Twisted

What would it take to shake him out of this emotionless stupor? “Some will teleport into the surrounding forest. Some will travel as humans travel, but all will make their way here to hurt you.”

“I know. And that’s a good thing. I want my opposition disposed of quickly, in one swoop.”

Back to spouting Vlad’s—her—philosophy, was he? “My brother will be among those who travel here.”

“I know.”

He knew? And he didn’t care? “He’ll die like the others.”

No, he didn’t care. She stared up at him for a long, silent moment. “Who are you?” Her Aden never would have planned something so cruel.

“I’m your king.” His head tilted as his study of her intensified. “Unless you choose to serve your father now?”

“Why? Would you kill me, too?”

His expression became thoughtful, as if he were actually pondering his answer.

“Never mind,” she gritted out. The conversation was only making her angrier. “But my brother—”

“Is not up for discussion. Until Vlad develops the courage to show himself, our little war can’t begin. And it needs to begin, out in the open this time, so that it can end. We cannot have one without the other.”

He’d just spouted another facet of her beliefs. How many times had she said You cannot have an end without a beginning to Riley throughout the years? Countless. Of course, she’d been trying to talk the shifter into letting her misbehave, not trying to convince him to ramp up the hostilities. But here was a question to last the ages: had she been this annoying? “You. Are. Frustrating. Me.”

Aden shrugged, but underneath the casual, unconcerned action, she saw a glimmer of unease work through his expression. First thoughtful, now uneasy. He must not like frustrating her. She hoped.

Hope that was demolished when he said, “Enough. We have things to do,” and strode to the throne room to at last host his precious meeting.

Once again Victoria found herself trailing after him like a puppy. And she didn’t need Elijah to tell her bad, bad things were about to happen.

SEVEN

ADEN STEPPED INTO THE throne room, his bare footfalls silent against the plush red carpeting that formed a path directly to his throne. Black wards were woven into that carpet, and for the first time he could feel the full force of the power wafting from them, slithering around his feet. With every step, that power twined higher and higher, around his calves, his thighs, his waist. His stomach, chest and arms.

He breathed deeply, the constant buzzing in his head finally quieting. The power swirled, forming a halo that lifted strands of his hair, as if he’d just stuck his fingers into a light socket.

He experienced a startling moment of clarity. Of … emotion. Suddenly he was Aden, not the cold-hearted vampire king he’d somehow become. He felt. Guilt, joy, remorse, excitement, sorrow … love.

He reached back, extending his hand, needing to touch Victoria, even in so small a way. He knew she was behind him, each of his cells aware of her every move, her every breath. Every second that passed.

A momentary pause, a gasp of surprise. Her fingers tentatively twined with his, meltingly warm and familiar. “Aden?”

“Yes?”

Her step faltered, and she stumbled into him. He stopped and wrapped his arm around her to hold her up, loving the way she fit against his side. Like a puzzle piece he’d been missing.

“Your eyes … they’re normal.” Hope bubbled in the undertone of her voice.

Normal? “I take it that’s a good thing.”

“Very good.”

He glanced around. Black candelabras lined the front of the concrete bleachers stretching at his sides. Between them were thick marble columns. “I can’t believe this,” he said, shocked that he was really here. “Forget the danger I caused by using the horn. I summoned everyone in here to prove a point, and that point could kill them.”

“What point?”

“I’m too embarrassed to say. I … need to sit down.” He kicked back into motion. When he reached the throne, he eased down, more candles flickering around him, smoke swirling from the tips.

The buzzing in his head started up again. A split second later a grumble sounded, subdued, yet all the more savage and brutal because of that. And just like that, the veil of emotion lifted, leaving him feeling both a biting cold and a sizzling heat, neither of which could surpass his determination to lead his vampires to victory against Vlad.

“I’m so happy, I could cry. How human of me, right? But then, I’m becoming more human by the second, I think. And that’s okay. Yes? That’s good?” A grinning Victoria crouched in front of him, resting her palms on his thighs. “Let’s go back to my bedroom and talk. We’ll …” Slowly her grin faded. “Your eyes.” Her voice was now flat.

“What about them?”

“They’re violet again. Dead.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Do I have Chompers inside my head?” The grumbling had tapered off as suddenly as it had begun, but he knew there was something—someone—at the edge of his conscious, waiting, listening … controlling?

If not Chompers, who? Or … what?

A frown as she straightened. “No. He’s with me.”

Aden looked her over. She wore a long black robe, thin straps tying the material on her shoulders. Two tugs, and that robe would drop to the floor, and he could drink from her neck, her chest, even her thighs. Any place he wanted, really.

He gripped the solid gold arms of the throne to ensure his hands behaved. Where were these thoughts coming from? Earlier, he hadn’t been able to decide if he even liked this girl. Now he was imagining undressing her and feasting on her?

“You’re sure about Chompers?” he croaked.

“Completely. I’m warded from neck to ankle just to keep him under control, but I can still hear him.”

A miracle he didn’t ask for proof.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, after your medication has worn off,” she said on a sigh. “All right?”

He watched her lips as she spoke. They were red and lush, and he wanted to bite them, too.

Maybe he hadn’t taken enough blood from the human. Wait. Scratch maybe. He hadn’t. Otherwise, his mouth would not be watering. His gums would not be aching, his muscles clenching.

“Aden?”

He almost leaped from the throne and threw himself at her. If he didn’t look away, he would throw himself at her. “Stand behind me.” Please.

The demand was harsher than he’d intended, but he didn’t apologize.

Shock rather then affront claimed her delicate features. Then her eyes narrowed, and she pivoted, standing beside him rather than behind him as ordered.

He could still feel the heat of her body, the warmth of her breath trekking over him. Close vicinity of any kind was also a problem, then. But before he could send her away, a female moan echoed, followed by the grunt of a male. Instinctively Aden reached for the daggers strapped to his ankles.

There were no daggers strapped to his ankles.