Page 4 of Dark Fire Kiss

“We’re unlikely to need a tower. The other races are weaker.”

He scoffed. “Not our female.” He sat up, and his gaze grew distant, as if he peered into our shared future. “Whatever happens—however long we have to wait—you can count on this: Fate will never burden us with a weak mate.”

Chapter One

HALINA

Krovnosta Territory, The Court of Prince Ludovic the Bold

Present Day

“Weak and worthless.”

“Afraid of her own shadow.”

The mutters of my father’s warriors followed me as I hurried down the banquet table in the Great Hall. I kept my head lowered. They knew I could hear them, but it was better to pretend I didn’t. If I reacted—if I gave any indication their taunts bothered me—they would follow their words with actions. I had the scars to prove it.

So I glued my gaze to the flagstones and didn’t stop walking until I reached the end of the table and sat.

“You’re going to bump into a pillar if you keep scuttling about like that,” my brother Aleksander said from the chair next to mine.

I looked up to find him watching me with a bemused expression. “Better than bumping into their fists,” I said.

He shrugged and reached for his blood wine. “If you don’t like their punishments, then learn to fight.”

“If I had your gifts, Brother, you can be certain I would.”

“Guard your tongue, Halina,” he murmured over the rim of his goblet. “I don’t care for your tone.”

I lowered my head. He didn’t care to be reminded of our shared parentage, either. Vampires were obsessive about bloodlines. They had good reason, since the Blood chose their rulers.

Shouts rang out, saving me from the necessity of apologizing. My father strode into the hall with my Uncle Grigory hot on his heels. As they faced off in front of the hearth, it was obvious they’d been arguing.

Not an unusual occurrence.

“How was I supposed to know who she was?” my father yelled, one meaty fist clenched around the hilt of the dagger strapped to his side. His black hair streamed down his back, and his handsome face was twisted in a scowl.

My Uncle Grigory returned the expression. One only had to look at them to know they were brothers. They were both formidable warriors with haughty features and ice-blue eyes that flashed red with strong emotion.

Unlike my father, however, Grigory’s dark hair was streaked with silver—uncommon in an immortal. I’d once overheard Aleksander claim the lighter strands came from the stress of managing my father’s scandals.

Judging from the storm clouds in Grigory’s eyes, a new one was brewing.

He gave my father an incredulous look. “Do you honestly expect anyone to believe you, Ludovic? Ivana of Sevolod is the mate of a Blooded prince!”

“Then Prince Sergey should have satisfied her.” My father smirked, the tips of his fangs showing. “Maybe then she wouldn’t have strayed.”

Several of the warriors at the table snickered.

Grigory didn’t smile. “There is no excuse for sleeping with another prince’s wife. You’ll bring war to our borders!”

My father’s amusement fled, and a dangerous note entered his voice. “Our borders? You forget your place, Brother.”

The temperature in the hall dropped several degrees.

My heart rate picked up even as irritation streaked through me. If their argument turned to blows, I was unlikely to get a meal. It might be days before someone remembered I required food to live.

If Grigory was intimidated, he didn’t show it. “And you forget your obligations,” he said. “You dishonor father’s throne with your unnatural lust.” He spat the last word, contempt in his tone.

---