Page 11 of The Hawk and the Nightingale

Iveta nodded. “We’ve lost enough already. It’s time for him to know how it feels.”

After a hot bath and a hearty breakfast, Amalie was ready to face her treacherous ex-lover. It was Marek’s way to lurk in the shadows and wait for her to exhibit the barest shred of happiness before lashing out at her. Why go after a lonely shopkeeper, when he could wait for her to find a new, better lover, and then pull the rug out from under her feet. And why did Marek know Amalie had a new lover? Because she went prancing around Prague wearing scandalous dresses while wearing the garnet.

“Arrogance and stupidity,” Amalie spat, her anger at herself making her blood boil. How could she have been so foolish? Wearing the garnet in public was sure to attract attention, and she’d been so careful for so many years. Then Hawk strode into her shop, and she felt an attraction to him that she hadn’t felt to anyone in years. If she were a younger woman, she would call it love at first sight.

But Amalie wasn’t a young woman. She was an old, old vampire, the head of her small clan, and had once been the consort to one of the deadliest undead warlords in history. She knew better than to call her new interest in Hawk anything other than an infatuation, regardless of whether or not it was mutual. In fact, it hardly mattered if it was mutual, because in a few decades Hawk would be gone, and Amalie would still remain.

That is, unless Marek managed to kill her this time. Then Hawk would live on long after her demise.

I refuse to let that bastard win.

She also refused to leave Hawk in the dark. Most vampires thought mortals beneath their notice, and that granted Hawk a modicum of safety from Marek’s plans. However, she needed to tell Hawk that she may have inadvertently compromised both him and his club. If anything happened to Hawk, or one of his people, she would never forgive herself.

Amalie gritted her teeth, and dressed herself in jeans and a conservative sweater. She needed to speak with Hawk as soon as possible, and for once she couldn’t let sex get in the way. After what she told him, Hawk would probably never want to see her again.

A short time later, Amalie stood on Hawk’s front step working up the nerve to knock on his door. She didn’t know if he was home, or even awake, but this awful news was the sort of information best delivered in person. That way, he could look her in the eye when he called her a monster and cursed the day they met.

Cowardice is the least sexy trait. She took a breath, and knocked. Less than a minute later, Hawk himself opened the door.

“Amalie,” he said, surprised but not offended by her impromptu visit. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, but I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but something has happened.”

“You are not intruding.” He stepped aside, and beckoned her to enter. “Please, come in.”

Amalie entered, and rounded on Hawk as soon as he closed the door. “I’m so sorry, but an old enemy of mine had learned of my location, and he may know of you, and your club.”

Hawk ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve just made some coffee. Let’s go to the kitchen, and talk.”

“We can’t sit around having coffee when such things are in motion!”

“I can.” When Amalie frowned, he added, “I do my best thinking after coffee. Come, indulge my simple mortal ways.”

He smiled and held out his hand, and Amalie’s heart softened. “All right, but this is business, not a breakfast date.”

“Who said anything about breakfast? You expect me to feed you, too?” Despite his words, as soon as Amalie was seated in one of the tall bar stools at the kitchen counter Hawk poured her a cup of coffee, then he began laying out an assortment of fruit and pastries.

“I thought you lived alone,” she said. “Why do you keep so much food on hand?”

“My employees frequently come here before and after their shifts,” he explained. “They’re often hungry, so I feed them.”

“You’re very good to your people.”

“They work hard, and I appreciate them.” Hawk sat across from her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What isn’t wrong,” she began, and told him how she had once used her nightingale’s voice to attract the attention of Marek, the most ruthless vampire warlord in Eastern Europe. The village elders had used her voice and her body to pay that year’s tithe, and Amalie had gone willingly.

Then she realized she would never be anything but Marek’s slave.

She omitted the story of being tied to the whipping post, bare and bloody as Marek’s people cheered for her death, but she did tell Hawk about being turned. After Amalie had gone to Marek’s fangs she became his songstress and his consort, as close to a queen she could be while his mother, Varushka, still lived.

In Amalie’s new role she was afforded unprecedented access to his world, and it wasn’t long before she realized how evil he truly was, and how terrible he was to his people. Once Iveta had been given to Amalie as a handmaiden, and Marek turned her against her wishes, they began plotting his downfall in earnest. Her plan culminated in Marek’s mother’s death and Amalie’s seizure of the garnet, an ancient symbol of the clan’s power.

When she finished her tale, Hawk asked, “If that garnet is so precious, why did you wear it to my club?”

Amalie blinked; of all the questions she’d expected him to ask, it wasn’t that. “I suppose I wanted to look nice for you.”

Hawk took her hand, kissed her fingertips. “As always, you were beautiful.”

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