In the Service of the King (Vampire Warrior Kings 1)

Shayla meant it. She’d fantasized about this man for years now. She’d had her first orgasms at the mere idea of him. Later orgasms had involved the only image she’d ever seen of him—a portrait in which the artist had well captured his powerful otherworldliness that attracted her so. Not all her fantasies involving him had been sexual, either. She’d dreamed of fighting by his side, gutting a Soul Eater from navel to sternum and watching the life bleed out of his eyes. She knew that wasn’t likely, of course. Though she was trained in martial arts—as were all the Proffered, she knew enough to know she didn’t have the expertise to be anything but liability in a real fight. But that didn’t keep the violent images out of her secret imaginings.

Now that she’d met him, though, felt the unbelievably intense pull to him, she knew her attraction was to more than just the idea of him, the fantasy of him. It was to Kael, the man.

And he wanted her, too.

“You have me,” she repeated. “Have me.”

Kael’s mouth dropped open and Shayla gasped as she caught the white flash of a sharp tooth again. She was darkly fascinated by this side of him and shivered at the thought that the man before her was not just a man, but a vampire. Wanting him to know she was serious, she extended her wrist to him.

In one swift motion, he grasped it and pulled both of them to their feet. She gasped and fell into him. “Not this time. Come. Please.”

She frowned but followed him to the massive iron bed. She watched, fascinated, as he unclasped his magnificent tartan robes. He still wore the thin green silk robe from before underneath, but she was distracted from thinking about that when he turned toward the bed and, in a graceful flick of his wrists, unfurled the layered tartans out over the bedding in a soft, gentle pillowing of fabric.

Shayla was glad he turned back to her so quickly. She wanted what was about to happen and her body ached for things she didn’t even have the words to name, but if he gave her the chance to get nervous, to overthink it, she might.

He didn’t give her the time.

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers as if they’d never left off earlier. As her lips and tongue responded, he wrapped his arms around her. One large hand cradled her head while the other smoothed down over her back and settled just above her rear. The strength of his embrace pressed their bodies together. He was hard and thick and long between them. She writhed and pushed against him.

They kissed and explored each other until Kael was all that existed. His heat surrounded her. His male spice filled her nose and excited her palate. His touch, tender and possessive at the same time, set every nerve ending on fire.

He pulled away from her mouth and she gasped for breath, then moaned as he trailed openmouthed kisses and licks and long teasing drags of what had to be his fangs along her jaw and down her neck. He sucked on the pulse point below her ear. “I will take care of you, Shayla,” he whispered. She shivered and tilted her neck for his exploration.

She cupped the back of his head as he leaned down to explore her body. The cool silk of her robe slid off her shoulders under the direction of his hands, then settled around her biceps like a shawl. He fumbled at her waist and the belt dropped, freeing the robe to swing open. He raked his gaze from her face to her legs. His observation set off an electric current down her center. His lips glistened as he licked them.

When he met her eyes again, his were blazing. The brilliant green hue wavered and intensified. He yanked the tie to his own robe free and the fabric fell open, revealing a swath of muscular and marked male flesh from throat to groin. An intricate black design pulled her attention from his face to the light golden skin of his chest. Mostly visible between the hanging green silk was a large round tattoo of a series of interlocking Celtic knots surrounding a regal Pict horse. The Celts’ knot work represented the complexity of life, and the more overlapping the lines, the greater the protection against evil was supposed to be. If the symbolism was true, Kael should’ve been well served by this beautiful mark.

Every inch of his body was lean golden muscle, much of it decorated by beautiful Celtic artwork. Every rippling of his shoulders and clenching of his defined abdomen radiated leashed power. Her eyes bulged and she whimpered when she took in the thick, long shaft protruding from the bronze curls covering his groin. She might have been a little scared if her pussy hadn’t tingled in need and anticipation.

For long moments, she drank him in. When she noticed the faster rise and fall of his chest, she finally looked back to his face.

He was watching her observe him—his mouth hung open and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a rough swallow. The lengths of his fangs were completely visible to her for the first time.