The Vampire's Bride. Gena Showalter
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if your choice loses, you can never set foot in the dome again.
Poseidon had tilted his head as he considered the pros and cons. If he lost, his fun ended. If he ensured his creatures won, he could have Atlantis all to himself, just as he wanted.
A sound idea, but…Apollo frowned. Why two?
One powerful warrior could be an anomaly, Ares said. Two powerful warriors will prove the race’s superior strength and intelligence.
And how will we choose the competitors? Artemis had asked, arching a brow.
Just the way our friend Poseidon chose the pawns in his little game, of course. Observation. We’ll watch them and decide on the strongest, the bravest, the most resilient together. Then, we’ll design challenges that will test their fortitude, wits and determination.
What will happen to the creatures who fail us? Artemis asked.
I think we should dispose of the losers, Poseidon had suggested. That way they cannot sing tales of our actions to the people of Atlantis. And he, the winner, would not have to deal with the backlash. Besides, I’m sure the lot of you will be angry and looking for vengeance when your choice loses to mine. Killing the creatures who brought about your loss will surely be cathartic.
Hestia’s eyes had narrowed. We’ll see who wins, won’t we?
Two Atlantean weeks later, and here they were.
“The vampire will win,” Ares said confidently now. “He has murder in his eyes. A look I know well.”
Hestia peered out at the creatures moving through the forest, creatures who couldn’t see them. “The vampire king or his warrior?”
“Does it matter? We were to pick a race, not an individual.”
“I was merely curious.” She shook her head, dark hair tumbling down her back. “But you’re right. It does not matter, for the Amazons will win, no question. They are resilient, determined, unafraid to fight for what they know they deserve. A lot like me. The young one has been betrayed by everyone she has ever loved. There’s bitterness inside her. Bitterness and hate. She’ll unleash a storm of fury unlike anything you have ever seen.”
“Please.” Apollo laughed, the carefree sound at odds with the combatant he was. “She might be a smoldering cauldron of dark emotion, but she possesses the heart of an innocent. More than that, the nymphs carry my light inside them. Why do you think all creatures, male and female, are drawn to them? Your Amazon will be no exception and will end up bowing to them.”
“The nymphs are indeed seducers,” Artemis said, “but their beauty cannot compete with the fair-means-or-foul mentality of the demons. They would eat their own young to win a battle.”
“Well, I say the dragons will eat everyone before the first game ends,” Poseidon replied. “Their strength and hunger are legendary. Even the people of earth exalt them.”
Ares rubbed his hands together. He was so tall, even Poseidon had to look up to him. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes, and radiated such intense wickedness he could have passed for Hades’s twin. “We’ve all made our choices. It’s past time to begin.”
Another murmur of “yes” arose, this one dripping with exhilaration.
“The other creatures,” Poseidon said. “Those we did not vote for. The minotaurs, centaurs, gorgons and formorians.”
“If one of the unfavored wins, the contest is—What am I saying?” Ares chuckled. “The unfavored will not win.”
“Well, I am ready to see who will. There can be no interfering from this moment on,” Artemis said, eyeing each god until she received a nod of agreement. “What happens will happen. Whoever wins will win, and we will accept the outcome and the consequences with graciousness befitting our stations.”
“Of course.” Poseidon waved his hand in the air, hoping he appeared convincing. He would ensure the dragons won by any means necessary. He had no doubt his fellow gods would come to respect his actions in time. Hadn’t Artemis praised the demons for just such ruthlessness, and Hestia admired the Amazons for a similar unyielding drive?
When the dragons won, Poseidon would win, and Atlantis would once again be his and his alone.
NIGHT HAD LONG SINCE FALLEN.
The air was warm, fragrant and fraught with danger. The insects were eerily silent, not a chirp or whistle to be heard. Only the wind seemed impervious to the surrounding menace, swishing leaves and clicking branches together.
Delilah’s every self-protective instinct remained on high alert. No telling where the other creatures were. She’d spied a few here and there as she’d gathered stones and sticks. And then they had disappeared, hiding amongst the shadows. She could have hunted them down, could have challenged them to prove her strength, as was the way of the Amazons, but she hadn’t.
The god’s warning refused to leave her mind. What if she killed one of her own team members? To begin at a disadvantage would be the epitome of foolish. And she’d been foolish a little too often lately.
She and Nola had opted to sleep in the trees, making them harder to find, harder to reach. Right now she was strewn atop a thick branch, legs swinging over the side, handmade spear clutched tightly in her palms. Wooden daggers were strapped to her legs, waist and back. Thankfully, she’d been trained in the art of weaponry, learning how to create the deadliest of tools out of anything and everything she could find in the forest.
Sharp bark dug into her ribs, helping keep her awake, alert. What were the other creatures doing just then?
What was Layel doing?
Layel…beautiful Layel. She’d hardly interacted with him, yet their brief exchanges had been enough to utterly, foolishly fascinate her. There, an admission. He was like no one she had ever encountered. Constantly she found herself wondering what his body looked like underneath his clothes, what his face would look like lost in passion, what he would feel like, pumping and sliding inside of her.
He despises you. He’s best forgotten.
Forget that his skin was pale and as smooth as silk? Forget that his eyes were blue like sapphires and fringed by black lashes that were a striking contrast to his snow-white hair? Forget that he was tall with wide shoulders and radiated a dark sensuality women probably salivated over? Impossible.
What kind of females did he enjoy? What type of females had he allowed into his bed? In all the stories she’d heard of him, not a word had been uttered about his preferred bed partners. That didn’t mean he’d remained alone all these years.
Sparks of something sinister flickered in her chest. Jealousy, perhaps. She wanted to deny the emotion, but couldn’t. Mine, she thought. He might want nothing more to do with her, but no way in Hades would he be allowed to have another woman. Not while they inhabited this island.
What’s come over you? Men were no longer something she treasured, dreaming of love and laughter in the darkest of nights. To her, they were merely something for her sisters to use twice a year, something to destroy if ever they threatened her loved ones. Since her mating had ended so disastrously, she had not thought to ever again find herself possessive of a male.
How many times had she watched her sisters fight over a particular slave, as if he were a pretty trinket they meant to wear? He’s mine, they would shout, commandments conveniently forgotten. It’s my bed he will warm this night. A clash of daggers always followed, as well as cut and bleeding warrioresses. How many times had she watched those “prized” men leave when the loving was over? Without a backward glance at the females they were leaving behind? Not that her sisters had cared. But she had watched and wondered. How could they not want more from each other?
After Vorik, Delilah had thought herself immune to men, her secret longings buried. Until now. She’d straddled