Taken by the Vampire King. Laura Kaye

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      Chapter 3

      Henrik’s back slammed against a brick wall, the darkness of the narrow alley sheltering their trio from the tourists thronging Tromsø’s streets.

      Lars stood at the entrance, making sure no one developed an unhealthy curiosity.

      Jakob got right up in Henrik’s face, forearm pressing into the king’s chest. “What happened?”

      He shook his head, swallowing thickly, his hunger burning so intensely it was almost a living thing within him. “Wanted her,” he rasped. It hadn’t been a decision. There wasn’t anything rational or conscious about it. From the first moment she’d approached him, he was awash in her appealing scent, like the smoky berries of a vintage wine or the rich bite of an aged, dignified whiskey.

      “Wanted her how?”

      “I wanted her.” He knocked his head against the brick. Even now, he couldn’t shake the image of the vein’s rhythmic dance along her slender neck or of the luscious dip of her cleavage, both displayed so invitingly by her upswept hair. His fangs throbbed with a want and a need he couldn’t remember feeling in ages. Not to mention the aching hard-on between his legs.

      “Straight out no-shit bloodlust?” Something like hope sounded in the warrior’s deep voice.

      “Ja.” Henrik heaved a deep breath of cold January air as his imagination unhelpfully replayed how it would’ve gone down. Tearing the gown from her trim body. Holding her curves in his hands. Bearing her up against the wall. Sinking his fangs and his cock in deep until every dark, needy part of him was sated.

      “I’ll get her.” Jakob turned away.

      The king slammed his hand down on his brother’s shoulder and gripped hard. “Nei.”

      “You want her. You need her.”

      “I’ll kill her.”

      Because he wouldn’t be able to stop.

      Once he got a taste, something base and instinctual told him he wouldn’t be able to make himself stop. He’d been so close to the edge of his restraint in the gallery. Only the sound of her voice had pulled him back from the brink.

      All he’d wanted was a night out of their mountain citadel, away from the looming promise of death. He thought the jovial atmosphere of the festival would distract him from all that was to come. Instead, it had thrown it right in his face. Christ, he was a catastrophe waiting to happen, already more beast than man. He shook his head again. “I’ll fucking kill her,” he rasped.

      “You won’t.”

      Acid washed through his gut. “You willing to risk an innocent woman’s life—or her soul—to see which of us is right? I’m not.” He shuddered, the danger of becoming like his evil enemies one of his greatest fears. “Leave her be. I’ll not have it any other way.”

      Jakob lowered his chin and his shoulders lifted and lowered in a weary sigh. When he raised his gaze again, Henrik hated the grief and resignation he saw there, hated that he couldn’t go through this without dragging everyone around him down, too. “What do you want to do, then?”

      “Get the hell out of here. And find some goddamned Soul Eaters to rip apart.” He pressed his arm to his side, feeling the satisfying weight of the holstered gun there. What he couldn’t take care of with his bare hands he’d happily dispatch with the clip of bullets poisoned with the blood of the dead.

      His brother gave a tight nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

      Side by side, they stalked the length of the alley. Henrik clapped Lars on the shoulder. “Up for a fight?”

      The warrior grinned and flashed his fangs. “Always, my lord.”

      “Then let’s go find one.” He led them out of the alley, but didn’t miss for a moment the way Jakob placed himself in the way of turning right, back toward the direction of the gallery, and the too-appealing-for-her-own-good woman. So be it.

      Henrik turned left, toward the waterfront and one of the main concert stages for the festival. The crowds would be heavier there, giving the Soul Eaters more opportunity and more cover to make a grab.

      The three warriors pressed through the teeming streets, a path opening before them as the humans’ instincts made them shy away. Which was just fine by the king. He didn’t want to tangle with mortals anyway.

      Notice you also don’t want to eat any of them?

      His footing faltered as the observation struck home.

      “My lord?”

      He shook his head without meeting Lars’s questioning gaze. Concentrating on the humans they passed, Henrik sought to identify each person’s unique scent and the rhythm of their heartbeat. And...nothing. Not a single one tempted his bloodlust. Or his cock.

      Then why had the woman? Kaira, she’d called herself.

      Henrik cut the inquiry off at the knees. Curiosity was a dangerous animal where she was concerned. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of exploring the unusual desires she’d raised in him. Going down that road led to two equally bad outcomes—her, dead and soulless, and him, a giant leap closer to becoming that which he most hated.

      So he wasn’t going to ask the whys of it. No matter how much the mere memory of her scent wound him up inside.

      They reached the plaza in front of one of the central festival venues. They made a sweep around the plaza and retreated to the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

      Nothing.

      Sonofabitch.

      The night dragged on. The hour grew late. The crowds thinned.

      The monster inside him grew restless. It stalked back and forth within his mind growling and rattling its chains until the noise grew unbearable. Rage filled his chest so fully it was hard to breathe.

      Jakob tensed beside him.

      A split second later, Henrik picked up on it, too—the fetid stench of evil. Soul Eaters walked among them.

      He methodically surveyed the crowd.

      There. Four of them entered the plaza where he and his warriors had earlier.

      Henrik’s СКАЧАТЬ