Page 26 of Bound By Blood

Zack sensed the change in Harrington as Harrington summoned his preternatural power. Harrington’s muscles tensed, his eyes went hard and cold. Power radiated from him, sizzling through the damp air, but Zack knew instinctively that his own power was older, stronger.

Confident of his vampiric strength, Harrington suddenly twisted out of Zack’s grasp, then pushed him down the stairs. He flung himself after Zack, expecting Zack to be face down on the ground, only Zack wasn’t there.

Too late, Harrington realized he had badly underestimated his foe.

He landed face down on the ground where Zack should have been, only to let out a harsh cry when Zack twisted his right arm behind his back, his knee grinding into his spine.

“Who the hell are you?” Harrington growled.

“Zack Ravenscroft. Remember that name, because if I ever see you sniffing around Kaitlyn’s house again, I’ll rip your heart out. Got it?”

Harrington grunted something unintelligible.

Zack applied more pressure to the other man’s spine. “Got it?”

“Yes, dammit! Now get off of me.”

As soon as Zack released him, Harrington was gone.

Zack frowned thoughtfully. Harrington seemed awfully weak for a vampire, but then, maybe the vampires who were born that way weren’t as strong as those who were made. Or maybe Harrington was just young. Kaitlyn had said their kind got stronger as they got older. Perhaps Harrington would, too. If he lived that long.

Zack was dusting himself off when he saw a wallet lying in the dirt. Must be Harrington’s, he thought. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, then frowned when he saw the man’s driver’s license. The photo was Harrington’s, but the name read Daryn Korzha. Zack grunted thoughtfully. Did Kaitlyn know who Harrington really was? And if not, what game was Harrington, or Korzha, playing?

Well, there was one way to find out. Materializing inside Kaitlyn’s house, he dropped Harrington’s wallet on the coffee table where she would be sure to find it in the morning.

A thought took Zack to his lair in the bowels of the casino. It wasn’t much, just a square room with stone walls, no windows and no doors. And no lights. But artificial light was unnecessary. With his preternatural vision, he could see everything clearly, although there was little to see save the expensive polished ebony coffin in the center of the flagstone floor, and a small iron box that held a few mementos from his past—a copy ofRomeo and Juliet,a few old English coins, a wooden toy horse one of the nuns had given him.

Stripping down to his briefs, Zack stretched out on the cool satin that had been his resting place for over six hundred years. He could have slept in a bed—and occasionally he did—but the coffin was familiar, a stark reminder of who and what he was.

Daryn Korzha paced the floor of his lavish hotel room, his outrage growing with every stride as he relived his encounter with Ravenscroft outside Kaitlyn’s house. The man wasn’t one of Sherrad’s sons, or a member of any of the foreign Fortresses—Daryn was sure of that. And yet, he hadn’t been able to read Ravenscroft’s mind, so the stranger couldn’t have been human. Besides, no mere mortal could have crept up on him unawares, or bested his preternatural strength.

Daryn muttered an oath. So, if Ravenscroft wasn’t one of the Romanian vampires and he wasn’t human, what the hell was he?

That question echoed in his mind as he pulled out his cell phone and called home.

Nadiya Korzha stood looking out the front window of her house, her thoughts turned inward. The house was large and well-appointed, decorated with furniture and bric-a-brac collected through the centuries. The basement was filled with things she had tired of, and with the gifts her husband had given her years ago.

She had never liked being a fourth wife. Not that he had treated her any differently from his second wife, or third, or any of the others. Except his first wife, Liliana. She had been accorded privileges and respect denied to the others. Being the first wife, and the favorite, Liliana had also been granted the right to remain at the Fortress as long as she wished, to the exclusion of all the others. A thought that still rankled in Nadiya’s heart.

Staring out the window, she paid little heed to the beauty of her surroundings or to the laughter of one of her grandchildren coming from the back of the house. Her enthusiasm for life had died the night her son, Florin, was killed. She would not rest until he had been avenged, until his killer endured the same remorse that had become her constant companion, until he had shed as many bitter tears as had she. In her mind’s eye, she relived her son’s final moments, each one as clear as if it was happening all over again. She felt the coolness of the night, the taste of the breeze, heard the rapid beating of her son’s heart as he fought for his life.

And then, as though she were seeing it all for the first time, she felt the anticipation of those watching as Drake thrust his sword through her son’s heart, heard the collective sigh from the crowd as Florin’s body toppled lifelessly to the ground. Knowing what was coming next, she had turned away, but she had known, by the sharp swish of the blade, the exact moment when Drake severed her son’s head from his body. And now her son was dead, while Rodin’s favorite son flourished at Wolfram Castle.

She refused to acknowledge her role in her son’s death. Those at the Fortress had mistakenly assumed Florin was interested in avenging himself on one of Rodin’s sons for a supposed misunderstanding over a woman. In reality, Florin had wanted to avenge himself on Rodin for giving the woman to Olaf, and for banishing him from the Fortress that he had long coveted. She could have prevented her son’s death by forbidding him to return to the Fortress as Gerret’s second. But she had been confident in his ability to accomplish his goal, eager to see her son rule the Fortress that she, too, had coveted. Eager to see Liliana ousted.

Nadiya clenched her fists. She wasn’t foolish enough to send her remaining sons against Drake or Liliana. But Drake’s daughter was fair game and, being half human, would be much more easily destroyed. But first the fair Kaitlyn must be made to suffer.

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted thoughts of vengeance. She smiled when she heard Daryn’s voice. She listened for several moments, her eyes narrowing.

“I have never heard of Zack Ravenscroft. I do not know who he is,” she said brusquely. “I do not care who he is. Get rid of him if you have to, but bring the girl to me, by force, if necessary.”

She listened to his excuses for another minute, then threw the phone against the wall. If Daryn couldn’t overpower the Sherrad heir, then she would find someone who could.

Chapter Thirteen

Kaitlyn slept late, reluctant to face a new day, reluctant to admit that she missed Zack as much as she did. Which was ridiculous. She had only known him a short time, and yet he had brought a new excitement to her life, a sense of adventure, a sudden, almost irresistible urge to throw caution to the wind and follow her heart instead of her head. Would it truly be so bad to ignore her mother’s teachings, to destroy her father’s expectations, and take one of the Others as a lover? Just one indiscretion. And no one need ever know … but she would know.

After fixing a cup of coffee, she carried it into the living room. And frowned when she saw a man’s wallet lying on the coffee table next to a pile of magazines. She stared at it a moment, trying to figure out who’s it was and how it had gotten there.

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