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Irish lore. Gaelic was the ancient language of Ireland. While she was
bound in the tent, she had decided to use a little of her old literature
training to figure out what Beck was. It was obvious he didn’t think of
himself as human. From the way the gnomes treated him, Meg had
come to the conclusion that he was a faery of some kind. From the
looks of him, he was more than likely a sidhe. They were the human-
looking faeries and the ruling class. She wondered which tribe he
came from. Human myths broke the Fae into two tribes, the Seelie
and the Unseelie. The Seelie were the blessed, shining ones while the
Unseelie held all the monsters the Fae had to offer. She rather thought
him a Seelie. She hadn’t gotten a look at his ears. According to some
lore, they should be slightly pointed. Of course, not all myths were
proving true in this strange place. The vampire was proof of that since
he was walking around in the daylight.
“Hey, vampire guy, shouldn’t you be all crispy and fried by
now?” Meg asked bluntly because he seemed like a blunt kind of
man.
Dellacourt stopped in his tracks and laughed. “Damn, she really is
from the Earth plane. Darling, the vampires there are idiots who got
lost and couldn’t find their way back. I read all the DLs on the
subject. Horrifying stuff, really. You see, your sun is different. It has a bad effect on my kind, see? It puts us into a weird fugue state during
the daylight hours, and if we get caught in it, we sort of explode.” He
shuddered. “And apparently, the animals there aren’t fit for
consumption, so they end up eating a diet made up entirely of human
blood. Though I’ve heard your kind tastes spectacular, sweetheart.
I’ve often thought that if I could get a trade route onto the human
plane, I could make a ton of money selling human blood.”
Rhys pressed on. “Go away, Dellacourt. You’re scaring the girl.”
“Mr. Dellacourt doesn’t scare me exactly, though I find him
slightly repugnant,” Meg admitted, eliciting a snort of agreement from
Cara. Rhys was right.
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“Oh, no, that won’t do. The name’s Dante, sweetheart. Please, all
the beautiful women call me Dante. And I’ll have you know I am
considered extremely good-looking.”
Meg shrugged as she walked on. She supposed he was. He was
tall and lanky but seemed strong. His hair was a thick reddish gold
and cut in a stylish fashion. It was long and spiky and probably
required a lot of upkeep to look that messy. She’d noted his eyes were
green before they were covered by his sunglasses. All in all, though,
he looked like a wimp compared to Beck. “You sound like a used car
salesman.”
Rhys piped up, seemingly eager to pile on to Dante. “His sister
runs one of the biggest corporations on the vamp plane, but
Dellacourt here is only allowed to oversee the family’s computer
chain. They rebuild old machines.”
“Yep,” Meg said with a satisfied smile. “Used car salesman.”
They were getting close to what appeared to be a massive arena. It
was circular and constructed from a combination of wood and stone.
There were several arches that appeared to be entryways. Meg could
hear a crowd roaring their approval.
Dante pulled on Rhys’s arm. He got to one knee. All previous
sarcasm had fled, and in its place was an earnest desperation. “I am
begging you. Give me half an hour. You can delay half an hour. Look,
Beckett Finn is in the woods somewhere hunting. I’ll pay his fee to
enter the tournament. His brother is dying. He needs her. Don’t you
owe your king something?”
“Rhys of the Gentle Hills is forever loyal, Dante,” a soft voice
said.
Meg turned and saw Beck standing mere feet from her. He had
removed his vest and changed into dark pants and a different shirt. He
held that long, ornate sword in one fist as he moved toward the arena.
“Excellent.” Sarcasm poured out of the vampire. “I just spent the
better part of the day running around a freaking forest looking for
you, and here you are, looking fresh as a daisy. Cian said you had
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gone hunting. I went to your brugh when I heard about the
tournament.”
“I told Cian I was hunting because I didn’t want to get his hopes
up.” Beck spoke to the vampire, but his eyes didn’t leave Meg.
He was gazing at her like a predator preparing to pounce. His gray
eyes blazed through her, and she knew exactly what he wanted. He
wanted to take her away from here. He wanted to go somewhere
private where he could lay her down and spread her thighs. At least
that was what she hoped he wanted.
“Are you going to make big puppy eyes at the girl for the rest of
the day, or are you going to go kick some ass?” Dante asked.
Beck shook his head and walked straight up to Meg. “You’ll have
to forgive my cousin. He’s a bit of a pain, love. You’ll get used to
him. He can’t help it. He’s a vampire.” He leaned over and kissed her
soundly. “I know you’re scared, but remember my promise. We’re in
this together now. I won’t let you down. And, love, please remember
anything I do, I do to protect you.”
With those mysterious words, he turned. As he walked toward the
gates of the arena, he shouted back to Rhys. “What did he promise
you to try to get you to put off the tournament?”
“Half a million in gold, Your Highness.”
Beck stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his cousin. He had
a look of impressed awe on his face. “You broke bastard. You didn’t
have half a million before your sister cut you off.”
Dante Dellacourt shrugged elegantly. “If I’m going to lie, I’m
going big. There is no use in doing something halfway.”
Beck shook his head and turned back. “Take care of her, cos.”
The vampire smiled down at her and gallantly offered his arm.
“Well, we have our orders, my lady. Come along. Let’s find a good
seat and pray Beck doesn’t get himself killed.”
Meg let the vampire—the flipping, freaking vampire—escort her
into the arena. Her heart was pounding, but she put one foot in front
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of the other. She knew that whatever happened in here would change
her life forever.
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Chapter Three
Meg found herself watched by every eye in the arena. Only Fae
like Beck and vampires like Dante had come to view her in the tent,
but now all manner of creatures stared at her as she forced herself to
climb the stone steps to the chaise Rhys and Cara had motioned her
toward. She found herself staring openly at what had to be an
enormous troll. It was six feet tall, and it was sitting. She couldn’t
imagine what it would be like standing up. It was also extremely
hairy. Behind him looked to be a group of what she could only term
goblins. They were small and muscular with leat
hery skin and wild
tufts of hair in odd places. Somewhere in the back of her head, she
could hear the cantina music from Star Wars playing.
“Never been off the Earth plane, huh?” Dante had a dumbass
smile on his face.
“Do those fangs ever go away?” Meg heard herself ask irritably.
The vampire seemed to take it all in stride. “Certainly not when I
am in the company of a half-naked female with a heart-shaped ass.
Sorry, they pop out when I’m hungry or horny. Can’t help it. And as I
recently dined on a first-grade meal pill, courtesy of Dellacorp, I think
we have to assume it’s your fault. What do you say we ditch His
Highness, go somewhere private, and make some baby fangs?”
“Pay him no heed, miss.” Cara looked at the vampire, shaking her
head. The chaise was plush and covered with tent of ornate fabric that
kept the fierce late-afternoon sun off her skin. “Vampires are not
known for their manners.”
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“Is that blood?” Meg looked at the pockets of red that dotted the
sand of the arena floor. Groups of gnomes were hurriedly shoveling
out the offending sand.
“Damn.” Dante sank down beside her. “They already got rid of
the chopped-off limbs. That’s my favorite part.”
“They’re really going to fight?” Meg was suddenly horrified at the
thought of Beck being out there. It was ridiculous, but she felt such a
strong connection to him that she couldn’t stand the thought of him
getting hurt, much less dying. It must be Stockholm syndrome. Or
maybe it was because he had given her the first honest-to-goodness,
real live, no-double-A-batteries-involved orgasm she’d ever had.
Whether she turned out to be Patty Hearst or just some desperate girl,
she didn’t want Beck’s blood staining the arena.
“Yes, miss,” Rhys answered, taking a seat next to his wife. “Your
tournament is the last of the day. It is also the largest. The rest of
these females are just simple mates. You are very rare.”
Meg let out a sigh of frustration. The whole thing was terribly
confusing to her. She looked to the vampire. He didn’t seem to have a
problem telling her the painful truth. “Why? Why do all these men
want me?”
His sunglasses receded, and he looked her in the eyes. His green
eyes sparkled in the shade. “The vamps or the Fae?”
“Both.”
His manner took on a distinctly academic tone. “The Fae are
interested in you as a bondmate. Certain Fae have psychic abilities
that are greatly enhanced in the presence of a female whose brain is
tuned to theirs. In Beck’s case, it’s a little more urgent. Beck was born
with a symbiotic twin, Cian. Think of them as halves of a whole.
Beck is the practical half. He is the warrior. Cian is the intellectual half. When symbiotic twins turn twenty-five years old, a bondmate is
found for them, if they aren’t already contracted. The female forms a
triad with the males. She bridges their minds through hers, and they
are able to function together. It makes all three stronger. When Beck’s
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uncle took over Tir na nÒg, he closed the plane. He did this for
several reasons, but no doubt one was to cut off his nephews from a
bondmate. They have been forced to look elsewhere.”
“So Beck is twenty-five.” Meg was a little surprised. He seemed
older, but perhaps it was his regal authority that made him seem that
way.
“My cousin turned thirty nearly three months ago,” Dante replied,
all teasing gone from his attitude. “Cian is fading. The intellectual
half is in desperate need of the bond. It is killing him to go without. If Cian fades, all that will be left is the warrior with nothing to balance
him. Beck will likely go mad. If that happens, he’ll have to be put
down.”
“That’s horrible,” Meg replied. “But how can he be sure I’m this
bond thingy?”
Now a slow smile curled the vampire’s lips. “There’s only one
way to know for sure. Tell me, sister, was it good for you?”
Meg felt her whole body flush with embarrassment. The scene in
the tent had been Beck’s way of telling if she was compatible. He’d
even told her that was what he was doing, but the thought of everyone
knowing what he’d done made her skin turn red. The vampire threw
back his head and laughed.
“You are so rude,” Meg complained. She received sympathetic
looks from the gnomes.
Dante shrugged, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “I don’t see
what’s rude about it. It’s a simple fact of life. We all like to get
fucked, sweetheart, and from what I’ve heard, old Beck there knows
how to do it right. Of course, it would be slightly different with a
bondmate. Even without the full bond, during sex, you would have a
connection with him.”
“I would feel what he felt.” Meg remembered that odd, erotic
moment when she could feel his hard-on, feel her own pussy gripping
his fingers as she came.
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“Congratulations,” Dante said almost sweetly. “You’re a
bondmate. I’ve heard it’s the most intimate connection a being can
have.”
wasn’t here to fall in love. She shouldn’t be here at all. She would
suffer through this. When she had the chance, she was going to get
away, and no intimate bond was going to stop her. She decided to
slightly change the subject. “And the vampires?”
Dante leaned in, his fangs showing beneath his wide smirk.
“Darling, the vampires are here because you taste really fucking
good.”
Cara leaned over Meg’s lap and slapped the vampire. Dante took
it with good grace, merely leaning back as though he was slapped by
females on a regular basis. “Stop teasing the girl. Miss, the vampires
are looking for what they call a consort. You have to understand there
are two types of vampires, the peasant and those of royal blood.”
“Don’t call them peasants,” Dante whistled under his breath.
“Them’s fighting words. One day you call them peasants, and the next
day they unionize.”
Cara ignored him. “The royals are the vampires with ancient
blood. They are pure vampire. If they can find a proper consort, their
lives are greatly elongated by taking his or her blood. The consort also
receives a much longer life by taking the vampire’s blood into his or
her body. The consort’s blood makes the vampire stronger than he or
she would normally be. I heard your sister recently married her
consort, Mr. Dellacourt.”
Dante’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Yes, now our house is filled
with love and roses every day. I’m not having any of it. What’s the
point in an extra couple of hundred years if you can’t party? Susie and
Colin. What idiots! They walk around like love-struck teens. It’s
disgusting. See, the bad part about finding a superhot piece of tail like
you is the inevita
ble, long decline into idiocy.”
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“He’s trying to say that vampires fall deeply in love with their
consorts,” Cara said primly.
“You say potato, I say potahto,” Dante sang.
“You, Miss, could serve as either a bondmate or a consort,” Rhys
interjected over the increasingly impatient crowd. “The psychic
connection apparently comes with some changes in the blood.
Normally, there would be plenty of suitable men and women. It is a
common thing in Fae creatures. It’s why our poor king is related to
that one. Mr. Dellacourt’s father took the king’s aunt as his consort.
The Fae and Vampire planes are closely linked.”
“Well, they were until that bastard Torin took over,” Dante said.
“And why does everyone speak English?” Meg found that very
confusing. “I don’t get it. Dante sounds like every half-assed player
prowling the bars on a Saturday night.”
Dante touched his chest and looked horribly offended. “Now
who’s rude? For your information, I speak English because my people
created it a really long time ago. You can’t possibly think your
ancestors were intelligent enough to come up with such a convoluted
and ridiculous language. At some point in time, my people found the
door to your plane and taught you a thing or two. It probably
happened around the time your people started standing upright. By the
way, fire? Also a vampire discovery. You have us to thank for that,
I’m sure. As to my speech patterns reminding you of your home
plane, I can only say, ick. I don’t mean to sound like some human. It’s
an unfortunate truth that our planes are very closely connected. If the
DLs on the subject are correct, there are a lot of similarities between
the two. Think of it like this—our planes started out on the same
track, but humans took over your plane, and vampires were the
evolutionary winners on mine. There are bound to be many, many
similarities.”
“Like the potato song,” Meg mused.
“You have that, too? Funny how that happens sometimes. I’ve
heard you can run into yourself on planes like that. The Vampire
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