Page 41 of Queen of Vampire Hearts

“No! Lucien, think!” Erik grappled with me, pinning me to the floor. “You want her to trust you? Show you trust her!” I cracked my forehead against the lycan’s, throwing him off. Erik rallied and took me to the ground again. We rolled across the stone floor, exchanging blows. Or rather, I pummeled Erik. The lycan blocked them, never returning a strike. He was only trying to keep me from killing his pack members, not injure me. Though his eyes were glowing amber, and his fangs were extending and retracting as he tried to control his beast, he was resisting his need to shift. Once the change began fully, Erik would not be able to stop it.

In the most logical side of my brain, which was admittedly very,veryfar from the surface at the moment, I knew Erik was making sense. But the thought of another touching Phoebe…

Mine. Mine. Mine!

The more overpowering the need to get to Phoebe, the more savage I became, and Erik was powerless to block the brutal hit to his jaw. The werewolf shook his head repeatedly, allowing me to shove him off. I got to my feet, preparing to continue my race to my mate. I could taste the werewolves’ blood in my mouth, dripping down my throat as I strung them up by their entrails, making them watch as I played with them.

“Damn it, Lucien! You’ll lose Phoebe if you do this!” Erik shouted at my back, and it was those words that penetrated the thick fog of possession that claimed me.

Lose Phoebe?

Never.

Frozen at the doors to the throne room, I shut my eyes tight. I forced away the images of another with her. Instead, I remembered the healthy sheen of sweat on her face when we sparred. I filled my mind with the way she cuddled against my side after I’d pleasured her, the way her smile lit up her face, the sound of her laugh. I hissed out calming breaths through my clenched teeth, repeating her name over and over in my mind. It took a few minutes of teetering on the edge of control before my fangs receded. The rage was still running through me and likely would continue until I caught sight of her, but at least it was leashed.

“What do you suggest, Erik?” My voice was guttural and unrecognizable. I kept my back to the lycan, unsure if I could maintain the control if I moved.

“If you offer your trust now, she will be more likely to offer hers in return.” He paused before continuing. “Do you believe she would encourage one of my men’s affections?”

No, I didn’t. I remembered the way she spoke about her parents’ marriage, and I heard the envy in her voice. She was loyal to those she trusted. With that realization, the rage eased.

Erik sighed as he came to my side. He hit my shoulder again and said, “Now let’s go see what trouble they’ve gotten themselves into.”

XIX

The Realm of Mortals.

Întuneric Castel, Romania.

IT TOOK EVERY OUNCE OF CONTROLI possessed to force a calm I did not feel. My skull was pounding from the need to slaughter, tokill. My fists flexed as I struggled to maintain my sanity. I did not think Phoebe wouldencouragetheir affections, but I didn’t want someone gaining any kind of goodwill from her, not when she still hated me.

Erik forced me to walk when I wanted to sprint through the halls, making the trek torturously slow. What horrors awaited me? What if she convinced them to help her escape? Orworse? As we closed in on the kitchen, we could hear raucous singing echoing against the stone walls.

“For Norway, birthplace of giants, we this toast will empty!”

What in all hell?We turned the corner, and my jaw practically dropped to the ground. Two of the wolves were drunkenly bellowing, extremely off-key, slumped against the wall by the doorway, several dishes of half-eaten food on the ground between them.

“And when we first get our blood in a boil, we sweetly of liberty dream.”

I shifted to take in the rest of the kitchen. Some of the staff were deep in their cups, whispering behind their hands, forgetting about the enhanced hearing of immortals. It didn’t matter, as most of the words were slurred beyond recognition, anyway.

“Though we will someday wake up and break chains, ties, and force.”

The two still upright lycans were at the round dining table with Phoebe, locked in a battle of extreme concentration. I counted eleven empty shot glasses sitting in front of each. The two empty spots only contained nine. I shot a look at the two werewolves on the ground. Nine shots, and they were down for the count? What the fuck were they drinking?

I watched in amazement as Phoebe and the two lycans threw back their twelfth shot. One of the wolves swayed in his seat. Phoebe and the other survivor watched him carefully, waiting for him to topple.

“For Norway, birthplace of giants, we this toast will empty!”

He slid from the chair onto the floor in a boneless heap. Phoebe cheered, high-fiving the remaining lycan, though she missed and smacked him hard in the face. What the fuck had happened here?

I leaned against the doorway, taking it all in. Of all the horrible scenes running through my mind during my tortuously long walk down to the kitchens with Erik, I couldn’t have even guessed at the one playing out. Erik had tested my restraint by delaying us, and when I wasn’t torturing myself with scenarios, I’d passed the time by imagining ways to kill him.

The newly collapsed werewolf joined the other two for their drinking song. Though he remained on his back, his limbs spread out on the floor.

“Each brave hero, among cliffs born, we will drink to his honor!”

I cautiously stepped forward into the light of the kitchen, Erik at my side. The human staff that could still stand fled at the sight of us, but the werewolves didn’t even flinch at the presence of their king. The remaining lycan battling against Phoebe noticed us and shoved her roughly, gesturing to Erik and me. Phoebe’s head swung toward us, and I held my breath, waiting to see how she would react to my presence.

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