A Hunger Like No Other (43 page)

Lachlain and Emma sat among them, but he was restless, unable to watch the movie when Emma was making lazy circles on his palm with her fingertip.

Lachlain had invited only Bowe and Garreth to the festivities, though everyone in the clan hankered to meet the wee queen who'd felled Demestriu. But his kind liked to drink and rib and be boisterous, and he could just see the
mad Valkyrie, who didn't drink—
anything
—reacting poorly. The preternatural versus the natural mixed with liquor.

But Lucia had “gone on walkabout,” as the Valkyrie called it, or “fled,” as Garreth more accurately termed it, and Lachlain had completely understood when Garreth had set out after her. Bowe had accepted, but after absently congratulating him that night, he'd spent an hour huddled in a corner with Nïx. Afterward, he'd been cryptic and preoccupied and had flown out early.

Casting looks that dared anyone to nay-say him, Wroth had audaciously shown up with a laughing Myst by his side. But the coven seemed to treat Wroth with the same indifference they showed Lachlain, who'd mostly been shrugged at as if he'd always been a fixture. Except for Annika—after she'd spotted Wroth, her chin hadn't been lifted quite so proudly, and Lachlain had heard her mumble, “Furie's going to kill me . . . .”

Lachlain shifted restlessly. He thought he was finally strong enough for them to leave tomorrow. He was physically ready to resume relations with his
wife,
and wasn't eager to do it under this roof.

He stood and offered his hand, and with a shy smile she slipped her hand in his. As they crossed in front of the screen, they barely dodged a volley of popcorn.

He didn't know where he was taking her, maybe out into the night fog. He just knew he wanted her, needed her, right then. She was too precious to him, too good to be true. When he was inside her, with his arms tight around her, he felt less like she'd slip away.

But they only made it to an empty hall before he pressed her against the wall, cupped her neck, and demanded once again, “You'll stay with me?”

“Always.” Her hips arched up to him. “You love me?”

“Always, Emmaline,” he grated against her lips. “Always. So damn much you make me mad with it.”

When she moaned softly, he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He knew he couldn't have her here, but the reasons why grew hazy with her breaths in his ear.

“I wish we were home,” she whispered. “Together in our bed.”

Home.
Damn if she hadn't said
home. In our bed.
Had anything ever sounded so good? He pressed her harder into the wall, kissing her more deeply, with all the love he had in him, but suddenly they were falling, his balance somehow lost. He clenched her to him and twisted to take the impact on his back.

When he opened his eyes, they were tumbling into their bed.

Eyebrows raised, jaw slack, he released her and levered himself onto his elbows. “That was . . .” He exhaled a stunned breath. “That was a wild ride, lass. Will you no' warn me next time?”

She nodded solemnly, sitting up to straddle him, pulling her blouse over her head to bare her exquisite breasts for him. “Lachlain,” she leaned down to whisper in his ear, brushing her nipples over his chest, making him shudder and clench her hips. “I'm about to give you a very . . . wild . . . ride.”

Yet after everything that had occurred, his need for her was too strong, and he gave himself up to it, tossing her to her back and ripping her clothes from her. He made short work of his own, then covered her. When he pinned her arms over her head and thrust into her, she cried his name and writhed beneath him so sweetly. “I'll demand that ride tomorrow, love, but first you're going to see
wild
from a man who knows.”

The Lore

“. . . and those sentient creatures that are not human shall be united in one strata, coexisting with, yet secret from, man's.”

The Valkyrie

“When a maiden warrior screams for courage as she dies in battle, Wóden and Freya heed her call. The two gods give up lightning to strike her, rescuing her to their hall, and preserving her courage forever in the form of the maiden's immortal Valkyrie daughter.”

• Valkyrie take sustenance from the electrical energy of the earth, sharing it in one collective power, and give it back with their emotions in the form of lightning.

• Possess preternatural strength and speed.

• Also called
Swan Maidens
,
Shield Maidens.

• Enemies of the Horde.

The Vampire Horde

“In the first chaos of the Lore, a brotherhood of vampires dominated, by relying on their cold nature, worship of logic, and absence of mercy. They sprang from the harsh steppes of Dacia and migrated to Russia, though some say a secret enclave live in
Dacia still. Each vampire seeks his Bride, his eternal wife, the one who bloods him, or renders his body fully alive by giving him breath and making his heart beat.”

• Have the ability to teleport, also known as
tracing.

• Also called
The Daci.

• Enemies of most factions in the Lore.

The Lykae Clan

“A proud, strapping warrior of the Keltoi People (or Hidden People, later known as Celts), was taken in his prime by a maddened wolf. The warrior rose from the dead, now an immortal, with the spirit of the beast latent within him. He displayed the beast's traits: the need for touch, an intense loyalty to its kind, a craving for the delights of the flesh. Sometimes the latent beast rises . . .”

• Also called
werewolves, war-wolds.

• Enemies of the Horde.

The Forbearers

“. . . his crown stolen, Kristoff, the rightful Horde king, stalked the battlefields of antiquity seeking the strongest, most valiant human warriors as they died, earning him the name The Grave-walker. He offered eternal life for eternal fealty to him and his growing army.”

• An army of vampires consisting of turned humans, who do not drink blood directly from the flesh.

• Enemies of the Horde.

The Furiae

“If you do evil, beg for punishment—before they come . . .”

• Ruthless she-warriors bent on delivering justice to evil men when they escape it elsewhere.

• Led by Alecta the Unyielding One.

• Also called
Furies, Erinyes.

The Wraiths

“. . . their origin unknown, their presence chilling.”

• Spectral, howling beings. Undefeatable, and, for the most part, uncontrollable.

• Also called
The Ancient Scourge.

The Demonarchie

“The demons are as varied as the tribes of man . . .”

• A collection of demon dynasties.

• Some kingdoms ally with the Horde.

The House of Witches

“. . . immortal possessors of magickal talents, practitioners of good and evil.”

• Mystical mercenaries who sell their spells.

Ghouls

“Even immortals beware its bite . . .”

• A human turned savage monster, with glowing green skin, yellow eyes, and contagious bites and scratches.

• Their imperative is to increase their number by contagion.

• They're said to travel in
troops.

The Accession

“And a time shall pass that all immortal beings in the Lore, from the strongest Valkyrie, vampire, and Lykae factions, to the phantoms, shifters, fairies, sirens . . . must fight and destroy each other.”
Occurs every five hundred years. Or right now . . . .

On Sale July 2nd—
Order Your Copy Today!

Pocket Books

Proudly Presents

No Rest for the Wicked

Kresley Cole

Available Now from Pocket Star Books

Turn the page for a preview of

No Rest for the Wicked . . . .

No Rest for the Wicked

And none will hear the postman's knock /

Without a quickening of the heart. /

For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

—W. H. Auden

F
or the second time in her life, Kaderin the Coldhearted hesitated to kill.

In the last instant of a silent, lethal swing, she stayed her sword an inch above the neck of her vampire prey—because she'd found him holding his head in his hands from grief.

She saw his big body tense, but he didn't trace away. He raised his face to gaze up at her with dark gray eyes—the color of a storm about to be unleashed. They were clear—not red—which meant the vampire had never drunk a being to death. He pled with those eyes, and she realized he hungered for death. He
wanted
the deathblow she'd come to his decrepit castle to deliver.

She'd stalked him soundlessly, primed for a battle with a vicious predator. Kaderin had been in Scotland with other Valkyrie when they'd received the call about a “vampire haunting a castle and terrorizing a hillside in Russia,” and had gladly volunteered to destroy it. She was her Valkyrie coven's most prolific killer, her life given over to ridding the earth of leeches.

So why was she hesitating? Why was she even now easing her sword back to raise it before her? He would be merely one among thousands of her kills—his fangs collected and strung together with the others she'd taken.

The last time she'd stayed her sword had resulted in a
tragedy so great, her heart had been broken forever by it.

In a deep, gravelly voice, the vampire asked, “Why do you wait?” He seemed as startled by the sound of his own words as by her presence.

He must not have spoken out loud for years.

I don't know why . . . . Can't comprehend why . . .

The wind blew, making this high room in his darkened lair groan. Unseen gaps in the walls allowed a chill breeze in. As he stood, rising to his full, towering height, her shining blade caught the wavering light from a cluster of candles and reflected over him. His grave face was lean with harsh planes, and other females would consider it handsome. His black shirt was unbuttoned, displaying much of his chest and sculpted torso, and his pants were slung low at his narrow waist. The wind stirred his thick black hair and tugged at the tail of his shirt.
Very handsome. But then, sometimes the vampires I kill are.

His gaze focused on the tip of her sword. Then as if the threat of her weapon was forgotten, he studied her face, his gaze lingering, it seemed, on each of her features. His blatant appreciation unsettled her, and she clutched the hilt of her sword tightly, something she never did. Honed to exquisite sharpness with her diamond file, her sword cut through bone and muscle with little effort. It swung perfectly from her loose wrist as though an extension of it—she'd never needed to hold it tightly.