Daughters of Lyra: Heart of an Emperor (5 page)

She smiled nervously and
glanced along the hall in both directions.

“
Will you let
me in?” she said, the anxiety showing her voice and her beautiful
dark eyes.

Regis stepped back to
allow her to pass. She took a step and then stopped, her eyes
widening slightly when they fell on his bare chest. Her cheeks
darkened and she hurried past him and into the room. Closing the
door, he watched her standing in the middle of his room, looking
over his luggage. She turned to face him, her mouth open and shock
in her eyes.

“
You’re
leaving?”

He nodded. “I
must.”

“
Why?” she said
and looked away, back at the trunks.

“
I cannot
remain here.” He went to his trunks and closed the lids. “Not
now.”

“
Not now?” She
took a step towards him, her dark eyes wide and entrancing. Each
shy glance she had ever given him flashed across his memory, making
his blood burn.

His gaze shifted to her
neck and his hunger rose. The world became brighter as his eyes
altered and he waited to see how she would react to the sight of
them so vivid with bloodlust.

She touched her throat,
delicate fingers caressing skin that he longed to devour and
taste.

“
You want my
blood... and you’re leaving because of that?”

There was an incredulous
note to her voice that amused him on some sick level. She didn’t
know what she was dealing with. Whatever she had learnt about his
species and their bloodlust couldn’t prepare her for the reality.
The darkness and violence, the need, were things that were
impossible to put into words that any but a Varkan could
understand.

“
I must.” He
turned away from her and pressed the dark pad on the front of the
cases, locking them and registering his imprint with them so none
but him could open them.

She huffed and grappled
with the lid of one of the trunks, trying to prise it open, clearly
wanting to unpack his things as though that alone would make him
stay. Her efforts were futile but it didn’t stop her. There was a
sense of sheer desperation about her actions and her feelings. He
could sense them as clearly as he knew she could sense his when he
was close to losing control. One of her parents had more than one
species blood in their veins. Perhaps her mother. It seemed likely
that a daughter would receive her mother’s gifts.

“
Why?” Sophia
said, surrendering her attempt to open his luggage. Her jaw was set
tight, her lips beautifully compressed into a thin line that said
she wasn’t going to give up so easily. What was she fighting for so
vehemently? Was this the true face of love?

Did she love
him?

A voice at the back of his
mind laughed and mocked him for thinking such ridiculous things. A
princess wouldn’t lower herself to marry someone she knew wasn’t of
royal blood. Their trip here would prove him right in that. No
matter what she said, it was wealth, power and connections that she
wanted from marriage.

Not love.

“
Why?” she said
and moved closer to him, seemingly unaffected by his half-dressed
state now. He was under no illusion about her innocence. She had
never been alone with a man like this before. Anger coloured her
cheeks as much as the sight of his bare chest had. “Because you
want to bite me?”

If only it were so
simple.

“
You do not
understand,” Regis said and walked over to the bed to retrieve his
jacket.

Before he could put it on,
she had crossed the room and had come to stand only a few feet
away. The sound of her heart pounding filled his senses and he
could feel the warmth radiating from her. She pushed a strand of
her long black hair from her face and glared at him.

“
Father says
that Varkans control their bloodlust.” She grabbed his sword off
the bed and unsheathed it a little.

“
What are you
doing?” He grabbed her wrist but not before she had managed to run
her finger along the blade.

His eyes
widened.

He stared at the drop of
blood as it blossomed on her finger. She held it up, her palm
facing the ceiling so the drop remained perfectly balanced. His
lips parted and his teeth sharpened. His heart thumped hard against
his chest, faster than he had ever felt it beat before.

His breathing turned heavy
as he stared transfixed at the tiny bead of blood. Fire consumed
him and a desire for violence was born in its midst. He trembled as
he held her wrist, his fingers tightly closed around it, aware that
he was probably hurting her but unable to care at that moment. He
was lost. His mind raced forwards to imagine every possible outcome
of this moment. A wave of bloodlust stronger than he had ever
experienced hit him and he could see himself killing all in the
palace just to get to her, to have her all to himself.

He could see himself
killing his friends.

Her family.

Everyone.

It was torture to see all
that in one single drop of blood and know that if he tasted her,
drank from her, the feelings he had now would increase in strength
one hundred fold.

He would lose his
mind.

“
You can love,
Regis... you’re just too afraid of how those feelings control you,”
she said and his gaze snapped to hers. “Well they control everyone.
We’re slaves to them too.”

His breaths shortened as
the hunger rose.

“
Is it just
blood making you lose control?” she whispered, sinful and tempting
as the blood itself. “Or is it my blood? Is it me?”

He frowned at her. Was it
her or her blood? He had been battling for control over himself
from their first meeting in the square. He hadn’t smelt her blood
back then. He had only smelt her perfume of Lyran
lilies.

“
I’m not
afraid, Regis,” she said and removed his hand from her wrist.
Entranced, he stood there, watching with a sense of inevitability
as she raised her hand and the precious drop of blood towards him,
knowing he wasn’t strong enough to stop her. “Not of love or these
feelings. Not of you or your hunger.”

She wiped her finger
across his lower lip, smearing it with the rich taste of her
blood.

“
Tell me that
you didn’t want me before you had a taste.” Her voice was a sultry
whisper that made him realise that she didn’t know how dangerous
what she had done was. He couldn’t control himself any longer.
“Tell me that you didn’t feel something that night we spoke in the
garden.”

He shuddered and licked
his lip. Bringing his hand up, he touched his mouth and then
brought it away. His fingers shook, paler now than they had been.
He couldn’t control himself and he wished for her sake that he
could.

He frowned and tears
filled his eyes, hot and rebuking.

Was this love?

This desire to protect
her, even from himself, even when he knew that he wasn’t strong
enough?

“
Tell me that
you didn’t want to kiss me and I will believe that you cannot love.
I will leave.”

He stared at
her.

“
I wanted you
the moment I saw you.” He grabbed her around the waist and crushed
her lips with a kiss so consuming it felt impossible to sate. His
tongue thrust into her mouth and hers came to meet it, tangling and
gliding against his in a way that stirred the fire in his blood. He
growled, picked her up, and continued to kiss her as he lay her
down on the bed, only half-aware of what he was doing.

She moaned on contact with
the soft bed and he ground his teeth, closing his mouth and
struggling for control. Her hand came up to caress his cheek,
bringing the scent of her blood with it. It was too much, too
intense. It shattered what little control he had retained and sent
him over the edge.

He poured all his hunger
and need into his kiss, claiming her mouth for his own just as he
longed to claim her blood and her body. The feel of her delicate
warm fingers stroking his cheek drove him on, luring him into
enacting all the sinful thoughts running through his mind. He
closed his eyes and fervently kissed her, his body hardening as her
tongue caught his teeth and a flood of sweetness filled his senses.
Her hands lowered to his arms as he devoured her mouth, seeking out
every molecule of blood, desperate to taste each one. Her fingers
flexed around his muscles and then held them tight as her body went
rigid and a moan escaped her. He groaned at the feel of her body
brushing his, stirring his desire until a red haze fogged his
mind.

He needed her.

She didn’t protest or put
up a fight as he dragged the skirt of her dress up to reveal her
legs. He broke off the kiss and stared down at their long shapely
forms, the sound of her heartbeat and her rapid breathing filling
his ears. With a growl, he grabbed her and pushed her up the bed,
so he was level with her hips. He pushed her dark blue skirt away
and ran his hands over her thighs. She shook beneath him, trembling
in a way that his body matched as he stared wide-eyed and open
mouthed at her bare legs.

He wanted her.

She would be
his.

Every Varkan would know
it.

With a snarl, he sunk his
fangs deep into her thigh and sucked hard, pulling a mouthful of
her blood and then swallowing down the sweet nectar. She shrieked
and her hands grasped his shoulders, shaking with the pleasure he
could sense in her. He drank deeper, lost in the haze and his need.
One thought pounded his skull as he clung to her legs and held onto
her.

She was his.

A loud banging disturbed
his solitude, his moment, and he raised his head. Seven signatures
on the other side of the door. All meat. All dead. He roared at
them, a warning for them to leave before they met their deaths.
They banged again and ordered him to open the door.

Sophia muttered something,
her eyes closed and face flushed with desire. The scent of it
filled the room, suffused his senses along with that of her blood.
He growled at the thought of their moment being disturbed, at the
thought of those men daring to intrude and interrupt her
pleasure.

Kneeling on the bed, he
narrowed his eyes on the door.

He roared.

“
In the name of
Iskara and the King of Lyra, open up!” several men demanded at
once.

Addled by the blood, Regis
grinned. He would open up. He grabbed his sword and unsheathed it.
He would open up and then he would open them up.

He ignored Sophia’s feeble
protest as he left the bed and stalked towards the door, intent on
protecting what was his.

****

Chapter
5

The weird dizziness and
warmth evaporated in a heartbeat when Sophia realised that Regis
had opened the door. Tall burly armoured guards poured in and she
screamed as she raced to cover her legs and sit up. Regis roared
and she reached out to him. Kneeling on his bed, she could only
watch as he fought the guards, his eyes blazing red and his mouth
bloodied. Her blood. She flinched when he blocked one of the
guards’ blades with his bare arm and it sliced into it. She had
done this to him. She had made him lose control.

She reached out again,
desperate to speak but unable to find her voice. He ran one guard
through, gutting the man, and roared as he attacked the next. What
had she done? She hadn’t meant for it to turn into this, for it to
go this far.

Her heart ached when the
guards finally disarmed Regis and piled onto him, pinning him down.
She couldn’t watch as they carried him away, didn’t want to hear
his shouts of protest. Even though he was speaking the old Varkan
language and she couldn’t understand the words, she knew that he
was angry. She could feel his outrage and his hunger.

Sophia didn’t understand
why he felt those feelings though. Was it because of her? Was he
angry at the disturbance? She had been, at least at first. She sat
in silence in the empty room and lifted her skirt. Her fingers
traced the neat set of red marks on her flesh. They didn’t hurt.
The whole area felt numb. In fact, she felt numb. Her initial anger
at the guards’ arrival and Regis stopping biting her had faded to
guilt and misery.

She had driven Regis into
biting her and now the guards had probably taken him to the palace
cells. Her father would probably have him killed.

It was all her fault. She
touched the mark on her thigh again. It had felt so good though.
She had tried to keep quiet but it had been impossible. The wave of
pleasure and sense of connection to Regis had been overwhelming,
sending her out of her mind.

The door opened and she
covered her leg, smoothing her dress down over it. She frowned when
she saw it was her mother and turned away to stare at the window.
Night was falling. How long had she been sitting here thinking
about what she had done?

Her mother sat beside her
and placed her hand over hers. It was comforting, warm, and made
tears fill her eyes as she felt she no longer had to be strong. Her
mother would understand. Her mother would never be angry with her,
not about anything, and certainly not about something concerning
love.