Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (reading e books .txt) 📕

my softest voice, “You saw this as an opportunity to spend some time alone with me?”

“It was selfish.”

I shook my head. “We waited three years to be together, and when we were just understanding each other, Kresnik struck and tore us apart.”

He nodded. “I don’t know how long it will take before he breaks out of those wards, but I wanted at least a few days alone in your company.”

I pressed a kiss on his lips. “Understandable.”

Valentine pulled me onto his lap, nestling me against his broad chest. “Something in your voice says there’s something you don’t want to stay.”

My muscles melted at the touch of his strong body, and every sense became engulfed by the overwhelming presence of safety and love. If I remained cradled in his arms like this, we would kiss, and then the kiss would lead to caresses, then all my resolve to deal with Prince Draconius would melt away.

Gathering what was left of my willpower, I pushed myself up and met Valentine’s hooded eyes. “If you have your memories, you’ll understand why.”

“Uncle Draconius’s ambush?” he snarled.

“Now that he’s lost favor in New Mesopotamia, I think he’s more determined than ever to take your throne.”

“You could be right,” Valentine muttered.

“So, I’m taking Kain somewhere safe?”

“I’ve locked Uncle Draconius from the wards.”

My brows rose. “Who’s in charge of Lamia while you’re in jail?”

Valentine scowled. “The Council will take temporary control of my kingdom.”

“Hades might not like your uncle, but I’ll bet he’ll form a temporary alliance with Prince Draconius to bring you down.”

“I’ve been a fool.” Valentine squeezed his eyes shut.

I patted his shoulder. “The Council would have slung you in jail, anyway. I just wanted you to kick up more of a fuss, make threats, let them know not to try that kind of crap with you again.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should stop putting so much faith in those people.”

“Those of them who aren’t bureaucrats are corrupt.” I slid off his lap. “How do we contact the guards?”

Valentine reached across the sofa and picked up the receiver of an old-fashioned telephone. “Put me through to King Beowulf.” He paused for several moments before saying, “I need a favor.”

The person on the other end of the line said a few words before Valentine hung up.

“Beowulf is the Shifter King?” I asked.

He nodded.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Why doesn’t everyone call each other by their given names?”

“Some of the older members of the Council are superstitious about giving out their true designations.” Valentine rose off the sofa and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “With enough magic, a determined individual can weaken a person just by knowing their name.”

I bit down on my lip. “Why don’t we do that to Kresnik?”

“A spell like that might reduce their power by a fraction. Not enough to weaken them completely.”

My brows drew together, and I broke away from Valentine’s hold and paced the room.

“Mera?”

“I can’t think straight when I’m looking at you.”

Valentine chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“That you’re the most attractive man I know? That everything about you makes my insides melt?” I asked.

He appeared in front of me, sliding his hands down my back, and growled, “When you put it like that—”

“We have three weapons against him,” I said.

Valentine frowned. “What?”

“One.” I raised a finger. “You said with enough magic, we could perform a spell to reduce his power. What’s the population of Logris? Everyone added together could weaken Kresnik enough for us to do some serious damage.”

“The Council hasn’t released the information of Kresnik’s return,” he said.

I reared back. “Why?”

“To prevent widespread panic.” He shook his head. “The older monarchs suspect that some members of our society might ally themselves with Kresnik out of fear.”

“But what about the footage of Kresnik and me—”

“They put out the story that an ifrit took control of you for a nefarious ritual and was apprehended before he could do any harm.”

My shoulders stiffened, and every muscle in my back turned rigid. “And people believe that?”

“Only a small group of the enforcers know the truth of what’s really happening, and they’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

I stepped back and rubbed my temples. “At some point, people have to know.”

He massaged my tight shoulders, melting away the tension. “It’s the downside to being one of seven monarchs.”

The urge to tell him that there were only six rose to the tip of my tongue, but I clamped my lips shut. This was a prison, and anyone might be listening to our conversation or even watching us speak.

Exhaling my frustration in an outward breath, I said, “We still have the snake bile.”

“Which we’ll turn into a poison that will coat our weapons.”

“After we’ve carried out Aunt Arianna’s plan.”

A knock sounded on the door, making my stomach flip. We both turned in the direction of the exit, only for the knock to become louder.

“Valentine, are you decent?”

He tucked me under his arm. “Beowulf, come in.”

The door swung open, and the Shifter King stepped inside. The man looked even more imposing without his white robes, and wore the kind of leather jacket I would expect to see on the roughest fighter of a motorcycle gang, faded jeans, and heavy boots.

He strode across the room and clasped Valentine by the hand, giving him a hearty shake. “Congratulations on finding your mate.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Valentine replied.

The Shifter King stepped back, taking in the luxurious surroundings. “Is the prison to your liking?”

“It’s a step down from what I’m accustomed to in the palace, but it will suffice,” Valentine said with a sniff.

Beowulf threw his head back and laughed. “Vampires and your luxuries.”

Valentine chuckled along with his friend, seeming to find him genuinely amusing. I glanced from one monarch to another, marveling at their differences. While the Shifter King looked like a rough and ready cage fighter with muscles that bulged to the point of bursting, Valentine was the epitome of old-world sophistication. They seemed like opposites, but perhaps that was the appeal.

“My uncle is making a