Page 33 of A Kiss of Flame
“What game do you play?” the vampire wondered aloud. “I know you and the dragon like to wager. Is that what you were discussing when you entered? Did you bet you could seduce me?” He took another pull from his pipe, his sharp blue gaze never wavering.
Levian opened her mouth to deny the accusation but thought better of it. The vampire was clever, and she wasn’t the most convincing liar. But she wasn’t without her tricks. “There’s no wager,” she admitted honestly.
More groans came from the pile, and she forced her eyes to stay glued on Deckland despite the temptation to look elsewhere. It was the vampire who turned to see the commotion.He smirked. “I believe you may have made a poor choice,” he drawled. “The dragon seems to be having much more fun.”
Levian forced a breathy laugh, and Deckland’s attention snapped back to her. “Barith and I have never had quite the same standards when it comes to this kind of fun. He likes to rut on the floor with whoever will have him, while I prefer a partner with whom I can match wits. Besides,” she cocked her head and made a show of looking him over, “after spending last winter in Volkov and walking in on your brother and his fiancée caught in the throes of passion, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been too narrow-minded about keeping a vampire lover.”
She had wondered, though this encounter was quickly dousing that curiosity. Deckland’s cool expression faltered at the mention of his brother being caught in the heat of passion. He was slow to reply but did, in time. “Vampires are cold by nature, but that doesn’t mean we lack the desire to be engulfed by flames on occasion.”
“Romantic,” she teased.
“Dangerous,” he countered.
A shiver ran up her spine, and Deckland smirked in response. Levian was beginning to feel silly now, and she hated feeling embarrassed. The vampire rose slowly, holding his hand out for her to take. Levian delicately placed her hand in his. There was no warmth, only a frigid chill that spread through her palm and up her arm. Deckland raised her hand and brushed his lips over the top. Her stomach heaved.
“I have business in an hour,” he told her.
“Oh?” she replied, her plan coming back into focus. More breathy giggles echoed through the room, and her pulse quickened with annoyance.
He nodded. “I have a room, if you’d like to go somewhere more private?”
She stood, and he looked into her face, his cold eyes searching hers. He was trying to call her bluff; Levian felt it in her bones. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, handing him his pipe.
Deckland smirked as if he were a cat about to have quite a lot of fun, his gaze drifting along her lips. “For the sake of clarity,” he told her, “you should know I will never take anything from you that you do not openly and freely offer.”
Meaning her kisses, her body, her blood. Levian’s stomach churned again.
When Deckland stepped out of the shadows, she hesitated. Levian’s gaze finally drifted to the floor, where nearly everyone in the room watched Barith and his harem of faeries rolling about on the lush pillow. The dragon lay on his back, the delectably plump and very naked fae princess straddling his chest with her back to him as she stroked his tail with glee. The other two were laying soft kisses and nibbling on any exposed part of him they could reach, their hands everywhere. Her face flamed, and she turned sharply away to follow the vampire.
Her skin burned with anger as Levian focused on the back of Deckland’s head. Barith could put on a show for the whole world for all she cared. What mattered was getting answers and finding her thieves. Besides, she told herself, her heart thrumming, she believed Deckland when he said he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t desire.
She peeked back over her shoulder as the vampire disappeared into a hallway lined with doors around a corner. The dragon had sat up and was openly watching her. The room nearly hummed with lascivious delight at the spectacle—Barith putting on a show while his companion disappeared into the private quarters with a vampire.
Her skin flamed again, her cheeks burning. She ducked into the hall, finding Deckland standing before her with two glassesof fae wine he’d taken from a passing attendant. A chill spread over her when his fingers brushed hers as he handed her a glass. “To indulgence and curiosity,” he offered.
Levian clinked her glass to his before downing the whole thing. “What’s the use of nine lives if you don’t risk a few?” she replied, her heart pounding in her throat as the wine sloshed in her belly.
The vampire smirked, showing off a few of his crooked teeth. “The real question,” Deckland drawled, turning to stroll down the hall, “is how many lives do you have left to spare?”
Chapter Ten
Barith lifted the princess off his lap and plopped her down amongst her companions on the pillows. She pouted loudly as he rose with a mumbled apology, stalking off after Levian. ‘What in the Hells was she thinking?’he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.
He could feel everyone watching him, disappointed that he’d left the pile and anticipatory that he was chasing after the vampire and the mage. If the Eldreth had wanted him to be a spectacle, he was certainly delivering.
Did he think Deckland would actually harm her? Not necessarily, but Levian was overconfident at times, and not all of her plans worked out. He knew this from firsthand experience—scrambling to help her escape while maintaining all his limbs in the process. If he was wrong and Deckland did try anything, Barith was prepared to make sure he delivered the vampire’s remains to Sirus—personally.
The corner they had disappeared around led to a dark hall lined with doors. He stopped an attendant carrying wine who had just emerged. “Which room did the mage and the vampire go into?” he demanded.
The creature shifted uncomfortably. Barith growled. “Which room?” he repeated roughly.
“The axe room,” the attendant stammered. Barith shot off, not entirely sure what the axe room even was. “But you cannot enter unless invited,” the attendant called after him.
Barith planned on being invited—either that, or he’d break down the damned door. Enchanted or not, he doubted it would hold up against his sword.
The dark hall was lit with purple lights highlighting different weapons engraved on each door. He passed a knife, a spear, a flail, a bow, a sai, and a sword before finding the door marked with an axe. Barith tried the knob. Locked. He growled and banged on the door. Nothing. He banged harder and tried again. Still locked.
“Levian!” he shouted, taking hold of the knob and pressing his shoulder against the door. He hadn’t expected it to give way and was startled when he stumbled into the dimly lit room. Barith’s blood burned seeing Levian straddling Deckland, who lay on the lush crimson bed. He slammed the door shut behind him.