Sleeping Beauty (12 page)

“You've fed directly from a human vein?” Her son tried to hide his shock and revulsion while she hid her disappointment and irritation. Her first act as reigning monarch, after killing her husband, had been to repeal the law against human blood consumption. But a law change couldn't alter centuries of custom and most of her subjects still abstained. Even her son. But she could change that.

“Yes, I have fed from a vein.” She stood defiant. “Once or twice.”

“That's disgusting,” he said. “Plus, humans are so weak. It seems unsporting to treat them as prey.”

“You're too soft-hearted.” She pressed her nails into her palms to keep from slapping him. His tutors had turned the boy into a weakling, but if she were going to gain the adoration and support of all the vampires in Sanguinia, she had to start with her son.

She nudged the carafe toward him again. “You don't need to
kill
a human to taste its blood.” Although without that thrill, what was the point?

“May I ask you a question, Mother?”

She nodded.

“I overheard your conversation, earlier. If there are vampires drinking blood from unwilling humans in Xandra, aren't the generals right? Won't it provoke war if we don't do more to stop them?”

Rage rose inside her at the thought, threatening to burst out in a deadly strike, but she held back; she'd find someone to crush later. In a controlled voice, she answered her son. “If King Stefan declares war, it will prove what I already know to be true. Humans are brutal creatures with no morals or any sense of right and wrong. If they invade
Sanguinia based on a few harmless neck bites, then they deserve to be drained.” If Stefan declared war, the vampire population would surely rally behind her, but her thirteen-year-old son wasn't old enough to understand politics.

The boy leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. His relaxed gesture eased her fears that he might go to the generals behind her back, even though she'd caught him talking to that idiot Adanthas more than once. Many of her subjects did not yet trust her, since she'd been born human.

“Where did you get this blood?” He nodded toward the carafe. “It wasn't brought back from Xandra, was it?”

She raised a hand to her chest as if his words shocked her. “Of course not.” She made sure to add a worried expression to her face to play up the charade. “It was a willing donation.” It wouldn't do to raise his suspicions.

In truth, the blood
had
been brought back from Xandra, harvested by one of her minions from some weak human. Natasha was gaining support, and soon every citizen in Sanguinia would bow down at her feet. Then she'd order an invasion and Xandra would be crushed.

Those infernal fairies had paid dearly in ripped-off wings for barring her from entering Xandra and making her wait sixteen years to torture Catia and Stefan's daughter.

But even though she couldn't cross the border herself, it was delicious to know that each night bloodthirsty vampires terrorized Stefan and Catia's precious kingdom and the throne that was rightfully hers. And in less than three years, her minions would be terrorizing something even more precious to the odious couple than their subjects—their daughter.

Then Catia and Stefan would suffer as they so richly deserved. If Stefan declared war in the meantime, so be it. Yet another way to see him crushed.

In time she'd rule Xandra, with its riches and strategic location. Soon after, she'd conquer the entire known world.

“Why don't I get to take my own stakes?” Lucette asked Tristan as they stood near the door of the gymnasium, ready to go out into the night. Almost nine months had gone by since they started training, and she was ready to kill her first vampire. She hoped.

He shook his head. “Not a chance.” He pulled his black slayer hood over his short blond hair and zipped on his neck protector.

“But I've been training for nearly a year.” She reached for a quiver of stakes, but he grabbed onto her arm and shook his head.

“We aren't going to get close to the action,” he said. “This outing is just about observation.” He leaned back against the wall, his long, lean body looking especially strong in his slayer uniform. “I shouldn't even be sneaking you out. If anyone from the academy finds out I brought a girl along to the first-year slayers' field trip”—he paused—“I'm not sure what they'd do. I'd probably get expelled.”

“I thought we were going with
your
class,” she said. Tristan was in his third year, and ever since he'd told her about his class outings to get real-life combat experience with the slayer army, she'd been pestering him to take her along. How else was she supposed to get experience?

Tristan slipped a hood over her head. Although she knew the hood and mask were because she was going out into the dangerous night,
she couldn't help feel as if they served another purpose: him wanting to cover her face so he wouldn't have to look at her.

She chewed on her lip as he zipped her in. Then he strapped on her neck protector and checked the rest of her slayer uniform. It wasn't as if Tristan ever said anything to purposefully make her feel bad or ugly, it's just that he never seemed to notice she was a girl. In contrast, she sure noticed that he was a boy. Nearly seventeen, he was practically a man.

“That works.” He took her by the shoulders and spun her around. “No one will guess you're not one of the boys.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lack of girlish attributes might make it easier for her to hide in among the class of boys tonight, but her fourteenth birthday was coming soon and . . . She shook her head. Even if Tristan might say yes, it would be too risky to invite him to her birthday party. How could she explain meeting him to her father? And asking her mother to concoct yet another lie was out of the question. Plus, she couldn't even tell Tristan who she really was. Taking him to meet her parents at the palace would blow her cover.

Tristan adjusted his weapons. “Ready?”

“No.” She took a step back from him.

He closed the distance she'd created and ran his strong hands from her shoulders down to her wrists and then her hands. The gesture was so protective, she nearly dove into his chest for a hug.

“Are you frightened?” he asked, his gloved hands still over hers. “We don't need to do this.”

She pulled away from him. “I am
not
frightened. But I should have weapons. What if I'm attacked? What if you are? How will I save you?”

He swung one arm and punched her lightly in the shoulder, but hard enough that she tipped to the side. “My brave little slayer girl.”

Although she couldn't see his expression under his mask, she felt sure he was mocking her, and she gritted her teeth. What would it take for him to take her seriously—as a slayer or as a girl?

“Don't worry, little Lucy.” He assured her. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Lucette tucked her short curls behind her ears. In the two years since she'd chopped off her long hair, it had grown down to her chin. At least it wasn't quite so boyish anymore, but even though she was now fifteen, her body still hadn't cooperated. Well beyond late-bloomer status now, Lucette figured it was time to face the fact that a curvy figure was not in her future.

She kept her eyes on Tristan as he demonstrated a wrestling hold on a younger boy, Hans, who'd been working with them and had been sworn to secrecy about the mysterious girl “Lucy” who trained in the gym late at night. Lucette had been training with Tristan at least five times a week, and although he didn't give out praise easily, she could tell he was proud of her progress.

She focused her attention on the demonstration she'd soon be expected to emulate. Tristan was playing the part of a slayer, and Hans was playing the vampire. Tristan lunged for Hans, feigning a frontal attack, but at the last moment, Tristan ducked down under Hans's arm and grabbed it.

Using one leg, he swept Hans off his feet. Once he had Hans on the ground, he twisted the boy's arm to force him onto his chest, then pinned him by kneeling on one arm and pressing the other into his back.

“Do you understand?” Tristan asked her, as he let Hans up. The younger boy rubbed his arm.

Lucette nodded. Her heart was thumping hard and fast. Not only was she unsure she could pull off this maneuver—especially on Tristan, who was taller and stronger—but these exercises, which resulted in body-on-body contact, made her nervous. Each time Tristan had her pinned or held her closely, she closed her eyes and imagined him holding her for more romantic reasons.

“Tristan?” Hans asked. “Is it okay if I take off? I've got a vampire history test tomorrow morning.”

Tristan nodded, and the boy headed out.

Lucette's heart beat even faster at the thought of being alone with Tristan. Maybe tonight was her chance to tell him how she felt.

The fairy queen had told her that she'd know how to prove her love when the time came, so maybe this overwhelming desire to kiss Tristan was a sign. Maybe she could lift the curse before it even took effect and she and Tristan could live happily ever after. Although he was nearly three years older, there were no rules about age where love was concerned, and no way to control when or with whom love happened. How ironic if her father had been right all along. Maybe she
was
old enough for love after all.

She watched Hans leave the room and considered how to tell Tristan she loved him. Slowly, she turned with what she hoped was a seductive smile.

Tristan lunged like a vampire. Lucette's shock vanished and her slayer training kicked in, but she ducked under his arm too late to get a strong hold, and then her leg sweep missed. Before she could adjust her stance, he had one arm pinned behind her back, and he pulled
down so that her body was bent back against his—with his teeth on her throat.

She panted, first from the shock and then from the rush of feelings flowing through her. Closing her eyes, she sighed and stretched her head to the side, exposing her neck further.

He dropped her and she fell onto the mat. “Ouch!”

“Ouch?” Tristan glared at her, even more handsome when angry. “Is that all you have to say? If I were a vampire, you'd be bitten. Three bites and you'd be dead. I'm beginning to think you're not serious about this anymore. Maybe we're done. I'm not sure I can teach you much more—not if you're going to be so sloppy.”

Her cheeks burned. “You surprised me.”

“Oh, sorry.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “If I were a real vampire, I would have said, ‘Are you ready, Lucy? Because I'm about to attack you.'”

“Very funny.” She got to her feet as gracefully as she could. She stepped toward him with a soft smile on her face. Before she realized what she was doing, she reached out to touch his powerful upper arm.

But before her fingers reached his skin, he pulled his arm away. “What's your story, Lucy? Not many girls want to learn how to be slayers. None that I know of, anyway, other than you.”

Her chest heaved as she fought to control her breath and her nerves. He was interested in her, asking personal questions. This was her chance. The fairies had been right: she knew what to do.

She tipped up onto her toes and leaned forward to kiss him. But before their lips met, Tristan jerked back sharply, and the only thing she managed to kiss was air.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Undeterred, she reached for him again.

“Lucy, that's highly inappropriate!” His voice was clipped and sharp.

“Why?”

His face turned from shock to pity. He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I don't . . . I mean, I can't . . . You're just a kid.”