All the King's Men: The Beginning Page 2

  * * *

  Rysk beat his fists against the wall, screamed until his lungs and throat burned, and clawed at his own skin. Without Abrial, he was lost. He needed his mate, needed her more than he'd ever needed anything. His body not only ached, it throbbed with the weight of agony so great that it crushed him. He had heard tales of suffering among the males of his race, but this was nothing like he expected. It was a hundred times worse.

  Fragments of stone crumbled from the force of his fists as he continued to pummel the walls that held him prisoner. He was getting stronger. His pain made him powerful.

  Turning his attention to the door, he threw himself against it. Again. And again. Not long before, he couldn't even budge it, but now, he felt a slight give. Once more, he flung himself against the barrier. With each impact, the wood gave a little more…and a little bit more…until finally, the wood splintered. Once more, he used his body as a battering ram, and the heavy wood cracked. Again and again, until…

  The door exploded in a burst of splinters that showered the hallway. His parents stood several paces away, eyes wide, mouths opened in silent surprise. He hadn't time for them. Abrial was all he could think of.

  Free of his prison, he raced toward the stone staircase that led to the dark courtyard, where he stopped and honed on Abrial's essence. Pursuing guards caught up to him and tried to restrain him, but he tossed them away as if they were dust. Nothing could keep him from his mate.

  "Rysk!" His father called after him, rushing into the courtyard. "No! Don't!"

  It was too late. Rysk was already away, sealing the fate of both races with every step as he raced into the dark forest. Faster than the wind, strengthened by his calling, he dodged trees, scaled the mountain separating his home from Abrial's, flashed through the fields, until he came to Premier Argon's palace moments later. Abrial remained quarantined inside. He could sense her sorrow, her suffering. She needed him, too.

  Finally near his beloved, his body calmed enough for him to mist into her room, and there she was. His Abrial.

  "Rysk!" She threw herself into his arms, sealed her lips over his.

  Everything was right again. Everything was as it should be. "Abrial. My love. My world." He buried his nose in her hair and rained urgent kisses on her skin. His hard body pulsed to claim her. "Come with me." At last, he had what his heart and body needed, and her arousing fragrance was almost more than he could stand.

  He was about to steal her out the window when the door to her chambers flew open. Teo charged in, sword in hand. "Get away from her!" His blue eyes flashed red then turned a furious blue. Clearly, he wasn't going to let Abrial go easily. This bastard wanted a fight, and Rysk was willing to give him one if it meant Abrial's hand.

  Rysk bent forward, stance open, arms wide, fingers curled like claws. He bared his fangs and hissed. His dark gaze landed on the sword. Teo was dangerous. He could hurt Abrial, but in Rysk's hyperprotective state, he would die before he let Teo near her. She was his, and he would protect her.

  "Teo, no!" Abrial latched onto Rysk's arms and slid behind him, inching toward the window as she tugged Rysk to go with her. "Let me go with him. Release me. I beg you. I don't love you, Teo. I never wanted to be with you."

  Teo snarled, shimmered, and then shifted to blue as his eyes flashed red again. He bared his own fangs. "No. You are mine," he said to Abrial. "You were promised to me, and I will have you. I won't give you up to this…heathen creature!" He cast a disgusted, repulsed glance toward Rysk.

  Rysk bristled and unleashed a warning growl. "She belongs to me, Teo. She is my mate. It is my right." He shielded Abrial, keeping her behind him.

  Teo took a menacing step forward, his upper lip curled into a snarl. "And her father vowed her to me, in front of our families, in front of our council. That is my right. Yours is secondary to mine."

  "No!" Rysk was on the verge of losing control. If they weren't allowed to escape soon, he would kill Teo. Not that he cared about Teo at the moment. Right now, his main concern was Abrial…to protect her. If that meant killing Teo, then that was what he would do.

  "Yes!" Teo stormed forward, the muscles in his arms flexing as he raised his sword.

  Rysk tried to push Abrial out of harm's way, but Teo moved swiftly and captured her wrist. "She is my mate, not yours, Rysk!" He began to pull her away.

  With a roar, Rysk snapped his fangs, his sight sharpening as his eyes flashed yellow. Everyone knew not to touch a male upir's mate in such an aggressive way. Doing so was the best way to bring on a mated-male rage, and in an instant Rysk was on Teo. Mated aggression took hold.

  Teo flung Abrial aside as he tried to defend himself, but Rysk was too powerful. He clawed, he bit, he battered Teo relentlessly, throwing him against the far, stone wall. The sword clattered to the floor, and Rysk went for it at the same time Teo did. But Teo was too slow. Rysk rolled, clutched the hilt inside his fist, flung himself to his back on the floor, and brought the sword up over him as Teo lunged forward. The blade impaled Teo, straight through his heart. After a breathless, conflicted moment of victory, Rysk tossed Teo off him and to the side, using the sword as leverage.

  The sound of guards storming through the palace reached his ears as Abrial took his hand and helped him off the floor.

  "We must go," she said. "Now!" Tears streaked her face, but joy that he had defeated Teo shone from her eyes.

  He stole one final glance toward Teo, who lay in a puddle of blood, and then he turned, grabbed Abrial around the waist, fused his essence with hers, and projected them into a tunnel of vapor to their secret dwelling carved into the side of a mountain. A cave he had found while exploring.

  As he and Abrial gave themselves over to the primal love between them, as well as to Rysk's calling, they remained oblivious to the aligning powers within their races. Time and again, he claimed her, and her body accepted what he gave. The beauty of new life sprang forth in her womb, and it seemed the world was theirs.

  Teo's family was outraged by their son's murder. They appealed to Premier Argon for justice even as they sent war parties to find Rysk and Abrial. While Argon and Cato convened to arbitrate a solution, one of the hunting parties found the lovers and killed Rysk in a bloody battle. Beside himself with grief, Cato ceased all discussion with Premier Argon and sent an army to annihilate what he could of Teo's immediate family in revenge for his son's death, but many escaped and fled to safety, away from Cato and his army. Cato retrieved Abrial, pregnant with Rysk's unborn child, and refused to hand her over until his grandchild was born. Upset with this turn of events, Argon insisted on Abrial's return, but Cato refused until she gave birth. Abrial was grief-stricken. Her mate was gone, and their two families, who were at one time friends, were now at odds with one another to the extent that war seemed inevitable. A little over eight months later, she gave birth to Rysk's son prematurely. She named him Rysk after his father.

  At first, the newborn seemed to bring peace between their families again, but the dreck population continued to pressure Argon for retribution against the upir for murdering over half the members of Teo's family, and eventually disavowed him as their ruler, inducting his son, Tauno, to replace him. Tauno wasn't as sympathetic to the upir as Argon and Abrial, and soon after Tauno's coronation, tensions escalated quickly between the drecks and the upir. Amid the chaos and skirmishes that followed, King Cato took custody of young Rysk and denied Abrial's unrelenting wish to see him. In her despair, she took her own life, too distraught to continue living.

  All-out war erupted a month later.

  And so, it was out of love, jealousy, and loss that the never-ending feud between the drecks and the upir began. A feud that led to more than a dozen wars and pitted the stronger upir—later to be known as vampires—against their former allies, the drecks, who were weaker in every respect but intellectually.

  As the years passed into decades, centuries, and eventually millennia, the reason for the feud that turned into a war was forgotten by all but a few. Arg
on was driven into hiding, not even safe from his own son, who would have killed him out of spite for letting relations come to such a grievous state.

  From his self-imposed exile, Argon followed the war as best he could as the two races of immortals battled for supremacy for a reason that never should have been. Rysk's and Abrial's love for one another—a love that should have been honored and treasured for its purity—had been desecrated into the cause for a race-wide tragedy. A tragedy that Argon shouldered the responsibility for. This was his fault, and one day he would make amends. He would find a way.

  Until then, he would remain silent, bide his time, and prepare. He would watch his race struggle to survive in an ongoing war destined to forever play in the vampires' favor, broken only by periods of strained peace.

  A peace enforced by the vampire king's warriors, All the King's Men.

  Chapter 1

  December 6, present day

  Josie sat on the edge of the bathtub, her fingers threaded together in her lap as she checked the timer on the counter for the third time in twenty seconds. Only forty more seconds to go.

  Her bare feet tapped quietly on the polished, marble floor as she blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear as she dropped her gaze to admire yesterday's pedicure. The lady at the salon had chosen a dark purple polish when Josie told her to surprise her. It was a pretty shade. Reminded her of grape Skittles. She wiggled her toes, bit her bottom lip, and checked the timer again. Thirty-five seconds left.

  She had waited until Tristan left for work before hurrying to the corner drugstore for a home pregnancy test. Okay, six pregnancy tests. A little overkill, but she wanted to be sure.

  The tests were created for humans, but allegedly still worked on those like her, according to what she had heard over the years. Neither human nor vampire, Josie was somewhere in the middle. She was what Tristan and other vampires called a davala, an immortal who was once human but was turned by the bite of a vampire.

  By the king's law, only the biological mate of a male vampire could be transformed into a davala, but Tristan had broken the law to turn her. He loved her, but he hadn't mated her. Not biologically speaking. The bond that linked traditional vampire mates to one another never formed between them. Tristan had never experienced a calling or a suffering, which only mated males were capable of having.

  This made Josie even more doubtful that she would see anything but a negative on her pee stick.

  Fifteen seconds to go. Really? For the love of God, could the seconds tick by any more slowly?

  Being a davala hadn't stopped her periods from coming like clockwork every month. It looked like even immortal women still had to deal with their monthly visitors. So, her ovaries would produce eggs until the end of time. It was a small price to pay for becoming immortal. At least she didn't have to drink blood like Tristan.

  She nervously eyed the timer.

  When the date had come and gone on her calendar, and she didn't start…and another day came and went, and another, until eleven days had passed…well, she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. She had to know, so she had bought the tests.

  Tristan had told her he would never be able to give her a child. She remembered that conversation so clearly.

  "Maybe this time will work," she had said wistfully one night after they had made love and she was tucked inside the circle of his arms.

  The year had been 1921, when she had still gone by the name Josephine. They had already been together two years since he'd saved her from the Spanish flu by making her his davala. They were more deeply in love than she had thought two people could be. To her, it didn't matter that he was a vampire. He was the kindest, most giving and compassionate man she had ever met.

  "Josephine…" Tristan's voice sounded strained.

  She turned to face him, but when she saw his dire expression, her heart sank and her smile faded. "What's wrong?"

  He sighed and let go of her then rolled away before pulling himself out from under the blankets to sit on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

  "Tristan?" She sat up and scooted to sit on her knees beside him. "You're scaring me." Did he not love her anymore? Did he want to leave?

  "Josie…" It was the first time he'd ever called her that. "I need to tell you something. I had hoped…" Tears glistened in his eyes and emotion strangled his words. All she could do was wait, holding her breath, until he was able to continue. He coughed and cleared his throat, then tried again. "I had hoped things would be different for us, but the more time passes, and the longer we go without conceiving, the more I fear that…" Tears dropped to his cheeks, and he quickly slammed his eyes closed and rubbed his palms over his face as if trying to hide his sadness.

  "Tristan, what's wrong? What are you telling me?" Fear gripped her heart as the first glimpse of the picture began to form.

  He dropped his hands to his lap and sighed, lifting his sad, apologetic gaze to her. "Josie, I don't think I'll ever be able to give you children."

  Her lungs emptied of air as if he had punched her. He pulled her into his arms and whispered how much he loved her. He kissed her hair, her eyelids, her lips, and her tears, all the while muttering what sounded like prayers or phrases of devotion in a language she didn't understand.

  Then he told her everything about how a male vampire mated…about a male's calling…that since he had never technically mated her he would never have a calling with her…that he could never give her a child without a calling.

  The conversation had imprinted on her mind like the death of a loved one, and really, being told that Tristan could never give her a son or daughter had been a little like the death of a child, because she had always wanted children. To be told she would forever remain childless had left a gaping hole in her soul, and she had cried a river in his arms, his tears adding to hers. The news that she would never have his child had been as painful for him to say as it had been for her to hear, and it had been clear that he had wanted a young with her as much as she had wanted to give him one.

  So, here she sat, the twelfth day in, wondering if a miracle had occurred, waiting for pregnancy test number one to do its thing and give her a yay or a nay. Or was that a yay? Or a damn? She would find out in five seconds.

  Four…

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  Beep-beep-beep.

  She took a hesitant breath, unwound her fingers, and slowly stood, her Skittle-purple toenails all but forgotten. The stick sat behind the timer, and she couldn't quite see the little square that would give her one line or two. Suddenly eager, she rushed to the sink and picked up the stick.

  Two lines.

  What did that mean? Was she pregnant or not? She couldn't remember. Wait…think. One line meant no and two meant yes. Wasn't that what the package insert had said? She thought so, but now she wasn't sure. Where was it? Where was the damn package insert? She spun then bolted from the bathroom to the kitchen, where the other five tests rested in the shopping bag on the counter. An empty box sat beside the bag, along with the instructions. She snagged the creased insert and skimmed through the tiny print as she hurried back to the bathroom. She stopped when she came to the paragraph about reading the results.

  One line. Not pregnant.

  Two lines. Pregnant.

  She rushed back into the bathroom, grabbed the stick, and looked at it again. Definitely two lines.

  Omigod! I'm pregnant.

  To be sure, she ran back to the kitchen, grabbed another test that didn't require first-morning urine, ripped open the box, and practically sprinted back to the bathroom. She forced out enough pee to wet the stick, and then waited.

  Same result.

  She. Was. Pregnant.

  The lights shone a little brighter, and the earth-toned colors of her bathroom seemed more vivid. She had thought she would never have Tristan's child, and yet, inside her, right now, was a tiny new life she and Tr
istan had created together. It was a miracle. A flipping miracle!

  Josie shut off the bathroom light and wandered in a daze to the kitchen, where she plopped down on a bar stool at the open counter and thumbed blindly through one of Tristan's gun magazines. She wasn't looking at the pictures, though. She didn't see the pages at all. She was too caught up in the wonder of being pregnant to see much of anything.

  For any female to become pregnant with a vampire's young when he hadn't had a calling was almost unheard of. It was so rare that, after their conversation almost a century ago, both she and Tristan had resigned themselves to the fact that if they wanted children of their own, they would have to adopt. They had even attempted the vampire's equivalent of in vitro without success. So to now be sitting here, with a little baby in the first stages of life inside her belly, was life altering. Josie was numb.

  So many emotions rolled through her she couldn't distinguish one from another. Joy, fear, worry, elation, relief, wonder. How did she begin to process how she felt?

  Suddenly, she burst into tears and laughter all at once. She was going to have a baby. Tristan's baby. Thank you, God!

  * * *

  Tristan settled behind his desk in his office, ready to start the team meeting.

  "Where's Micah?" he said.

  Everyone was there except Micah. As usual. Goddamn it. He thought that taking another mate would get Micah back on track, but it seemed more and more like Micah was falling back into his pre-Jackson, post-Katarina ways. And didn't that just reek of trouble. Micah had been the resident loner for centuries after the death of his first mate, Katarina, and even though Micah was the best enforcer on the team, Tristan didn't need any more problems from the guy.

  "Well?" Tristan glanced around the room.

  Io sighed as if he didn't give a rat's ass. Beside him, Arion shook his head. Off to the side, standing against the wall with his arms crossed and a matchstick between his lips, Trace didn't even flinch. That left Malek, Micah's oldest friend.