The king.
Who was he talking— Oh, God, no. No, it can’t be. No braid. No jewels. How can he be the king?
“He hasn’t worn them in a while,” Mikhail said.
“What?” Kate asked, the room doing that spinny thing again.
“I said he hasn’t worn them in a while.”
Oh, jeez, had she been thinking out loud? Hoping to hide the blush heating her cheeks, Kate scrubbed her hands over her face, torn by conflicting desires: to know more, to know why Nikolai, the Vampire Warrior King of Russia, apparently, didn’t wear the symbols of his rank and title, and to get the hell out of here. Now. It wasn’t just any old beautiful, sexy vampire who didn’t want her. It was the freaking king.
Shit. What if word of this got back to her parents? Nikolai seemed so disgusted with her when he left. They had her passport and cell phone. Surely it wouldn’t take that much research on the vampires’ part to determine her family’s association with the Electorate Council. Bordessa wasn’t that common a name.
As if a man being repulsed by bringing her to orgasm wasn’t bad enough.
Anton broke the awkward silence. “Well, if you change your mind, just have someone come get me. It’s not like we’re going anywhere any time soon.”
Kate frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Go ahead, Anton. I’ll get you if we need you,” Mikhail interjected. The man nodded and left. “It’s snowing, Katherine. The roads are closed.”
She groaned, and her stomach dropped to the floor. “Tell me you’re not serious.”
“I’m afraid so.” He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you to a room where you’ll at least be more comfortable.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no need for you to be imprisoned. I’m sorry we did that in the first place.”
Kate hugged herself and shrugged. What the hell. A real room would be nice, especially if it was near a bathroom. Or a shower. “Okay.”
He held out his hand. “After you.”
Without a backward glance, she stepped out of the cell.
“If you’ll follow me,” Mikhail said.
Down the stone hall, through some sort of empty high-tech office, Kate followed the warrior. The hallways leading through the downstairs were dark, rough-hewn, and she was fascinated despite herself. Wherever she was, this place was old. How she wished she could explore.
They came to a flight of wide stone steps and made their way up. On the top landing, Mikhail entered a code into a pad on the wall, releasing the heavy door in front of them with a metallic click.
In contrast to the dim lighting of the lower level, this floor was all white-painted cinder blocks. The bright light revealed midnight-blue tones in Mikhail’s jet hair. Along the long corridor, most of the doors were solid with only a single small square window at the top, so Kate could only get the most cursory of glances into her surroundings. In the distance, music with a driving bass beat caught her attention. The farther up the hall they walked, the louder it got.
A warrior—the young one who had manhandled her out in that parking lot—rounded a corner and made for the closest door. His gaze scanned down the front of her before meeting her eyes, and she couldn’t read his expression. He pushed a door open, letting the screaming guitars and pounding drums blare out into the hallway full force.
“You’re late,” someone shouted from within.
“I’m still in time to kick your ass. My lord.”
Kate and Mikhail walked past the door as it eased shut. Through the narrow gap, Kate had just enough time to see Nikolai’s shirtless broad back, the cut muscles decorated with more beautiful designs she couldn’t fully make out. His gaze cranked her direction and their eyes met in the split second before the door closed between them.
God, every time she saw him, he was more gorgeous than the last.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. “He’s a warrior,” she said, eyeing Mikhail’s braid and trying to engage him for the first time since they’d departed her cell.
“Yes. A great one.”
“Then, why no braid?”
“It’s not my story to tell, Katherine.” He started up a second set of stairs. “This way.”
At the top, there was another keypad, and then they stepped into a modern-looking vestibule. When the door they’d come through clicked shut behind them, another door sprang open ahead of them. The room on the other side was like a huge family room. Massive leather sectional sofa, several leather recliners. A screen for a projection television. Behind a pool table sat several pinball machines, and a carved wooden bar lined a far wall.