Taken by the Vampire King (Vampire Warrior Kings 3)

Somehow Jakob was there. He caught her against his chest. “Okay. I have you,” he said.

Good as he smelled, he didn’t incite the cravings she’d felt a few moments before. The comparison was as unwelcome as it was unbidden.

Growling erupted, fierce and sudden. Kaira looked up in time to see Henrik take the man who had been holding him and flip him over the hood of the car.

He spun and stalked toward them, glaring at Jakob, who tucked her under his arm and tugged her back a full step. Her heart rate kicked up again, but the fright that came over her was less for herself than for the vampire holding her upright.

Jakob held out a hand. The other vampire scrambled up off the sidewalk and approached from the side.

Kaira peered around Jakob’s chest and gasped. “His eyes,” she said to herself. Bright, piercing blue, like a cloudless sky on the most beautiful, spring day. Totally captivating.

“Henrik,” Jakob rasped. “Your eyes have changed.”

Confusion played over Henrik’s aggressive expression.

“Jesus, brother, your face—the cuts have all healed.” His voice was awash in wonder.

“I’ll be damned,” the third vampire said.

Henrik paused and ran his hand over his cheek, his lips, his neck. His azure eyes went wide.

Kaira glanced between the three of them, unsure what explained their sudden change in demeanor. All the aggression and tension flowed out of them.

“How?” Henrik said. “It takes me days to heal...”

His words hung on the night air for a long moment, and then three pairs of preternatural eyes turned toward her.

Chapter 5

Healed. His face had healed. Henrik cut his gaze to his knuckles, but he already knew what he would find. Now that he paid attention, the swollen throb from moments before was gone. His eyes confirmed the truth of it. She’d healed his wounds from the fight with the Soul Eater.

If mere moments of consuming the sweet blood circulating through Kaira’s veins could restore his ability to heal, what would a good and proper feeding do?

Henrik stared at her for a long moment. Wonder and indecision and dangerous, dangerous hope held him rooted in place despite the magnetic draw of her blood.

And then all the little details of her penetrated the noise between his ears.

Busted lip. Bloodied throat. Ruined clothing.

He wasn’t sure which of them looked worse.

Her. After all, his wounds were healed.

“Go get the truck,” he said to Lars. The warrior nodded and disappeared.

Fierce longing speared through him. Not just to drink more, though that was there with a greedy vengeance. But also to heal her in return. His right hand prickled and he rubbed it roughly against his thigh.

He glared at Jakob, at how much of his brother’s body touched hers. Possessive rage rose up and demanded attention. Only the certainty that the other male’s presence ensured she’d survive riding with Henrik on the thirty-minute trip off the island and back to their mountain citadel kept him from acting on the territorial instinct.

The king cleared his throat. “Kaira, we need to get you off the streets. There are more of them out tonight. We will take care of you.”

“Them?” she said in a weak voice.

“Like the ones who attacked you.”

Her brow furrowed. “You attacked me.”

The truth of the words sucker punched him. Why would she see any difference between him and the Soul Eaters? The comparison was no more than he sometimes wondered about himself. Still cut him to the bone, though. What the hell had he been thinking, believing he was fit to come out among humans tonight?

He gave a nod. “Fair enough.”

“My brother is—”

“Not going to stand here and debate.” The glare he shot Jakob was full of warning. He didn’t need him to plead his case. “I’ve put you in enough danger this evening.”

“Just let me go, then,” she said.

Her plaintive tone touched softer parts of him, parts that wanted to do nothing more than please her, parts he didn’t know he had. But his body refused to let her go. Not when a few thick swallows of her blood had done more for him than any other woman’s blood had in years.

So, what’s the endgame here, Henrik? Chain her up and use her whenever you want to keep you alive?

Jakob’s voice yanked him from his inner turmoil. “You’ve seen too much.”

“What?” She struggled against Jakob and pushed out from under his arm. “Nei. I’ve seen nothing.” As Henrik watched, she walked backward into the street, clutching her arms around herself tight and shaking her head. “I won’t say anything. Who would believe me?”