The Vampires Bride - By Gena Showalter Page 0,35

to...Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it and scrubbed the memory from his mind.

But he knew it would come back. It always did.

Layel probably thought he'd been stolen, locked away and forced. Layel was wrong. Zane had gone to the demons of his own volition. Every disgusting thing the demon queen had done to him, he had allowed. Begged for, even. He'd been cursed with a beauty most demons found irresistible, and the queen had craved him even though his heart belonged to another. A slave. Stay with me until I tire of you, the queen had said, and then I will free you both. But she hadn't, and Cassandra, a siren enslaved by the demons, had begun to look at him with hate.

Demon whore, he heard in his mind even now. Demon whore, demon whore.

Scowling, he flattened his hands over his ears. The taunts did not die. Only seemed to increase in volume. A roar ripped from him, and he slammed his fist into the nearest tree trunk. Bark cut past skin. Blood oozed down his arm. The vile things he had done...all for nothing.

"Are you hurt? Oh, I hope it's terribly painful!"

The feminine voice, soft and lilting, somehow managed to overshadow the din in his head. He whipped around and there, in front of him, was his tormentor, worse than any demon he had faced. Nola. She was so lovely, he lost his breath. She was tall, but not bulky. Lean, but strong. And yet, she appeared delicate, as if she would break in half with a good squeeze. Angelic, as if she had no other thoughts beside pleasure.

He knew those angel-looks were deceptive.

While he was not repulsed by her touch or her regard - why, why? - he found that he did not like her. She behaved like a demon, demanding, happily taking from others without giving anything in return. Taking his concentration, his self-protective instincts.

"Following me was foolish." If only he had his knives. He could have thrown them, embedded each in her chest. But when the god had popped Zane onto the beach, the sticks he'd painstakingly sharpened had no longer been strapped to his body. And that made no sense. They'd been told to make whatever weapons they wished, yet still they weren't allowed to use them.

"We both know you cannot hurt me." Nola lifted her chin, her features smug. No, her features attempted a smugness she could not quite pull off. Too much vulnerability in her eyes, he noticed for the first time. Too much heartache. "You're not smart or fast enough."

Insults no longer affected him. Too many had been hurled at him over the years. Besides, while she sneered them at him, they lacked any kind of heat. "Last night, you surprised me. You will not have that advantage again." Of its own accord, his gaze lowered to her neck, where her pulse drummed wildly.

She flicked her dark hair over one shoulder, baring even more skin. Her hand was shaking. "Hungry, vampire?"

There was challenge - want? - in her tone, as if he could look but would never be allowed to taste. His eyes narrowed, the dare pricking at him sharply. "The thought of having your blood in my mouth sickens me."

He could not slay her; she was on Layel's team and Zane would never purposely hurt the man who had killed the demon queen, freeing Cassandra. And if he could not slay Nola, she would be able to touch him. What if last night had been an aberration? What if she touched him and he wanted to die, as he did with everyone else? Or worse - what if he wanted more from her?

"Sickens you, huh?" Unlike him, she could not overlook an insult. Fury and hurt flashed momentarily in those vivid emerald orbs, quickly replaced by determination. "I could make you beg for it. Many men have. Or I could make you a slave, just as Delilah will do to your king."

Every time she opened her mouth, he liked her less and less. How could he desire her, then? Even for a moment? "You are my enemy, now more than before. I am slave to no one." Would never be a slave again, willing or not. "The only thing I want from you is your absence. And believe me, as badly as I crave it, I am still unwilling to beg."

A tremor rocked her lithe body. "Oh? And you think your teammates will offer their blood to you?"

"Most likely."

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