Lothaire

keep the flammable dust out of her lungs.

If Lothaire had breathed too much of it . . .

Crawling through the blinding drifts of smoke, she scrambled to reach him, struggling to sense him as she navigated the arteries of the mountain. He’d said they had unbreakable ties.

Marshal your wits, Ellie!

Once she settled down and concentrated, she seemed instinctively to know where to go, which way around boulders, and her connection to Lothaire grew stronger, like a sound getting louder closer to the source.

Almost there . . .

She found him. “Lothaire! Leo?” He was unconscious, pinned under a landslide of flaming rocks, his skin on fire.

When she dragged him out from under the rubble, she screamed. His coal-laden lungs had ruptured wide, his torso exploded outward.

His lids cracked open. Brows drawn, he mouthed, “Leave me now . . .

get . . . out . . .” His eyes closed. The tension left his body.

Best be savin’ your orders for someone who’ll follow them, vampire.

60

“Your mama’s coming,” Ephraim warned Ellie as she pressed a cold compress over Lothaire’s face.

For two days, Lothaire had lain unconscious and bandaged in Ellie’s darkened room, with Bo Junior draped across his ankles for most of that time.

That dog had a mean streak a mile wide. Figured the ornery hound would take a shine to the ornery vampire.

After Ephraim had gotten his own head bandaged, he’d helped Ellie clean Lothaire’s wounds and get him comfortable, had even poached a deer to feed the man who’d saved his life.

Everyone—including her mother, especially her—had changed their tune about Ellie’s villainous vampire.

“So let me get this straight,” Mama had said, staring in awe at Lothaire’s face. Even burned and gauze wrapped, he’d still looked like a god. “The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen turned you so you can never get sick or die, then spoiled you with jewelry and clothes while takin’ you all around the world?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable to have rejected him and accidentally nearly beheaded him.”

“If the shoe fits, Ellie Ann Daciano!”

“Have you forgotten what else I told you?” Ellie had cried. “He treated me like . . . like you treat Bo.”

“That dog sleeps in the bed with me, girl!”

“If I was with Lothaire, I’d have to live inside a mountain!”

Finally, Mama had frowned. “Like in a burrow or something?”

“A castle. But that’s not the point. . . .”

Now Ephraim muttered, “I’ve been runnin’ interference with her, but she’s got her mind made up about that vampire of yourn.”

Mama swept in, her brows drawing together at the sight of Lothaire sleeping. “Just look at him,” she whispered. “I’ll never get used to that face.”

Ellie almost said, “Wait till you get a load of his eyes.”

“Ain’t he just the most beautiful thing? Like a fancy museum statue.”

Lothaire continued to heal, appearing more and more like the flawless fallen angel Ellie was used to.

Mama rechecked the blankets over the windows, clucking through the room, organizing some of the get-well balloons and teddy-grams that continued to be delivered.

Finally, she took a seat by the bed. “A man that fine wants my baby to be his queen.” She sighed. “Queen Elizabeth. You’re gonna live forever in a castle, and you can flit around like a fairy”—Ellie didn’t correct her—“and you’re gonna be rich and adored by him.”

“Mama, again, we don’t know why he came back. He might only need an heir or something. Who knows?”

“Why else would that angel have saved all our menfolk?”

“He never said he’d returned for me.” Unless he’d said it in Russian. She recalled the emotion in those words, what had felt like a promise. . . .

“You better hope he did,” Mama muttered angrily.

“I’m just telling you that he’s known to be evil. I have no idea what he’s plotting.”

“We ain’t exactly saints around here, Miss Glass House. Sakes, Ellie, when did you get to be so judgmental?”

My mother is disappointed in me for not making my vampiric marriage work. Though Mama had never even spoken a word to Lothaire, she’d already instructed Josh to call him Uncle Leo.

Ephraim shook his head. “There’ll be no livin’ with your mama now. You know that, huh?”

“Yeah.” So I really hope Lothaire came here for the right reasons. . . .

* * *

“I’m in the trailer, aren’t I?” Lothaire rasped as he came to in Elizabeth’s bed. He’d just awakened to her sweet scent on the pillow, when the odor of some unlucky varmint frying in the kitchen overwhelmed it.

Now he peered around him—vinyl walls and threadbare linens, freakish porcelain dolls. A spiteful-looking hound dozed over his feet. He rather liked the dog.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “It was either here or I could’ve left you in the mine.”

When he saw balloons and stuffed get-well bears with button eyes, he almost preferred the mine.

She rose and clapped her thigh, urging the dog, “Here, boy, get off him.”

The beast growled just as Lothaire said, “He can stay.”

She sat back down, mumbling, “You two are perfect for each other. He’s now yours, by the way.”

Then he’s ours. “Why are there hideous stuffed bears with my name on them?”

“My whole family loves you now. They wanted to thank you for saving them. You rescued them all, you know.”

“And then you rescued me.” Saving his life while risking hers. Loyalty rewarded in kind. But if she ever puts herself in danger again . . .

She waved that away. “In any case, we’ve got more casseroles than we—or they—could eat in a month.”

“And how do they explain their rescue?”

“My family knows what we are, but they don’t tell secrets to outsiders—believe me. The other miners think you’re . . . the Mothman.”

Lothaire rolled his eyes. “Mothman. Really, Elizabeth? Really?”

She shrugged. “Look, I’m deeply grateful for what you did. But why have you come here?”

“For you. I’ve gained control of one kingdom. Return with me to Dacia and be my queen.”

“Your last word on the subject was that I should rot in hell.”

Unexpected Elizabeth wasn’t falling into his arms as he’d anticipated, even after he had acted heroic and been valiantly injured. Perhaps he had lost her.

“Lothaire, you gave me your black heart and told me I’d never get my claws in another one.”

“I’ll give it to you anew.” He flared his own claws over his chest, about to dig in. “It pains me as nothing has before—”