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Pain ripped across Gustav’s chest, burning a path from one side to the other.

Rise, fool. Danger is near to us.

Close to him, the sound of someone sharpening a blade cut through the room.

The vampire inside him thrashed until his eyes opened. A terrible mistake. Light seared through his skull as if it had been sliced in half. The feeling was made worse when a fog rushed into the front of his mind, causing his vision to blur.

Vampires didn’t usually suffer these afflictions, why had he?

Squinting this time, he opened his eyes a sliver as his memories came flooding back. At the portal line, he’d been taken by a woman whose face he never saw. And now he was in a place unknown to him.

In his fogged state, his vampire sniffed the air, reaching out for clues.

He was in some sort of wood framed shack, nestled in a bed of trees. The scent carried on for miles. Nothing like the humid jungle he’d been in. Yet there was something more immediate closer to him.

Someone lurked, but he couldn’t pick up their scent. He could only smell the perfume of yellow blossoms, spice, and metal. It yanked at him.

This was his vampire’s warning. It was not safe for him here.

He moved, but his hands were bound. So were his feet. At the realization, he thrashed against his binds and his mind fought against the fog.

“Stop that. You’re not healed.”

He stilled.

It was her. The woman with the beautiful voice that lived in his mind as a blurry memory.

Gustav blinked several times, encouraging the blurriness away. It dissipated enough to see her work over a low fire in the night hours. Even still, he couldn’t see her face, only the waves of her hair, which had been tied back with rope, as it cascaded to her mid-back.

He tugged his hands again. The pain ripping across his chest intensified as the rope tying his hands burned his wrists.

“Gesh meh…” His voice didn’t form words. Instead, it was as if someone put sand in his throat.

“It’s best not to talk.” She didn’t pause in her task. His vision finally sharpened and focused on her hands. She held a long, curved knife over a bed of yellow petals as she cut them.

When he pulled at his binds again and hissed, she sighed.

“You’ll be slower to heal if you keep doing that.”

He wouldn’t be slow to heal at all if she hadn’t made him unwell in the first place. Gustav’s eyes darted into slits. In defiance, he opened his mouth again. This time, his words wrestled each other in his throat, but didn’t form. He grunted.

“Up to you, then.” She returned to her work over a large wooden chopping board that spanned across an equally large table. She finished cutting the flowers in large sweeping strokes before adding them to a simmering pot, then stirred them to steep.

How could she act so cavalier around a predator? Still, his words failed him.

Gritting his teeth, Gustav yanked against his binds harder. Another slash of pain cut through him, this time making a groan wrench from his stomach. The scent of his blood permeated the air as its warmth trailed down his shoulder.

“Just like a vampire.” She made a sound of disgust as she dropped the knife and finally turned to him.

He stilled for a different reason. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he finally saw her face. The woman in front of him was not it. She was his captor; she had no right to be beautiful.

But it was her eyes, soft-brown and a color-match to her skin that captivated him—rooted him—as she gave him a wary look.

He tried to stop his vampire from roaming from her face down the length of her body, lingering on her curves as he took her in.

By the gods, he was centering. He slammed his eyelids closed to keep from her snare.

He’d grilled his brother Julius about every detail of the moment he’d met his mate, wanting to know what it would be like when he found his own. Julius had said it was as if he’d lived in a dark and grey world before he saw her. Then, the moment they met, it refocused with color and light with her at its center. And the more he stared, the more he wanted to.

Gustav could already feel his vampire working to take control so he could get another look at her. But this was nothing more than a trick of his imagination.

His world had been blurry because she made it so. And he’d only found her pretty because it had been too long since he’d had the comfort of a soft woman.

No, that wasn’t only it. The air was also not clean.

There was something about it that made his vampire die back. It was sweet and calming and made him relax against his binds. Instead of giving into the feeling, he forced his vampire to focus on its origin.

The scent didn’t come from her. He still couldn’t smell her, just like he couldn’t when she’d kidnapped him from the jungle.

He glanced at the remnants of yellow blossoms next to the simmering pot. A gentle steam curled in the air above her head. It smelled familiar but incomplete. He searched the fog of his brain for the distant memory.

He’d smelled something similar many full cycles of the sun ago. When he’d found himself lost in the Walish Mountains with a pair of mischievous mages who bet him seven precious stones he could resist their call. He’d failed miserably when they dabbed him with a concoction similar to the one in front of him. He also spent ten days bound by a false desire for them as they extracted the venom dripping from his fangs.

It was known in alchemist circles as a love brew, as it simulated its effects. He never got the mages to confess what made it work, but he did remember being quite love sick over them long after they’d parted ways. Was that what she wanted?

Was this part of some plan she had for him?

After moving to the next room, the woman returned with a small towel normally used to dry water from the sink and dropped it into the simmering pot.

“I need you still to redress your wounds,” she said while putting on a pair of thick gloves. Her words were unwaveringly true.

“No.” he barked out. The word was throaty and barely present. A low rumble emanated from his chest when she wrung the rag and laid it flat to cool.

“Your wound will get worse if I don’t reset it.” Still true, but he needed her to admit to her intentions for him after he’d healed.

“And after?” His voice, low and gravelly, hurt his throat as the muscles formed around it.

“Then, I let you heal.” She removed the towel and faced him.

“Don’t.” His gaze flickered from her face to her feet as she stepped forward. Another growl barred a warning. The sting of his fighting venom coated his gumline as his fangs drew down.

No matter how pretty she was, he would not consent to such a thing with his captor. His eyes pooled to black and his gaze sharpened as he readied his vampire for an attack. She’d caught him off guard once, she wouldn’t do it again.

Her lips pinched slightly before she sighed, then reached into a drawer inset in the table and grabbed a roll of bandages.

“You cannot lose any more blood,” she said. “Lost too much already.”

She spoke the truth, but that wouldn’t stop his preemptive strike. When she stepped toward him, his voice came out stronger.

“Back away.”

She didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she said again, “I need you still. If you can’t or won’t, I’ll have to make you.”

Her nimble fingers held up the cloth she’d dipped in her concoction.

This was a challenge, then. Gustav twisted his bound hands, hoping to find a flaw in her ties. There wasn’t one. He growled his frustration.

She gave herself a subtle shrug, then tightened her grip on the towel.

“Your choice, then.”

In several strides, she crossed the room to him and pressed the towel against his nose and mouth with a strong hand. Gustav flailed against his binds and held his breath. He was a vampire; he could outlast her in patience.

She sensed this and pressed her thumb into the wound on his shoulder until his mouth opened from a groan.

“Breathe,” she said. “Breathe so I can patch you.”

His teeth gnashed as he tried to force his lungs closed, but her finger digging into a wound that was slow to heal made sharp razor-like pains from his shoulder to his mouth.

He struggled, but the sweet suffocating scent of yellow blossoms and an herb he’d couldn’t quite name made his eyelids droop.

Then, a feeling, light as air, raced around his muscles, relaxing them.

“No…” His words dropped in his lap as his tongue grew thick.

“Shh,” she hushed, then kneeled next to him, and kept her hold until his shoulders relaxed.

Move. He willed his vampire to be useful, but there was no strength in his arms as he tried to snatch away from her. Against his will, he could feel himself softening to her.

Thoughts of escape faded. Wanting to know the reason for his capture became less important than staring into her dark eyes. There was a gentleness to them along with a sense of purpose.

“Almost there. Breathe,” she said, her voice like music to his ears, beckoning for his compliance.

He did. Though the cloth around his mouth was stifling, he took in its floral and earthy scent.

A rush of good feelings flooded his body, lifting him and his vampire into a glowing abyss of color and light. It should’ve bothered him that his body refused to move or his mind was increasing in agreeableness to his captor, but nothing mattered but her nearness.

He’d bet all of his chelets the woman in front of him would be even more devastating if she were to smile at him.

He wished she would.

She was so damn pretty. With a heart-shaped face that had a perfect harmony and richness to it—not quite round and not angular, but interesting in its angles. His brother’s mate would love to paint someone like her.

When he settled, she undid one of the knots on his wrist, then tied it to a metal loop bolted to the floor.

Her soft hands ghosted over the bandage on his shoulder before she undid it. She regarded him with surprising gentleness as she surveyed his wound with a frown.

“Not fast enough, this,” she murmured to herself. Worry coated her tone. She looked from his wound to his face, then back. “Blood, then.”

Wait a minute. He knew that speech cadence. Her accent was subtle, but he placed it immediately. He’d heard it many times on his diplomatic missions in the cities in the mountains of Aelios.

Was he back in the vampire realm? Is that where she’d taken him to?

“You hail from Aelios?” he asked, unable to place her accent to a specific region.

The question floated away on the air as her mouth tightened around whatever words were on her tongue. She moved from him to retrieve a bag under the table and riffled through it. When she emerged, she held a small black package of synthetic blood.

“Where did you get that?”

“In your things.” The hint of her Aelioan accent vanished as she knelt beside him and poked the end of it with a small knife she kept on her hip.

He filed it away as the scent of rancid blood hit his nose. It’d been out of the preserver for more than a day and was unpotable. That meant she’d had him trapped here for just as long.

The alarm that should’ve come didn’t as she held the tip of it to his mouth. His nose crinkled and on instinct, his head tilted away from the vile smell.

“Come, drink.”

“It’s gone too long outside of the preserver. If you want me to heal, I’ll need it fresh.”

It was a lie. In time, his body would heal on its own, but he wanted her closer. Maybe he’d make her feel the same as he did now, floating amongst color and light. With a dose of his pleasure venom and she’d be just as high as he was.

His fangs drew down and he eyed the pulse on her neck. Funny, he could see it but not hear it. His eyes trailed to where her heart would be. He couldn’t hear her at all. Yet, his ears were in good function.

There were footsteps speeding toward them. That, he could hear with clarity. He could also hear the person’s heart racing with panic and smelled the richness of their blood as they quickened their pace.

It should’ve caused him alarm but didn’t because his vampire couldn’t focus on it. Only her.

“You cannot drink from me,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Then, I won’t heal.”

Her pensive eyes dashed across his face, searching for any trace of the lie. He masked his tells and took delight in watching her try to find them.

Decidedly, he liked the way she processed information. Her pupils dilated as she took in his words and a small muscle on her brow twitched as she thought them over. With a shudder, she groaned at her lack of options, then held out her wrist.

“Fine, then. Drink.”

Gustav shook his head, focusing on the thumping pulse in her neck. “I need a stronger vein.”

Watching her pulse speed up was his only indication of her reaction to him. He couldn’t tell if it was out of weariness or fear, but soon it would be out of desire when he put his venom in her. For a moment, he wondered if she’d have a taste since he couldn’t smell her. Maybe she’d taste like nothing. Curiosity made him eager to make the attempt.

“If you try anything, I will harm you worse.” She pulled out a much longer dagger hidden in a sheath at her side and angled it to his ribs. She carried a lot of weapons, he noticed.

The thought disappeared as quickly as it formed when she nudged closer to him. He wished he could smell her. This close, he could always smell his prey. It should be unsettling that he couldn’t. Despite it, his instincts kicked in. His mouth watered and his fangs elongated as he watched her pulse quicken.

She leaned in, bringing her warmth close to him.

“It’ll be easier if you straddle me,” he said, unable to stop his voice from sounding hopeful.

Her dark eyebrows collapsed together and her mouth formed a circle of surprise. It only took a second for her to process his suggestion.

“I’m not the fool you take me for.”

“You will still be at the advantage. I’m tied up and you have a dagger at my ribs. There’s only one fool here and it’s certainly not you.”

She considered him, pupils dilating as she took in her options. Just a look from her made the good feelings from her drug dig a deeper foothold.

A subtle nod to herself sent a wavy tendril from her makeshift ponytail to the front of her face. He kept his budding smile at bay.

She’d taken his suggestion well—in the same agreeableness he had toward her. He wondered for a second if she also felt the effects of the drug swirling in the air. He hoped so. Riding this envoy would be much more fun with a partner.

If she wasn’t drugged like he was, she soon would be. Sweet, saccharine venom coated his fangs as she climbed on top of him. It had been too long since he had a soft woman on him with a willing offering.

And she was a perfect fit, with her body melding into his as she placed her knees on opposite sides of his thighs. Gods, he’d like to fill her while she did this. An image of her straddling him, riding him while he was tied by her binds made his cock flex.

Yet, he was sure his captor wouldn’t let him see the curves she hid beneath her frock.

“You can come closer. I promise to only bite a little.”

Her face flattened and her harsh gaze found his. “Hurt me and I will harm you worse.”

For emphasis, she stuck the tip of her blade into his skin, enough to draw blood but not enough to maim.

He hissed. “I have no plans to hurt you.”

Smoothing her wavy hair flat, she offered him her neck. Her angle was difficult but not unmanageable as he leaned in for his first taste.

Before his tongue could reach her soft skin, a shout cut through the room.

“Amira,” a man’s voice came from outside. “Amira, are you in there?”

Startled, she jumped away. Her eyes locked on a door just out of his sightlines, then she scrambled to her feet.

“Shit.”

For a moment, her body locked in indecision, her pupils dilated and the muscle in her brow twitched as she raced through several thoughts.

Sheathing her dagger, she dimmed the lights, then left the room only to return with a hard, matted blanket.

“I need you quiet,” she said. “No sounds, understand?”

There was no chance to answer. Before she could drape the moldy thing over him, the door opened. A man, at least double her years, peered inside.

“Amira. Monger is—” The man’s words disappeared when he took in the room.

“Papa!” With the blanket in hand, she twisted around and tried to conceal him with her legs.

The older man, who had the same upper cheek bones and forehead as her, stared at him with his jaw dangling open.

“Amira, what is…?” He started, but pivoted his question. “Is that the vampire? You’re the one who stole the vampire?” His words flowed in disbelieving arcs as they rocketed from his mouth.

“Papa, I can explain.”

The man’s sudden surprised turned into one of fear.

“There is no time. Monger and his men are on their way here. If they find him, he will have all our heads.” A short distance away, embedded in the wooded trees surrounding them, a group gathered with quick

feet, heading their way.