened between them? He had no grounds for being there, no business following her around.

He raised his hands up in surrender. "Let's talk, okay?"

"Oh, now you want to talk," she replied sarcastically. "No problem, Hikuro. We can talk now that you're ready—now that you're not blinded by your chauvinistic ego, now that you're not busy breaking the arms of the only good lead we've had in freaking weeks!" She knew she was almost hysterical, but she didn't care. She was simply, absolutely, utterly raging.

She started walking again to try to calm down, but it didn't work. She spun on her heels yet again and faced him. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?" he muttered, jaw tight with tension.

"Why did you attack Phillip?" Sam tried hard not to shout. "I had the situation under control."

"Oh please!" It was Hikuro's turn to roll his eyes. "He was all over you. He was touching you and caressing you. He was fucking licking your fingers, for crying out loud!"

"And why is that so bad, huh, Hikuro? Maybe I liked it. Have you thought about that?"

Hikuro lowered his chin and snarled. Sam saw his fangs elongate. "Don't. Say. That."

"Just so you know, a lot of guys find me attractive." She didn't care if the whole neighborhood was watching them. He could pull the fang act all he wanted; she would not be intimidated. "As a matter of fact, I'm going back to that pub right now and offer my help to tend to Phillip's wounds."

"Don't you dare."

"Why, Hikuro? Why?"

Sam felt strong hands grabbing her arms and pulling her close. His lips were inches from hers. Hikuro's beautiful dark eyes flashed red.

"Because you are _mine_ ," he replied darkly.

Her heart skipped a beat.

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Discover Other Titles in the Dragon Heat Series

"Vampire Thirst (Book 2 of the Dragon Heat series)".

"Wolf Hunger (Book 3 of the Dragon Heat series)"

#### 2nd Place Winner, Best Paranormal Romance Novel - Shifter Category, 2014 PRG Reviewer's Choice Awards

"Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series)"

#### 3rd Place Winner, Best Vampire Paranormal Romance Novel, 2015 PRG Reviewer's Choice Awards

"Blood Curse (Book 5 of the Dragon Heat series)"

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About the Author

Ella J. Phoenix was just nine years old when she discovered her passion for the paranormal world. That passion led her to a bachelor's degree in Performing Arts which enabled her to start her first attempts into the literary world, writing children's plays and adapting Shakespeare masterpieces to the modern fast-paced audience.

After years travelling around the world, translating other people's novels and devouring paranormal romances, she decided to put her passion into words and write her first series, Dragon Heat.

She is currently living in Sydney, Australia, with her husband.

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#### Copyright © 2012 by Ella J Phoenix  
Cover art by Liz Drysdale

####

#### No part of this book may be produced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or illegal purchase of copyrighted materials.

#### All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

####

#### Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
