The much anticipated next Night 1 pageTwice Tempted
A Night Prince Novel
Jeaniene Frost
Dedication
To Tage, Kimberly, Candace, and Carol,
for all that you do and for the great ladies that you
are.
Acknowledgments
Before anyone else, I must thank God.
Apart from Your grace, Jesus, I have
nothing. Additional thanks go to the usual
suspects: my wonderful editor, Erika
Tsang, and all of the other great people at
Avon Books; my hardworking agent,
Nancy Yost; my marvelous husband,
Matthew; my loving family; my supportive
friends; and last, but not at all least, the
fabulous readers of the Night Prince
series. I couldn’t do this without you!
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
An Excerpt from Up From the Grave
About the Author
Praise for Once Burned
Praise for Night Huntress Novels
By Jeaniene Frost
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
This wasn’t the first time I’d woken up as
a captive. It wasn’t even the second. I so
needed to reevaluate my life choices.
From past experience, I knew not to
snap my eyes open or alter my breathing.
Instead, I took inventory while pretending
I was still unconscious. Headache, no
surprise, but other than that I felt okay. My
arms were tied behind my back. The
thickness around my hands was gloves,
tightness around my ankles, restraints.
Uncomfortable gag in my mouth, selfexplanatory.
Once I was done taking stock of my
physical condition, I moved on to my
surroundings. The pitch and roll beneath
me had to be waves, which meant I was
on a boat. Some of my captors were
topside, from the voices, but one of them
was in the room with me. He didn’t say a
word, but after years of living with a
vampire, I’d become adept at picking up
the barely perceptible sounds they made.
So when I opened my eyes, my gaze
landed unerringly on the black-haired
vampire across the room. The only
surprise he showed was to blink.
“Didn’t expect you to be up already,”
he drawled.
I glanced down at my gag and back at
him, raising a brow.
He translated the silent message. “Do I
need to tell you that screaming is
useless?”
I rolled my eyes. What was this,
amateur day? He smiled before rising
from the opposite berth. “I thought not.”
During the short time it took him to
cross the room and remove my gag, I
gleaned as much about him as possible,
too. The vampire looked to be around my
age, but with his scar-free skin, short
haircut, clean-shaven face, and average
build, I judged him to be less than a
hundred in undead years. Vamps older
than that tended to have more wear and
tear on their skin and they usually scorned
modern hairstyles. But the most telling
aspect was his gaze. Really old vampires
had a certain . . . weight in their stares, as
if the passing centuries had left a tangible
heaviness. My nameless captor didn’t
have that, and if I was lucky, neither did
anyone else on this boat.
Young vampires were easier to kill.
“Water,” I said once the gag was
removed. Between that and the aftereffects
from being drugged, my mouth was so dry
that my tongue felt like a wadded-up sock.
The vampire disappeared and then
returned with a can of Coke. I gulped at it
when the vampire held it to my lips, which
meant that I let out an extended burp when
I stopped swallowing. If that burp
happened to be aimed in my captor’s face,
well, it wasn’t my fault. I was tied up.
“Charming,” he said dryly.
“I lost my concern for social niceties
when you shot my friend up with liquid
silver,” I replied in an even tone.
“Speaking of, I want to see him.”
The vampire’s mouth quirked. “You’re
not in a position to make demands, but
yes, he’s still alive.”
“You don’t want to take me to him,
fine,” I said, thinking fast. “I assume you
know I pick up psychic impressions from
touch, so take these gloves off and let me
touch you. Then I’ll know if you’re telling
the truth.”
The vampire chuckled, a brighter green
swarming in the peat-moss color of his
eyes. “Touch me? Don’t you mean use that
deadly electrical whip you can manifest to
cut me in half?”
I stiffened. How did he know about
that? Most of the people who’d seen me
wield that power were dead.
“That’s why these rubber gloves are
duct-taped onto you,” he went on,
unperturbed. “Just in case.”
“What’s your name again?” I asked,
glad I sounded casual.
Those wide lips stretched further. “Call
me Hannibal.”
I smiled back. “Okay, Hannibal, what
do you want me to do? Use my abilities to
find one of your enemies? Tell you if
someone is betraying you? Or read the
past from an object?”
Hannibal laughed, and though it was
more Dr. Evil caliber than chilling, it was
still foreboding enough to creep me out.
“I don’t want you to do anything, little
bird. I’m merely the delivery boy. I don’t
even know who I’m delivering you to. All
I know is you’re worth three times as
much alive, but if you try anything, dead is
still a good payday for me.”
Hannibal gave me a cheery wave
before leaving the room. I said nothing,
trying to think of a way out of my
predicament. I was not going to let myself
be delivered to some unknown baddie. I’d
find a way out of this if it killed me.
Chapter 1
Four weeks earlier
Istood under a waterfall of flames.
Vermilion and gold spilled over me,
twining through my hair, separating into
rivulets along my body before sliding
between my fingers to fall at my feet. The
flames were so dense that I couldn’t see
through them, reducing my world to a
glowing arena of sunset-colored hues.
Being engulfed this way should have
killed me, but I was unharmed. I wasn’t
even afraid. A strange sense of longing
filled me instead. I kept trying to catch one
of the flames but I never succeeded. Fire
might cover me from head to toe, yet it
still managed to evade my grasp.
“Leila,” a voice called, too faintly for
me to discern who it was. “Leave before
it’s too late.”
Logic urged me to do what the nameless
person said, but I didn’t want to. The
flames didn’t seem to want me to go,
either. They kept gliding over me,
caressing instead of burning my flesh.
See? I thought in defiance. They wouldn’t
hurt me.
“Leila,” that voice said again, more
emphatically. “Leave.”
“No,” I replied, and tried to clasp the
fire to me again. As usual, those brightly
lit bands slipped from my hands, but this
time, their lustrous color darkened. When
they landed at my feet, they looked like
ribbons made of tar. Then the waterfall
above me abruptly dissipated, leaving me
naked and shivering in the sudden,
overwhelming blackness.
Fear turned my insides to ice. The
voice was right. Something bad was about
to happen . . .
I didn’t have time to run before fire lit
up the darkness again. It didn’t spill gently
over me like it had before, but crashed
into me from all sides. Pain ravaged me as
the flames attacked me with all their
devastating power, charring and burning
every inch they touched.
“Why?” I cried, betrayal second only to
the agony I felt.
“I warned you,” that unknown voice
replied, safe outside of the wall of fire.
“You didn’t listen.”
Then I didn’t hear anything but my own
screams as the fire pitilessly continued to
annihilate me.
“No!”
In my head the word was howled in
anguish; in reality, it left my lips in a
whisper. It was enough to wake me up,
though, and I jerked away in horror until I
realized I was covered in sheets, not
flames. The only fire was safely contained
in the hearth on the other side of the room.
It took several deep breaths to shake off
the aftereffects of the nightmare. After a
minute, my heart quit thudding and settled
into a more normal rhythm. With a stab of
dismay, I saw that the bed was empty.
Now I wouldn’t have to admit I’d had the
same nightmare again, but I didn’t like that
more and more frequently, I went to sleep
alone and woke up that way, too.
If I were superstitious, I’d worry that
the recurring dream was an omen, but
when I got warnings about the future, they
didn’t come as vague metaphors in my
sleep. They used to come as merciless
reenactments where I had a full sensory
experience of whatever was going to
happen, but I hadn’t had one of those in
weeks. I’d long wished that I didn’t pull
impressions—and images of worst sins—
through a single touch, but now that I
needed the ability, it was on vacation.
That thought chased me out from under
the covers. I swung my legs over the side
of the mattress and stepped off the raised
dais that made the large, curtained bed
look even more impressive. Then I went
straight to the fireplace and knelt in front
of it. Most of the flames had died down
during the night, but the collapsed logs
still smoldered. I pushed the grate aside,
held my hand over a log for a second, and
then plunged it straight into the crumbling
wood.
The stab of pain made me gasp with
relief until I realized it only came from
one finger. The rest of my hand felt fine
despite being immersed up to the wrist in
the hotly glowing embers. I waited another
few moments to be sure and then pulled it
out. Aside from a splinter jutting from my
index finger and a decade-old scar, my
hand was unmarred, not a hair singed on
it.
Damn. Six weeks later, and it still
hadn’t worn off yet.
Some women caught venereal diseases
from their boyfriends. That was mild in
comparison to what mine had given me—
an immunity to fire that inexplicably also
blocked my ability to psychically discern
information through touch. Of course, I
shouldn’t be too surprised. Dating the
unofficial Prince of Darkness was bound
to have consequences.
I yanked the splinter out, sucking on my
finger despite being one of the few people
in this mansion who didn’t like the taste of
blood. Then I fumbled around until I found
a large male shirt, the fabric soft as
cashmere. It probably cost more than what
I used to earn in a month working the
carnival circuit, but it had been thrown on
the floor with expectant indifference. I
never saw anyone clean this room, but I
also never saw it dirty. The servants must
wait like ninjas for me to leave so they
could render this place spotless again.
They wouldn’t have to wait long. I had
to pee, and despite the splendor of my
boyfriend’s bedroom, his bathroom lacked
a toilet. Being a centuries-old vampire, he
didn’t need one.
I put on the discarded shirt. It was long
enough that it covered my tank top and
panties, though I’d never run into anyone
on my way from his room to the one that
was officially mine. The lounge that
bridged the two bedrooms wasn’t used by
anyone else. Its privacy and elegance
made for a more dignified walk of shame,
at least.
Once I was back in my room—a
lighter-hued, smaller version of the
midnight-green and mahogany
magnificence I’d just left—I went straight
into the bathroom.
“Lights on,” I said, adding, “dim,”
when the instant blaze of brightness made
me squint.
Soft amber illuminated the creamy
marble, highlighting its gold and celerygreen
veins. A glass shower the size of a
compact car also lit up, as did the vanity
counter. I’d been awed when I first saw
all the fancy fixtures. Now I muttered
under my breath as I hurried to the
discreetly screened corner.
“Fifty-yard sprint every morning
because he won’t add a toilet to his
bathroom. It’s not like he doesn’t spend
more each night on the dinner he never
eats.”
Part of me knew my griping was to
mask my uneasiness about the increasingly
empty bed, but my bladder twisted as if in
agreement. After I’d dealt with it, I got in
the shower, careful to only touch things
with my left hand. Although the currents
radiating from me were muted at the
moment, there was no need to fry the pipes
by accidentally sending a dose of voltage
through them.
After I showered and dressed, I
descended four flights of stairs to the main
level. At the bottom of the staircase, a
hallway with soaring ceilings, stone
pillars, antique shields, and ornate frescos
spread out in front of me. Only the indoor
garden kept it from looking like Bill
Gates’s Gothic Getaway.
At the end of that hallway was my
frequently absentee boyfriend, Vlad. Yes,
that Vlad, but few people made the
mistake of calling him Dracula. His dark
hair was the same color as the stubble that
shadowed his jaw in something thicker
than a five o’clock shadow. Winged
eyebrows framed eyes that were a blend
of copper and emerald, and sleek material
draped over a body hardened from
decades of battle when he was human. As
usual, only his hands and face were bare.
The rest of him was covered by boots,
black pants, and a smoky gray shirt
buttoned up to the neck. Unlike most wellbuilt
men, Vlad didn’t flash a lot of skin,
but those custom-tailored clothes flaunted
his taut body as effectively as running
shorts and a sleeveless muscle shirt.
My appreciation was cut short when I
saw that he had a coat draped over his
arm. He hadn’t just slipped in and out of
bed while I was asleep; he was also
leaving without a word.
Again.
Ever have a moment where you know
exactly what you shouldn’t do . . . and you
do it anyway? I didn’t need my missing
psychic abilities to know that snapping
“Where are you going?” while striding
down the hall was the wrong way to
handle this, but that’s what I did.
Vlad had been talking to his second-incommand,
Maximus, a blond vampire who
looked like an avenging Viking come to
life. At my question, two gazes settled on
me, one gray and carefully neutral, the
other coppery green and sardonic. I
tensed, wishing I could take the question
back. When had I turned into one of those
annoying, clingy girlfriends?
Right after the main reason Vlad
became interested in you vanished, my
inner insidious voice mocked. You think
it’s coincidence that he began acting
distant right after you lost your ability to
psychically spy on his enemies?
At once, I began to sing KC and the
Sunshine Band’s “That’s the Way” in my
head. Vlad wasn’t just an extremely
powerful vampire whose history inspired
the world’s most famous story about the
undead. He could also read humans’
minds. Most of the time.
His lips curled. “One of these days,
you’ll at least take requests on your
method of keeping me out of your head.”
If I didn’t know him, I would’ve missed
the irony that tinged his tone, heightening
his subtle accent and adding an edge to his
cultured voice. I doubted he’d ever
forgive the vampire who taught me how to
block him from my thoughts.
“Some people consider that song a
classic,” I replied, berating myself for
what he would’ve heard before I stopped
him.
“Proving again that the world doesn’t
lack for fools.”
“And you didn’t answer my question,” I
countered.
Vlad put on his coat, that slight smile
never leaving his face. “That wasn’t an
accident.”
My hand tingled as the currents within
me surged to it. Thanks to an incident with
a downed power line, my entire body
gave off electricity, but my right hand was
the main conduit. If I didn’t lock down my
temper, it might start sparking.
“Next time you want to brush me off, do
what modern men do.” My voice was
rougher than sandpaper. “Be vague and
say you’re running errands. Sounds more
polite that way.”
That coppery gaze changed to glowing
emerald, visible proof of his inhuman
status. “I am not a modern man.”
Of course not, but would it kill him to
be a little less complex, infuriating, and
enigmatic? At least some of the time?
Maximus slid a glance my way before
returning his attention to Vlad.
“Everything will be ready upon your
return,” he stated, then bowed and left.
What’s that supposed to mean?
hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I
wouldn’t get an answer. That didn’t mean
I was letting this slide. I was done
wondering what his increasing absences
spelled out for our relationship. If my
being psychically neutered meant his
feelings for me had changed, he needed to
tell me. I paused in my mental singing long
enough to think, When you get back, we’re
having a talk.
This time, his smile was wide enough
to show his teeth. His fangs weren’t out,
but his grin still managed to carry shades
of both lover and predator.
“I look forward to it.”
Then the spot where he stood was
empty. Only the massive front doors
closing indicated where he’d vanished
through. Vampires couldn’t dematerialize,
but some Master vampires could move so
fast it appeared that way.
I sighed. In the past couple months,
dating Vlad had proved to be as
passionate and tumultuous as the movies
portrayed. I only hoped Hollywood
wasn’t also right about the fate of every
woman who fell in love with the infamous
Dark Prince.
The thought was depressing, but I
wasn’t going to sit around brooding.
Instead, I’d engage in the most time-tested
and venerable of feminine distraction
techniques.
I sprinted upstairs to my sister’s room.
“Wake up, Gretchen!” I called through the
door. “We’re going shopping.”
Chapter 2
“This is the only thing that hasn’t sucked
so far about Romania,” my sister stated as
she unloaded a stack of clothes in front of
the cashier.
I closed my eyes, not knowing who to
apologize to first: the cashier for
Gretchen’s remark about her country, or
Maximus, who now had to add more bags
to the half dozen he already carried. This
is what happened when you gave my sister
someone else’s credit card. Vlad had a
standing rule that any purchases for his
guests went on his card.
He might reconsider that when he got
the bill. My attempts to encourage
thriftiness hadn’t worked, either. They’d
only annoyed Gretchen to the point that
she quit trying things on before she
purchased them.
“I’m tired. We should go back,” I said,
changing tactics.
Gretchen’s blue gaze narrowed. “No
way. I’ve been cooped up in your
boyfriend’s castle for weeks even though
his vamp enemy has to be dead or Marty
and Dad wouldn’t have gotten to leave.”
I didn’t point out that our father and my
best friend, Marty, were less prone to
recklessness. The odds were slim, but if
Vlad’s nemesis Szilagyi had survived,
then Gretchen was safer here. She
couldn’t keep a low profile if her life
depended on it, as she’d proved. I glanced
at the cashier, forced a smile, and used
Gretchen’s sleeve to tug her toward me.
“No talking about you-know-what in
public,” I hissed.
“Why?” she shot back at the same
volume. “Half the people in this town
know about vampires since Vlad owns it
and he uses some of them as blood snacks.
As for the rest, Maximus can mesmerize
them into forgetting what they didn’t
already know.”
My eyes bugged as I glanced at the
cashier. She held up a hand to the blond
vampire and said something in Romanian.
“Don’t worry, she’s loyal to Vlad,” he
summarized for me. Then his stormy gray
gaze landed on Gretchen. “You need to
show more discretion or the next person I
mesmerize will be you.”
“You wouldn’t,” she huffed.
Maximus straightened to his full six
feet, six inches, as if his thickly muscled
frame wasn’t impressive enough. “I’ve
done far worse to protect my prince.”
I still wanted to thump Gretchen, but no
one—even a friend like Maximus—got
away with scaring my little sister.
“She gets it,” I said coolly. “And if she
doesn’t, I’ll be the one who deals with
her.”
Maximus glanced at Gretchen, gave a
barely perceptible shake of his head, and
then bent low to me.
“As you wish.”
My cheeks warmed. Since I was Vlad’s
girlfriend, the vampires in his line bowed
to me as they did to him, much to my
dismay. “Please stop, I hate that.”
He straightened, the barest grin tugging
at his mouth. “Yes, I remember.”
When his gaze met mine, for a split
second, I saw the man who’d pounced on
the chance to date me when I first arrived
at Vlad’s as a reluctant refugee. Then that
familiar veil dropped over Maximus’s
eyes, and my politely formal bodyguard
was back.
“You have another hour, if you wish to
continue shopping. Then we need to return
to the house.”
“Why?” I asked, beating Gretchen to it.
“Because you need to be ready for
Vlad’s dinner guests. You don’t want to
be late to dine.”
Gretchen was faster this time. “Dinner
guests? Who? Why weren’t we told
before?”
“You weren’t told because your
attendance is optional,” Maximus
answered. Then he smiled faintly at me. “I
waited to tell you because you seemed to
have enough on your mind.”
Embarrassment and resignation mingled
inside me. Did everyone know Vlad and I
were having problems? Of course they
did, I answered my own question. With
the hearing abilities of the undead, they
probably also knew that Vlad and I hadn’t
had sex in a week because I’d had my
period.
I sighed. “Looks like I need to buy
something after all.” I hadn’t yet despite
visiting several stores, not wanting to add
to the crushing bill Gretchen had run up.
Something I couldn’t name flickered
across Maximus’s face. “It’s not
necessary. Vlad has your dress waiting in
your room.”
First leaving without telling me where
he was going. Then unexpected dinner
guests, and now a dress picked out for me.
My eyes narrowed. What was he up to?
“You’re not going to even give me a
hint about what’s going on, are you?” I
asked Maximus.
His smile was a little too tight. “As I
said, I’ve done far worse to protect my
prince.”
One look at the dress told me that dinner
wouldn’t consist of Vlad catching up with
some old buddies who’d dropped by. It
was a black velvet sheath that had a small
train in the back and a low neckline in
front that looked like it was encrusted
with tiny black jewels. Black heels and
similarly encrusted elbow-length black
gloves—lined with current-repelling
rubber, of course—completed the
seductively extravagant ensemble. I tried
it on, not surprised that it fit like it had
been sewn with my exact measurements in
mind. It even managed to give me
cleavage—a rare achievement with my
small breasts.
It was the nicest dress I’d ever worn,
but I’d exchange it and every other
expensive gift Vlad had given me to close
the growing gap between us. I stroked the
soft fabric, wishing my abilities were
back so I’d know if this was his way of
making amends for his recent coolness, or
simply ensuring that I looked good enough
to be on his arm tonight. Either was a
possibility with Vlad.
That was why I had to confront him
later, no matter the outcome. The last thing
I wanted to do was primp, but this was
clearly a formal occasion. When I was
done, my straight black hair hung in thick
curls and my makeup was subtle, aside
from dark crimson lipstick that contrasted
great with the black dress and my winterpale
skin. All those years in carnival
show business made me deft at sprucing
myself up. It also made me an expert at
concealing the scar that ran from my
temple down to my fingers. A glossy black
wave hung over that part of my face, with
more draped on my right shoulder. I’d
pulled the gloves up so only a few inches
of skin on my upper arm showed evidence
of the accident that had given me my
unusual abilities.
Abilities Vlad had stunted when he
coated me in his flame-repelling aura to
protect me from the explosion Szilagyi
detonated. Vlad’s enemy thought he was
taking me down with him, but I’d survived
the inferno. Figures my survival had come
at a price. Fate didn’t let anyone off
easily.
I shook my head to clear the past from
it. Then, feeling anything but festive, I
headed for the main floor.
Vlad was waiting at the bottom of the
staircase. His black tuxedo should’ve
been too severe with its lack of accent
color, but instead, he looked like a sensual
version of the Angel of Death. I couldn’t
stop my shiver as his gaze swept over me.
Emerald briefly shone from his eyes, and
when he took my hand, I felt his heat even
through my gloves. Normal vampires felt
room temperature, but not Vlad. The
pyrokinesis that made him so feared
among his kind also made him warmer
Date: 2015-12-11; view: 390
|