Shadow Of The Vampire. Meagan Hatfield

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СКАЧАТЬ Lit only by torchlight, the dungeon boasted everything one might need to punish, maim or kill an enemy. An assortment of bloodied weapons hung on the flagstone walls and littered the tops of the scarred wood tables. A row of iron-barred cells lined the wall to the right, while a rack and other instruments of torture numerous rulers or their minions had collected over their centuries on earth occupied the space to the left.

      Tonight, the soldiers had strung the dragon up against the center wall. His arms and legs were shackled to the sides. The silver collar was attached to a bar above him. His gorgeous body in complete human form was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Every corded and ropelike muscle was taut like a bowstring. His hard, muscled abdomen, peppered with bullet holes, flexed under the next bite of the whip.

      Unbidden, her body warmed, remembering his body pressed flush against hers. Her palms burned to skate over every smooth inch of him. The peaks of her nipples tightened beneath her leather corset.

      What was wrong with her?

      Again, the whip lashed his flesh. She flinched at the sound.

      “Come, Alexia.”

      At her name, the dragon lifted his head. She stilled as striking blue eyes burned into her, watching her with unwavering intensity, even when a soldier rained another biting blow on his shoulder.

      “Do you want the honors, or shall I?”

      At the query, her mouth parched. Lotharus was known for his insatiable bloodlust. Somehow, although she had no idea how, she knew this dragon would not break easily. In anger, confusion and frustration she strode forward to the soldier doing the flogging. “Give it to me,” she ordered, holding out her hand.

      The soldier smiled and set the leather instrument in her hand. She palmed the handle, feeling its familiar smooth line and curves. After a deep breath, Alexia put it on the table. Instead she stepped up and smacked the dragon square across the face.

      “Where is the crystal?”

      He slowly turned his head to face her, a cold smile in his icy eyes. “I don’t know.”

      She hit him harder and asked again. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he let out a low laugh and locked his gaze on hers.

      “I guess it’s true what they say about blondes.”

      Alexia raked her palm across his flesh again. This time, her claws broke the skin of his handsome cheek. And this time when he stared at her, his smile held no trace of humor.

      “The crystal?”

      “I told you. I. Don’t. Know,” he said through clenched teeth.

      “You’re going to have to lie better than that.”

      “Lie? Where could I possibly be hiding it?” He nodded to his bare body.

      Lotharus stepped up from behind her, offering her a spiked cat-o’-nine-tails, an instrument designed to peel flesh from bone. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

      Sickness rose up her throat at his words. She swallowed it down and took the whip. The burden of it hung like a lead weight in her arm. She did not want to do this. For the first time in all her years as a warrior for her people, she did not want to torture her enemy. And she couldn’t explain why.

      “Well, what are you waiting for?”

      At Lotharus’s prod, she knew if she didn’t whip the dragon, not only would she be punished, but Lotharus would take over the interrogation. And none ever survived Lotharus’s questioning. Ever. Although, some far corner of her mind whispered that if anyone could last more than a night in the horde dungeon, it would be this dragon lord before her.

      Clamping down her jaw, Alexia stepped closer. Her eyes fixed on the dark nipples on his bloodied chest, the hard lines of his body. So different…

      She stepped closer, so close that the heat from his body curled around her. She leaned forward and spoke so only he could hear. “Just tell me and end this.”

      The dragon stared down at her, faint creases lining his brow. Then he looked at Lotharus and back to her. Understanding finally lit up his eyes. She noticed they stared at her with less cold revulsion, less hate. He let out a sigh as if coming to some kind of decision. Then he inclined his head toward her.

      “Do your worst, vixen,” he whispered before leaning back again. “You’ll get no answer from me.” The latter he shouted loud enough for all ears to hear.

      When she still did not move to strike him, the dragon smiled. “It is a shame we didn’t have just a few more minutes together, you know. I could have made you sing with pleasure,” he said with a wink.

      Lotharus lurched forward, snatching the nine-tails from her hand. Alexia barely had time to duck out of the way before he swung the weapon high, raining a blow across the dragon’s golden chest.

      IN ONE FLUID MOTION, Tallon landed at the causeway of the dragon’s mountain lair and shifted form, moving seamlessly from the air to the ground.

      As she walked into the darkness of the cave’s mouth, the ancient stones that guarded the doorway to the inner city shifted open, allowing her passage. It had opened only a foot before she saw Falcon, Declan’s second, waiting anxiously on the other side of the wall. Tallon noticed he was dressed from head to booted foot in black combat attire and wondered if he’d come close to trailing them—wondered briefly if the outcome would have been different if he had.

      Pushing the thought down, she stepped inside. At the sight of her, his handsome face lit up in a smile.

      “Good, you’re back,” he said, pushing his bare shoulder off the wall. His waist-length black hair trailed behind him like a sultry veil. Tallon blinked and looked ahead as he fell into step beside her.

      “The council has been awaiting you…” His words trailed off. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his brow crease when he looked over her shoulder and saw the walls closing.

      “Where is Lord Declan?”

      At the name, Tallon’s heart tightened and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Clutching the tattered brown satchel to her chest, she moved farther into the black outer tunnel. The air cooled with each step she took, water droplets plopping against slick stones the only sound other than her and Falcon’s footsteps. Tallon kept walking until large hands gently covered the caps of her shoulders, forcing her to turn. Although she reluctantly spun, she kept her chin down, her eyes closed. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Couldn’t acknowledge the truth her heart already knew. To say the words Declan’s gone would make it real and right now she could still pretend it had all been a bad dream.

      “Tallon.” Falcon’s soft voice wrapped around her like she knew his arms wanted to. But theirs was a warrior’s society, a hard, fighting order. Weakness of any kind, especially love, was frowned upon, more than ever since the murder of their King and Queen. Her parents…Declan’s parents.

      A barely audible sob hiccupped in her chest.

      “Oh, gods, no.” Falcon’s fingers squeezed into her flesh with such need it seemed he’d fall over if he let go. It was then that Tallon allowed herself to look into the face she’d known since she was born. A face etched with pain and loss that mirrored her own. Tears welled in her СКАЧАТЬ