LITMIR.BIZ

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it last night. I say he is telling the truth and we do as the Queen says. Let him go. Demonstrate our goodwill to the dragons. Use the beginning of this new era to show them we are willing to change.”

      He stopped, his back visibly tensing. A heartbeat later, he’d crossed the room in a plume of smoke and mist to stand before her. Cold fingers wrapped around the bare flesh of her arm, pulling her into him. “I grow so weary of your insolence, little Alexia,” he spat, twisting his hand until her skin beneath it burned.

      Grimacing, she pulled free of his hold. “I’m happy to disappoint you.”

      Again, he made a move for her. But he stopped short, as if he finally remembered he stood in the presence of the Queen. With a shift of his shoulders, Lotharus straightened and turned his focus to Catija. “That dragon knows the location of the crystal and will confess it in good time. He is too strong and willful for us to have broken him in one night.” He looked back at Alexia. “And as for releasing him, that is something I will not do until I am confident he speaks the truth. Or he’s dead.”

      Alexia watched him turn on his heel and again make for the door. “I will not let you destroy my entire reign before I even get there,” she cried. “Do you hear me?” When Lotharus didn’t reply, a wave of helpless annoyance rode through her. “You cannot deny my orders! I am the ruler here.”

      Finally, he stopped and looked over his shoulder, his lips twisting. “Not yet, you’re not.”

      Alexia watched in stunned disbelief as he left the room. The moment he was gone, she rushed back to her mother. “Are you honestly going to let him get away with this? He’s trying to start another war.”

      The Queen casually took up the bottle and refilled her goblet. “We are already at war. Lotharus is only trying to do what’s best for our horde.”

      “You say the words as if you’re trying to convince even yourself. What is best is to let the prisoner go. You said so yourself only moments ago.”

      Catija lifted her head and Alexia couldn’t help but notice it loll slightly to the side, as if it were too much effort to hold it upright. “Why this fierce stance on the dragon’s life?”

      “Me? What about you? A minute ago you were begging Loth—”

      “How many others like him have you killed for the good of this horde?”

      Her question hit Alexia like a bucket of icewater. “Too many.”

      The Queen stood. “Perhaps you should be thinking, not enough.” Chalice in hand, Catija lifted her skirt and turned toward the bedchamber door. “I’ll see to it that Marguerite comes to get you fitted for your ascension gown.”

      “So that’s it. Are you going to lie down and let him make all the decisions for you?” She exhaled. “Goddess, he has you totally delusional, doesn’t he?”

      The Queen spun around, her black eyes flashing. “I will not have you address me so. This is my horde to rule until you ascend, and by the Goddess, I will do what I see fit.”

      “I wish you would rule. But you have only two days left. And you better pray the dragon lasts that long.” She sucked in a breath, hoping to drag some courage into her lungs along with air. “If not, when I become Queen, you and your lover will have to answer to me.”

      Chapter Six

      EVENTUALLY, THE SOLDIERS hauling Declan came to a brace of doors and burst inside without knocking. When they stopped, Declan forced his heavy head up. Bloodred velvet draped the back wall of a lush chamber. Gothic tapestries hung along another. However, he could not keep his eyes off the bed in the corner—off the intricate wooden bed frame at its foot.

       The one from the dream.

      Vivid images of Lotharus and Alexia flashed behind his eyes. Unbidden, a low growl vibrated in his chest.

      Declan felt Lotharus’s cold presence before he saw him emerge from the corner. Although the room did not seem overly masculine, Declan deduced right away that this must be Lotharus’s room. Realized with the little grain of consciousness left to him that Lotharus would want to hold the memory of his murder within his private walls, keep it close, like some sick kind of security blanket.

      When the vampire finally stepped fully into the room, Declan’s lip curled into a snarl. Memories of the last time he’d seen that sneering face, of what he’d done to Alexia, clawed to the surface. The hate he’d channeled toward her shifted to Lotharus for reasons he couldn’t explain and wouldn’t explore.

      With a primal instinct, Declan yanked his limbs away from the unsuspecting guards and lunged for Lotharus. However, the collar quickly pilfered the strength his fury had given him. Hands descended on his chest and legs, pushing him back until he slammed against a stone wall. At the impact, chains rattled beside him. Declan swallowed an uneasy lump in his throat as the soldiers strung him up, securing that unbearable collar around his neck to a hook on the wall, his wrists and ankles to connecting chains.

      He noticed Lotharus had not flinched a muscle during the entire ordeal. He merely stood, watching.

      And Declan did not take his eyes off him.

      Satisfied with the bindings, the guards slipped back and stood along the walls. Lotharus stepped forward, his black eyes leveled on Declan, no emotion in their shadowed depths. Only blackness, nothingness.

      “Now,” Lotharus said, tugging up the sleeves of his black overcoat. “Are you ready to tell me where the crystal is?”

      Declan smirked. “Three things I can’t stand…Horde, Thai food and answering the same question over and over…”

      Lotharus tucked his arm back, landing his fist on Declan’s nose. Before he had time to recover, another hit blew against his temple. A third slammed against his eyebrow. One for each hate, he figured.

      Throbbing pain began a low drumbeat in his skull. Declan gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound, determined not to give the bastard one ounce of satisfaction. He lifted his head to see Lotharus staring down at him. Slowly, he started undoing the buttons of his coat. Shrugging out of the garment, he laid it carefully over the side of the bed before stepping forward.

      “You know,” he said, rolling up the cuffs of his black shirt, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “I don’t think I properly thanked you last night.”

      Declan forced his lips into a smile. “For what? Showing your girlfriend how to kiss?”

      An elbow slammed into his gut before the last word had fallen from his lips. Declan sucked in a breath, groaning when he repeated the action again.

      “You may think you’re funny now, but it will be I who is laughing last, Derkein. I assure you.”

      “Aw, come on,” he said with a pained grunt as he stood upright again. “I thought that was a good one.”

      A booted heel slammed into his ribs, sending him back over, and a fist cracked across his face, followed by another and another. Declan coughed, spitting out the stream of blood flooding his mouth onto the pristine white floor by his feet.

      As he watched the red flow between the tiles, a shadow darkened over him.

      “That was for drinking from what’s mine.” Lotharus’s knee kicked into his gut, once, twice. Usually, Declan could handle these simple hits. But the collar acted like some sort of muscle relaxer. He couldn’t tighten his abs and block the blows. Instead, each one sank deep into his body, crushing his lung and perhaps a rib or two in the process.

      As Declan fought against the bolts of agony wrenching his gut, Lotharus squatted in front of him. “And that is for trying to claim her,” he said before standing and walking away.

      Declan smiled through the pain. So that was what this was all about? The girl? His smile turned into a chuckle. The chuckle morphed into an outright laugh. The footfalls stopped. Lotharus held his hands twined

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