had harmed Dana.
From that moment on, purpose and a sense of mission filled Shayla’s life. She vowed to find a way to join that fight, a role she could fill in advance of inheriting her parents’ positions on the Electorate Council upon their deaths. So, when the offer to become one of the Proffered arrived, she jumped at the chance. If she could do nothing else, sustaining the warriors battling evil would make a contribution, if small. But she wanted to do more. A restlessness to help fueled her, driving her to overload classes and take summer school such that she graduated high school before her sixteenth birthday. She began university and the Proffered training in tandem, completing the latter at nineteen, readying her to perform her duties for one of the vampires some time during her twentieth year. College graduation occurred soon after. Toward what end she did all this, she didn’t quite know, but it felt right. And the fire in her gut demanded action, cried for vengeance.
The king padded across the mostly bare floor, circled her. The weight of his observation settled over her. She girded her muscles to brace against the tremors she almost couldn’t help. “Do you know why you are here?” he asked as he stopped before her once more.
Shayla inhaled to speak, but froze. You’re going to have to try harder than that. She mentally high-fived herself for not making such an elementary slip. He hadn’t specifically told her to respond, now, had he?
Excitement and adrenaline made her stomach flip-flop. How Shayla had hoped this man, this vampire king, would live up to her years of fantasizing. Once she’d learned, during her Proffered training, of his incredible exploits against the Soul Eaters—and his losses—the idea of meeting him, serving him, had quieted her restlessness like nothing before. She’d busted her butt working to the top of the class of Proffereds, earning the notice and mentorship of the most experienced and connected trainer. Her interest in this Warrior King ignited an academic curiosity about Celtic history and culture, and she’d built on her training by pursuing those studies at the graduate level. All for the chance of serving Kael the Fair, a chance she was so very thrilled to have this night.
Just being in his presence was a dream come true, and she determined to face her duty with strength and courage no matter what else happened. Though, the thought he would need her, might find her attractive, desirable even, was such an incredible turn-on she’d had no problem protecting her virtue from her few suitors over the years. Imagining what he’d seen in his long lifetime and what she could learn from him inspired her interest in the medieval history of the British Isles, now so central to the intellectual identity she’d developed for herself. So, her innocence was his to take, if he would have it. She felt no shame in that.
She only wished he would want her time and time again, but knew that wasn’t his practice.
Shayla frowned and internally chided herself for letting her thoughts run away with her. If she wasn’t careful, she would make a mistake. She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and cleared her mind, assessed her position. She held the pose just as she’d been taught: knees on the floor and spread, bottom resting on her heels, back and shoulders erect, hands resting on her thighs palms up, head down, eyes diverted. Her submission was part of her offering; it communicated the voluntary nature of her presence before the Warrior King. As she knelt there, the thin white silk robe the only barrier between his blazing eyes and her flesh, she’d never felt more brave, more in control of herself…more alive.
She drew strength from those feelings and awaited the king’s command.
Kael smiled down at the top of her head, and felt a little like testing her. He didn’t practice domination with all of his sexual partners, though the challenges inherent in it thrilled his intellect and his libido. But, given how tightly he had to control himself in order to restrain his natural instincts when in the presence of the Proffered, he’d long ago realized restricting their behavior, words and actions would enable his own control.
“You may answer my question, Shayla. Do you know why you are here?”
A light pink bloomed on her pale cheeks. “I am here to offer myself in whatever capacity might please you, Sire.”
The king tilted his head as his gaze raked over her, absorbing every detail of her appearance, observing every quiet shift in her downcast expression. “Indeed,” Kael murmured. He reached down and grasped a long braid, stroked his thumb over the length of it. Her hair was silky and fine even through the weaving. He tightened his fist around it to break his urge to plunge his hand into the beautiful mass of hair.
Finally, he dropped the fine strands of dark chocolate and came round to stand in front of her. “Look at me.”
She responded immediately to the direct command, tilting her head back but keeping her expression passive. That didn’t stop him from noticing the dilation of her eyes as they settled on him.
He sucked in a breath. He would’ve been impressed with her responsiveness if he hadn’t been so completely enthralled by those eyes. Her left iris was a brilliant emerald, nearly rivaling his own in the intensity and clarity of green. Her right, however, was a bright turquoise, touched by green to be sure, but without question a deep, dazzling blue. The effect of her mismatched gaze, paired as it was with her fair, creamy skin and dark tresses, was arresting. His mouth gaped in rapture of her beauty.
Powerless to resist, he leaned down and cupped her left cheek in his hand. He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone, his finger playing with the ends of her eyelashes. “You have been touched by magic.”
Her breathing stuttered and her eyes grew glassy. She blinked the threatening tears away. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered. She pressed her face into his hand, just the tiniest bit.
That one small movement seemed weighted with emotion and affection, drawing Kael into personal conversation he rarely offered the Proffered. “Am I to understand that tonight actually marks your birthday?”
Shayla bit her lip and nodded.
The image of her teeth buried in plump flesh made his body tighten. Her birthday, how wonderfully unusual. It happened, of course, though the Proffered’s blood was most potent any time during her twentieth year. “Well, Shayla McKinnon, I will try to make it a good one for you, yes?”
Her smile was warm, glorious. “Thank you, Sire.”
The way she looked at him sent ripples of electricity through his blood. His fangs elongated. Kael pressed his lips together and dropped his hand, backed away.
Something like confusion shadowed her face before she straightened her expression and lowered her gaze once more.
Those eyes are going to be a problem. He was drawn to them, to her. He wanted to pull her up from the floor and onto the bed, and lay her out on her side as he rested facing her. He wanted to learn about her as he stared into those magical eyes. And he never wanted to learn about any of the Proffered. He never allowed himself to imagine them as companions. He was on dangerous ground.
But her face was like a mask of his people’s mythology. One eye offered the green of their sacred stone, and the other the hue they cherished for its representation of fidelity, loyalty. Her porcelain skin reflected the purity of intent the diamond in his hair stood for, and her dark red lips were the color of life-giving blood. Her face was a mirror of the sacred stones—emerald, sapphire, diamond, ruby—hanging in his hair.
It had to…mean something. Didn’t it?
No!
He hadn’t realized he’d growled in response to his thoughts until Shayla jumped. Kael resumed his earlier pacing,
