“Why are you telling me this now?” she demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Because you are willing to sacrifice yourself to save him.” He touched a cold finger to her pale cheek. “If you do, Anna Randal, you condemn Cezar to your own fate.”
Chapter 20
The attic of the farmhouse was a filthy, cramped place that was barely fit for pathetic humans, let alone a powerful queen.
It was, however, a perfect location to keep an unconscious vampire hostage.
Ignoring the thick dust that marred the hem of her gossamer gown, Morgana studied the demon who hung from the rafters by the silver leash.
His rich, dark hair was disheveled to tumble around the elegant lines of his beautiful face, and since she had commanded Troy to strip him of his shirt, there was nothing to hide the chiseled perfection of his bronzed chest.
She could understand Anna Randal’s fascination with the creature.
All vampires possessed a potent sensual appeal. They were predators who used sex to lure their prey. But this vampire…
He was perfectly formed to pleasure women.
And pleasure them well.
It was almost a pity she was going to have to kill him.
Shifting her attention from the unconscious vampire to the tall imp with his crimson mane of hair and wary expression, she allowed a cold smile to touch her lips.
“You have done well, Troy.”
Kneeling, the imp lowered his head. “Thank you, my Queen. I live to serve.”
Morgana’s lips twisted as she moved forward to capture Troy’s chin in a brutal grip. Yanking up his head she savored the stark fear that flared through the emerald eyes.
“Or you serve to live, eh my little traitor?”
“I have brought you the vampire,” the imp rasped. “Surely I have proven my loyalty?”
Her anger whipped through the cramped space. She would not forget the imp’s treachery. Anna might very well be dead now if the arrogant bastard hadn’t whisked her away from the nightclub. But, she was wise enough to realize that for the moment Troy was a tool she could use to her advantage. He was the only one who could get into the vampire’s lair. And now that she had so kindly reminded him of the pain she could inflict, he was the one creature she could be assured wouldn’t disappoint her again.
Once she had finished this unpleasant business, she would consider whether to continue with the fun of tormenting him, or simply kill him and be done with it.
“I will decide when you’ve proven your loyalty, worm,” she purred.
The imp shivered, but he never allowed his gaze to waver. Troy, Prince of Imps, possessed the sort of courage that was far too rare among the fey. Perhaps she should think about having his sperm frozen before killing him. With the right training his offspring might make suitable soldiers.
“Yes, my Queen,” he murmured, his tone suitably respectful.
Releasing her hold on his chin, Morgana turned so she could study the beautiful vampire.
“You are certain he is secured?” she demanded.
“Of course.” Rising warily to his feet, Troy pointed to the heavy collar around Cezar’s neck. “The silver will keep him incapacitated so long as it touches his skin.”
“And the fairies are in place?”
“They are hidden and await your word to slay the intruders.”
Morgana closed her eyes as she allowed her senses to flow outward. “They are near. I can smell the stench of my brother’s blood.”
“Then I should go and make sure…”
Stepping to block the imp’s hasty departure, Morgana pressed a finger to his chest, a smile twisting her lips as the imp screamed in pain.
“Oh no, Troy, I want you well away from my back while I’m finishing this unpleasant task,” she drawled, flooding his body with a searing heat. “But know this—if you even try to slip away from me I’ll rip your heart from your chest and eat it for dinner.” She leaned close enough that their lips were touching in the mockery of a kiss. “Do we understand one another?”
Troy’s ragged breath filled the room. “Perfectly.”
“Good.” Moving back, Morgana reached to grasp one of the numerous stakes that she had lined up on a decrepit chair. “Take this stake and place it against his heart. If he so much as twitches I want to know.”
Still shaking with pain, the imp took the stake and pressed it against the vampire’s chest.
“As you command, my Queen.”
Confident that her trap was suitably baited and ready to snap shut on her prey, Morgana smoothed her hands over her glorious mane of hair and turned to make her way down the narrow flight of stairs.Throughout the house, she could sense the fairies hidden among the shadows, all of them poised to protect her the moment she commanded. They might not love her, but they knew better than to fail her.
Unlike her ridiculous brother she understood the power of fear. Why would she waste her time groveling for the loyalty of her subjects when she could demand it instead?
At last reaching the ground floor, Morgana closed her eyes and reached out with her thoughts. She frowned as she sensed the various demons that were attempting to surround the farmhouse.
Vampires, of course. Those she had expected. But there was also a werewolf and a Shalott. Both rare creatures who were as dangerous as vampires in their own right.
No matter. She deliberately smoothed away the frown and dismissed the demons from her mind. They were clearly allies of the vampires. So long as she held Conde Cezar they wouldn’t dare to harm her.
Just as Anna Randal wouldn’t dare to harm her.
A faintly smug smile touched her lips as she felt her vulnerable young niece hesitate just outside the door.
At last.
After centuries of hiding in the mists and stalking her prey from the shadows, she was about to bring an end to her brother’s line.
And then she would be free.
Free to rule as she had been meant to rule.
Reaching out her hand, she used her powers to wrench the door open, her smile widening at the faint gasp of surprise from the slender, honey-haired woman.
“Ah…my beautiful niece,” she mocked. “Welcome to my home.”
Something that might have been fear rippled over the delicate features before Anna Randal was squaring her shoulders and stepping over the threshold, closely shadowed by two powerful vampires.
Morgana briefly allowed her gaze to flick over the large, blond vampire. His icy fury filled the air with a dark hint of violence. A dangerous demon on the edge, but for the moment leashed by his fierce control. At his side the tall, dark Aztec was rigid with grim determination, his immense power coiled and ready to strike.
Morgana felt a tiny flare of surprise as she recognized that power. The Anasso, King of Vampires.
Obviously Conde Cezar had friends in high places.
The knowledge might have been unnerving if she didn’t have the vampire chained upstairs with a stake to his heart.
Vampires were as ridiculously loyal as her brother had once been. They would readily give their lives for another.
Saps.
As if sensing her smug amusement, Anna Randal moved to stand directly before her, the hazel eyes flashing with anger.
“Where is he?”
Morgana flicked a brow upward at the sharp tone. “I know for certain you weren’t raised by trolls, my sweet. Where are your manners?”
Anna’s mouth fell open, as if outraged by Morgana’s chastisement. “You slaughtered my family, stalked me like a psychopath, sent your minions to kill me, and kidnapped the man I love, and you want to lecture me on manners? That might be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.”
It was Morgana’s turn to be shocked. No one spoke to her in such a manner.
No one.
“Pathetic? You loathsome little pest. I am your queen and you will give me the respect that I deserve,” she hissed, stepping forward. She was going to teach the bitch to grovel before she killed her. “You will be on your knees when you speak to me.”
Her hand reached out, but before she could grab Anna’s hair and force her to her knees, the tip of a cold, steel blade pressed to her neck.
“Not a step closer,” the dark vampire hissed, his eyes hard with warning.
Her hands clenched as she shifted her furious gaze to glare at the demon who dared to threaten her.
“Do you think I fear you, vampire?” she hissed.
“You should.”
“Children.” At her sharp command there was a rustle of sound as her fairies appeared from the shadows, their weapons lifted and pointed toward the intruders. “Each bow holds a wooden arrow. Not all of them will miss.”
The vampire didn’t even blink. “Perhaps not, but I’m betting I can cut off your head before one finally hits my heart.”
There was another prick at her neck as the hulking blond vampire pressed his own sword to her neck.
“And if he doesn’t, I will,” he growled.
“Do you want to call my bluff?” the dark vampire demanded.
Morgana curled her lip at the display of testosterone. Men were always so eager to use brute force when cunning was more efficient.