The crowd of entrants consisted of all makes and models in the Lore: trolls, witches, and the noble fey. Demons from many of the Demonarchies were present.
Kaderin noted the veterans who were out to win the grand prize—whatever priceless good was offered this Hie. She identified the scavengers who only wanted to snag the individual talismans allotted for each task.
And then there were the newbies. She could make them out in an instant, because they would dare to stare at her.
As a competitor—and the reigning champion for more than a millennium—Kaderin had become more high- profile in the Lore than many of her sisters. She'd garnered power and respect for her covens—and for herself. Had she been a feeler, she would have been prideful of her reputation. She couldn't believe she'd so easily risked it with her recent indiscretion.
Relative to her sisters, her fall from grace would be a nosedive—
Suddenly, her ears twitched. Sensing something in the shadows at the back of the balcony, she turned and spied a massive male, eyes glowing in the darkness. A Lykae? Now, that was unusual. The werewolves and the vampires never entered this contest.
The Horde vampires found it beneath them, and the mysterious Forbearers didn't know of its existence. The Lore found it both amusing and shrewd to keep those turned humans in the dark about their world.
Historically, the Lykae couldn't be troubled to care.
In the past, this set of circumstances had been fortuitous. The Lykae—for all their wild, seething good looks —were single-minded and brutal. And the vampires? With their ability to trace, they would be nigh undefeatable.
The werewolf moved from the shadows, approaching her, and she recognized him as Bowen MacRieve, best friend and cousin to Emmaline's new werewolf husband. He'd lost weight over the last millennium, but other than that, she sensed that he'd changed little—which meant he was still gorgeous.
'Kaderin.' His golden eyes were vivid, his dark hair thick and long. He didn't address her as 'Lady Kaderin,' as the rest of the Lore did, but then, he didn't fear her.
'Bowen.' She briefly inclined her head.
'I dinna see you at the wedding. Quite nice affair.'
He'd been at Emma's wedding, and she'd missed it. 'I'm curious about why you are here.'
'I'm entering.' His voice was a rumbling Scottish brogue.
Deep voices were attractive. An unbidden memory arose of the vampire's gravelly voice breaking between kisses. She shook herself. 'You'll be the first Lykae to do so. Ever.'
He leaned his tall frame against the wall, utterly nonchalant. He was as tall as the vampire, but rangier. Both were rugged, but Bowen probably would be considered more classically handsome.
Comparing him to the vampire? Lovely. As if Sebastian Wroth were USDA grade A?
'Are you alarmed, Valkyrie?'
'Do I look alarmed?' She always enjoyed asking that, since she knew the answer was invariably no. 'Why now?' She'd seen Bowen fighting vampires on a battlefield ages ago—he'd been pitiless in the past, and she'd bet that hadn't changed, either.
He answered, 'A friend told me I might have a particular interest in the prize.' Yes, if possible, Bowen was more handsome, but the vampire's eyes were so very gray, so dark and compelling. If a woman got lost in eyes like Sebastian's, she'd want to please him in any way he desired. Bowen's eyes? One glimpse of them, and a woman wouldn't know whether to jump him or run from him.
Clearly, Kaderin's blessing was holding, because she didn't feel even a flutter of desire for the Lykae.
'You know what the prize is?' she asked, but Bowen wasn't listening. The witches had just arrived—one called Mariketa the Awaited and another woman Kaderin didn't know—and he was busy scowling at them. 'If you're this easily distracted,' Kaderin said, 'I'll have no problems.'
He bit out, 'What are they doing here?'
Kaderin quirked a brow. 'They're here to compete. As they do every Hie.'
She knew the Lykae never purchased magicks from the House of Witches—the Lore's mystical mercenaries. Kaderin had heard a hundred discountable rumors why, and on occasion, she'd speculated at the truth. She couldn't imagine life without the convenience of spells—which could vampire-proof chains and trace-proof cages—any more than she could imagine life without showers. Both scenarios were barbaric to Kaderin.
Now, seeing Bowen's expression, Kaderin wondered if the Lykae eschewed buying spells simply because the witches creeped them out. 'Do you know what the prize is?' she asked again.
'I doona ken exactly,' he said, his attention locked on the two. 'But I know enough to warn you that I'll kill for it.' He finally faced her to say, 'And I daresay killing you would jeopardize the Lykae's tenuous truce with the Valkyrie.'
'So, because of Emma and Lachlain's marriage, I should back out? Even though this is my competition, and has been since you were a wittle puppy?'
He shrugged his broad shoulders. 'I'd rather no' hurt you, all in all. I've never struck a female, much less done the damage I've heard this contest calls for. Damage like you've meted out.'
'Werewolf, don't hate the player—hate the game.' She turned from him, dismissing him. An early broken leg would put the dog out.
At least there wasn't a vamp—
The vampire appeared out of thin air.
Her claws scrabbled along the railing as she fought to stay upright.
8
How in the hell did he find me? She had marble under four claws from where she'd just saved herself from a fall.
He'd first appeared in the back of the gallery, and now she watched as he traced into a darkened corner. No one had noticed him yet—or they'd be scattering as if someone had pulled the fire alarm—because he was able to half-trace, barely visible and unscentable to the low creatures. She'd seen vampires who were able to do that clever trick, but they'd been much older.
Yet she'd seen him perfectly. And, great Freya, if he'd been handsome before, now the vampire was devastating.
Everything about him was different. He'd gained muscle in the last week, making his shoulders broader and the muscles in his arms and legs fuller. His clothing was casual but expensive, with a tailored fit that highlighted his powerful body. His thick, straight black hair was still long but trimmed.
But how in the hell did he find Riora's temple?
Her first thought was that there was a Valkyrie stoolie, feeding him information about her movements. But no, even the rogue ones she feuded with would never betray her—especially not to a vampire.
It must have been the villagers. Those little punks! Her eyes narrowed. Those little condemned punks.
A young winged demon unwittingly scampered past his leg, and from Sebastian's reaction, Kaderin knew he'd never seen beings like these. He was hiding his surprise well, which was a good habit to have, since the denizens here would home in on all his reactions, seeking out a weakness.
If he limped, their claws would be drawn to his leg. If he fell to his knees, their fangs would go for his jugular without thought. Such was the world of the Lore.
'Valkyrie,' Bowen intoned from behind her. 'I've something for you.'
How dare he interrupt her staring? She turned and beheld... diamonds. A gorgeous diamond necklace, offered in his palm.
One of the few Valkyrie weaknesses was the fact that glittering jewels could mesmerize them. Valkyrie had inherited the need to acquire from their goddess mother Freya, and stones like these held a fatal attraction of sorts. Not just any shiny bauble—cubic zirconia wouldn't do it—but deep, vibrant diamonds.
Valkyrie trained exhaustively to be able to resist, yet Kaderin hadn't bothered in centuries. Aversion training tended to be tricky when there was no inclination to possess.
