“This way.” Valerian led his contingent into the dining hall. A group of dragons came into view. They stood at the table, discussing their best course of action.

  “Kill them and be done with it,” one of them growled. “I do not wish Poseidon’s wrath upon my family.”

  “If we let Poseidon’s threats affect us, we give him complete control of our lives,” Darius said. “What if he wishes us to kill our own women tomorrow?”

  “If we disobey him, we may not live long enough to know.”

  “There is a reason the gods have never slain us, a reason why they sent us back into this palace instead of destroying the nymphs themselves.” Darius again.

  “What reason?”

  “I do not know, yet knowing there is a reason gives us a bit of power. All I am saying is that if we do this, we become servants and we put our own race in danger. If the gods destroy one, what is to keep them destroying another?”

  “Nothing,” Valerian answered. His signal.

  Weaponless, the nymphs swarmed forward. Valerian wished to the gods he held The Skull, but he could not postpone this fight. Streams of fire spewed from the dragons the moment they realized they were under attack. Valerian shoved Shaye behind a small side table and leapt forward. He and Darius met midair. That the dragon king retained his human form meant he was not enraged. Yet.

  They grappled to the ground. Valerian landed a hard punch into his opponent’s face. Blood trickled from Darius’s mouth, yet the cut healed quickly. Dragons possessed accelerated healing, which made them difficult to slow. He gave another punch and rolled, then kicked out his leg, hitting Darius’s stomach.

  Darius was flung backward, but immediately righted himself. He spun. His tail had sprouted and that tail slashed at Valerian’s face, cutting deep. He felt the sting of it, but didn’t let it affect him.

  All around him nymphs and dragons warred. Their grunts permeated the air.

  “I agree with what you said about the gods.” Valerian lunged, punched. Contact.

  “Then you are not as foolish as I thought.” Darius kicked again, and his foot slammed into Valerian’s side.

  Spinning continuously, he lashed out at Darius. He landed four successive blows. “I will not give up this palace. It belongs to us. You already have a home.”

  “For the safety of Atlantis, the portal must be guarded. How can I trust you to do this? To not use it for your own gain?”

  Valerian paused.

  Darius did the same.

  They stared each other down, both panting. “When we win the nymph females back from you, we will have no more need of the surface world.”

  Around them, the battle still raged. Valerian ducked as a stream of fire propelled toward him. The heat of it burned, singed, even though none of the flames touched him.

  Darius said, “Poseidon said that according to the laws, only Guardians were to use the portals to travel to the surface, that any other deserved punishment. If you were a Guardian…”

  “I would do my duty.” Valerian studied Darius’s face. That scar slashed from eyebrow to chin. His eyes were swirling blue, determined to kill if he must, but hoping to find another way.

  “The portal I guard leads to a jungle on the surface. The portal here leads to an ocean on the surface, as I’m sure you know. If you stay here,” Darius said, “human travelers will come through. Most often they simply swim too deeply, are innocent, but they will be yours to destroy. The Outer City will be yours to guard. I am ready to relinquish this duty as it was never meant to be mine. I have enough handling the Inner City.”

  “I will protect it with my life,” Valerian vowed. “This is the only home we have ever known.”

  “Then kneel.”

  Valerian knelt without hesitation. He stared up at Darius, who sliced a thin cut down the center of his chest, and offered a blood oath to always guard the portal, to keep the city safe.

  Around them, the men finally stopped fighting to listen and watch. Shaye approached Valerian’s side, and he stood. He linked their fingers. He should have scolded her for leaving the safety of the table, but he liked her where she was too much.

  Darius’s gaze flicked to her and widened with surprise.

  “I told you I wouldn’t leave him,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin.

  His lips twitched. “My Grace would have done the same.”

  “Shall we trust each other, dragon?” Valerian waited impatiently for the answer. Everything he’d ever wanted hovered within his grasp.

  Darius’s gaze became piercing. “Yes,” he finally said. “We shall trust each other. And battle the gods together if we must.”

  Valerian held out his hand. Darius eyed it for several seconds before clasping it with his own. The truce was sealed, and Valerian did not know how he would explain this to Layel. “Let us hope we live long enough to regret this.” He turned to Shaye and gathered her in his arms, where she belonged. Where he planned to keep her for all of eternity.

  “This is the most unhappy I’ve ever been,” she said, grinning. “I just hate you so much.”

  Softly he kissed her lips. “Not nearly as much as I hate you.”

  Oh, but they were going to have a long, happy life together.

  EPILOGUE

  “HOW MUCH IS THIS ONE?”

  “That one will cost you a kiss. A big wet one. Probably a ten-second Frencher.”

  Valerian pushed away the basket of oranges he always kept in his room and studied the card Shaye had made. “Without you, I’m nothing,” it read. With each day that passed, her cards became more and more poetic. Which was a good thing, since his men needed the cards to lure the female nymphs from their pique. Seemed they weren’t too happy about being left with the dragons for so long.

  But the sweet cards also meant that Shaye herself was being lured from her past hurts. She was adapting to life here admirably, amusing herself by making and selling cards to him and his men and the residents of the Outer City, where she’d set up shop. Always guarded from demons and other forces, of course. Even the dragons bought them when they came to visit—Darius had needed one for his pregnant wife. The vampires, too, bought them, though they did not visit often. Layel was upset by the alliance between nymphs and dragons. Valerian was determined to unite the two races.

  So far Poseidon and the other gods had not returned. Or rather, had not made themselves known. Maybe they would soon, maybe they wouldn’t. Valerian had Shaye, and that was all that mattered. He could handle everything else that happened. He’d even promised Shaye he would find a way to take her to see her mother. And he would. What Shaye wanted, Shaye would receive.

  Life, at the moment, was all that he’d ever dreamed. Joachim was mated to Brenna and the little woman had become the army’s best healer. She patched the men after every training session and battle, and she did it with a smile, followed by a lecture about “acting like babies” when the fearless warriors whimpered at the sight of a needle.

  Shivawn was his only reason for upset. The man’s mood grew blacker and blacker, and he was spending more and more time in the vampire camp, most likely sleeping with Alyssa (even though he had many nymph females to choose from) and not liking that he was driven to do so. Oh, well. The warrior would find his way. Of that Valerian was sure.

  “Well, do you like it?” Shaye asked, pointing to the card in Valerian’s hand.

  “I love it. But a kiss is too low a price, moon.” She sat behind a table and he leaned over it, placing them nose-to-nose. “You should demand sex and nothing less.”

  She chuckled. “Your men would buy more if I did so, I’m willing to bet.”

  “I will pay my men’s debts,” he growled with mock ferocity. “In fact, I owe you for several Joachim purchased and it’s time I paid up.”

  Her arms wound around his neck. “Take me to bed, Valerian.”

  “That will be my pleasure.”

  “And mine, love. And mine.”

  GENA SHOWALTER

  THE VAMPIRE’S BRIDE

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Gena Showalter

  The Amazon’s Curse

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  PROLOGUE

  LAYEL, KING OF THE VAMPIRES, hated son of Atlantis, fought so fervently against his chains that the metal cut past skin and muscle, nearly slicing into bone. He did not care, continued to struggle. What use were his hands without his beloved to caress?

  Susan. Inside his mind, the name was a prayer, a scream of desolation and a wail of sorrow, all twisted into an agonizing spiral of shame. How could he have allowed this to happen?

  “Release him,” someone said. Layel would have looked at the speaker, but he could not pull his gaze from his woman. Or rather, what was left of her. “Let him see up close what he has wrought upon himself.”

  Footsteps pounded. There was a tug on one wrist, then the other, and the chains gave way.

  Weak, nearly drained of blood, Layel tried to step away from the iron fence that propped him up, but his knees gave out and he collapsed. With the impact, hot breath abandoned him and reality settled deep. I’m too late. They kept me chained long enough to ensure she could not be turned. I cannot save her. He gagged. Gods, oh, gods.

  Susan lay a few feet away, her once vibrant, beautiful body now stripped, violated and burned. Around him, the dragons responsible laughed, their voices floating in and out of his consciousness.

  “…deserved this and more.”

  “…and look at him now.”

  “…pathetic. He never should have been crowned king.”

  Layel had left Susan in his palace, safe, happily drowsy and snuggled in bed, while he and a contingent of warriors doused a fire in the surrounding forest. He hadn’t known the fire had been started purposely until it was too late.

  Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods. A choked cry escaped him, blood spraying from his mouth. What seemed an eternity ago but could only be hours, he’d returned to an ambush, Susan’s screams echoing in his ears. The anguish he’d heard as she’d shouted for his aid, the pain he’d seen contorting her features as she’d pleaded with the dragons for the life of their unborn child…both would haunt him into eternity.

  Susan.

  By the time he’d fought his way to her, she’d already gone silent, her expression frozen in misery. The silence had been ten thousand times worse than the screams and writhing physical agony.

  Dead. She was dead. Layel had failed her in every possible way. And in his grief, the very dragons who killed her had managed to capture him. They’d torn him from Susan’s lifeless body and chained him to the gate in front of the palace. Then, oh, gods, then they had dragged her body in front of him, taunting him with her death.

  His gagging became heaving, and he emptied the contents of his stomach. A meal Susan had prepared for him, eyes glimmering with amusement. And later, for dessert, she’d flicked her lovely dark hair aside and offered her vein, knowing just where the biting would lead.

  Arm shaking uncontrollably, he reached for her. The tips of his fingers brushed the hollow of her neck. No pulse. Dirt mixed with blood, caking her charred, still-hot skin in clumps. “Susan,” he tried to whisper, but his voice no longer worked. His throat was raw from screaming, pleading and desperate bargaining. But nothing had helped. The dragons hadn’t disappeared and Susan hadn’t returned to life.

  Though he was still surrounded by the enemy, he was unable to take his eyes off his mate. He knew, soul deep, that this was the last time he would ever see her. My love. My sweet love.

  Stay in bed, she had beseeched only a few hours ago. Make love to me.

  I cannot, love, but I will return quickly. That, I promise you.

  She’d pouted a bit, pink lips dipping prettily. I can’t bear to be without you.

  Nor I you. Sleep, and when I return, I’ll make you forget I was ever gone. How is that?

  Promise?

  Promise. He had kissed her softly and strolled from their chamber. Content, satisfied. Happy. Assured of a future together.

  “Now you can suffer as we have suffered,” one of the dragons spat, tearing him from his cherished memories.

  In the background, Layel could hear demonic laughter. His gaze lifted, and he saw several red, glowing eyes peeking from nearby bushes. An audience of demons, he realized. How long had they been there, watching? Could they have helped Susan? Probably. That laughter…They’d seen—and enjoyed—everything.

  “Your people drained our loved ones, blood-drinker, and so we burned yours.”

  Ignoring them, Layel gathered his remaining strength and crawled as close to Susan’s body as he could get, leaving a trail of crimson behind him, hot tears pouring down his face. The dragons didn’t try to stop him. His shaking intensified as he awkwardly gathered her in his arms. There was no smile of greeting, no whispered endearment.

  Her once pretty face was swollen, bruised and smeared with soot. Her silky dark hair was gone, singed to the scalp. He had loved to wrap those strands around his palms, loved to hear her purr for his kiss.

  Closing his eyes against the horror of what had been done to her, he hugged her close, so close, before gently laying her back down. He could not bear to sever all contact, however, and smoothed a fingertip over the seam of her lips. They were still hot, burning him as smoke rose from her parted teeth.

  Susan. Eyes stinging, he crouched all the way down and placed his temple upon her rounded stomach. There was no movement inside of it. Not anymore. I love you. Oh, gods, I love you. I am sorry I left you. So sorry. Come back to me. Please. I am nothing without you. To the crystal dome above, he prayed, If you will not bring her back to me, let us bargain. Take me instead. Return her to life and take me. She is everything that is good. She is light. I am darkness and death.

  No response.

  “Enough sniveling. Now you will listen. We are going to allow you to live, king.” The words were sneered by the dragon leader, a towering hulk of muscle and rage. “And with every breath you take, you will remember this day and the consequences of allowing your people free rein.”

  Layel barely heard him. Susan, sweet Susan. None had been as gentle, tender, loving or kind. Her greatest crime was—had been, he corrected with an inward roar—loving him.

  She had been his everything. Yet his precious human had been slaughtered. For his lack of leadership, the dragon had said. She had been tortured because Layel had wanted nothing to do with the vampire throne and had refused to place restrictions upon the army under his command as his father had.

  “I’ve awaited this moment for many months,” another of the hated beasts said, spraying him with a stream of fire.

  The flames settled in Layel’s cheek, crackling, singeing deep. He gave no reaction, didn’t even open his eyes. Truly, he felt nothing except the razor-sharp edge of his grief. If the gods would not heed his cries, he wanted to remain in this spot forever, wanted to die with his woman and child. His family.

  “Look at him. Look at the mighty Layel, reduced to this.”

  All of the dragons laughed.

  “I can see why you liked her, vampire. That tight little sheath took me all the way to the hilt.”

  “I liked pumping into her mouth, feeling her throat close around me.”