A Hunger Like No Other

Kristoff, a rebel vampire leader, had taken Mount Oblak castle, one of the five Horde strongholds. Lachlain had heard rumors of Kristoff, had heard he was Demestriu's nephew, and now members of the clan had uncovered the entire story.

Kristoff was the rightful king of the Horde. Just days after he'd been born, Demestriu had attempted to have him killed. Kristoff had been smuggled out of Helvita, then raised by human guardians. He'd lived among them for hundreds of years before he learned who he truly was. His first rebellion had been seventy years ago and had ended in failure.

'So the legend of the Forbearers is true?' Lachlain asked. They were not merely abstainers. The Forbearers were Kristoff's army, an army he'd been secretly making since antiquity.

'Aye, he's created them from humans, stalking battlefields for the bravest warriors who'd fallen, sometimes turning entire families of worthy brothers. Think of it, you're a human lying in the dark nearly slain—I'd consider that a bad day—and then a vampire appears, promising immortality. How many do you think really listen to the conditions of his dark offer—eternal life for eternal fealty?'

'What's his agenda?'

'No one in the Lore knows.'

'So we canna predict if Kristoff will be worse than even Demestriu.'

'Is it possible to be worse than Demestriu?'

Lachlain leaned back, mulling the possibilities. If this Kristoff had taken Oblak, then he'd want the royal seat of Helvita as well. It was possible that Kristoff could kill Demestriu for them.

Yet there was another twist. Oblak had been the hold of Ivo the Cruel, the second in command of the Horde. For centuries, he'd had his sights on Helvita and the crown, and he'd apparently survived the taking of his castle. He'd been eyeing Helvita when he had his own holding; now robbed of it, he must be aching for Helvita. Would he make a play for it, even knowing the Horde had never recognized a leader without royal blood?

Three unpredictable powers, three possibilities. Lachlain knew Ivo's vampires were stalking Valkyrie all over the world, obviously searching for one among them, but was Ivo doing Demestriu's bidding or acting alone? Would Kristoff take the offensive and seek out the target who was clearly so important to the Horde?

Though there was speculation, no one could say with certainty who this person was.

Lachlain feared he could. One or even more of these factions were searching for the last female vampire.

That night Emma lay under his arm as he slept. He held her like a vise, as if he dreamed she was leaving him. When, in fact, he was going to leave her. Uneasy, she ran one fang along his chest and lapped for comfort. He groaned softly.

After kissing the mark she'd just drawn from, she drifted into a fitful sleep full of dreams.

In one, she saw Lachlain's office from his eyes. Harmann stood at the door with a pensive expression, clipboard in hand.

Lachlain's voice rang in her head as though she were there. 'There's no chance of it, Harmann. We will no' have bairns,' he said.

Expeditious Harmann had wanted to make preparations for the arrival of children, because as he'd said, 'If you have vampire little ones, they will need special amenities. We can't begin preparing soon enough.' He appeared anxious, as though he was already behind.

Lachlain believed he and Emma would have had incredible children—brilliant lasses with her beauty, and braw, wily lads with his temper. He might have felt a whisper of regret, but then he pictured her upstairs sleeping in his bed. How she would sigh in contentment when he joined her, and how he could coax her to take blood from his neck in her sleep.

She'd never known this—why was he doing it?

She heard his thoughts: Must make her stronger.

When he watched her sleeping, he often thought, My heart lies vulnerable outside my chest.

Emma flinched with shame. Her weakness made him worry about her constantly, worry so much that it even made him ill sometimes. He was so strong, and she was a liability.

He hadn't told her he loved her, but his heart hurt—she felt it—with love for her, for his Emmaline.

Children? He would give up anything for her.

Could he give up his revenge? If he did, he would become a shell of himself…

The dream changed. Lachlain was in a dark, foul place that smelled of smoke and sulfur; his body was a knot of agony that she felt. He tried to stare down the two vampires, with their red, glowing eyes before him, but he could scarcely see from his own battered eyes. The vampire with the shaved head was Ivo the Cruel. The blond, tall one she knew through Lachlain's hatred was…Demestriu.

Emma's body tensed at the sight of him. Why did he seem familiar to her? Why did he stare into Lachlain's eyes as though he were seeing…her?

Then came the fire.

30

Emma raised her face to the warmth of the rising moon as it filtered through the trees. She and Lachlain sat on opposite sides of a small fire he'd built to warm her further. The breeze that wisped through the great forest of Kinevane was chilly.

She knew others would enjoy such a romantic situation—two people alone, a fire crackling in the Highlands —but she was on edge and Lachlain clearly was as well. His gaze was locked on her every movement, no doubt scrutinizing her for a hint about what she'd dreamed.

She would love a hint, too.

Near sunset, she'd shot up in bed with hot tears streaming down her face and the entire castle quaking under an onslaught of lightning. Face drawn with panic, Lachlain had clasped her arms, shaking her and yelling her name.

Yet she didn't remember the dream. Nïx had told her that people couldn't remember what they couldn't handle. So what had been so bad that Emma had almost toppled a castle with lightning, then wiped it from her memory? All night, she hadn't been able to shake an underlying feeling of dread. Just how heavy was this other shoe she sensed was about to fall?

'What do you think of that makes your expression so serious?' he asked.

'The future.'

'Why no' relax and enjoy the present?'

'As soon as you let go of the past,' she countered.

He exhaled wearily and leaned back against a tree. 'You ken I canna do that. Can we no' speak of something else?'

'I know you won't speak of the…torture. But how did Demestriu come to capture you in the first place?'

'Demestriu faced my father in the last Accession and slew him. My younger brother Heath could no' handle the rage he carried. He obsessed on the fact that Demestriu took our father's life—and then stooped to steal his ring, which had been passed down since metal was first forged. Heath told us he'd rather die than feel that way. He set out for Demestriu's head and that damned ring, uncaring if we followed or aided him.'

'He wasn't scared? To face him alone?'

'Emma, I believe in times of adversity there's a line that is sometimes drawn, a line that separates your old life from your new. You cross the line, you'll never be the same. Heath's hatred made him cross the line, and he could never go back. He'd sealed his fate to one of two outcomes: Kill Demestriu, or die trying.'

His voice went low. 'I searched everywhere for him, but Helvita is hidden mystically, like Kinevane is. I used everything I'd ever learned about tracking, and I believe I got close. That's when they ambushed me.' His eyes were faraway. 'Like a nest of vipers they rose up, attacking, then tracing, so I could no' retaliate. There were too many.' He ran a hand over his face. 'I later learned that they had no' taken Heath alive.'