Taken by the Vampire King

Chapter 8

The taste of copper spilled onto her tongue as three men exploded into the room. They grabbed Henrik’s arms and dragged him backward off the bed.

Henrik unleashed a feral growl. He flailed and fought. The men struggled to contain him and in a coordinated move, slammed him to the floor.

Kaira gasped and scrabbled off the bed. “Stoppe! You’re hurting him! Stoppe!” Granted, she’d freaked out and wanted him off her, but that didn’t mean she wanted him roughed up like this. Wasn’t he their king? How could they treat him this way? They ignored her pleading as Henrik continued to struggle. She grabbed at the closest vampire’s arm. “Please. He didn’t do any—”

His elbow busted her in the cheek.

For a second, all she saw were silvery white stars. She groaned and clutched her face, stumbling back from the melee. Warmth spilled against her palm. Damnit. So stupid. She never should’ve approached them like that.

Henrik’s roar reverberated off the walls.

Kaira looked up to find bodies strewn around the king as he rose to his feet. His breathing was a freight train, a growl rumbling out on each exhale. Fangs extended and flashing eyes narrowed, he took one step toward her, then another.

Jakob burst through the door. “Hva faen?” What the fuck? “Henrik, nei!” He lunged for his brother.

Not again. “Jakob, stoppe!” She held up the hand not busy covering the new cut she now wore on her cheek. “Leave him alone. They jumped him. He didn’t do anything. Just...give him a minute.”

Jakob reared back, hands in the air, just as Henrik whirled on him and gnashed his teeth.

The king’s eyes flashed back to hers and zeroed in on the hand pressed to her cheekbone, the one hopefully offering enough pressure to staunch the bleeding. Kaira’s heart pounded but her gut told her he would keep his word. He wouldn’t hurt her.

Though she’d never seen him like this before. Eyebrows an angry downward slash, fangs so big they were almost animal-like, hair wildly disheveled, shoulders bunched and arms at the ready. He shook his head and mumbled unintelligibly like he was arguing with himself.

The other men slowly climbed to their feet.

Kaira’s eyes made a sweep around the room. She thought back to the blood on her thumb, how he’d barely been able to resist it. Her blood flowed openly now, yet none of the others seemed to share his struggle. Was this part of whatever was wrong with him? She didn’t know, but she did know if she didn’t help calm him, the other four vampires were going jump him again. Their bracing muscles, readied stances and silent communications made that perfectly clear.

Before fear got the better of her, she pushed off the wall and stepped toward him. “Henrik?”

His gaze flashed to her and tracked her progress. A rumble rolled through his chest.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Keeping her voice light, she said, “If one of you makes a move for him, I will kill you.” Not that she could. She knew it. They knew it. But she was satisfied to see they’d listened. Henrik spun at them and growled. “Hey, now, Henrik. Look at me. It’s okay.”

As if in slow motion, he obeyed. She took another step. “Don’t,” he growled.

“It’s okay. Come back to me now, you hear?” She forced the knot of fear down her throat with a hard swallow. If she could just get to him, she believed she could get through to him, too. But as she took another step, his muscles jerked and his hands fisted, all around offering a pretty good impression of a trapped, cornered animal.

“Kaira, don’t,” Jakob said in a low voice.

She waved him off. Why was she doing this? Why was she taking this chance with her life? In truth, she didn’t know the answer, she simply felt she had to, that it was what she was supposed to do...because she was the only one who could. Suddenly, she knew that was the truth. He’d even said as much—without her, he had no chance at survival.

Determined, she grappled for something to say that might connect to the real him, the him she’d talked to earlier. A thought came to mind. “Hey, did you know that many people believe you shouldn’t wave or sing or whistle at the northern lights?” Something flickered behind his eyes. “It’s supposed to attract spirits to come down from the sky and take you away.” She took another step. One more and she’d be able to reach out and touch him. “They say you can fend off the spirits by clapping your hands.”

A single tight nod. She would’ve sworn it.

Holding her breath, her final step closed the distance between them and she curled her free hand around his rocklike fist. The men behind him tensed, but she threw a glance to Jakob, begging him to stay back.

“Hey.” She smiled. “It’s Kaira.”

“Hurt you,” he said, glaring at the hand still pressed to her face.

That’s what he was so wound up about? Her getting hit? Her heart swelled in her chest. “Just a bump. It was my fault. I guess you shouldn’t come up behind a group of fighting vampires. Lesson learned.” She stroked her thumb over his knuckles.

His hand flinched, then slowly relaxed. He slipped his fingers between hers and gripped almost painfully hard. Like he was scared to let her go. Surely her chest couldn’t contain a heart as big as hers felt just then.

“Come sit with me,” she said, tugging him toward the bed. “Let’s just relax for a minute.”

He sat heavily, all the fight just draining into the floor beneath him. Kaira took a step around him to sit, but he tugged her until she stood between his knees.

His forehead slumped against her breastbone and his shoulders sagged. He released a long, shuddering breath.

Tears pricked the backs of Kaira’s eyes. Defeat rolled off him. If this whole episode really was part of whatever ailed him, she could totally relate—how many times had she felt so sick that she gave into a moment of despair. Though she worked hard to remain positive, sometimes the unfairness of it was more than a person could bear. Maybe it was like that for him, too. She stroked her free hand over his hair. Oh, so soft! She wouldn’t have guessed it, but it was like dragging her fingers through thick strands of pure silk.

Minutes passed before his breathing returned to normal. Occasionally, his big body trembled against hers.

She glanced up...to find four huge vampires absolutely gawking at her.

Red-hot shame and a profound sadness rooted Henrik in place, head against Kaira’s breast. The beat of her heart in his ear was the sweetest music. He concentrated on the sound, because he wouldn’t be hearing it for much longer.

Without question, her blood attracted him, satisfied him, and was almost indisputably what he’d been needing all these long years. Even now, her sweet crimson coated the inside of his mouth and fueled his body with a small dose of vitality he hadn’t felt in so long.

But he was a complete and utter train wreck.

How could he possibly saddle her with a male so despicably weak—assuming she would ever want him? He couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know for sure that her blood would cure him, if the cure would be temporary or lasting, or if it would take days or decades to return him to the male he’d once been—a male deserving of a creature like her.

Christ, when he thought back to what she’d done. Fought for him against his warriors, put herself in harm’s way, single-handedly pulled him back from the brink... After all the ways he’d wronged her, why had she done any of it? And just to sink the dagger a little further into the heart of him, she’d gotten hurt for her efforts.

His fingers landed on the outsides of her thighs, clutching her just a little tighter. He breathed deeply, taking some of her incredible sweet scent into his lungs and, hopefully, his memory, too.

Before he lost the will, he gently pushed her back and rose from the bed. He cupped her uninjured cheek in his hand and kissed her forehead, his mouth filling with saliva at the luscious scent of her blood. “You are free to go,” he rasped. “Upon the nightfall, Jakob will return you to your hotel.” He made for the door.

“What? Henrik, I thought—”

The closing door cut off the rest of her words. A thousand pins and needles erupted against the palm of his right hand. He fisted it, refusing to linger on what that sensation might mean.

That, if he took her, they might blood match.

That, if they matched, she might become his mate.

That, if she were his mate, he might actually be able to live again.

But why in the name of all that was right and holy would she want him? And how could he possibly ask her to?

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just needed motion, the distraction of putting one foot in front of the other. After a while, he ended up in his office on the opposite end of the compound from the infirmary.

Sitting heavily in the big leather chair behind his desk, his gaze fell on a folder lying dead center. Hadn’t been there before. Idly, he flipped it open.

SUBJECT: Kaira Sorensen

LAST KNOWN ADDRESS: Røsågade 7, 3. Floor, Copenhagen, Denmark

“Faen i helvete,” he muttered. Bloody hell. The dossier he’d asked for.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t—he really fucking shouldn’t—read another word, his eyes refused to heed his brain and continued to skim over the page.

He flew forward in his seat. “Nei. This can’t be.” He slammed his fist against the surface.

Jakob leaned in the open doorway and rapped twice against the jamb. “Problem?”

Henrik chuffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I apparently pissed off the wrong person in a former life.” He tossed the file to the corner of the desk. Jakob could read it for himself. Or not. He was beyond caring.

Eyeing him warily, his brother retrieved and opened the folder. “Son of a—Her father was a member of The Electorate Council? Jesus, Henrik, that probably means she would’ve—”

“I know.” He held up a hand. He didn’t need the male to finish the sentence, to tell him that, had her father lived, Kaira very likely would’ve been trained among the ranks of the Proffered, as so many of the daughters of The Electorate were.

The Council was comprised of influential human allies who assisted in the prosecution of their war against the Soul Eaters. In exchange for the humans’ silence on the vampires’ existence, their assistance in conducting the war when necessary, and their providing of the Proffered, the vampires gave them protection and blood, which cured many diseases and extended their lives.

Henrik’s debate about offering Kaira his blood roared back to life in his mind. Could his blood cure her leukemia?

“Does she know this?” Jakob asked.

He blinked away his thoughts. “What? Oh. I think not. She was genuine in her surprise about our existence.” Only eight when her parents had died in a car accident, no doubt she hadn’t yet been made privy to that part of her father’s business. And apparently neither had the mother’s sister who raised her.

“Brother, this changes things.” Jakob tossed the folder to the desk.

Weary and heartsick, Henrik reclined into the chair and propped his feet on the corner of the desk. His boots thumped against the wood. He crossed his ankles and got comfortable. “It changes nothing. Pour the akevitt, will you?”

Jakob crossed the room to the small bar in the corner. Norwegians reputed the grain alcohol to be the “water of life.” If only.

“Bring the bottle,” Henrik said.

His brother settled the bottle and two shot glasses in front of him. The warm scent of the spiced spirit reached his nose as the golden liquor filled the little glass. They clinked and tossed the alcohol back. Heat ripped down his throat and pooled in his gut.

But it still was not enough.

He placed the glass next to the bottle and didn’t have to tell Jakob what he wanted. He poured and they drank again.

“What happened in there?” Jakob asked, falling into the seat in front of his desk.

“Just lost control.” Henrik topped off another shot glass.

“Bullshit. That was the most controlled I have ever seen you in the middle of one of your rages. Hands down.”

The king shrugged and downed the akevitt. Heat snaked outward from his belly. Perfect.

“You like her.”

He threw the glare before he’d thought better of it. He’d all but agreed.

“She obviously likes you, too.”

“Nei, she pities me.” He spun the glass in his hand.

“That’s not what I saw. Not even a little. She stood up to four warriors for you.”

Henrik’s mind resurrected the image of Kaira approaching him as he fought with everything he had to maintain a shred of his rational self. Holding her bloodied cheek, the neck of the johnny askew over the ruins of her lovely gown, wayward strands of blond hanging down from the remains of the stylish twist she’d worn the night before. Beautiful. Brave. Fierce. He’d been bone-crushingly terrified for her. “She has leukemia, Jakob. She needs her medicines, her doctors, her whole life around her.” He gestured with his hands, spilling a drop of liquor on his shirt.

Jakob flew out of the chair and loomed over the desk, hands braced against the hardwood surface. “Jesus, if that’s the case, you could heal her and you could both get what you need.”

He poured another drink. “There are no guarantees, brother. You know that. None at all. Except that enough of this fine spirit will cure what ails you, even if only for a few hours.” He raised the glass in salute and threw it back.

“This solves nothing.” His brother grabbed the bottle and marched it back over to the bar.

The office phone rang before Henrik had time to protest. He stared at it a minute and decided whatever it was could wait. As it continued to ring, he clomped his boots to the floor and shoved out of the chair, throwing a glare at Jakob for good measure.

At the bar, he set out a row of shot glasses and filled each of them to the top, not worrying about the liquor spilling into the spaces between. The phone stopped ringing. He braced his hands against the edge of the marble surface and heaved a breath. “When you are king, you can decide what does and doesn’t work. Until that time—” He tossed back the first of the shots. “—I will make that call.” He slammed it down and reached for the next. The telephone unleashed its screech again—at least that’s what it sounded like in his head. “Dra til helvete,” he muttered. Go to hell.

Jakob rounded the corner of his desk.

“Don’t answer it,” Henrik mumbled.

He ignored him. “What?” Jakob answered. Henrik rolled his eyes. A lotta good being king did him. “What? Put him through.” His brother held out the hand piece. “Kael MacQuillan for you.”

Henrik crossed the room, a strange foreboding crawling into his belly. Or maybe that was just the akevitt. First light marked the end of a vampire’s day, which made it an odd time for his royal counterpart in Northern Ireland to call. Unless somewhere in their world the shit was hitting the fan.

He pressed the receiver to his ear. “Kael, it’s Henrik. How are you, brother?” he said in English.

“I’m well. Sorry to disturb you at this hour.”

“I am always available to you. Are you well? Shayla? Everything okay at Dunluce?” Kael had mated with one of the Proffered three years before.

“Aye. Thank you. My family is well. It’s not my news I’ve called to share.” Anticipation hardened into a rock in his gut. “Yingjie Fēi is dead, along with half his inner circle of warriors.”

Henrik sank into his chair. The Warrior King of the Eastern Vampires dead? “How?”

“Soul Eaters,” Kael spat.

Henrik nodded. He read the intelligence reports religiously. The war had been escalating all over Eurasia for the past two years. “Jesus. He wasn’t prepared for succession, either.”

“No. China’s a mess. Which is why I’m spreading the word on their behalf.”

“I appreciate the call, Kael. I just wish it brought better news.”

“Me, too, old friend. Me, too.”

They said their goodbyes and Henrik returned the receiver to its cradle. He cut his gaze to Jakob. “Fēi’s dead.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sonofabitch.”

His brother braced his hands on the edge of the desk, his head hanging. And among his grief for their fallen brethren, Henrik knew without question what else Jakob was thinking, what else weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

Now there were six. Just six vampire kings and warrior forces to fight a worldwide battle against a reckless enemy in an ancient and escalating war. Who knew how long it would take China to reestablish order and authority?

Six.

And, if Henrik died—which was a total certainty except for the when—there would be five.

Five.

An absolutely impossible situation—for the vampires and the humans, too.

Anger and regret flooded through him. He knew what he had to do, and he wouldn’t make Jakob be the one to say it. “Gather the warriors in the council room. They need to be briefed. I’ll meet you there.” He made for the door and battened down all his emotional hatches. This had to be done. It was bigger than either of them, now. “I need to inform Miss Sorensen there’s been a change in plans.”